Fuck it. I am sure I will only feel the wrath of this heartfelt bullshit but whatever. Its how I feel right now.

I know I have kind of abandoned my blog recently. I have nothing original to say. I'm at a loss for inspiration lately. I'm unhappy with myself. I'm putting a great deal of focus on my kids and their well being. I was struggling with them for a long time and now my focus has shifted solely to them. It has to. They're the only part of my life where I find true happiness, even during our struggles. I know that without them in my life I would never feel peace. All that said, stick around. I'll be back to normal soon enough, I hope. I have a few things to make peace with in my life. I do feel like I am beginning to heal...some. I am afraid to feel it all the way, though, because I know the second I do I will be blown back to square fucking one by some asshole move someone makes.

I once used social media as an outlet.  A place I could say whatever popped into my fucking head and I knew it didn't actually matter. It was the one place I felt my life obstacles, inner most thoughts and things I just found hysterical could be somewhat made public, responded to and then let go. A place without judgment, really. Since my pending divorce...it has become the Devil. A place my thoughts, non-thoughts, shared via-others-thoughts-I-possibly-might-have-thought-funny, things I was really just feeling not thinking or not part of me...all of that...anything I thought was...mine...has become a source of ridicule. Gasoline to an already toxic fire. Keep in mind about 60% of life is bullshit. How often do you say something you're simply thinking? Not something you truly believe, did, hope to do one day or even give 2 shits about...imagine if every one of those thoughts was somehow being used against you and your character. Your well being. Your somewhat fragile state of mind. Yeah...you'd shut out the whole fucking world, too, and wouldn't trust ANYONE. That is what lies, manipulation and an already fragile psyche cause someone.

A friend of mine is going through some really bogus bullshit involving the crazy (yes, genuinely crazy) females in his life. It's sad because I can understand both sides of the battle there. What scares me is that he may very well be enduring the same manipulation and bullshit I go through with my husband. My husband always tried to make it come off as if the things I was feeling were wrong. Or as if his lack of feelings was 'normal'. I pray for my friend. I pray God helps the women he loves and in turn helps him because I see the strain of being their main support through all this taking a toll on him.

The sanity my husband tried so hard to make me believe I lacked is shining like a mother fucking beacon on a beach on a foggy as fucking hell night. I simply experience, live, feel and learn from life. THAT IS THE 'NORMAL' process of things. Just because he can make me laugh like no one I have ever known means precisely shit in the grand scheme of things. He once rocked my fucking world. We had so many great times. Times we laughed until we were both incapable of speech.

I still do think of him and smile...but it is very specific issues I smile upon. For instance, our youngest son, Logan, who is so very much the PERFECT combination of Husband and myself...his charming looks, silly grin, melt-me-perfect-eyes...my infectious laugh, my stupid be-as-you-are-attitude and both our sense of humor...he's the youngest of our children and seriously? He is the epitome of everything good in us both.

Emma. Sweet, sweet Emma. Our girl. Our FIRST girl. She has, as I've mentioned, inherited all...I mean ALL of my stubbornness, gotta have the last word, gotta take control, still gonna be shy and cautious.  She has his look. That LOOK when he is fixin' to lay into you with every possible shred of awful one can possibly possess...except...with her, that poison turns to sunshine, once corrected, and the innocence and peacefulness a child possesses shines bright and true. Then she smiles and that ends it for me. He use to do that, too.

Ryan. Stubborn, heart-on-the-sleeve, kind, thoughtful Ryan. Our first boy. He lives with his anger, frustration, greed, jealousy, passion, thoughtfulness...all of it, right THERE. He doesn't ever pretend he's feeling something he isn't. He is SO. FUCKING. REAL. He gets that from me. (Now, here, on that point precisely, I am sure Husband is disagreeing. I think that if he thinks back though, he will see the signs were all there but that he chose to ignore them. His ignorance of it all may have been the thing that drove me to leaving him). Our Ryan is all of that. He does, in contrast to Husband and I, love the exact person he is and not just at the exact time he happens to be that person. Ryan has the sweetest smile. He says the MOST thoughtful things to me. On random: "Momma, you're so beautiful, Superman would marry you." or "Momma, I love you with my heart. My whole heart, because you make the BEST 'cooked' salami sandwich EVER" (dudes. I toast the fucking bread. That. Is. It. Then mayo, tomato, cheese and salami. He loves the shit out of it.) "Momma, I know one day, when I am big, I will be a workin-guy and I will drive a big semi-truck. When I am that big, you will be my passenger. I will still be your son then, Momma, because you and Daddy made me."

These kids are exactly what my life is. They are exactly who I am, good and bad and everything in between. They're such a wonderful combination of Husband and I and I love seeing that in them. I wonder if their dad ever sees that in them The parts that are him. The parts that are me. The parts that are Us. The parts that came from places we never knew. I don't know. I don't know because he never communicates with me.

I am not sure I have a point to this post anymore. I started it probably a week ago and have since added thoughts to it 4 or 5 times. I am flawed. God made me who I am, however; and He is not flawed. I trust the person he made me, through him, to be what I need to be for whomever is in need. That person may change, on a surface level from time to time. I think we all cross paths and existences for a reason. He knows it.

Cherish the people He puts in your life. You never know who they are and you may gain the best things out of the people you least expected to do so from.

Life is so fucking short, friends. Enjoy every sandwich.

#TWM...Fairy Tales and Prince Charming...(All bullshit if you ask me)...

"You know when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales? That fantasy of what your life would be - white dress, prince charming who’d carry you away to a castle on a hill. You’d lie in your bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter faith. Santa clause, the tooth fairy, prince charming -- they were so close you could taste them. But eventually you grow up and one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is, it’s hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely because almost everyone has that smallest bit of hope and faith that one day they would open their eyes and it would all come true." -Meredith

The Secret To A Happy Ending Is Knowing When To Roll The Credits...

"To love is to feel pain" there ain't no way around it
The very nature of love is to grieve when it is over
The secret to a happy ending is knowing when to roll the credits
Better roll them now before something else goes wrong
No, it's a wonderful world, if you can put aside the sadness
And hang on to every ounce of beauty upon you
Better take the time to know it there ain't no way around it
If you feel anything at all

Gonna be a world of hurt 

So if what you have is working for you, or you think that it can stand a reasonable chance, and whatever's broken seems fixable and nothing's beyond repair
If you still think about each other and smile before you remember how screwed up it's gotten or maybe dream of a time less rotten
Remember, it ain't too late to take a deep breath and throw yourself into it with everything you got

It's great to be alive

-Patterson Hood 

Living Life The Way I Feel...

I've never minded where you're going
I know that change is a part of you
I'm not gonna hide anymore, I'm gonna listen to myself
and maybe one day I can be real too.

Yeah, you are living life
Yeah you are, you are living life
Don't you know that you are living life
the way you feel
and that is real 

-Ben Kweller


I can't live my life in my own words lately. So for a while you will see a lot of me through stolen verse. I love you all. I'll be 'normal' again come spring. Maybe.

TWM...Secrets...

CRAP! I thought I had this scheduled to post at 8am today, obviously NOT! So, here it is and yes, Donna, I am behind!!! You didn't text me tonight, either!


The thing people forget is how good it can feel when you finally set secrets free. Whether good or bad, at least they're out in the open, like it or not. And once your secrets are out in the open, you don't have to hide behind them anymore. The problem with secrets is even when you think you're in control, you're not. -Meredith

Happy Thanksgiving, Bitches...

Sigh. So, you all know how I feel about the holidays since Dad died. I am not a fan, for those of you that don't know. In the spirit of not being a sourpuss, which I was so recently called by a...dear friend, I am going to make a positive, crap-I-am-thankful-for post like everyone else as opposed to my cynical, fuck-this-holiday-bullshit typical post.

This is a picture of my kids and I this afternoon. We're sitting on the couch watching The Simpson's (which I later turned off because, well, its really just NOT ok for a 5, 4 and 3 year old to be watching it). Anyway, its slightly out of focus, the boys are watching tv instead of looking at the camera and my hair looks ridiculous. I love this picture. This picture represents a new era of traditions for me that I am somewhat...nervous about...uneasy with. This is the first holiday in 10 years that my husband and I are not together. It's definitely strange and while I did invite him to join us, he politely declined as spending holidays together is not what divorce is about. He's absolutely right.

We are having a good day. My sister isn't here. My Granny isn't here. My dad isn't here. My husband isn't here. My brother has barely emerged from his bedroom and my mom and I are pretty much just hanging out like its any other day. But its not. It is Thanksgiving day and so many people I care about aren't here. So I am feeling bitter. Lonely. Somehow, though, I am at peace. I guess because I know this is right. Having gone through major loss before I know the first year is the most difficult to get through. But I am. Its 4pm. I am going to check my turkey, which is on the Weber, watch the Cowgirls and later I'll be watching Trains, Planes and Automobiles with my family because while so many things have changed, those are traditions I love. Also, I will be removing my pants because pants are bullshit, duh, and I've gained about 12lbs in the last 3 days and they're tight. Life is short. Enjoy every sandwich. Eat lots of turkey. And love without a cause or purpose.

So, Happy Thanksgiving, bitches.

#TWM...Little Shop Of Horrors...

These are the things we beg for. A root canal, an I.R.S. audit, coffee spilled on our clothes. When the really terrible things happen, we start begging the god we don't believe in to bring back the little horrors, and take away this. It seems quaint now, doesn't it? The flood in the kitchen, the poison oak, the fight that leaves you shaking with rage. Would it have helped if we could see what else was coming? Would we have known that those were the best moments of our lives? -Meredith

An apology...kind of...not really...I don't know. I hate coming up with titles for this shit I post...

"Describe in what ways you expect too much from your significant other. Do they deserve an apology?"

This was the prompt over at Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop that stopped me mid-inspiration-click. I have been thinking a lot about my pending divorce. I recently started remembering all the things I once loved about my husband. While I know this choice, to get a divorce, is whats right for my kids and myself in the long run, I can't help but miss the comfort of our marriage this time of year. Holidays suck for me. I've never been a huge fan anyway, but the last few years have pretty much sealed my loathing of all things traditional. When you feel that way, its nice to have someone to bitch to about it that knows what the hell you're referring to. All that said, I have given my husband a pretty bad ego-bruise. One that I think is most likely deep and scaring. He is not a bad man. By any means. I mean, come on! I am not the Queen of Hell. I am a good person! Therefore, I think it obvious that the man I married and created little people with, hellions as they may be, cannot possibly be THAT bad.

I expected my husband to love me in a way he doesn't know how. I have told him as much over the years. I have said to a few friends recently that I always knew I wasn't being loved in the way I needed. I knew that for whatever reason, he just wasn't right for me. He doesn't understand why I won't give counseling a chance. Its because I know as much as he can change on a surface level, things like behaviors or communication, he isn't ever going to be someone that understands me. He never has. He's the first to admit that. When he doesn't understand something, he won't respond to it. That isn't his fault. Its simply who he is. I spent a long time expecting that to change. For him to change who he is. I can't change who I am. Yet I expected him to. Insanity!

Now here I am, 10 years in and walking away from the only real relationship I have ever known. I am angry with myself that I let it be for as long as I did. I lied to myself. In turn I lied to him. I wanted it to work. I wanted him to be right because we have so much fun. Laughter was never something our marriage lacked. We had a comfortable existence. That is something that I am learning doesn't come natural between two people. That is a gift. He and I had that. At times I still feel it between us, well, when we're getting along that is. When he's mad, he's mean.  Callous.

I can only assume how he feels about all this, too. I wouldn't want to be wrong in my assumptions, so don't hold me to them, but I know he is angry. So, so, so very angry with me. I know he is hurt. Deeply. I know he still holds onto a little shred of hope that this isn't over. I have given him no signs that there is anything to hold on to and even when we're getting along well I remind him of the divorce and that, yes, it is what I want.

I certainly expected many things that were not unreasonable that he fell short of for me. Even if he hadn't though, there were certainly expectations I had that he simply had no way of ever meeting. I realize now that that isn't his fault. I owe him an apology for that. I am so, very, truly and honestly sorry for that, Husband.

I wish it could be different, whether he trusts that or not. I don't want to tear apart the life I have known for so long. I don't want to be miserable, either. Staying with him is certainly the easier choice, by far. It isn't the right one. I know life without him is going to be difficult and I find my heart aching deeply.

I don't know how things are going to turn out for us. I hope we can be friends, because we were always really phenomenal at that. There's no one in the world that will ever laugh at the statement, "That Jeep is FUCKED. UP."...but he will. Letting go of those things is hard. I wish he knew this wasn't all easy for me either. Maybe he does. Maybe he likes that this is difficult for me since, while he certainly helped lead into it, I am the one that facilitated the current circumstances. I don't know. I don't know what he thinks or feels because true to form, he won't communicate with me beyond being mean or callous when he's angry with me. I am guessing that is the only way he knows how to cope. I don't know, again, I won't assume to know anything about how he thinks or feels.

Husband, I know you are reading this and I know some of my words hurt. One day I will write you a post that is directed specifically to YOU, not an anonymous audience. Or maybe one day you will actually be able to talk to me, from your heart (which I know exists because I have seen little bits of its love come through a few times in the last decade). Either way, I'm sorry for expecting you to be someone you're not. It wasn't fair. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you that. I'm a bit of a pussy at times, despite my she-balls.

TWM...When It All Falls To Crap...

It's a little bit horrifying just how quickly everything can fall to crap. Sometimes it takes a huge loss to remind you of what you care about the most. Sometimes you find yourself becoming stronger as a result. Wiser. Better equipped to deal with the next big disaster that comes along. Sometimes. But not always. -Meredith

My Mom Found Some Old Crap In A Box And This Made Us Laugh...

To: All Male Tax Payers
From: I.R.S.
Subject: Increased Tax Payments

Dear Taxpayer:

The only thing the I.R.S. has not taxed is your pecker. This is due to the fact that 40% of the time it is hanging around unemployed, 30% of the time it is hard up and 10% of the time it is employed, but it operates in the hole. Furthermore, it has two dependents and they are both nuts.

Accordingly, after March 30, 1979, your pecker will also be taxed, based on its size, using the pecker checker scale below. Determine your appropriate category and insert the tax under "other taxes", Part V, line 61 of your Standard Income Tax Return (Form 1040).

Pecker Checker Scale

10 to 12 inches                 Luxury Tax                                    $50.00

8 to 10 inches                   Pole Tax                                          $25.00

6 to 8 inches                     Privilege Tax                                  $15.00

4 to 6 inches                     Nuisance Tax                                 $  5.00

Note: Anyone under 4 inches is eligible for a refund. Do not ask for an extension. Males with peckers in excess of 12 inches should be filed under "Capitol Gains".

Very Truly Yours,

Ruben J. Cutchapeckereff

I.R.S. Representative

Someday...Maybe...

When @Kristin_opc first approached me about blogging I had no freaking clue what she was talking about. In fact, I'm pretty sure I made some joke to the tune of oh-you-stuttering-fool. Then she replied with something like, shut-your-freaking-pie-hole-for-2-seconds-you-beautiful-bitch. Then her fingers floated over the keyboard in a flurry of precision and up popped this beautiful page of text describing her life in detail to a public audience I never realized existed.

Now I write this ridiculous little 'blog' which is really just a place I come to blab about nothing, everything and the space in between. It is my teeny tiny sliver of WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT IT TO BE and I love the shit out of it. It is the one place I feel I can be me...or not be me...and it really doesn't matter because no one that reads this little slice of Shit-pie cares! And I love that!

Tonight my friend Mer and I went out to dinner. After dinner we went to the grocery store. We tried on little hats. Big hats. Crazy hats. We had THE. BEST. TIME. I laughed so hard I was crying. At one point we were so hysterically gasping for air in our antics that I think some fellow consumers believed we truly were in need of medical help. It was the best 30 dollars I have ever spent.

I am sure I will hear about it from my husband later, as he is the one 'working', I can't find a job and I am the one divorcing him...so he dictates what money goes where. As far as he in concerned, not a penny should be spent on my having a good time. He will read this post, or see a Tweet I made about it or some "friend" will fill him in on the simple, old-fashioned, good-natured FUN I had and he will take it upon himself to tear me down for it.

I know it was simple, easy fun. He will try and make me feel guilty for it. For going out while my children were at home, asleep, in the beds I tucked them in to before leaving any further needs of theirs to my mom. For doing something that made me laugh until my side hurt in a joyful, innocent pain...why should I feel joy after hurting him so badly? For thinking for one nano-second that life beyond my current situation could contain a shred of joviality when he had tried his damnedest to show none for any other aspect of our life.

If I hear nothing in morning texts from him it will be because he read this blog post and is looking to go against my basic expectations.

Someday, I think, he will remember me as the simple woman he fell in love with.

Someday, I think, he will remember the easy manner in which I would gently rub my feet together, against the grain of the sheets, an equal number of times before falling asleep.

Someday, he may be able to forgive me and remember the specific manner in which I fold towels before carefully stacking them in the linen closet.

Or maybe he won't. Maybe he never saw those things. Maybe he did and he hated them. Maybe the man meant to notice and adore them hasn't yet entered my life.

Maybe.

But maybe...maybe there's a lot a little bit of the right kind of love can do.

TWM...Double Whammy...

So last week I slacked off and didn't make a TWM post. Here are 2 good ones to make up for last weeks super-slacker-ness. Both of them definitely describe a good part of my life lately, too. Happy Thursday!

When we're headed toward an outcome that's too horrible to face, that's when we go looking for a second opinion. And sometimes, the answer we get just confirms our worst fears. But sometimes, it can shed new light on the problem, make you see it in a whole new way. After all the opinions have been heard and every point of view has been considered, you finally find what you're after - the truth. But the truth isn't where it ends, that's just where you begin again with a whole new set of questions. -Meredith

Ask most surgeons why they became surgeons and they usually tell you the same thing. The high. The rush. The thrill of the cut. For me it was the quiet. Peace isn't a permanent state. It exists in moments. Fleeting. Gone before we knew it was there. We can experience it at any time, in a stranger's act of kindness, a task that requires complete focus or simply the comfort of an old routine. Everyday we all experience these moments of peace. The trick is to know when they're happening so that we can embrace them, live in them. And finally let them go. -Derek

Meanwhile I Keep Searching For A Heart...

"They tell me love requires a little standing in line and I've been waiting for you, lover, for a long, long time. I've been pacing the floor, I've been watching the door. Meanwhile I keep searching for a heart."

Well. Zevon, obviously, was a freaking Genius. Lyrically and possibly definitively. I have heard the lyrics to the above mentioned song on many occasions. I only recently understood (as in, was able to verbally understand, the lyric 'a little standing in line') parts of it and Holy freaking shitsnacks did it happen at a inopportune time. I am at a point in my life where I am divorcing the man I have been with for 10yrs. Ten. Mother. Fucking. YEARS. Time enough to decide what qualities are important in a spouse, or mate. Qualities that...when you are 17 fucking years old you can NOT decide are things you HAVE to have in the future. I have been making a list, mentally, for...years probably, about the qualities I MUST have in a future partner. I have been planning a blog post...pros vs. cons...on this topic for a while as well.

So. Here I am tonight and there is A LOT on my mind. And about 4 sentences prior to this, I received a text from a man I enjoy ALL-too-much. And it just...ugh!!! It is all too freaking annoying, cruel, imperfect and horribly...just...fucking...BULLSHIT. Really. It is. If you knew me, my life, my wants, my desires, my hopes, dreams, lustful thoughts....whatever! You would know. You would be as completely frustrated with life that you want to smack the hell out of anyone that tells you love is real. Tells you happiness exists. Tells you it takes a long time to find the things you want. My friend, that I ADORE, called my life, and only the little he knows about it "twistedly poetic". My response was "Twistedly poetic??? It's a sick fucking joke." This friend has called me "intriguing". He, I think, is insane.

Fuck. I *may* not be thinking entirely clearly. My point is this (I think I have a point but please don't hold me to it): there is apparently a slew of fucking men that seem to think I am exceptional. More than enjoy my company. Love my sense of humor. My love of sports. That I can drink any fucking Irish man under the freaking table. I am not sure how they fail to notice that, as of late, I am cynical, angry and pissed the fuck off at the God damn world. Men that know those things....somehow...none of them...work for me. Because now? Now I have a mother fucking LIST. BITCHES. (I'll do that in another post one day).

I always wanted to be the well educated, gorgeous-in-sweats-with-an-au-natural-glow, looks like a pro while running, cute when angry, special woman men like Hiatt, Joel, Zevon and the others write songs like Feels Like Rain, All About Soul and Mutineer about. I ended up cynical but wonderfully optomistic. I love the rain, I know my soul, I pray for those I love, speak my mind, even when it mean disrespecting the people I love because, God damnit, sometimes it just comes to that. I love the people I hate because that is what Jesus would fucking do. I cry myself to sleep at the end of most days because I cannot believe that I settled for less than any of the surface bullshit qualities I listed above, let alone someone that doesn't set my soul on fire.

I am sick of men wanting the things about myself I hate. Or worse! Seeing things in me that simply aren't there. I'm honestly just annoyed at this point. I am not even divorced yet and the prospect of dating, looking or actively pursueing anyone scare the good and dirty fuck out of me. I have kids already. I have ZERO desire to ever remarry. I want self dependence. My own space. My own bed. A bed that can house my kids and I on a Saturday morning. A bed with pillows soaked in my tears. One that smells of my shampoo and bar soap.

I am sick of men telling me what an interesting, awesome, just-what-I-want-in-a-woman, woman I am. How my personality is exactly what they want. I am sick of being the hypothetical "girl next door". I want to just be me. I want to be me in every way, shape and form and I want for THAT to be enough. I want for that to be "tragically poetic" but in a beautiful way. I want to be all the things I'm not. But I still want the things I am to be enough for the people that need me.

If I weren't so fucking hell bent and giddy on making everyone that enters my life happy, I think it would make ME more happy. I really fucking hate it to shit when the people I think could love the shit out of me, don't have the fucking time of day, or evening, or night-because...of whatever.

Remembering who you are is tough. Being who you are is tougher. Remembering who you are, where you came from and being strong, proud and tough as shit to actually behave in accordance with that is the toughest. Fuck anyone that can't keep up with you and God bless the poor bastards that try like hell. Make Saints of the ones that manage to fill your void without making you hate them, get it and stay with you when you try like the she-devil to try and make them do so.

I Am Blessed...

It isn't very often I get the overwhelming feeling to cry just by looking at my children. Lately, despite my seemingly constant lack of patience with their behavior, I look at their sweet faces and I get all teary and sappy. If I didn't know I wasn't, I'd swear I'm pregnant. There is something incredibly humbling about looking into the eyes of your children. If you have kids, you understand what I mean, I'm sure. If you don't, I really don't even know how to describe it. I look at my babies and I know that no matter what I have done to fuck up my life thus far, that they are the three things I have done right. I will keep trying to do right by them. They are, of course, my true north.

This is Emma. My only girl. When she was born I thought she was going to be a sweet, mild mannered, little angel. She's stubborn, egotistical (as most 5yo are), full of piss and vinegar and has a response to or for EVERYTHING.  She's the perfect blend of her father and me. It's scary at times. She also is kind, cute, unbelievably observant. She loves to sing. And talk. And talk...and talk.

This is Ryan. He has freckles ALL OVER his face. They're very light in color, but they are so sweet and just BEG to be kissed. He loves cars, trucks, trailers, motorcycles...anything with an engine and wheels. Just like his dad. He loves to dance and will break into dance at random. He is easily frustrated. He is particular about how his cars and trucks get played with. He has a temper. We jokingly call him Hulk at times. But even when he's angry, I like him. He's sweet as apple pie and loves his family.

 This is Logan. He's my superhero. Being the mother of a superhero can be tough at times. He simply does not understand that his webs will not save him from everything. He is HILARIOUS. He never fails to crack me up. Look at that face??? Its wonderfully perfect. He is the baby of my three and even with just 12 months between he and Ryan, Logan is very much his own person and does not let being the baby keep him from being independent. He definitely has that 'spark' you hear people talk about.

That's them opening day 2009. Yes. We are Cubs fans. We like it that way. We're not changing it! That last picture is me when I am happiest-Sunday afternoons, watching football, grilling for my family. Sometimes life gets so overwhelming that I forget how blessed I really am. Look at their faces though!!! One look into those sweet eyes and my heart swells. I am blessed!

TWM...Recovery...Starting Over...

The length of your recovery is determined by the extent of your injuries. And it's not always successful. No matter how hard we work at it, some wounds might never fully heal. You might have to adjust to a whole new way of living. Things may have changed, too, radically to ever go back to what they were. You might not even recognize yourself. It's like you haven't recovered anything at all. You're a whole new person with a whole new life. -Meredith

It's just a fantasy...its not the real thing...

I wrote this post a few weeks ago. Its a recurring dream I have. When I wrote it, I had just awoken and it was all fresh in my head. I have been having this same dream for years now. I didn't post it then because...eh, I don't know why exactly, just that it didn't feel right. I probably only have this dream 2-3 times in a whole year. I decided to post this today because I had it again this morning. That's twice in just a few weeks. I don't know that any of that has any significance, but I do know this dream is exactly the same, down to the last detail, every time I have it. Do any of you have any recurring dreams? What do you think they mean?

I dreamed about you again last night. Well, maybe it wasn't a dream. You know that period of time between waking and sleeping? Where your body still hasn't moved and your mind is still in that place where you're not consciously controlling your thoughts? That's where I see you. Where I feel you. Where I know you have to exist somewhere because if you didn't, then why would I be feeling you there so vividly? Does that count as a dream?

So today you visited me, again. It was the same as always. I open my eyes in the morning. There is a soft glow coming from my bedside table light. You are still asleep, laying facing me, on your side. Your lips are slightly parted. Your breaths deep, even. Your right hand is tucked beneath your pillow, palm up. The covers are pulled up over your shoulder and tucked loosely between your chin and collar bone. I look at your face and can see the little lines around your eyes. Proof of years of laughter and smiles. The thin, fine lines on your forehead remind me your life has been one with little worry-they're not as deep and pronounced as the ones I bear. Your hair has turned mostly silvery white, the dark strands now sporadically pepper your scalp. I think to myself how incredibly handsome you are. I have the sudden, uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch your face, so I do. My thumb brushes against your lips and you stir and slowly open your eyes, blinking the sleep away. You look at me and smile.

I feel my body begin to come out of its slumber and I close my eyes tightly in hopes of keeping you there. I can almost feel you fade and when I open my eyes the place where I just saw you sleeping is empty. Cold. I remember you aren't real. Just someone I have spent years dreaming about. I know the features I see are vague. Generic. The you I see isn't the you that will one day be. As I roll over and look at the ceiling I ask that God send you to me when I am ready to recognize you as you. So I don't pass you by because I am too caught up in my own life. So that I don't miss my chance to finally have my dream become my reality.

Originally written October 2011

Gomez - "Little Pieces"

It seems a few of my last few posts are suddenly coming together in a weird way. First, I have said to many people that the years I was married I felt as if I have been losing little pieces of me and that it has left me with this gaping void where I think my soul is suppose to be shining. Then I came across the "Pieces" quote I used for the #TWM post. Then I posted the lyrics to "See The World" by Gomez. I started watching some of their videos today and came across a song called, "Little Pieces" and once again, it is EXACTLY what I have been saying about my marriage for years. When God makes a point to me, he really, really has to drill it in.
Here is the video. Enjoy!

And so then there was this one time I saw this one band with that one cousin and she was all oh they're awesome and I was all oh I have no idea who they are and then I came across this thing a friend posted on the facebook a year ago today and I clicked on it to see more because it seemed like the thing to do and then I googled the thing cuz I liked what I saw and didn't know what it as and then I found this and then I cried and then I said duh thats all you ever wanted you sissy twat grow a pair and then I decided to blog it so here...

 Seriously, John? Seriously. This is the kind of signs God gives me. He knows it hits me in the side of the mother effin head like a Louisville.

See The World

Gomez

Day to day
Where do you want to be?
  'Cuz now you're trying to pick a fight
With everyone you need

You seem like a soldier
Who's lost his composure
You're wounded and playing a waiting game
In no-man's land no-one's to blame

See the world
Find an old fashioned girl
And when all's been said and done
It's the things that are given, not won
Are the things that you want

Empty handed, surrounded by a senseless scene
With nothing of significance
Besides a shadow of a dream
You sound like an old joke

You're worn-out, a bit broke
An' askin me time and time again
When the answer's still the same

See the world
Find an old fashioned girl
And when all's been said and done
It's the things that are given, not won
Are the things that you want

You've got a chance to put things right
So how's it going to be?
Lay down your arms now
And put us beyond doubt
So reach out it's not too far away
Don't mess around now, don't delay

See the world
Find an old fashioned girl
And when all's been said and done
It's the things that are given, not won
Are the things that you want

The things that you want
Are given not won
The things that you want
Are given not won

#TWM...Pieces...

He took something from me. He took little pieces of me, little pieces over time, so small I didn't even notice, you know? He wanted me to be something I wasn't, and I made myself into what he wanted. One day I was me Cristina Yang, and then suddenly I was lying for him, and jeopardizing my career, and agreeing to be married and wearing a ring, and being a bride. Until I was standing there in a wedding dress with no eyebrows, and I wasn't Cristina Yang anymore. And even then, I would've married him. I would have. I lost myself for a long time. And now that I'm finally me again, I can't. I love you. I love you more than I loved Burke. I love you. And that scares the crap out of me because when you asked me to ignore Teddy's page, you took a piece of me, and I let you. And that will never happen again. -Cristina

What Freaking Bike?...

Learning who you are after marriage is NOT like riding a bike. This has become so abundantly apparent in the last week. Holding onto your morals and values when you're hurting inside and in need of some sort of fulfillment- emotional, physical or my personal favorite which I so lovingly call, "Eat-'Til-I-Hate-Myself", is a difficult thing. I thought I knew who I was. What I wanted. Who I wanted to become. I hate that a huge part of me is no longer certain. Then again, I am beginning to believe that I have never really been certain.

I got married very young. Everyone around me told me this. I think for some people that may be ok. To get married young, that is. I think for some people those marriages last. In my case, I think I needed time to become more familiar with who I am, what I believe in and where I wanted my life to go. My husband is not a bad man. He can be very kind. He is a good father to our children. There was a time he was a good man to me and I trusted him more than I trusted anyone. I never felt like things were right, exactly, with us but I was alright with that for a long time.

I talked with a friend tonight that is on his second marriage. His first one ended when he was 22. Short, sweet and while he explained his sadness for the marriage failing, he understood it was over and said it ended without too much drama. He agreed that marrying before you know who you are is a bad idea. One needs time to get to know the person they are. Make a choice on who they want to be. Decide what they want in their life before they can even possibly attempt to put forth the effort, respect, compromise and understanding required to try and make a marriage work. I know this now. I wish I had realized before. Now this isn't saying that I think people don't change. They certainly do. I don't know anyone that is the same person they were 10 years ago. I don't know anyone now that will be the same in 10 years. I just think that one needs to commit to a good foundation before being capable of committing to a lifetime with another person.

I think once a marriage fails, despite the reasons or whether or not you were the one facilitating the demise of it, everyone must go through a period of grief and recovery. I think like grieving over the death of a loved one, each person will go through this experience differently. Recovery takes time. It may mean working out excessively. It may be binge eating. It may be quilting until your fingers bleed. Anything to regain the sense of control you once had, were always lacking or always wanted. But it is definitely a process to heal, recover and eventually move on as a stronger, better, more whole person. There is not a time frame for this process to occur in. I don't believe in judging anyone while trying to work through their process either.

Someday I think you are able to forgive the person that has hurt you. I hope so anyway. I can remember a time when my husband was someone I loved. While that love has long since expired, I pray peace will one day be possible between us. Just for the kids, even.I am trying very hard to bite my tongue when he says things to me that would reduce most women to tears. Not that his remarks haven't gotten to me, its just that I have learned to let them go. I know better who I am than he does. I know I am relearning who I am and as is with any learning process, to actually learn, one must make mistakes, fail and rise above.

So to him: judge me, call me names, tear me apart and try your damnedest to break me down. I have spent 10 years letting you take away the little pieces that made me, ME. It will take me a while to relearn the things I stand for. To become the woman I always dreamed I was. What you think of me and my way of learning is none of MY business. By talking to me the way you do, you are insulting our children. They are part of me and they are good kids with strong, stubborn streaks and smart mouths. Some of those things they get from both of us. They are also kind, thoughtful and caring. ALL traits instilled by me.

You know the saying, "You never know what you had until its gone"? Well, its absolutely true. I never knew independence, self worth and a sense of identity were so important until I lost every bit of it in a marriage where I was convinced my thoughts, dreams, wants, desires, feelings and sense of worth didn't matter.

And while I said things never seemed exactly "alright", I'm telling you, there were things I never saw coming.

Thursdays With Meredith...Dreams...

"Maybe we accept the dream has become a nightmare. We tell ourselves that reality is better. We convince ourselves it's better that we never dream at all. But, the strongest of us, the most determined of us, holds on to the dream or we find ourselves faced with a fresh dream we never considered. We wake to find ourselves, against all odds, feeling hopeful. And, if we're lucky, we realize in the face of everything, in the face of life the true dream is being able to dream at all." -Meredith


I know, I know. Last week was fantasy. This week is dream. Redundant in more ways than one. I have more to say about this little-beauty-of-a-Grey's quote, but I think for now I had best let my thoughts settle a bit. Really, though, the few above sentences sum up whats been on my mind pretty well anyway. As if that is somehow surprising.

Foodcation...

So I stole the title of this post from The Blue Zoo because I like it sooooo much! This last weekend I took a Foodcation. Basically a Foodcation is a vacation where you eat and eat and eat, don't count calories and while I had every intention to run throughout my Foodcation, I did not. Here's the silly part-well there are a few very silly parts, but here is one- remember my post I'd Die For Food ? The comment I received was from JMK, 'member her? The wonderful wife of John, whose four member family was basically my second family and home growing up? Anyway-I took my Foodcation to St. Louis to visit her and John. And boy oh boy DID. WE. EAT. We put those competitive eating freaks to shame. It was awesome. Except today when I got on my scale and it read 10lbs higher than it did Friday before I left. 10. Pounds. Higher. EW.

Anyway, by this coming Friday I am thinking that number will be back to normal so I am not going to obsess about it (yeah right. You know me. I'll weigh myself 4 times a day and run doubles all week...sigh). What could have possibly made me add the weight a large infant to my physique? Hmmmm...where to start. Well, on the 6 hour drive down there I stopped for Subway. I ordered my normal veggie on flatbread...and then I grabbed a bag of Cheetos AND a...Oh-hush-my-foul-mouth...POP. Then I got to St. Louis. We started with chips and dip. Then we had burgers. After burgers they took me for froyo (no red velvet, but I still loaded it with all kinds of crap).

Saturday morning, in addition to about 4 cups of Kahlua flavored coffee, Joanie made french toast and bacon. The THICK french toast. And I drank OJ. I was so stuffed. After that Joanie and I went shopping in downtown St. Charles which is this historic little town that sits on the Missouri River. There are a ton of cute little shops, including this AWESOME olive oil and balsamic vinegar shop that, well, I can't even describe it because you'd just have to see it. There are about 30 different jug-like-vats that are full of different flavored oils and vinegars. Crazy flavors. Like truffle, lemon, Tuscan, chocolate, vanilla, raspberry, mint...the list goes on! We spent quite a while in there tasting different oils and vinegars. It was by far one of the coolest places I have ever visited.

We wandered into an Irish store at one point and I saw this coffee mug I fell in love with immediately. I was thrilled to discover Joanie secretly purchased it for me and later surprised me with it once we returned home.

Isn't it great?! After living away from home since I was 18 and moving myself and my kiddos back into the house I grew up in, I find this more than appropriate! I just love it and have used it every day since she bought it for me. AND it holds almost half a pot of coffee at once!!!

We also were in this shop that upon entering appears to be a bakery/coffee shop. Joanie led me through the place, winding through a very narrow hallway and two rooms before entering a room at the back of the building that was full, from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, of bottles of HOT SAUCE!!! I think my jaw literally dropped. It was so cool. There were HUNDREDS of them; I swear! And of course they all had awesome names. We perused this place for quite a while laughing (at times loudly) at the names of some of the sauces. I eventually settled on two different kinds, 'Screamin' Sphincter' and 'Hot As Shit Hot Sauce'. We left there and went to this cute little outdoor patio restaurant where we shared a plate of nachos that were piled with all kinds of delicious toppings. Joanie LOVED the thick sliced jalapenos (hehehe). For dinner we made beer can chicken (with butter boobies), had a salad of fresh mozza, basil and romas (which Joanie drizzled with some of the flavored balsamic from that awesome little store) and baked sweet potatoes that were each the size of a freaking football. Then we watched movies.

Sunday was my last day there and for breakfast we had omelets. YUM. I don't even think we had lunch, just snacked...on homemade guac and chips!!! We then spent all day deciding on a dinner. We planned to make big-ass pork chops, red potatoes with butter and fresh minced parsley, a GRILLED salad (uh-huh, I said grilled and salad) and a blueberry goat cheese pie that sounded truly sinful. We made an epic grocery list that included all ingredients necessary for the above recipes but also had Twizzlers, ice cream and crackers (because SOMEHOW 2 sleeves of crackers disappeared. I have NO idea how that happened. I think the Puglies had something to do with it). Then we're getting ready to go to the store and decide we'd rather just watch football and go into a vegetative food-coma. So we ordered in Mexican and watched football on the 51" flat panel-OUTSIDE!!! Yep. While Joanie and I cut up veggies and mixed up the guac, John disconnected the TV and hooked it up outside on the patio. It was freaking great. Really, really great. We watched the Cards lose to the Brewers (YAY!) and then moved the TV back inside where we watched a movie, the Packers game and just relaxed. It was exactly what I needed.

OH!!! And I cannot forget to tell you all about the two trips Joanie and I made to the grocery store this last weekend. Yes. Two trips because apparently in St. Louis you shop one days worth at a time. Or maybe that is just a John and Joanie thing ;-) Anyway, the first time we went to the store and were wandering around aimlessly, chatting and deciding what other unhealthy item we HAD to buy, the store manager stopped us with a, "How YOU doin'?" and very obviously (though I wasn't watching, Joanie said it was a little gross how obvious) looked us up and down...TWICE. Then the second time we went into the store, on Sunday, I was wearing my Cutler jeresy, Joanie was in a Bears shirt, too, and some balding dude started chatting us up in the checkout line regarding the Cardinals and Rams. He looked in our cart, full of junk food, and truly sounded like he wanted an invite to our afternoon food party. It was quite hilarious. I won't even tell you about meeting their new (tattooed!) neighbor...

I had such a truly awesome time. I was able to relax. Visit with people I love. While I can't say I have a fully restored soul, I can tell you it is really the first time I have felt at ease in a while. I can't wait to visit again. I think next time I would like to bring the kids with and see the city. I hear there is a lot to see and do in St. Louis...

Thursdays With Meredith...Fantasies...

I wrote a post yesterday titled, "It's Just A Fantasy..." that I haven't yet published because, well because of a lot of reasons. Anyway, when I was perusing Grey's quotes for today's post and came across this one, it just felt right. 

"The fantasy is simple. Pleasure is good, and twice as much pleasure is better. That pain is bad, and no pain is better. But the reality is different. The reality is that pain is there to tell us something, and there's only so much pleasure we can take without getting a stomach ache. And maybe that's okay. Maybe some fantasies are only supposed to live in our dreams." -Meredith

Moving Forward...

I never thought that any of this divorce stuff would be easy on my kids. I knew there would be many challenges. While I watch them, my youngest and oldest are doing quite well. They use their words, even at the tender ages of 3 and 5, to express their feelings about all the changes taking place in their lives. My 4 year old is having the toughest time and my heart aches every time I look at him. He gets VERY frustrated, out of nowhere, over nothing. He tells me he wants to go home, not live at Grandma's house, he is cold, cranky or tired. These are the words he uses to tell me, "Mom, this effing sucks and I don't like the way life is right now!!!". I know this. He IS learning, after a very emotional talk he and I had, to hug me when he is upset or angry instead of lashing out. I am amazed at the way he is so quickly embracing this way of dealing with his emotions. That said, his outbursts and tantrums are still a daily struggle.

Last year Ryan started preschool in January at the same school as Emma (which happens to be part of the church I attend regularly). He LOVED it. He especially took to the teachers aid, Mrs. Ransom.  The school and church are an HOUR from the house we lived in and I drove them there 3x a week because they were so incredibly happy there. Since it was preschool there weren't any boundaries as to where they could attend so it wasn't a problem. This year; however, with Emma starting kindergarten at the school near our home, I had to find a new preschool for Ryan. I decided on a school run out of the Methodist church my kids attended VBS at this past summer. I loved the teachers, the fact that they said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning and that they had a bunny rabbit as a classroom pet (I have a thing for cute little bunnies). School started the day after Ryan's 4th birthday. He HATED it. HATED it. Cried-like, the kind of cries that shook his entire body. SOBS. He clung to me, pulled on my clothes and didn't want me to leave. This was a very new experience for me. My kids had NEVER behaved like this. EVER.  Of course after the teacher pulled him off of me and got him calm and distracted with some awesome toy, he was fine and had a great time...until the next day of school where we started the whole process over again. It killed me.

So, with him having so many difficulties with the divorce, starting a new school, etc, I was extremely nervous about moving my family in with my mom. This required pulling him out of school and starting again somewhere else. The good thing is, moving in with my mom put us just 10 minutes away from the school he loved and attended last year! YAY!

I just got back from dropping him off for his first day back there. Even though he loved it and was going to have Mrs. Ransom as a teachers aid again, he was still telling me he didn't want to go. And I was a nervous wreck. I am so, so, SO happy to report that when I dropped him off today, he spotted Mrs. Ransom, ran past the new teacher, wrapped his arms around her neck and didn't even look back to say good-bye to me. I left in tears, but because I am so relieved that he FINALLY has something happening in his little life that makes his heart happy. I can't wait to pick him up and see how much fun he had today!

This is a happy day for me! One, maybe minor, success in this whole process!!!

My First Blog Hop...

So there is this really fantastic chic that writes over at The Blue Zoo . I met her through Twitter. I have met some pretty cool people through Twitter and @TheBlueZoo is one of them. She and I tweet all day about dieting, food we shouldn't be eating (like Sugar Free RedBull and turkey dogs), things we should be doing (like a 5 mile run or an hour on the elliptical), and things we cannot live without (like coffee and corny M&Ms...). So when she emailed me asking me to write a guest post on Blog Hop Monday for the Friends You Love event I was so super excited!!! And then I sat down to write and thought, "What the hell did I agree to!?" I SUCK at writing and she has A LOT of followers!!! Like, A LOT!

Plus, what the hell do I know about friendship? My husband has had the same circle of friends since about kindergarten. They had become my "friends" but now...not so much! Then I thought about someone I HAVE known my whole life. In fact, I wouldn't have even had the opportunity to meet Steph at The Blue Zoo and write on her blog if it weren't for my cousin, Kristin at Only Parent Chronicles , who made me my Twitter account under the name she refers to me as on her blog, Fave Cousin. It just so happens that she also IS my best friend (one of 2 actually, both named Kristin...weeeeeeiiiirrrrd). Anyway, now I had someone to write about!!!

So, go read my post, explore Life In A Blue Zoo, hop over to OPC to say Hi! to Kristin and spend some time today thinking about the friends you love!

She Balls Make Me Awesome...

So recently I received a phone call from a man I have known since I was probably about 7 or 8 years old. My dad met him when we first moved to IL and had started a new job here. His wife, JMK (whom I always treated me like a 'grown-up' and I love her so very dearly for that) and their 2 kids quickly became family to mine.  As a kid I spent A LOT of time at their house with my family. I don't recall what year it was, but they moved about 3 hours away at some point and we saw them less and less until eventually, as often happens, we lost track of each other.

When my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I thought it only right to track his friend, John, down and let him know of dad's diagnosis. We spoke occasionally after that about the truth of dad's condition, as when John would talk to my dad on the phone, there was no doubt in his mind my dad wasn't letting on the full truth of the severity and aggressiveness of his disease. I think John knew I wouldn't bullshit him. When dad's cancer eventually took his life, I think it was me that called to tell John and Joanie, but in all honesty, I don't recall too many details about what happened the week following his death. In any event, John came up for dad's service and gave a speech that moved everyone to tears.

So, what does this sad, sappy, love-filled story have to do with big, brass, balls, you ask? Well, if you knew my dad, and in particular if you watched him suffer through the cancer and not ONCE complain, you would know he had manly cajones. No doubt. Maybe stainless-steel ones at that. If you didn't know my dad, but you know a member of the Patterson clan, you are familiar with the kind of strength and courage I am referring to. We're a tough, badass bunch of m-effers because we have to be. Life hasn't always been kind to us, but like John told me last week, " Life is about taking shit . And learning how to put up with it and know you're better than that." And he's right. Life is definitely about taking shit and learning from it.


Going through the divorce process, trying to be true to myself and trying like hell to be as fair and kind as I can to my husband in the process (because I am first to admit, the last 2 months haven't been at all fair or kind to him and I think he's doing the best he can to deal, though he is currently behaving like a real ass like a man that's hurt and lashing out) is causing me to question the size, weight and chemical make-up of my female cajones. I am hurting. I have been hurting for a long time. The decision to divorce my husband alleviated a lot of that hurt I had been feeling for so long. This hurt right now is a different kind of hurt and I think unless you have been in a position like mine you can't relate. You won't understand. I really don't expect anyone to understand and as my pastor and friend recently told me, what you or anyone else thinks about me isn't my business. That said...my big brass balls have shrunk a bit. 


Knowing I have been a bit of a whiny, sissy, baby as of late, I was delightfully surprised and appreciative when my phone rang last week and I heard John's voice on the other end. Our conversation went something like this, and forgive the language, but us badass m-effers curse like truckers...ya know, cause that's what badass m-effers do and stuff.


Me: Hello?
John: What the hell is going on? Are you going soft on me? Don't go soft on me. 
Me: Well, ya know, I'm a little stressed out right now, dude! I know I'm being a whiny bitch!
John: You are hardcore. Don't lose that edge! Stay tough. 
Me: I'm trying, I'm trying. This stuff is tough, though and I feel like I am losing it!
John: I'd tell ya to grow a pair, but you've got the biggest ones on any girl I know.
Me >>>laughing boisterously<<<: OK. I'll get my shit together.


We talked for a few more minutes and then hung up. His phone call was exactly what I needed to remember where I get my strength and courage from.  And even if I don't like running in the cold, wet, wind and rain, I still have the biggest, heaviest, brassiest she-balls around, damnit.

Thursdays with Meredith...Denial...

"Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim. The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon. We can only lie to ourselves for so long. We are tired, we are scared, and denying it doesn't change the truth. Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world, head on, guns blazing... Denial. It's not just a river in Egypt. It's a freakin' ocean. So how do you keep from drowning in it?" -Meredith

Thursdays With Meredith...

I am going to start something of a feature here at And So It Goes... I am a longtime fan of Grey's Anatomy and every episode I find myself loving something Meredith has said. Most of the things I love are part of her narration but not always. Anyway, at the risk of becoming what I call a "trendy blogger", I present to you, "Thursday's With Meredith". Maybe I will even start referring to it as TWM and then, like PINT with @Kristin_OPC you will all know exactly what it is. OOOHHH!!! Maybe I will go one step further and hash tag it. #TWM #WIN

Ok, I am straying. I have 2 followers and they're both going to read this and laugh. And then JMK is going to call her husband in the room and go, "Our adopted daughter is blogging not only about her love for bad tv, but her big, brass, balls again." (Yeah, I haven't mentioned those yet, but you just wait. That will be a fun post.)

So, I know it's not Thursday and I will have another post tomorrow with a different quote, but this one is just too good not to share right now. This is from last weeks episode, spoken during narration by Meredith. Sometimes I may share my thoughts on the quote (cause you all know how I like to jabber), but I think this is clear enough. I think sometimes people that don't spend a lot of time with their kids forget how they have become the breath and life of a mother's existence.

"You think that true love is the only thing that can crush your heart; that will take your life and light it up or destroy it. Then you become a mother."

And another thing that makes me happy...

A friend on Facebook recently posted a GREAT list of things that make her happy. They included watching ice cubes melt as hot water is poured over them (who doesn' t love those swirls?!), ice cubes clinking against the side of a ceramic cup, and a few other randomly-wonderful little things we so often don't give a second thought to. Others commented with some of their favorite things, too. Someone listed walking up the concourse at a ballpark and taking it all in as you reach the walkway. This is definitely something I love to experience every time I'm at Wrigley. Someone else listed new socks. Totally agree. I wrote, "making fingers with my toes in the carpet"...

Any-random-thought-later, I really started think about these little things that we love that I think are so uniquely specific to each of us. Or perhaps they make us all a little bit nuts but what the hell? As I am accentuating the positive in my life these days, I figured I would give it a try!

I love those moments in the morning when my coffee is hot, my kids are still asleep, my house is quiet and the sun is just starting to peek up over the house behind mine. Those exact circumstances only occur about twice a year, but I live for those moments!

The way a freshly sharpened knife cuts through a tomato. Odd, I know, but I hate a dull chefs knife and I HATE when it refuses to slice a tomato without mashing in the top.

The sound of whipped cream coming out of the can.

The way baggy sweat pants envelope my legs on a cold, dark, dreary fall day. Paired with the perfect hoodie while sprawled out on the couch on a Sunday watching football and I am in heaven.

The scent, feel and sight of a bonfire on a crisp, mid-west, fall night. There's just something sexy about this to me.

The way water and oil don't mix in a puddle after it rains.

A fresh stack of printer paper. Crisp, white, flat and clean-smelling.

The smell of salt as you approach the ocean. You can smell it before you can see it and it is a smell that awakens every one of my senses and puts my heart at ease.

Baby toes. This may make me more happy than the ocean. Baby toes make me happy enough to bring tears to my eyes. I don't know why they do, but they do. More than baby smell, which is also amazing. Something about those tiny, wrinkled, curled toes makes me appreciate God, life and new beginnings.

Compared to the poetic way in which my friend on Facebook listed her happy-thoughts, my list is short, pathetic and definitely un-poetic. Her list; however, has made me more aware of the things that happen in my daily life that make my heart soar, if even for just a few seconds.

When People Bring You Down...

So I got some news today that my husband is going to do everything he can to make my starting a life without him impossible-even if that means it hurts our kids. His logic for this is that if I hadn't chosen to divorce him, none of this would be happening and that somehow justifies his behaving like a child that hasn't gotten his way. So be it. That's ok. I knew going in this wasn't going to be easy by far. So I'll just keep going, trying to move forward. My plan to keep my head from exploding is simple: I will find something every day to mark in my head as something in my life I am happy with. Simple enough, right? We'll see!

Today I am happy for my beautiful children. That is true every day, yes. But today I am especially happy to have them. We sat on the couch and watched the Bears game. We laughed. We goofed around. We ate popcorn and I am making chili for dinner. Making chili makes me happy, too. I make it differently every time. My mom makes me happy. My family, even when fighting, makes me happy.

That's it. That's all I got today. But I think it's a start.

'Nuff Said...

Piano Song
Heartless Bastards

You cannot take anything away from me
My spirit won't break cause there's nothing left you see
You wanna take your poison arrow and pierce it through
My heart
But no sad songs for the sparrow because I was dead
Right from the start
I got strength in my mind, I got strength in my soul
And I will never fit, fit into a mold
Because oh I know me better than you will ever know
So why don't you just leave me
Please leave me alone
Time it takes it's toll but at least I still got my soul
And there's nothing you can do to change that
That's just the way it is
This wells run dry cause I bled right from the start

And so it DOES, indeed, go...

And so my middle child turned 4 today. I feel he has been the most cheated. From what I hear this is typical for middle children. He was just 3 months old when I became pregnant with my youngest. I feel the distraction of being pregnant, the timing of it all, made his baby time less clear to me. He was a beautiful baby, as all my kids were of course. I remember with him in particular, our pediatrician telling me during a regular check-up, that Ryan could be a Gerber baby and then looking at me and saying, "I see a LOT of babies. I have 5 of my own. He is TRULY gorgeous." He really is.

He starts his 2nd year of pre-school at 9:15 tomorrow morning. I am excited for him. He is such a stubborn child. He does things his way. It doesn't matter what anyone tells him the outcome will be. He gets frustrated easily. He tells me often I am the most beautiful momma he has. He believe it, too. He is considerate to his siblings, even when they don't deserve it. He LOVES cars, trucks, tractors, trailers, boats, wave runners...it has a motor he LOVES it. Gets that from his daddy and Papa.

I am so not prepared to be the mother of a kindergartner, a pre-schooler and a toddler. Whoa. Life happened awful quickly for me. I need some time for it to slow down. Re-group. Re-formulate. Especially with the marital affairs taking place.

I recently posted a very heartfelt blog post regarding the marital affairs and later deleted it because I believe it caused my husband a lot of pain.  I know my choice has cause him a lot of pain and will continue to do so until he can realize it is what is right for me is right for our kids as well. I cannot have my daughter growing up believing un-happiness is normal. In the same respect I cannot have my sons growing up believing the way they see their father "appreciating" me is an acceptable way to treat a woman. I don't believe life doesn't have its challenges, marriage is a breeze and everything turns up daisies, but for the love of God what does a woman have to do to be heard? To be given flowers? To be made to feel like her existence is almost too much for a man to handle? I do not believe these are unreal expectations when you're talking marriage, folks!!!

So, I am feeling...different...as my son starts his 2nd (he will have to also have a 3rd year of pre-school because I failed to meet the Sept. 1st deadline with my delivery of him) year of pre-school. I want him to learn. I want him to expand his imagination. I want him and my other 2 kids to feel that everyday is truly a gift and if we can spend it making our dreams more of a realization while pleasing the people we love than it is a day well spent in God's eyes, our lives and our health.

Happy Birthday, Ryan. The day you were born I called my OB with a headache, sinus infection and general shitty disposition on life! She asked me to come in to be checked and told me I was dilated 6cm with you and if I made it across the street to the hospital without my water breaking it'd be a miracle. I did make it. She broke my water and a couple hours later you entered your dad's and my life. We love you. So much. That day was also the first day I saw my dad in over 6 months. He was sober, 4 months. You have a sobriety coin from him in your bank. You, Emma and Momma gave him a life he never knew existed.

We love you, Big Bubs.

Always Yours,
Momma (and Daddy)

She can turn the world on with her smile...

You might know my cousin, Kristin, who writes a blog I love dearly titled "Only Parent Chronicles". She is pretty much my best friend. I could not make it through life with out her insight, wisdom, knowledge and most importantly her love and support for me no matter what. She may be the only person in the world aside from my mother that really loves me unconditionally. On her blog she refers to me as "Fave Cousin". She created a Twitter account for me with the name @Fave_Cousin (which I have met some pretty amazing people through). It pretty much sums up our opinion of each other. She live 2 states away and while I see her more than any other cousin, aunt or uncle (and honestly I see her more than I see my own siblings who are the next county over) it still makes it difficult because I value our relationship so greatly.

Kristin does a feature on her blog called Post It Note Tuesday, or PINT for short. Today's post its were 2 quotes about life and change. The first was, "Life is an adventure. Embrace it. We are not the same person this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person."- William Somerset Maugham

Well, isn't that just the simple truth? People change...at least some things about them do. Or maybe people just adapt. Maybe we're all born one way and nothing ever really changes, we just adapt to the situation around us. This would make sense for those who have ever dealt with someone that has gone through "the program".

The second quote was this, "Take chances. Make mistakes. Pain nourishes your courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave."-Mary Tyler Moore

I talked to you last about changes in my life. The big one, regarding my marriage, I didn't exactly let out. Enough people have learned of it the last 2 days that I feel its safe to say it here, (to my 2 followers who already know!) my husband and I are getting divorced. For me it has been a long time coming. I asked him for a divorce 2 years ago. I have known in my heart since the day I married this man that he simply wasn't the right man for me. So, why, you ask, did I marry him??? I know he is asking himself the same thing. Truth is, I don't know. It seemed easier than breaking up the life we had then . I know! I know! We didn't have kids then. There wasn't a mortgage. There wasn't a mound of medical debt. It would have been so easy then!!! I am one that has to make every single wrong decision before I can see and then make the right one. I have always been that way. Blame my hard headed-ness. Blame my stubborn-ness. Blame my need to do exactly the opposite of what people tell me to do. I don't know why I'm that way, I just am. I am sorry that being that person is bringing my husband, a man that I have loved, great pain and distress. I cannot change that part of who I am.

The part of this last quote that stuck out to me is the part about courage. And bravery. "Pain nourishes courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave." YES!!! Yes. I went through a lot of pain to get to the place where I now have the courage to do what I always knew was right. Fail. I have failed at so many things. I feel finally stepping out of this marriage that has caused me so much pain over the years will only encourage my strength. A strength I lacked 2 years ago.

I have a plaque that hangs in my entry way that I bought about a year ago when my husband and I hit our 5 year anniversary. It reads, "To have courage for whatever comes in life. Everything lies in that." Tomorrow is our 6 year anniversary. I know he will spend the day mourning what once was and what is now lost. I will spend it at home, with our kids, doing house-wife work and dreaming about a life I always wanted and never had the opportunity to attain. Same thing I've done every year before. Except...this year, I will be doing all those things with a new sense of hope. Hope because I have courage. Courage for whatever comes tomorrow.

Wow! 5 months, huh?

So it has been 5 months since I last posted. I know for my 2 followers it seems like a lifetime, huh?!

Well, I quit bloggin because I lost my internet access. Which was sad because I truly enjoy the outlet this provides me. So, "what happened?" you ask? Well my hubby was laid off last December. Since then he has been trying to make a living as being "self employed", It is far from a fail but just as far from being a success.

I started working out. Since the first week of June I have lost 20 pounds! I started at 148# (5'8") and I now weigh about 125. I. Am. Stoked! But to be honest, I am freaking sick and tired of people commenting on how "thin" or "skinny" I am and it takes every ounce of my self control (which I lack anyway) not to scream, "I'M FUCKING HEALTHY NOW, YOU ASS!!!"

Aside from weight loss I have also made some other life altering decisions that I feel will truly benefit me as a person in a positive manner. That said, my choices will, without a doubt, cause a lot of stress on myself and my family over the next few months. I will not be deterred; however, because I know in my heart and in my head that this choice is what is right for me and my children.

So, what??? you might ask is this big decision?! Unfortunately broadcasting it over the internet at this point is not okay and not what I want.

So now I am pondering what I do want with the new life I am making myself. Here are my initial thoughts:

I want my kids to be happy. Secure with me. Secure with my husband. Secure with our roles in their lives. Their happiness is, by far, my TOP priority.

I want to be happy. This is my second priority. I have spent so long trying to make others happy that I completely lost track of who I am. How I feel. What I want. Where I want to be and who I want in my life. It is actually slightly pathetic how far off track I have gotten. I have always lived as a real person with real thoughts. I have never, ever been fake. In high school a friend made me a CD titled, "For Kate. The most REAL chic I know". Silly? Maybe. But relevant to who I am? absolutely. I still talk to the guy that made me that CD, too. It amazes me that he knew then who I was.

Sigh. So...now what else? God. God led me to this very recent life change over the course of many years. Many years of pain, doubt, guilt, regret, questioning and finally, acceptance. Now, I know I will face judgment by friends, family, etc. I've already faced it by "friends". "Friends" that claim to be Christians-whom, by the way, are of the type that are often most judgmental! What I want to say to these friends is this: I have spent YEARS praying on this situation. Years. I have cried, broken, defeated, alone and asked God to guide me. Help me. Give me a SIGN. Now, signs-I don't believe in them unless I am being slapped upside the head with a Louisville Slugger. Regarding this? I feel I was.So now I'm at acceptance. Excitement for what comes next! I know the next few years will be very rocky. Very challenging. Challenge my faith. Challenge my heart. Challenge my sense of self. Challenge my sense of anything I have ever known. But I know its right. I KNOW, in the bottom of my heart, this choice is right. And that is a lot for me to say. I have made A LOT of poor choices in my life. This is honestly one of the few I feel so incredibly sure of. That's a first.

SO! You 2 followers! I will need your support. I will need your love. I will need your prayers. I will need your undying understanding of ME!

Thank you!!!

Without blog capabilities these days, I'm sad. I need someone to know I have a heart.

People don't listen...and they're unfairly mean

Is it April yet...

February is weird for me.

Feb 1 marked 2 years since the last time I saw my dad healthy and alive. It was Super Bowl Sunday 2009. I have very vivid memories of this day. Dad brought shrimp cocktail. Kraft cocktail sauce, which I loathe. He wore a red, button down, thick cotton shirt, Levis and the cowboy boots he bought in Murphreesboro, TN in 2007 (when we drove down to see my great grandpa Meyers, who wanted to meet my children).
Emma stood naked in those boot before bathtime that day. Springsteen did the halftime show. My parents left after that.

2 days later dad got news that his cancer was back and was admitted at NWM. It was all downhill from there. The next time I saw him was 2 weeks after that when he was moved to ICU with a mild brain bleed from a fall while trying to use the restroom by himself. I believe the time spent in the neuro ICU is the reason he is dead today. He got C-diff, a violent stomach/intestinal/colon super bug.  I went to visit because the c-diff had become so bad they didn't believe he would make it. He eventually got moved back to the cancer floor, his body ravished from the fight with a deadly bug, doing so with an immune system that was non existent. His survival through this alone was a miracle. He was so sick during my visit that he barely lifted his head to acknowledge my presence. He smiled when I walked in and 20 minutes later I had to leave because he'd become so violently ill and I had my 6 month baby (L, who was still without heart repair and highly susceptible to all viruses) with me. I had to pick my infant's health over my own needs to be by my dad's bedside. This would prove to be the first of three similar instances over the next 2 weeks.

I talked to my dad multiple times, every day he was hospitalized throughout his battle with leukemia. That didn't change over the next 2 weeks. He progressively sounded worse on the phone. He had always, ALWAYS wanted to talk to me. About the kids, about my life, about our shared character...traits.  His desire to talk to me every day diminished rapidly. One day we laughed over the antics of my then 2yr, 18 and 6 month old. The very next day, I called, a nurse held the phone to his ear and all he said was, "God, I love those kids, KB." (his nickname for me).

February 25 at 2am my youngest child was admitted to CHW, 100 miles from my dad at NWM, with a severe respiratory virus that caused his O2 sats to plummet under 75%. He required regular breathing treatments and around the clock monitoring. I couldn't leave his side. 2 days later I received a call at the hospital from my mom telling me my dad was coming home on hospice care and that his survival through the weekend was unlikely.

I relayed this information to the nurses and doctors tending to my son....the events of the next 36 hours are too raw for me to share. In the shortest version possible, I got my son discharged Saturday at noon and drove the 100 miles to the home I grew up in; the home I would watch my 48year old father die in.

Sunday, March 1, 2009. 5:55pm. I grasped my dad's hand and told him that I could tell he was in pain. That, if he were ready, he needed to let go. Not to worry about us, because I knew that is the only reason he was holding on. That we would be OK. That I loved him. I'd miss him. Every. Single. Day.

I kissed him, let his hand go into my little brother's and walked into the next room to hug my kids and nurse my baby.

No sooner did I sit down and my husband came running into the room, "GO! Now!" he said to me. I ran back into the room in time to see life leave my dad. It was 6:01pm.


I could write pages and pages on the events of that weekend. But those memories are mine. Mine to keep, mine to share privately with the people I choose. That weekend forever changed my life. My faith. The faith of my husband.

Dad brought shrimp cocktail to that last Super Bowl. Tonight a very dear friend served it at dinner at its right at the time of year I struggle most to get out of bed, since dad's death.

I miss him. I miss him all the time. Everyday. I still cannot walk into my parent's house and not see him sitting in the living room. I don't even have to close my eyes and I hear his laugh, his voice. I can see him almost everywhere I go. I still haven't figured out how to exist in a world where my dad doesn't.

But I do. I do exist and the world didn't stop turning even though my life did.

And that is why February is weird. And I hate winter even more now that I did before.

So, if you happen to spend time with me. And if you're someone that knows me well and you notice I don't quite seem like myself, please remember my heart hurts. It hurts every day. Most days I make it through because I have God and my kids and my husband and my mom. Some days though? Some days I'm only as human as God made me.

I'd die for food...

I really would. I eat pretty healthy. Being the mother of 2 heart kids will do that to you. Being the daughter of a man that died from a cancer caused by a chemical additive in motor oil will make you pick everything fresh and organic when possible. It is a lifestyle change, really.

That said...
I. Love. Food. I really, really do. Sauted. Fried. Salads. 5 course meals. Fish. Steak. Grilled veggies. Grilled...ANYTHING! Butter. Olive oil. Bread. White rice. Brown rice. Oranges. Orange liqour. American. Greek. Mexican. Italian. BBQ. Spanish. Lamb. Ribs. Chicken. Zucchini. Squash. Pumpkin. Sweet taters. Hash browns. Corned beef. Eggs. Bacon. Hash browns. Toast. Pot roast. Breeeeeaaaaad. Sweet, sweet breeeeeadd. Which brings me to pasta. Fettuccini. Capanelli. Linguini. Spahgetti. Farfalle. Alfredo. Marinara. Tomato. Pesto. Seafood. Shrimp. Salmon. Halibut. Trout. Tuna. Sea bass. Squid. Cod. Catfish. Orange roughy. Kiiiiiiing Craaaaab......

I could eat all day. I love food. I really, really do. If I couldn't cook, couldn't grill, couldn't roast...

And I promise, I am not 5'2" 300lbs.

I grill all year long. To be from Chicagoland and do that says enough.

My love for food and flavor mayt possibly rival my love for life itself.

I'm no chef. No culinary genius. I can follow a recipe and am decent at making certain things on whim.

But nothing beats a tub of sour cream and a bag of tortilla chips (the good, thick ones. Not Scoops). Or a fresh loaf of whole grain and a stick of soft, unsalted butter. Or possibly a large block of cheese. Any kind. Though I do love feta.

This post may be retarded to some. But for the girl that just cut out dairy and carbs and is near (almost past) the point of breaking...?

Well....

Figure it out!!!

Ask not what God can do for you, but what you can do for God

I don't want to sound anything like a Kennedy, trust me...buuuuut...

I have had this topic heavy on my mind for quite some time now. I know there is a time for everything. But there is so many things I want to do and so many things I feel I need to do but I lack the means and inspiration to do them. The list of these things is long, but the one I pray on often is this:

What gift did God give ME? What is my purpose here? and Whom am I to help?

I have spent a lot of time pondering my "gift". I have absolutely zero skills. Making it through a day is a God given miracle for me. So when it comes to being gifted?!...psh...I think I missed that train!
In all seriousness, I believe God gave me a gift. I just pray it makes itself apparent to me before I die.

I assume at this point in my life my purpose here is something I may never understand in this life. I believe I was most likely put here to impact somebody's life in a way I would never see. I'm not (or to my dad, wasn't) a great daughter. I'm a good daughter, but as my life as a mother is so busy I feel more involved in my own life than I do in anyone else. I'm a decent wife (and please believe I am not just hatin' on myself here. I just have a level of expectations for each of my duties which I often fall short of-I realize that is MY issue, but I am trying to gauge myself against what I believe would be an average standard). I'm a very sub--standard mother and this is one of the topics of which I pray on and struggle to excel in.  I am an awful sibling. I'm judgmental and un-supportive of my sister. I have started to at least try on that front though. 

I just feel God's purpose for me is one that I will never know. It's not as if I am a doctor or a member of our armed forces, or involved in our church. This bother's me. I WANT some, even if minimal, sense of direction and purpose. I guess maybe I just need to remember that God does have a purpose for my time here and I may never know.

As far as the people I'm here to help? I don't know. I guess it all comes full circle in this post because I don't want to fool you-I know I am a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a grand-daughter...I realize that I can be exceptional at each of these things...I guess I just...need to find something that motivates me.

Every week our Pastor speaks of opportunities to get involved in our church. Not only do none of them fit my lifestyle as a mother, but NONE of them appeal to me. I feel like finding God's calling for me to serve would be like finding the man I was meant to love-I'd just know. I have yet to find it.

I am registered on the bone marrow donor list. I thought with my dad's need for blood and stem cells that this would be a place I could help someone else. It's been 2 years and I am still praying for the phone call saying I am a match.

Pray for me. Pray I find some direction, a true north. Pray God gives me guidance to raise my kids with His love in their lives and obvious in my actions and words. Pray that I can be for myself what I long to be for the people I love and the people I have yet to meet.

Irish Pride...

Pride is a funny thing. I will spare you Webster's definition, mostly because I think if you have a strong sense of it, then you already know what I'm talking about. I have a hard time swallowing my pride and when I feel my sense of pride is being threatened, I tend to get very defensive...and I cry.

Today I had to go into the Department of Health Services and apply for medical assistance and...>>>swallow<<<...food stamps. I could have had my husband go do it. I could have lugged all three of my kids in there with me as a ploy to attract a sympathetic case worker. I chose to go alone. My thought was it would make the trip quicker and the less time I had to sit in an office where everyone around me knows why I am there then the better for my pride.

I had to wait for about 20 minutes before I could be seen, even though there wasn't anyone else waiting when I got there. By the time the case worker called my name there were maybe 7 or 8 people waiting. As I expected, the case worker was all business. No friendly smile, no sympathy for the situation my family is in, not even a  "How 'bout them Bears?!". She went through the application, took my information-all without ever making eye contact with me. She then asked, what I assume is a standard question asked to all applicants, "Do you need family planning assistance, ie-birth control?" I responded that no, I did not. She then, for the first time during the interview, looked up from her computer, looked me in the eye and said, "Ya sure?"

After I decked her in the nose...I mean, after I cleared my throat, I said, "No, my husband and I both took measures to ensure we wouldn't be having more children after our third child was born with a heart condition." And you will not believe the response I received after that.Without missing a beat and without breaking eye contact she says, "Who's paying for that?"

I was so angry, I was speechless. The latter of those two doesn't happen too often. I took a breath, smiled and said, "He's currently healthy". We finished the interview and she continued her rudeness- though from then on it was really just her demeanor, meaning she stuck to the questions on the application and kept her eyes on the computer. She informed me I had 24 hours to turn in the required documentation to the office and that she "simply wouldn't be able to get to" my case until Thursday at the earliest. I thanked her, smiled and left.

I got as far as the parking lot before the tears poured from my eyes.

Like I said, pride is a funny thing. If it weren't for the 3 precious babies that give me a reason to smile each and everyday, I never would have been able to walk in that office and would have rather gone hungry. Fave Cousin wanted to call the office and raise hell. I probably should have let her, though I doubt it would make any difference. My mom tells me I deserve the benefits of a system she, my dad and my husband and I have spent years paying into. That it was a system started to help people in my situation-out of work and just trying to scrape by. That the reason it is so corrupted is the outrageous number of people that have abused and manipulated it. She told me to hold my head high. Of course that is easier said than done sometimes.

I don't want anything more than to provide basic needs for my family. I'm not sure why God has given me some of the struggles He has. All I know is it is up to me how I react to them. If that means swallowing my pride, holding my head high and walking into the public aid office so my kids can have food and medical coverage, then that's what I'll do. Even if I have to cry in the parking lot later.

Annoyed and somewhat philosophical...all at once...

So, this blog has no sense of direction. I'm ok with that because I don't know where I'm going. There are a few things I do know, though. Here's my list. And, I will say in advance to Fave Cousin and JMK, I love you both. Ya'll are just crazier than me!

Football may just be the dumbest sport in the world. Really. But I know this-the Bears rock. The Packers, Vikes and Patriots are NEVER to be rooted for. Bear down!

Never love something that is replaceable. If you do, than you never loved it anyway. So stop frontin'.

Tom Brady is fat. And probably blind.

Glen Beck is NOT the devil. And in my experience, the people I hear spewing bogus comments about him, have never actually taken the time to WATCH a show, LISTEN to a show and HEAR what he's saying. So don't form an opinion until you can honestly state the FACTS of both sides. And with that said, I don't care which side holds the house, so long as Pelosi is kicked to the curb. The woman "smiles" all the time. That much plastic surgery requires artificial tears, which is why she doesn't cry. FACT.

Eating 4 cream cheese stuffed jalepeno peppers all by yourself will light your ass on fire. I'm not being crude, its simply the truth.

God loves you no matter what you do. And it doesn't matter WHAT you do, it matters WHO you are. So all these people that are worried about attaining enough "points" to go to heaven need to slow their roll and take stock in WHO they are.  I think they will find they've spent too much time worrying about the WHAT and not enough time worrying about the WHO.

Take care of your siblings. They are the only ones you have. And while you may have chosen different ones, given the option, these are the ones God gave you. So let them make poor choices. Let them think they are smarter than they are. After all, you didn't learn everything you know by taking the route someone else planned for you, did you?

Espresso is delicious. It MAY be the devil's heroin. But it is a necessity of life. Don't deprive me. I get cranky.

There is no way to simply root for Chicago baseball. PICK. A. TEAM. Us real fans do NOT take lightly to your fair-weather tendencies and we do NOT find it cute. (By the way, I bleed blue and no, I don't have much acceptance for anyone that does not!)

Kids grow up too quickly. LIFE goes by to quickly. One day you are 13 years old, playing basketball on the town traveling team and you think THAT will be your life. The next day you have a newborn baby and 5 minutes go by and you have 3! One day you find yourself watching your dad, who was strong as an ox, leave the life he so often seemed afraid to LIVE and go to a place where he will really LIVE forever.


So, I guess my point may be this: Learn to let things go. Love without reservations. Find God, if you haven't. Love Him, if you don't. Find a way to cherish the life you have, even if it isn't what you ever thought it would be. You are here for a reason. Be who you are and spend less time being who you think others want you to be. In the words of a good friend, (kind of), "You never know the legacy you could leave through your children...their children and so on."