On A Personal Note

I realized earlier today that I haven’t blogged in a very long time.  There have been many times I’ve sat and started to write, but haven’t been brave enough to post some of the thoughts I’ve had.  Much has changed in my life over the past several months.  Those changes have brought challenges that I’m still dealing with.  Some good and some not so good.

This morning I will be sending my eldest child off to the first day of her senior year.  I will also be sending my little Alex off to kindergarten.  The amazement of the gap between these two children has never been more profound.  One finishing and one just getting started.  It’s so funny to me.  This year will bring some dramatic differences in parenting.  I’m looking somewhat forward to those differences and what challenges they bring.

Alex has now lost two teeth.  TWO!  His cute little face has even more personality in his smile and I adore the sound of his impaired speech.  He is so excited to start school.  He didn’t go to preschool and that will bring interesting developments.  I am worried about him.  It’s not his fault he didn’t go to preschool.  But, he’s going to be slightly behind some of the kids in his class and I’ll have to help him make up for that.  His attention span isn’t quite at mature as some of his peers’.  I prepared his teacher with that information.  I also let her know that it’s very likely he’ll be difficult for the first few weeks and to not hesitate to call me and let me know how I can help him at home.  I really like the energy of his teacher.  He’s going to love this.  He’s also going to get frustrated.  I believe the teacher he has will help mitigate his short comings.

Isabelle is raring to go with her year.  She’s been busy this summer with a job, buying her own car, periodic responsibilities with JROTC, and helping out with her brothers.  I am hopeful she is going to have a good year and round out this last year of childhood with firm footing as she embarks on the path on the very near horizon.  I am looking forward to seeing what happens over the course of this year for her and for our relationship.

Rachel, too is starting her senior year.  I can’t believe this is already here for her!  She has solid plans or life post-high school.  I’m excited to see her so motivated and dedicated to her goals.  She’s anxious to get this year over with.  Aren’t most high school seniors?  This is going to be the fastest year, yet!  Then she’s off to make the world a more beautiful place.

Sam and Sarah have gone back to Seattle and are settling in nicely to their new house.  They seem to be satisfied with being back “home.”  I miss them tremendously.  It is very bittersweet to have them gone.  I’m happy for them to be where they want to be, but the selfish part of me wants them close enough to invite for dinner whenever I want to.  The house is much quieter now that they’ve gone.

When my dad died, I knew there were going to be several significant shifts that would happen in the short years to follow.  The first was having Benjamin.  Second, finalizing a divorce.  Third, moving into a new house.  Fourth, Sam and Sarah moving away.  Fifth, Isabelle and Rachel graduating from high school and moving away.  I have mentally prepared as much as possible for each of those events that have now come to pass.  The final is in motion and I’m feeling the earth shift slightly beneath my feet as I realize there isn’t much I can mentally prepare for at this point.  It is intimidating to think about life without my daughter around.  Now that I’ve grown accustomed to having Rachel around, the same is said for her pending absence.

My depression is 100% under control.  I am feeling things in a very comfortable fashion.  I have bouts with being overwhelmed, but reasonably so.  A few weeks ago I took myself to the emergency room with chest pains.  For about a month, I’d been feeling a consistent ache in my chest with the added joy of pain down my left arm.  My resting heart rate was well over 100 bpm.  Out of fear that something was very wrong, I went to rule it out.  EKG was normal and my blood work was fine.  I’m still not sure what the issue was, or continues to be.  But I have my suspicions.  It’s not depression.  I do believe it is the residual effects of years of compounded stress and anxiety.

For a very long time I endured significant change and heartache with minimal emotional relief.  The occasional “freak out” was like getting a nip of water to the severely dehydrated.  I needed a lot more release than I permitted.  I got a job and the feeling of contentment sort of eased me in a way I had become unfamiliar.  My body settled down for the first time in a couple of years.  As if the calm is a written letter of permission, my body is catching up on drinking as much water as possible for fear of another draught.  Don’t misread that.  I’m fine.  I’m seriously fine.  My body just needed things to be less chaotic to go through the grief my mind has already processed.  It’s a bitch and I hate it, but as things do, it shall pass.

I started working in May.  It’s a job on post as a contractor.  I work four 10 hour shifts, Monday through Thursday, overnight.  When I was hired, I was willing to work wherever the need was.  Knowing the job was shift work, I accepted the likelihood of the night shift.  Not my first choice, obviously, but desperation for a job took precedence over convenience.  I had hoped that a day shift slot would become available.  They have come and gone, and I have completely adjusted my world around this shift.

I found out a week ago that my job may not be here by the end of this month.  The company is reducing the staff size by 40% and I am not sure yet where I land on the spectrum.  I am ready to take one of the two tests I am required to have to maintain my employment.  When I was hired, I was given 6 months to obtain those certificates.  That timeframe has now been substantially reduced.  As in, I need it in the next two weeks.  Nope.  Not stressed about it all.  I am making every effort to stay employed with this job.  I’m hopeful my merit has not been lost amid the current chaos of losing such a huge portion of staffing.

I’ve decided that freaking out isn’t entirely necessary yet.  I’m definitely shaken up.  I’m working on several options in case this doesn’t go the way I want it to.  But, I can’t help but get irritated with the universe.  What gives?  Can a girl catch a break for a little longer than a couple of months?  The constant testing of my tenacity seems a little malicious at this point.  I wonder…”Is this karma from another life?”  If that is the case, boy do I need to shake the shit out of my soul.  Surely somewhere in my past life I was decent enough to earn some ease in this cycle.  Ask me if I’m still cursing my past self in a few weeks.

Playing in a band with some consistency has been therapeutic as of late.  We are working well together and I like all my guys.  That’s nice to have.  I would like to work a little more frequently, but I’m very satisfied with at least the chance to gig every now and then.  Reconnecting with live music is good for my soul.  Reconnecting with meaningful lyric has been cathartic.  I’m finding that I’m conducting very insightful dialogue with myself as a result of incredible song writers.  Inspiration is wonderful.

One day the events of this five year section of my life will be looked back on with fondness.  This is the pivot in the plot.  The major event that happens right before the climax.  The cast is diverse and interesting.  The twists and turns are brilliantly foreshadowed.  This is the part of my story where I either succumb to the antagonist or triumph.  The fortitude of my character is being tested.  Whether or not I am able to turn that antagonist into an asset is the task.  Flipping the struggle into an opportunity to shine is possible.  Just exactly how isn’t quite clear.

Mind Your Own Business

My sister and I discussed an article written by a daughter of a same sex couple.  She didn't start her life that way.  Her parents divorced at some point during her childhood, and the remainder of her rearing years was spent in the care of her mother and her partners.  She was adamant as to the abhorrence of her time spent in that family construct.  She went as far as to say that same sex couples should not be able to have children.  I'm going to say that again.  Same sex couples should not be able to have children.  Why?  She believes that the focus on the legislation that is being discussed by the Supreme Court is misdirected.  She thinks that the children are not the focus of the conversation.  Her thought is that the debate as to the legality of same sex marriage is focused on the selfishness of the adults and the well-being of the children is not.

She has missed a GIANT opportunity to really ring this bell.  She's right.  But not the way you might think.  The conversation needs to be about the kids.  Let's discuss what the real reasons are that children are not being advocated for.  She believes that children raised in a same sex home will forever miss out on the presence of opposing sexes as parental units.  But, does that really make an impact on the success of a child's upbringing?  We can look around our very neighborhoods and see single parent homes.  SINGLE PARENT.  This has nothing to do with homosexual homes.  What about those kids?  Are they not important, too?  Should those single parents be stripped of their children?  If a person is going to stake a claim that the only successful child comes from a dual sex home...well, there are a few holes.

This woman believes that a child of same sex couples will always suffer.  She basically laughs at the idea that a child can come out of that family structure whole.  Let's discuss this.  What is so massively different?  Sure, the obvious lack of dual sexes.  But, there are so many ways that those parents can compensate for the lack of those gender role models.  Doesn't a single mother seek the aid of her brothers, friends, pastors, etc. to fill the void of a father figure?  Doesn't a single father seek the aid of their sisters, friends, etc. to fill the void of a mother figure?  The answer is an unarguable yes.  Even parents that are mother/father, will seek the assistance of others to help them through situations that they may not be able to fulfill themselves.  It's called parenting.  We all get help.  For a couple of generations now, we have adopted the "raised by a village" mentality when rearing our children.  And, GUESS WHAT?  We have made massive strides forward in tolerance and acceptance of others because of it.  As a society, we have become tons more flexible in the things we accept.  Change isn't always bad folks.

The sand this woman has put in my panties is representative of the mindset that prevents the kind of change that makes us a better people.  To say that my sister can't marry her partner and raise good, upstanding citizens is so ignorant and skewed, it is making my head spin.  Without disrespecting her position, she should be able to step outside of her individual experience and accept that not all outcomes match hers.  Yes, there are case by case scenarios where things are not going to pan out with (pardon the pun) rainbows and butterflies, but that is also the case for those living in the straight world.

I am now a divorced mother of three.  I am going to face countless moments in my future where my children are going to lack the presence of their father.  I'm fortunate enough to have an active father in their lives.  But, it is very likely at some point that proximity will be a factor and I will have to accommodate their needs.  It's my job as their mother to supply my children with the fullest of arsenals to prepare them for the world.  The vigor a same sex couple has about their own children will not differ from mine in any way shape or form.  To assume that they're lacking the capacity to provide those same tools is just plain offensive.

The focus on children in this debate can be more fully explored and I wish this were a louder element of the discussion.  What are we doing as a society to improve the outcome of our children?  How are we setting examples for them?  What is the debate about same sex marriage actually teaching our kids?  We have seen many things change over the years.  The need for stronger filtering in our homes is high.  Sex is everywhere.  Kids are younger and younger in their comprehension of things that never occurred to me when I was a kid.  Parenting is hard stuff.  To be so harsh as to think there is only one way to successfully raise a family is difficult for me to sympathize with.  If we've learned anything about raising kids, we've learned that it requires give and take.  New flash:  same sex couples can do it, too.  And hetero couples screw up all the time!

I have written about my position on gay marriage in the past.  It hasn't changed.  The government has ZERO right to define what goes on inside my house.  Or anyone else's for that matter.  What's wrong with the tone in the country right now is intolerance.  On ALL parties.  The simple way to fix this issue, is to take away the legality of how a family is defined.  You define your family.  You decide how you want your children to be raised.  You decide what works and what doesn't.  If we continuously allow louder voices or more powerful deciders to make that choice for you, we are steps away from losing so much more than how we define our family. Churches need to get the hell out of politics.  Politics need to stay the hell away from religion.  The separation of church and state is such a beautiful rule.  Let's remember why it's there.  It's there so that these kinds of debates aren't as invasive as they've become.  It's none of your business what I'm doing in my home, unless I'm building a bomb.

Fifty-Nine

When I was about 6 or 7 years old, my family was living in South Korea.  My brother and I were playing with friends in our condo complex.  We discovered a game that would test our agility and ultimately the size of our balls.  Being the only girl playing, the size of my balls was in significant question.  There were these gates that entered into the courtyards of each building.  Over the tops of those gates was a concrete, rectangle “roof.”  As kids do, we climbed on top of the roof.  The next roof was about a five foot leap.  The goal:  Jump to as many as you could before you chickened out.  My brother, the Cirque du Soleil acrobat and athletic beast, tackled the leaps with ease.  Therefore, I gained a false sense of confidence.  If he can do it, so can I!

The first leap was a massive success.  It didn’t matter that my stomach was in my nose.  I was terrified.  I was getting more and more nervous as the next roof was staring at me.  Mocking my tiny, tiny balls.  The boys below (which was about six feet) were taunting me and egging me on.  I thought a running start was a good plan to attack this next jump.  I gave myself four good pushing steps and leapt.

I woke up in my father’s arms.  He was running up a street I didn’t recognize.  I distinctly remember the smell of his BDU’s as my face was cradled against his chest.  His breathing was fast and frantic.  I looked up at his face and saw for the first time, fear.  I had no idea what had happened.  He felt me moving and looked down at me.  His pace never slowing, he smiled as he acknowledged that I was awake and somewhat alert.  Sitting next to me at the emergency room, he told me that I had missed the jump and landed flat on my back.  I had been knocked out for about 5 minutes.  My mother couldn’t wake me.  Fortunately, my father had arrived home from work just in time to rush me off to the hospital.

We didn’t have a car.  The walk/run was about 10 minutes.  He made it there in less than eight.  The doc cleared me to go home and recommended that I not try to make such attempts again in the future.  My mother was relieved to find that I was fine and hadn’t sustained even as much as a concussion.  This is the first memory I have of feeling protected by my dad.

When I was ten years old, a friend’s father hurt me.  I ran home.  My father was in the field doing army stuff.  My mom was beside herself.  Cops were called.  Someone was sent to get my dad home.  I watched as the man was arrested and put into the back of a squad car.  I have vague memories of the conversation my mom and dad had with the police officers.  But, I will never forget hearing the words my dad said.  “If I see that man, I will kill him.”  The police handled my father and calmed him down and assured him that there would not be any chance of paths crossing. 

Again, my dad cradled me in his lap and pressed my face against his chest.  I felt his breathing and heartbeat.  Both were so fast and violent, it made my face hot.  My father asked me repeatedly if I was ok.  The significance of the incident had not yet manifested itself.  I was in shock over it and further rocked by seeing my parents in the state they were in.  That situation could have been a much more damaging experience had I not felt the tremendous protection from my dad.

Fast-forward about 18 years and I’m grieving the loss of my son.  My father, who had shown such valor for me in the past, was absent.  He wasn’t talking to me at all.  In fact, he was all out avoiding me.  I allowed that to go on for about three weeks before I jumped on him for abandoning me.  He sat quietly as I yelled at him and told him he was being a bad father and that all I needed from him was for him to hold me in his lap and protect me.  He couldn’t do that from the distance he was, but the phone calls would have sufficed had he made the efforts.  He patiently waited for my speech to end before he responded.

“Emma, it didn’t occur to me to check on you.  You have always been a child that has bounced back from adversity.  It didn’t even cross my mind that you would not be able to handle all of this because of how intensely resilient you are.”

I was silent.

As I think about my dad, specifically on this day, I am reminded of all the good things that my father gave me.  There are thousands of memories that are mixed with good and bad.  As much as my father drove me insane for years, as I mature further into my adulthood, I’m constantly reminded of the positive attributes I have because of his reinforcement.  I am eternally grateful for the amount of discussing my dad and I did before he died.  He was able to see me 100%.  He watched, helpless, as I struggled through the last year of his life.  But, he told me that he was not worried about me.  I walk around today knowing that a good portion of my confidence is because of my dad’s faith in me.

So, for what would have been my dad's 59th birthday, I am giving him this:  I am ok.  I am human and flawed.  But, I am learning and growing.  I will be ever diligent in my pursuit of becoming the best version of myself I can be.

End Of Year Blow Out!

Trying to come up with the best way to describe the year 2014 has been very challenging.  Easily, I can just recap the big moments.  But those moments are not exactly what have defined the year.  The emotional impact and evolution that has stemmed from those moments are what has defined a year for me.  Typically, I ponder the year and evaluate any lessons that have been taught, ignored, need review, etc.  This year has left me in a total quandary.  There haven’t been any specific lessons learned this year.  There have been some severe revelations.  I’m not sure I would count those revelations as lessons per se.

The year began with pending doom.  I knew the second we crossed into 2014 that this was going to be a rough year.  I was driving back and forth to Phoenix.  I wasn’t exactly sure how things were going to be from one second to the next.  Having the level of intuition that I have, I was certain things weren’t going to be positive with each trip to Phoenix.  But there was still a roller coaster of mayhem with each trip.  The end of January had my father and my two youngest siblings moving into my house in Sierra Vista, preparing for dad’s death.

March 11, 2014, he died.  All but one sibling had relocated to Sierra Vista to help us all pick up pieces and figure out what shape our family was going to take.  Family and friends flooded our world with love and support to a level that I had never seen before.  For the first time in my entire life, I felt like things were going to be ok.  If I needed to fall apart, despite every effort to avoid falling apart, I knew that I could because of the massive amount of help we had.  Silver lining.

May 17, 2014, I welcomed a son earlier than expected by nearly 8 weeks.  Because of that intuition I have, I saved his life.  I cried as I listened to the doctor tell me he was doing an emergency C-section ASAP.  I didn’t cry because I thought my son wouldn’t make it.  I cried because there were two people absent from a situation I desperately wanted there.  I knew Ben would be ok.  I just didn’t have a single shred of doubt that whatever power is greater than me, would think I could handle mourning another child.  On the heels of my father’s death, there was no way one person could be that unlucky.  It was very difficult to survive the NICU that I lost Connor in.  The word surreal doesn’t even come close to describing the emotional hell that was.

August 1, 2014, I moved out of the house I’d lived in for 9 years.  Almost exactly nine years.  I couldn’t box things fast enough to close the door on a life that no longer existed.  The house I’m living in now brings me such joy, that it has often brought me to tears of joy just waking up to these walls.  It’s such a bittersweet reality that I’m living in these days, but starting each day to the life I’m building inside this house has validity and purpose and it makes things that much more sweet.

September 3, 2014, I officially became Ms. Emma Mayne.  This particular subject is difficult for me to write about.  This is the preverbal dirty laundry that I loathe people airing out for all to see.  There’s anonymity in writing online about this part, but this town is small.  The rumors and opinions are already thick and obnoxious.  The long and short of this subject, is if you’re close enough of a friend to me, you know about this stuff.  It hasn’t been the worst thing on paper.  But this has been emotional havoc.  I didn’t think I could cry as hard as I have.  I still cry.  Days are getting better, but it’s a progress I’m still navigating.  I’m doing my best not to wallow, but it’s rough.  At some point this will be a time I think about and find the silver lining.  Right now, it’s a torrential downpour of bipolar fits.

2014 taught me just how deeply I fight for things I love.  Kicking and screaming I denied things to myself that once I finally listened to the truth, it had me on the floor.  Literally.  But, I stood up from that breakthrough, hell bent and determined to fight for a person I haven’t fought for enough.  Myself.  I’m still recovering from just how much I’ve let myself down.  There are years of behaviors I’m working on correcting.  There are habits I’ve made that are going to take a while to break and stick to.  It’s a daily effort.  But, I’m fully understanding of what I will end up feeling like, should I revert to the person I was in regards to being a doormat.

Despite so much hardship this past year, I’ve absolutely been able to recognize major beauties that have come from it all.  My sisters and I are closer than we have ever been.  A bond was mended between my brother and I.  Through the discovery of our new family dynamic, I’ve made best friends out of my sisters.  My entire family has come through the deaths of our parents, whole.  I know my mom and dad are proud of us.  In each our own way, we have become people that are more capable and more determined to be successful.  We are all doing amazing things and I’m beside myself with pride when I look at each of us seven and see that not one of us is slipping.  We are all vicious fighters. 

The relationship I have with my children has been transitional.  Having a teenage daughter has been a test of love and understanding.  Even if there are those who believe I’m not as good of a mother as they believe I should be, I look myself in the mirror each day and know that I’m not only doing my best, I am a good mother.  It will be very evident in the coming years, as my daughter becomes the woman she is going to be.  I am seeing pieces of me in her all the time.  I am extremely proud of her.  She’s flawed, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.  There is proof in her character of her rearing.

I am dating.  That’s beyond weird.  But, holy shit.  I’m not an easy person to impress.  There is discovery in each new interaction as to how little I’m willing to permit.  Needless to say, I’ve been on mostly first dates.  Which is just fine.  I’m enjoying being social and doing some things for me a little more than I have in a very long time.  For example, getting back to the music.

As I write this, I’m listening to music that inspires me to improve and make goals.  I was able to play a little bit in Tucson and that was amazing.  Getting back on stage is instrumental in my emotional well-being.  I’m singing more at home at the top of my lungs.  I’m emoting through the speakers. 

I’m writing a lot.  Publishing WILL happen this coming year.  I read a lot.  I am figuring out ways to get my passions realized.  Though music is a pretty solid definition as to what makes me, tic…words are actually the core of who I am.  There is nothing sexier than a meticulously crafted phrase that strikes a chord that rings through to my toes.  I’m shaping some well-written words daily.  I will share them as soon as possible.  For purchase!  LOL

The year really kicked my ass.  I’m sore.  I ache.  Like every good workout, the harder the burn the stronger the core.  I worry sometimes about callouses I’m building.  My baby boy Ben softens me almost every second of the day.  Alex keeps me on my toes and draws out the tenderness I’m built to show.  Isabelle forces me indirectly to pay attention to the errors I make.  Things are still tough and in a state of rebuild.  But the foundation that 2014 poured makes me feel confident that once construction is finished, threads of silver will be throughout the most intricate designs of a life I have made.