Thursday, January 30, 2014

Today is...

To those who come here from my Facebook, you have a general idea of what I'm about to post.  Those who come here because they find me randomly, HI...welcome...and all that blubbering nonsense.

To keep the thoughts in a relatively organized fashion I shall be bullet point separating the 3 key things I want to post about (better than 3 separate posts, taking space and time to do).

* Today is my 4 year anniversary of when I decided to start dating D.  I had just left an abusive relationship at the beginning of January, and had sworn I'd not jump into another relationship for at least 6 months.  Give me time to figure out everything.  D was ok with just being my friend, and he was being amazing at being just a friend.  D had separated (was in the divorce process) from his ex wife in August 2009, and had been single ever since.  On January 30, 2010 D's friends wanted to take him out to dinner, check in on him, see how he was doing.  D felt like this was a set up, that his friends were going to bring a girl with them...so he asked if he could bring a friend to dinner.  That friend was me.

We went to Tepanyaki, which is DELISH(!!), and I got to meet D's friends.  It was fun.  I enjoyed their company.  Prior to this dinner, I'd had a discussion with D about how I really do like him, and hope that he sticks around.  I really wanted to date him, but was worried how people would react to me jumping from one relationship to another.  He was fine with waiting, but I feared he would find someone else before my 6 month time frame was up.  D is a sweet man, good father, and wonderful friend.  ANYWAY...back to dinner.  We eat, we chat, we laugh it up.  Dinner wraps up and his friends, along with D & I, decide to go out and see "Sherlock Holmes."  During the movie I tried to pay attention, but my mind kept wandering to my thoughts on D, and our potential relationship.

After the movie wrapped up, D took me home.  On our way home I decided that I could wait, and potentially miss out, on dating D.  I looked over at D as he was driving, and realized that I really do have feelings for him.  I told him that I would like to take the risk, and date him, knowing that it could very well end up in a steaming pile of crud.  I'd like to take that chance.  He agreed, but said that if we ever feel the friendship is failing in the relationship that we should back off and focus on the friendship aspect.

Here we are.  4 years later.  Together, happy, and still best friends.  I'm glad I took the chance, and learned how to actually keep a relationship going.  I always feared that I'd never be good enough to have a long term relationship, as all my relationships have failed (and I am the only common denominator).  This is my longest relationship, and look forward to this being the final relationship in my life (til death do us part!)
*******************************************************************
* Went to see my OBGYN today, and am officially prescribed antidepressants.  I love my doctor, and am glad that the hubbub of yesterday is now in the past.  10 mg of Prozac will be in my system shortly.

Funny little anecdote from the doctor - Back in October (2013) I had scar tissue on my cervix broken apart, in hopes that it would help alleviate the horrific period pain I'd been experiencing since my surgery in April 2012 (Cone biopsy - had a TON of cervix cut out because of severe dysplasia.  OUCH!).  I'd been having period pain since before the procedure, but it was determined to be tied to the dysplasia.  When the doctor went in and broke it apart, my scar tissue had almost completely closed my cervix (which was pretty much meaning my uterus was contracting, trying to push out the bloody mess that is a period...and my cervix was giving my uterus the middle finger and saying "HA HA!  Try making it past these walls of DOOM!").  ANYWAY....I've had 2 periods since my procedure to break apart the scar tissue, and it's like an angel has floated into my uterus and made the pain non-existent...I've seriously smiled and been like "OMIGAW!  I'm bleeding, it doesn't hurt, and I'm happy!"

Seriously..who's happy on their period?  *points at self*  THIS GIRL!  THAT'S WHO!

So I tell my doctor how amazingly grateful I am for him doing the procedure, and how I am actually relatively happy to be bleeding each month (yes, it means I'm not pregnant.  But my GOD!  I'm not in pain!  I'll take pain free period over pregnancy ANY DAY!).  My doctor laughed, and actually said something along the lines "It's good to hear that I've made a difference.  I don't normally hear things in such a descriptive manner, but I'm so glad to know that it worked.  Thanks for telling me."

I actually told him about this, and then discussed my fears of being on antidepressants.  We talked about me worrying how antidepressant will affect my ADHD, and my worry that being on an antidepressant will ultimately lead to me needing this pill and that pill and these things...and he told me that my worries are valid, but that he doesn't forsee me having to be on anything else besides the antidepressant.  I'm starting on 10 mg, and we will see how it goes.  I will call him if I feel it needs to be upped, but for now 10 mg it is.  I'm glad I have a doctor that listens, laughs, and did what I needed.
***********************************************************************
* My friend, Thing 1, has been dealing with a lot of chaos in her life for the last few months.  Her husband lied about his drinking, which is against their religion, and there were other things that caused strife between her and her husband.  There was lying, deceit, drinking, and just a lot of heart ache that Thing 1 had to deal with.  Thing 1 had finally come to the conclusion that she needed to leave her husband, as it would be the best (and healthiest) thing for her and their son.  Then her husband went to the hospital.  Liver failure (he was denied placement on the transplant list because of his alcoholism - too much of a risk...and then took it out on Thing 1, saying it was her fault.... :-( ), kidney failure.  He had to be on dialysis, and would figure out how things were going to work out.  Thing 1 still made it clear to him, and his family, that she was going to divorce him.  It isn't easy at any time, but feeling like a witch because she brought it up to him while he was in the hospital...my heart hurt for her.

Well...Thing 1's husband passed away last night.  He was admitted back into ICU with his blood pressure having dropped horribly low.  So now Thing 1 is a widow...her son will grow up without his father...and just...WOW!  The heartache and just...not knowing what to do or say...it hurts.  I'm so sorry, Thing 1, that you're having to go through this.  It's not your fault, but I have a feeling that you're going to feel guilty to some degree for a while.  But it was NOT, is NOT, and will NOT ever be your fault.  <3

With his passing it has also brought forth my own feelings regarding my sons father.  My ex husband has a heart condition, so every time he goes to the hospital I'm left with this sense of dread...is he going to die?  Is he going to be ok?  I don't love that man any more, and we have our differences that can leave me not liking him much either (ex's are ex's for a reason.)...but he is, and always will be, V's dad.  When I was freshly single from our separation/divorce, I was quite callous and rude about how I talked about him.  I regret any horrible words I said because he really is a loving dad.  He does want to be in V's life, he just...he's a good dad.  His wife is an awesome stepmom.  I don't want V's dad to die.  Not for a long time, at least.  Let V grow up knowing his dad, be able to celebrate dad day @ school, and have many years to build memories with his dad and the dads side of family.

I know that when we get out of relationships it's easy to say things like "I wish they'd disappear."  or "Why can't they just die, since it'll be easier that way!"  and guess what...it won't be.  Those words will haunt you.  Children deserve to have both parents in their lives, even if the parents aren't together, as long as the parents are beneficial to the life of the child (not abusive, negligent, things like that).  V has a good dad, step mom, mom, and stepdad.  He's got bonus families, and love from everyone he is related to.

I know that Thing 1 will be an amazing mom to her son, and that she won't keep her son from his dads family.  It's a sad situation, but I know that Thing 1 will successfully navigate this time.  It's hard.  It's sad.  But I know that she can do it.

And I'm sorry that it happened.  <3

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

garbly gloop blub blub

I experienced something today that, until today, I'd only really seen in movies/tv.  I went to the doctor today (to get on antidepressants).  Due to an issue that had occurred MONTHS ago with my husbands insurance (my husband was having medical issues a few months back), and the fact that the insurance fiasco is still being sorted out (but only with this doctor, mind you), I was turned away.  I was given the option of paying $150 to be seen today, or coming back when we have the money and HOPEFULLY the insurance issue is sorted out.

When I was being told that the doctor cannot see me because of blah blah blah, I zoned out for a minute.  Then I was "back", saying "I came to the doctor today to get on antidepressants because I'm having a really hard *UCKING time dealing with life right now, and you're going to turn a person who has valid medical insurance away because of some stupid *UCK UP that isn't our fault?  Way to kick me while I'm down, @$$HOLES!" and then I went on to rip apart the paperwork I'd been filling out, as this would be my first time actually being the patient for this doctor.

In reality I almost cried, since I'm back to feeling lost and sad (even before this - today has been a rough day).  I told them we don't have the money, I thought the situation was all sorted out, but we'll just have to come back when we have money to pay.  I even took the paperwork I'd partially filled out, having the receptionist staple it together so I won't lose any of it, and we left.

But seriously...I understand doctors don't work for free, and that with the amount of funds that will be paid by insurance (once the dang insurance gets their heads out of their butts and covers the procedures, like it's supposed to) it could be easy to see the visit with me being a cost risk.  But knowing that I called last week and told you guys that I need to be seen because I'm needing to be placed on antidepressants, and giving a brief synopsis as to why I need the antidepressants...how callous and rude was it for you to turn my already mentally weakened self away!?

Oh - FYI - the receptionist went back and talked to the doctor, and then came back up front to inform me.  It wasn't just the receptionist seeing some weird note and telling me to go away.  ALSO...couldn't they have noticed the dang issue before I wasted the time, gas, and energy to get out to the appointment?  Couldn't they have called me and informed me about the issue, and what to expect?  Isn't that a common courtesy?

I dunno...I'm just frustrated.

I'm glad I didn't go postal, though I really felt like I was going to.  I'm glad my husband was there to help me think about other options (I will be going to my OBGYN tomorrow, since he can prescribe antidepressants...bonus - he actually knows me!).  My husband, after everything was figured out and an appointment was made for tomorrow then took me to a local restaurant and got me a slice of pie (It's pie day for the restaurant, so mmmmm...buy a slice and get a slice for free).

I'll be ok.  Just frustrated.  Saddened.  And so tired.  Hopefully bed time comes soon(ish) for this household.  I'm exhausted!

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Bundle of NERVES!

Tomorrow is the day that I go to the doctor to get on antidepressants.  There are many things I'm needing to remember to mention, and so I hope I don't get flustered and forget.  I need an antidepressant that I can take while pregnant (I would like to have one more kid.  Eventually.), that it's something that helps to balance me out and not cause drastic changes in other areas of my mental health, it needs to be a prescription that I can afford each month, and I hope it's a prescription that does not cause me to gain weight.

I know there is more to it, but my brain is in a flustered, nervous fog right now.  *sigh*

Wish me luck.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Friendship

I've always wanted to have the opportunity to give someone the title BFF, but I have struggled at maintaining friendships for longer than a couple years.  I don't want to be that annoying person who dubs a new, good friend as their BFF.  I feel that the term can be over-used.  So I avoid giving that term to anyone.  But does that avoidance play into the reason why I have a difficult time maintaining friendship?

When I was young (Elementary-High School) I was not popular at all.  Hell...I was picked on and lucky to call 1 or 2 people my friend.  When I was 15, entering High School, my mother allowed me to date earlier than she had previously wanted (I was always told I couldn't date until I was 16.  But I was also the youngest in my grade, so in 10th grade I was the baby...).  I took this new found chapter in my life and just went wild...from my first boyfriend, who I was dating by Homecoming, to the guy I gave my virginity to - I was on a warpath.  I went from being this shy, awkward, picked on girl to (for lack of any other word to accurately describe me) a slut/whore.

Having sex opened me up to a crowd of girlfriends who, like me, enjoy having sex.  Back then it was FUN, it was almost a competition over who got with who, and while we KNEW we deserved love and respect we just gave our bodies freely.  So I found friends!  FINALLY!!!  I BELONGED SOMEWHERE!!!  I had multiple boyfriends, even booty calls.  I'm quite amazed that I didn't get pregnant more often...or get STD's...

Having these friends made me feel like I belonged somewhere, and as my Sophomore year progressed so did my attempts to break free from the ugly duckling...I started smoking weed, because it was what they did.  I started smoking cigarettes.  I was best friends with all these girls, yet now I realize that we weren't friends - we were competition.  Who was prettier?  Who slept with the most guys?  Who got the best gifts from the guys?  Whatever...

My Junior year of High School was an expansion of my sophomore year, and I actually ended up being fired from a job at a sandwich shop because I had sex with one of the staff during shift.  It was mortifying, being caught, and having to go back to gather my last paycheck and knowing that everyone knew what had happened.  Then, by what I thought was the grace of God, my mom met my step dad and we moved to another city.  I transferred schools, and could start over.  Yeah...I missed more school than I went to, smoked way too many cigarettes and too much weed, and suddenly BAM - I was pregnant.  I'm 16 years old and my life was OVER!

My friends were SOOOOO excited that I was pregnant.  But the father of my unborn child dumped me days after going with me to find out I was pregnant.  He spread rumors that I'd cheated on him, that he cannot possibly be the father because I'm a whore, and just...it was bad.  I finished out my Junior year, trying to get grades to a decent level because I was being faced with reality.  I needed my High School diploma more than ever.

Summer break came, and I was in summer school.  I was bound and determined to get my diploma, ON TIME, to give this child the best life possible.  But it was also at this time that I realized that no matter how hard I work, I'm so unready to be a mom.  I was about 3 or 4 months pregnant when I realized that I am going to place my unborn child (a son) for adoption.  I made a few friends over the summer (some of who I still interact with via facebook), but many people didn't understand or agree with my decision to place my son for adoption.  His father wasn't in my life, and I was just so unprepared for the responsibility.  One girl actually told me that my kid is not an animal, and I can't just give away the animal because I don't want it.

Fast forward...I finish Summer school.  I transferred to a different High School for my Senior year (making it my 4th school in 3 years), and I went to a regular public school vs. young parent school.  Made it easier in some ways, not surrounded by babies, for me to follow through with my choice.  But being with kids who just didn't understand what it's like to deal with this life changing situation...it sucked.  I am so grateful for the small group of friends I did have that helped me through the days in school, but most of them I no longer talk to.  Between day school, night school, and packets I graduated (ON TIME!)...and life moved on.  Most of those friends I lost touch with.  So I was once again faced with being alone.

After placing my son for adoption I fell back into bad habits, and was introduced to harder drugs.  I've done meth, coke, 'shrooms, ecstacy, whippits, and drank with "friends" a lot.  I was at the home of one of these so called friends when a horrible situation occurred...I held my best friend as she overdosed and died from heroin (which I've NEVER touched).  It was that horrible moment in my life that I stepped away from hard drugs (other than 1 minor relapse with meth & coke I've been clean for 9 years).  I still smoked weed for a few more years, but I won't give my reasoning...this post is already getting super long.  I will say, however, that I'm completely clean and sober from drugs now.  Been quite a few years now.  ANYWAY...

I quit hard drugs, but began going out to clubs and drinking with my friends because I was young...I had been married, had another son, and divorced...I was 21 and ready to party.  Then I got a DUI.  That woke me up.  Why is it that I have to face OMIGAWD moments to actually see what I should have been doing all along!?  When I quit going to the club, stopped drinking all the time, stopped drugs...when I stopped doing these things that had given me friends, those friends disappeared.

So I became a sober, "boring", lack of friendship person.  I was in college, lived in my parents basement, did my best at being a single mom, and worked...and yes, I had buddies.  But I didn't really have many close friends.  In 2007 I met this girl, who I will refer to as Rainbow Bright, and we were buddies at school.  We hung out a few times, but mostly interacted at school.  When she graduated we sorta lost touch for a year, then found each other on FB.  Still didn't hang out again for a while, but it was nice that we reconnected.  In 2010 I started dating my husband and was introduced to this lady, A.H., and we used to hang out all the time.  But as time has moved on our lives and schedules have caused us to lose the strong connection we once had.

2 years ago Rainbow Bright and I started to really talk, and finally started hanging out.  I'd also reconnected with 2 girls from my Elementary/Jr. High days that I'd been good friends with (and weren't part of my drug/slut days).  Today I can proudly say that my 2 friends, Thing 1 and Thing 2, and Rainbow Bright...that these are people I feel are deserving of the title BFF, but I don't want to give it because I fear that the moment I start saying that we'll be friends forever that it will make them go away.  Something will change and they'll disappear.  I don't want that, and so I hope that doing whatever I can will help keep them around FOREVER.

I find myself jealous of my husbands friendship with so many people, most of them for 15+ years, when I'm getting excited that I've got friends that are 5+ years...and then I have to remind myself that I am 15 years younger than my hubby, so I have a while to go to get to the years he has with friends.  Just...WOW...look at how long this post has grown.

Let me totally get to the point - Am I worthy of a BFF?  I'd like to think so.  Do I think that Rainbow Bright, Thing 1, and Thing 2 can be my BFF's?  I think they are amazing, and I hope they stay.  I hope that now I'm married (i.e. TAMED), sober (I do have drinks, ocassionally...but it's not a regular thing, and I'm happy with that!), and more scheduled and organized...I hope that I can keep these friendships going.  I <3 these girls, and I have many more friends than those listed...but I am focused on the 3 that I see regularly.

Here's to friendship.  Here's to BFF's.  Here's to me finally finding myself feeling that I can give the BFF title to these friends because I deserve a BFF, and they are awesome!

Uh...hopefully this post made sense.  It seems all related to me, but became wordy and a backstory.  But here I am...It's me.  Insecurities and all.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Daily Rumblings...

I've not had much sleep.  Partially my fault, but I gotta do what I've gotta do.  I'll go to sleep for a few more hours before work (in a little bit).

D took the car in and got the brakes replaced, and we were informed that one of our rotors is close to the point of needing to be replaced.  We only had the exact amount needed to get brake pads and calipers replaced, so here in the near future we'll figure out fundage to get the rotor(s) replaced.  I am thankful that there is a reputable shop, just down the road from us, that has given us great deals (and amazing customer service) so that we were able to get our tires and brakes done at prices that are as fantastic as getting expensive things replaced can be.

Some momentary shit hit an oscillating fan earlier, too...but my hubby and I figured out a solution, put it into action, and within 6 hours of shit hitting the fan we were back up and running.  This is one of the reasons that I adore my husband - we never do things alone, when it comes to situations that are both of our responsibilities, and together we come up with the solution.  I won't share what it was, because those who need to know do know, and everyone else can just be left in the dark.  AAAHHHH...vagueness.  Awesome stuff, ain't it!?

I also have a dear friend who, after fighting tooth and nail to save her relationship, informed her husband today that she has filed for divorce.  I am amazed at her strength and resolve, but she feels like the bad guy right now.  I reminded her that she sought out religious support, attempted to get counseling, came up with solutions (that didn't really make her happy, but made it less horrible), and yet her husband seemed to find ways to make none of it seem to matter.  I am so insanely proud of her for gathering the strength to leave, even if the timing seems like crap, because she is looking out for the safety and health of her and their son.  So to my friend, who if she reads this will know it's her, YOU ARE A ROCKSTAR!  I know it sucks joining the group of 20 something and divorced (becoming a single parent sucks, but it is NOT the end of the world).  I was 19 when I got married, 20 when I had my son (V), and 21 when I left my ex husband.  It forces you to grow up in a way you didn't think existed, but I have every faith in you.  You've got this!

One last thing - Depression is so weird.  Financial struggles, friend going through hard time, shit hitting the fan...yet I'm feeling less depressed today than I did a few days ago.  That is what tells me that I really should look into the medication because I'm sad when I should be happy, and fine when I could be depressed (and have reasoning to back it up).  I'm not looking to the medication as a way to slap a smile on my face and fake being happy, but as a way to make me more balanced.  I hope that the medication makes my dark days less dark, happen less often, and helps me have more bright days ahead.

Thanks for reading.  Until next time - these are the days of my life.  *boingyoingyoingyoingyoing*

Friday, January 24, 2014

My adoption story, through my mothers eyes.

I went to my mothers blog and was going through, looking at things she had previously posted, and I came upon a post that discussed her view/interpretation of me placing my first born for adoption.  It matched up to much of what I remember, and was described a little differently in places than I would describe it myself.  But it made me smile, seeing that post, and so I'm copying/pasting/sharing it in here.  I'm trying to keep my blog as mine, and not sending you off to other blogs (especially if I've not been granted permission to share their blogs).  Soooo...here's hoping I compile this correctly.  *WISHMELUCK*

Oh, and any time my mother put my name in her post - I've removed the name and inserted (my name).  I will be sharing a lot of things on here, and don't want my name all over the interwebs.  :-D  So it might read a little funny, but make up a name if it makes it easier.
 Peanut and (my name), November 2002
In March of 2002, one month after I had married my current husband, my 16 year old daughter came to me in tears and told me she was pregnant. To say she was distraught would be an understatement. She also shared that she had told the boy involved and he had immediately dumped her and spread lies about her all over the high school.
In today's world there are three main choices that she had. And none of them are easy, no matter what anyone thinks. She could have an abortion. She could keep the baby. Or she could place the baby for adoption.
An abortion is not the solution 99.99% of the time. It just isn't. It is the solution most full of "what ifs" and some consider it murder.
Keeping the baby is a popular choice amongst teenage girls. You can dress the babies up so cute and all your girlfriends will love hanging out with you and your adorable infant. Of course, this means that school will all but disappear from your life. Or, if you're lucky enough to have a school that has daycare available, you will have to work really, really hard to gain that high school diploma. And college is put into a much harder category. To qualify for welfare, you need to move into your own apartment, away from your parents and the support they can give you.
Placing for adoption. You will give away a very cute baby right as your hormones are swinging this way and that in the postpartum phase. People at school will not understand. You will always worry about your child. If you have a closed adoption you will always hunt for his face in the crowd. And you will hope that his parents remember to send you that yearly picture and update letter. If you have an open adoption, you will come face to face with what you gave up. And you will have uncomfortable questions that will be asked and will need to be answered.
I took (my name) to LDS Family Services the week after she told me. The social workers there don't push an adoption agenda. They really just want the girls to be as prepared as they can be for whatever choice they make. All adoptions done thru them are closed adoptions. And abortion is discouraged. Strongly.
(my name) joined a birth mom support group that met weekly. Sometimes I could attend the meeting. Sometimes the other parents of the girls hung out in a different room and discussed what we were going through. The girls in (my name) group ended up keeping their babies about 50% of the time and the other 50% of them placed for adoption.
Prayers were always said that they would be able to make the correct choice for their unborn children. And that they would be strong enough to make those choices. 
When (my name) was about 3 months pregnant, she made the firm decision to place her baby, that we called Peanut, for adoption. It was really the turning point in her life when she made that decision. She started attending summer school to make up credits for all the times she had skipped school. And when regular school started up in the fall, we moved her to a different high school and she went to that school rather than choosing to go to the young mother's program. She didn't want those girls to pressure her to keep her baby because they had kept theirs. She was firm in her decision. 
Around the beginning of October (my name) was finally allowed to choose the parents for her son. The social worker prayerfully chose 5 or 6 different couples from all that were available. The couples had all filled out a biographical worksheet giving boring information about themselves such as age, education level, occupation, stuff like that, without actually identifying them except for their first names or where exactly they lived. And they had written a personal letter to Any Birthmom, telling about themselves and their hopes and dreams and desires. And they all make a scrapbook page with pictures of them and a representation of their lives. I had a friend who did all this and the ulcer that the scrapbook page and letter caused her was epic. She wanted to say the right things and not anything wrong. And the pictures needed to be perfect.
And (my name) social worker only gave the girls she worked with the biographical page and the letter. No pictures. She counselled them to prayerfully choose the parents and she didn't want them to get hung up on looks. And, while my heart hurt for all the angst that went into all of those scrapbook pages, I agreed with no pictures and so did (my name).
(my name) took the packet into her bedroom, said a prayer, and read every word on every page. And she said that she immediately knew who God wanted to raise Peanut.
She brought me out only the biographical pages. She didn't want to share the more personal letters. But she wanted to see who I would choose based on those bio pages. I went into my bedroom, a prayer in my heart and on my breath, and proceeded to have the most spiritual experience of my life. The third page in my entire body was covered with goosebumps and an incredible feeling of rightness. I knew who was meant to be Peanut's parents.
When I came out, it was confirmed. Because I had chosen the same couple that (my name) chose. When we got the scrapbook page the following week it was interesting to see that (my name) and Peanut's mom looked like they could be sisters.
Peanut was born on a Friday in November. We had him until Sunday evening. Almost all of that time was spent in the hospital. Taking pictures and holding him and loving him. (my name) took some time alone with him and explained to him who she was and what was going to happen to him and her reasons why she was placing him for adoption. She had also written him a letter that he could read when he was much older explaining why she had chosen to place him for adoption rather than raising him herself.
When she was released around noon on that Sunday, we went home and she did her hair and dressed him in a cute outfit and we headed to the mall to take a formal portrait of them together. She kept one, I kept one and we sent an 8 X 10 for him and his parents.
That evening (my name) placed Peanut into his mother's arms. And his mother just sobbed and hugged on (my name). And it was perfect.
Peanut's mom started hanging out at social networking sites and found (my name) and they started exchanging emails. We have celebrated Peanut's birthday with him and his parents for the past 8 years. And we've seen him play little league baseball a couple of times. And we met a lot of his big, extended family a couple months ago at his baptism. And this adoption was the right thing. And Heavenly Father guided my daughter in making her choices during this time.
I hope and pray that all couples that feel the great desire to be parents can become parents.  Because the miracle of birth or adoption is just the greatest thing anyone can experience.
Peanut, 2010

Money is a necessary evil. DAMMIT!

December brought about financial stress because our car was in desperate need of new tires.  When I couldn't get up the driveway after a snow storm, my husband and I just knew we had to get these tires.  It cut into what we had planned on doing for Christmas, but somehow we managed to have a pretty decent Christmas after spending $300 on a few new tires.

Now we have January - at the beginning of this month we noticed our brakes were doing funny noises.  We figured that meant that we have a little bit before we need to worry about replacing them (tax return!), but as the weeks have gone by it's just getting worse and worse.  So we have an appointment set for tomorrow (that's the soonest the parts will be available) to get our brakes replaced.  We're looking at $240ish (brakes, pads, calipers, labor, all that).  Not bad, price wise, but seriously...that'll leave us $15 until NEXT Friday.  We're almost out of milk, and other necessities, but we HAVE GOT TO get our brakes replaced.  *sigh*

Here is hoping we get the final W2's we're waiting for, and soon.  We have a windshield to replace, car to register, teeth to fix, bills to pay...*sigh*

Positive note, so that it doesn't appear that all I ever post is whining - I've got an A in my Multicultural Psychology class.  I still have a few weeks left of the course, but I'm doing really well so far.  WOOO...

Thursday, January 23, 2014

This is my song!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Subf21jEEw

I sure hope it gives a video picture thingy, like it does on FB, so that you can see it.  This is "Army of ME" by Christina Aguilera.  This song was on constant repeat when I was preparing to do the victim impact statement.  I was TERRIFIED.  But this song gave me strength.  It is MY song.

"Army Of Me"

I've been standing where you left me, left me
Praying that you'd come and get me, get me
But now I've found my second wind, wind
Now I've found my second skin, skin

Well I know what you were thinking
You thought you'd watch me fade away, away
When you broke me into pieces
But I gave each piece a name, a name

One of me is wiser
One of me is stronger
One of me's a fighter
And there's a thousand faces of me
And we're gonna rise up
Yeah we're gonna rise up
For every time you wronged me
Well you're gonna face an army, army of me

Welcome to my revolution
All your walls are breaking down, down
It's time you had a taste of losing, losing
Time the tables turned around, round

I see a glimpse of recognition
But it's too little it's too late, it's too late
And what you thought was your best decision
Just became your worst mistake

One of me is wiser
One of me is stronger
One of me's a fighter
And there's a thousand faces of me
And we're gonna rise up
Yeah we're gonna rise up
For every time you wronged me
Well you're gonna face an army, army of me

So how does it feel
To know that I beat you
That I can defeat you
Oh, how does it feel
'Cause it sure feels sweeter
It sure feels sweeter to me

Now that I'm wiser
Now that I'm stronger
Now that I'm a fighter
There's a thousand faces of me

And I'm gonna rise up
Yeah I'm gonna rise up
For every time you wronged me
There's a thousand faces of me
Yeah I'm gonna rise up
Yeah I'm gonna rise up
For every time you wronged me
Now you're gonna face an army
Army of me

When the Victim becomes the Survivor Swan

I put my biological father behind bars when I was 7 years old.  If you're able to enlarge this picture, the one of me when I was little was taken before I ever opened up about my abuse.  I might look like I'm smiling, but you can see that my soul is broken behind those eyes.  What girl, at the age of 5/6, should think that they have an STD (this happened during the huge AIDS pandemic of the 90's)...what little girl should fear that they are pregnant...and what little girl should fear retribution for getting their daddy in trouble when, in the end, the daddy did something so reprehensable that he should have had his junk sliced up and then tossed into a cage full of rabid rats?  *sigh*  Ok...maybe I don't agree that the punishment would have been correct, or even enough, but still.  I WAS that broken little girl.  I'm not her any more.

I've gone to years of therapy, have been blessed with some of the most amazing people that I just so happen to be related to...just...I had everything that a broken little girl could possibly need to go from being broken to being healed.  My mother did everything she could for me, my Grammy and Pop were there for me in ways that I realize NOW was beyond what is normal...and yet it was PERFECT...

My Pop held my hand while I testified in court, in front of that monster, about what I went through.  I can never thank him enough for helping hold my mom together, and for helping me make sure I had the strength to put the bad man away.

In October 2013 I had the "opportunity" to testify at my monsters parole hearing.  I'd not seen him for about 15 years at this point, and yet I still suffered nightmares on a rather regular basis.  Leading up to his parole hearing I was a complete bundle of melting down nerves.  I fear seeing him, therefore allowing him to know what I look like (what if he gets granted parole and hunts me down for the 20+ years he's been in prison!?!?  Irrational, I know...but not invalid, based on experiences - and the way my mind reverts back to that scared little girl sometimes).  What if I can't talk when I'm looking at him?  What if seeing him makes the nightmares worse!?!?!?

I realized that to get ready to go to this parole hearing, I needed to go and see the scene of the crime.  I called the apartment community that I lived in when the abuse occurred, and wondered if I could come and tour an apartment.  They're all set up the same way, so I was HOPING it wasn't going to be the same one.  Looks are enough.  My hubby came with me, was my rock, as I went into the apartment leasing office.  I ended up telling them that I'm looking to close up some wounds, that I am not looking to rent...but I need to view an apartment so that I can relive the abuse and bring closure to things that have not closed yet.  The staff that was on hand was AMAZING...they opened up the showroom apartment and left me alone.  I stood there, in an apartment just like the one I lived in, and realized just how SMALL it is.  I pointed out where the fridge was, explained how I remembered the bedrooms being set up, laughing about the time I pretended to be Indiana Jones (and almost burned down the apartment because I accidently set a beanbag chair on fire...), and everything was just like "I can't believe this place is so small!  I remember it being so much bigger."

Then I walked into the bathroom.  I was raped in the bathroom, on the floor, and I remember how cold the floor was.  I remember how much it burned to pee afterwards.  I remember lying, when I was being interviewed by detectives, saying that it had been my sister who was raped - not me - and that I'd seen it all by watching through the crack under the bathroom door.  I'm sorry, but now that I'm an adult...I realize just how ridiculous my lie was.  This bathroom is WAY too small for me NOW.  Yes, I'm a big girl...but the fact that I almost have to stand in the tub to shut the door so that I can go potty in privacy...just WOW!  I remember this place being so much bigger.  Yes, I cried.  Yes, I clung to Doug for support.  But wanna know what?  Hours after viewing the apartment, I felt a sense of peace that I'd yet to experience before.  It built up my resolve to actually go and testify at the parole hearing.

The following BLURP of words is the victim impact statement that I read, at the parole hearing, and it really did help me feel better.

"There was once a time in my life that I was so worried that I had angered my dad.  I worried that he would never forgive me for tattling on him, putting him behind a wall he could never escape.  It’s funny how a childs mind works because all I worry about now is letting that monster know how much I hate him, the man I once called father, and I want to make sure that he knows just how screwed up he made my life, and the lives of all those in it.

(Insert Monsters Name) is a monster.  That monster still haunts my dreams.  Years of healing and therapy don’t take away the horrible dreams.  I still remember how cold the bathroom floor was.  I still remember how much it burned to pee after he finished with me.  I remember EVERYTHING!  He hurt me!  I’ve got children now, similar in age as I was during the painful times, and I wonder how ANYONE could possibly think “I’m going to totally fuck the hell out of my child.”  What could have possibly possessed a full grown man, one I should have been able to trust in protecting me from all the pain and evil in the world, to take full sexual advantage of an innocent child…breaking her in ways that can never be fully healed…then turn around and say “Daddy loves you.”
(Insert Monsters Name) hurt me.  But he didn’t only hurt me, he hurt my mom and sister too.  My sister, Sarah, was only 4 years old when the monster went to prison.  She was left without any real memories of her dad, only what she got from the few visits to prison we did when we were younger, and what she has heard from my mother and I.  (Insert Monsters Name) ruined mine and my sisters childhood, abandoned fatherhood, left physical and emotional scars, and has a continued mental presence within me…on top of the actual RAPE…and the 2 girls that he fathered were left to grow up with a jaded view of adult men. 

My mother, who is my rock…my best friend…has sacrificed SO much because of this monster.    She became a single mom.  A single mom with no child support to help her raise her two daughters, no chance for a break from her parental responsibilities, and the worst part of all?  My mom still battles the guilt of having married the monster, and she fears that there was a way that she could have prevented the pain that this monster caused.  I know that she has done absolutely everything in her power that she could to protect me, and she was away in “the big army” when I was raped.  There was nothing she could have really changed, yet she holds onto this mothers guilt even to this day.

My mom has sacrificed SO much to make sure my sister and I were taken care of.  She had to take me to one or two therapy visits a week for YEARS!  My sister used to get jealous, as she thought that the therapy time was me getting preferential treatment.  So on top of the fact my mom had to sometimes work 2 jobs, and lots of overtime, to make ends meet, she was getting me to all my various appointments, and then had to spend special time with my sister.  That, then, caused me to get so jealous because my sister was getting all this special attention…it was so unfair!

My mom battles with depression, and worked so much to make ends meet.  She has paid for glasses, braces, therapy, clothing for her two daughters (who are taller than average, which makes some items more expensive), and all of these things that should have had two parents involved in providing for their children.  She was single for so many years because of her horribly chaotic schedule, and was worried about how I would react to another adult male in my life.

It frustrates me SO much that I’m sort of viewed, by people that I love, as a china doll that was broken and then glued back together.  More fragile, easily broken, and therefore I feel that they treat me differently.  That they choose things differently than they would if I wasn’t this fragile china doll.

Well, I’m no longer that broken little girl, and I’m no longer afraid.  The monster may haunt my dreams, but I am bigger and stronger than he EVER was, and ever will be.  I am working on my Master’s degree in psychology, having graduated with my Bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice, and I’m pursuing my career goal of being a victim advocate.  I currently work in the corrections system, and actively pursue all volunteer opportunities I get to help other victims see that they too can become a survivor.  I am also the best parent, and step-parent, that I can possibly be.  I work so hard to be everything that HE was not, will not, and could not ever be.

I know that it has been 20 years since I testified in court against that man, and some may think that 20 years is enough punishment for what he did.  But there is NO punishment that he can possibly get in this life that is serious enough for the horrendous crime he committed against a child.  HIS CHILD.  I will have to live with my scars and dreams for the rest of my life.  Why should this monster that hurt so many, though raped only me, be able to get out?  Why should he have the opportunity to get married again, go to the bar, play pool with friends, and get a job, ANY OF THAT?  I do not honestly believe that a child rapist can ever be fully rehabilitated.  I fear for anyone else that he could ever hurt.  One victim is more than enough.  He deserves his punishment, as this is the bed he made for himself the moment his penis entered his daughter’s vagina.

I will gladly work the rest of my life to pay the taxes that fund his stay in this detention facility.  I will come and share my story, reminding the parole board the reason the monster is in prison, at all future parole hearings.  I will continue my education, and help others who have been so horribly wronged.  It is because of all that I went through by the age of seven that I’ve been so dedicated to my education, to my work in the corrections system, and am so focused on helping other victims become survivors.

I am a survivor, and I will maintain my stance on this side of the cell door.  
(Insert Monsters Name) deserves to remain on the other side of this door, locked up, where he belongs.  If he does get released, he still will have absolutely no physical existence in my life.  Daddies little girl has grown up, grew a pair, and is no longer going to hide from the monster.  Because I’m no longer little, and I’m no longer afraid."

***

The following is my recounting of how the parole hearing went:

"
So we show up (my husband, sister, mom and stepdad)  to the prison, entering the facility about 15 minutes ahead of when the parole hearing was scheduled. We get in and are placed in a waiting area. I couldn't sit, so I was pacing back and forth. There was a few mundane things that happened during the time we were waiting, but they're not really important.

The corrections officer comes out to let us know it's time, and as we're being lead back I ask "Are we going in first?" I was informed that my biodad was already there, but he had been informed to not turn around at all...to make no contact with me...and I was relieved. As we enter the room I see, almost smack dab in the middle of the room, an old man...bald...super hairy ears...and so small! That can't possibly be the monster that haunts my dreams!

We sit down and the hearing begins. He is read his reason for the hearing, and reprimanded for his lack of being a good person (apparently there have been 5 paroled times...and he does something sexual harrassment/sexually deviant that gets him thrown back in...NEWS TO ME). As they're talking I realize that I didn't get all dolled up, prepared for this hearing, to speak to the back of his head. So I motion for one of the correction officers to come to me and I asked if it'd be possible to have him turn around while I do my victim impact statement. They told me I'd have to ask the Parole board member, but it shouldn't be a problem. So when it was my turn I got up to the table, and asked if he could turn around and look at me as I say what I want to say.

My wish was granted. Slowly I watch as this man, this monster, turns around...and all the memories I have of him are crumbling as I look at this sad, pathetic, broken old man. He is told to not make eye contact with me, not to talk to me, or do anything that would require action be taken. Once he voices his understanding to the rules, I am told that I need to be sworn in. I laugh (inside) and say "I know which hand is my right hand now" and go on with the swearing in. (when I was 7, testifying in court against him, I didn't know which one was my right hand. The entire courtroom giggled at the innocence and sadness of the situation...but I know which hand is my right hand now).

I'm sworn in and begin reading my victim impact statement. IT is available to those who want to read it, but I won't post it in here. As I'm reading my statement, my mom is standing next to me holding up that picture of me...of what I was before I told on him, putting him in prison. My statement caused the parole board lady to choke up, and (as I'm told) I had the corrections officers starting at me intently. 

After I finished, the parole board lady asked my biodad if he had anything he wanted to say. All that the bastard had to say was "She has every right to feel that way." and that's pretty much it. I didn't get him crying, I didn't get a heart felt "I'm sorry." NOTHING! 

The parole board lady was not too thrilled with his lack of any response, either. So who knows...perhaps the fact he has failed 5 times, and truly shows no remorse for what he did to me, and is only focused on doing what he has to do (and saying what he has to say) to get out...maybe he just shot himself in the foot?

I'm glad this is over. I'm glad I got to stare down the monster, and this time I knew I am stronger than him. I did it!"

***

Last thing to note...and the biggest thing of all...I've not had a SINGLE nightmare since I did this.  That monster can't hurt me any more.  He's smaller than I am, height and weight.  He's old.  He's sad.  I am no longer little, and I'm no longer afraid!

Depression is a bitch!

With everything that has gone in my life, it's easy to expect that I do have some degree of depression.  Sexually abused by my biological father, knocked up and abandoned at 16 (placed 1st son for adoption, dealing with post-partum depression...), failed marriage (and another kid, and the depression came back), abusive relationships...I've got stories.  I've got excuses.  But I have survived for at least the last 5 years without medication.

I have been on medication before, as the previous sentence obviously ensued.  I was diagnosed, as an adult, with clinical depression - adhd - and sleep disorder.  My sleep disorder really dwindled down to the nightmares/night terrors that I have (had) regarding the rape and abuse I went through as a child.  ADHD and Depression, on the other hand, were things that built up and developed over time.  ADHD helped me make sense of many struggles I had growing up, and depression is really just a given.  ANYWAY...I am jabbering away...back to the point of this post.

I've been having a very hard time lately not being moody.  I've struggled with these feelings of inadequacy, sadness, overwhelmed, everything...and it SUCKS!  My life is chaos, but it's an organized chaos and it's something that I live and thrive on (or in...uh...whatever).  I work full time in juvenile corrections, on the graveyard shift, and I LOVE my job.  Not sarcastically love, but seriously I LOVE my job.  It's the first time I've actually been able to honestly say that I love pretty much every aspect of the organization that I work for.  I am married, going on 3 years married (and 4 years together).  I have my 3 kids, 2 of which live with my husband and I full time.  I am also in school full time, working towards my Masters degree in Psychology.  So yes, I'm busy.  I find that I'm tired more often than I feel rested.  But I'm happy with the way life is going...

Yet I'm depressed.  I find myself questioning my parenting ability.  I look around at the chaos that is my house and wonder why I can't seem to manage to keep my house clean and presentable.  I KNOW that working full time, school full time, and kids all equal a house that won't ever be clean (unless kids are asleep and I'm up all night...then it'll only be clean until they wake up).  I realize it is totally unreasonable, and unrealistic, to think that I can be that Stepford wife who looks so put together every single day and STILL get the things I need to get done DONE.  Yet I feel like I'm failing somewhere because I'm NOT that.

My legs are hairy, I've gone days without showering (in my defense - I don't sweat easily, and most people don't notice that I've not washed my hair in 3 days), and just blah blah blah blah...

Why is it that so many people will tell me that they find me inspirational, that they don't know how I do everything I do, and yet I look at them and wish that I could do what they do?  Don't give me the whole "the grass is always greener" deal.  I really love my husband, my kids, my job, my education...I get it.

And I just...I don't know how to wrap this post up.  I'm finding myself in the blahs more and more, and it SUCKS.  So I have scheduled an appointment with my doctor for next week.  I'll explain how I've been feeling, express my reasoning for getting on medication, discuss the medications I took before, and open up about my fears of being back on medication (that's a whole other post in and of itself...maybe some other day).

I just need a hug, yet I'm in a total antisocial mood.  OH SQUIRREL.  FUCK!  *sigh*

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Let's get this started...

I normally fail when it comes to keeping a blog, but I also see this as being a way that could benefit me (and those around me) in understanding the inner-workings of my brain.  This will also be a great place for me to go back, as a reference, when life events come up and I need to go back and use a post as reference.

I am not sure, since blogger is apparently tied to my personal email, how much personal information you can see on this already.  I'm going to assume that my information is kept separate, and that blogger is just awesome in allowing my login to be my email.

I'm happily married to my Dark Knight, who I will either refer to as D or Hubby.  Between us we have 3 kids (none together, though that could change in the future).  G is my 15 year old stepson, V is my almost 8 year old boy, and H is my 7 year old diva stepdaughter.  I work in a juvenile detention facility, my hubby is a team lead for a large call center customer service company, and while our jobs are in two totally different fields we are still totally supportive of each other (and it helps that we met while working for a call center job years ago).

Warning - I have ADHD, though it's not nearly as obnoxious as it was when I was younger, and I deal with depression.  I don't like to use the word suffer, so I don't suffer from these.  They are a pain in the butt, but (ha, see what I did there?!!?) I've been dealing with it long enough that it's just a part of who I am.

This blog is being created as a place where some of my more darker parts of my brain can unload, where updates can be shared that I don't necessarily want plastered on my facebook page, and where I will just jabber away and unload my brain.  Many people tell me to journal my experiences, but I write so much slower than I type.  Then I lose my thoughts, and can't get them back, which depresses me.  So to avoid adding to my annoying depression, I shall overshare and type away.

Excuse the next few posts - this is also a place where I can save things I may need to refer back to in the future, so I'm updating them now before I forget.