tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60754674158995462252024-03-14T03:55:32.895-07:00*It's mY MoM's fAuLt*she's crazy AND chineseH Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-85701573965884553482013-02-10T15:30:00.001-08:002013-02-10T15:30:06.584-08:00Lost and FoundI know I've been missing, for a while. Part of the struggle has been finding focus and organization to blog again! I feel like my mind wander and strays every time I sit down.
Becks asleep, a lovely afternoon nap. He had a wild night, generated loads of laundry and wore his parents out. Sweet little guy barfed all over Katie's bed, I must admit I slept while D cleaned it up. Don't worry I paid for that act of lousy mommying. He came to cuddle with me, propped up on pillows tangling my hair till I dozed off. Katie was a noisy barfer. Lots of gagging first. This gave us lots of time to either get away or get a bowl. I discovered Beck is a silent barfer. When he barfed on the back of my head, filling my ear with nasty warm puke...I did not sleep through this round of puking. Poor guy.
When I was cleaning the house this afternoon I felt oddly content. I was also amazed at how much laundry one person could generate. I felt like I was doing what I was meant to do. Washing barfy laundry. Taking care of my kids, my house.
It has been a rough four years. When I think about the time it sorta blows me away. How long we've been doing this. How long it's taken to feel found. Or at least not lost.
The kids have been missing their grandad and i went through and made picture to frame for the kids of their grandad, and it was the first time in a while I could stand to look in the past. And it sorta made me excited for the future. There is still alot that is unclear to me and I am ok with knowing that I don't know how it's all going to turn out. I just feel good knowing I am simply where I am supposed to be.
H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-39292917969050526572012-05-30T00:26:00.001-07:002012-05-30T00:26:45.185-07:00Tonight...Tonight I could blog about:
Working 5 on 2 off, 5 on.
Being tired, being sleepy. The awfully DAMN loud ringing in my ears!
But instead I shall blog about tonight.
Darren got 4 tickets to the band Fun. And decided to take me, Katie and Anna. Which was friggen AWESOME!
I want to just gush. I want to gush about how cool I think my kids are. About what it's like to worry in a concert about weather your kid can see, if they are safe, are they having fun?
To see the tired smiles at the end. The complaints of sore feet and thirsty mouths. The joy that music fills you with and how it just radiates out after...I love staying up late with them. I loved liking the same thing they did.
For realsies.
There was this dude who jumped up on the stage and smiled big and managed to evade the security dude. And they loved it. Both of them retold it to me!! In great detail. Something about their happy chatter and discussion about their favorite songs made me feel so connected to them. I was a cool mom without even trying. So not only was this band so super adorable and cool to watch, a great a show but my dates we're the bestest ever!H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-86508482309935837622012-01-04T22:12:00.000-08:002012-01-04T23:01:44.320-08:00A fat white girls adventure in tanningSo last year I resolved to be quite. <br />I will let my friends weigh in on how successful I was with THAT resolution.<br /><br />But this year I decided to take myself less seriously. <br />And as I spend a fair amount of time laughing at other people I figured I should start the year off by taking myself less seriously by allowing other people to laugh at me. <br />Hence the title and the fact that I am not keeping this little gem to myself. As it really should be my little secret.<br /><br />Last year I went to Hawaii in December and got a nice tan and when I got home I thought I should tan once a week to keep that nice glow. As I much prefer tan Heather to white ass Heather. And perhaps I am a little vain, who knew? I never did though.<br />So when I went to Hawaii this past month and came home in need of a new drivers license I decided why yes I am going to tan a little to keep this nice brown glow...and have a decent DMV photo for once.<br />So after a bit of shopping around I decided on a modest 10 pack of tans at Tan Republic, I would go once a week till spring and then I could resume my worshiping of the real sun in April in Texas, maybe even at the only nude beach I "accidentally" discovered last time. It would make yoga nicer for the others. <br />So I pony up my bones on the cheapest package possible, who know there are Diamond Beds that are like $25 a tan!!!! I did not get the Diamond or ever gold bronze or silver. It's the basic but I am ok with that. Did you know there is a tanning tax? WTF?<br />I figured I am already a slight shade of golden brown and I'm looking for maintenance not color so who needs fancy high pressure beds. <br />So I walk my happy self to the bed looking forward to 20 mins of nice bright sun like light and being warm. FOR 20 MINS. Hmmm maybe that was not a super awesome choice. For this of you who have tanned....maybe you do so in your birthday suit. Or at least that's what I though being a non-experienced tanner. And though we were in Hawaii and I laid down a good foundation I wore a swimsuit while doing it. Yeah momma doesn't think anyone needs to be subject me in a bikini. So when I tanned I exposed all my parts directly to the light. And did you know when you tan it takes HOURS for the effects to come to life. So as I laid there feeling a little warm and prickly I was really being cooked to a bright RED CRISP!!! Oh how the color deepens with time. And oddly enough the scarlet red areas illuminate a lot of things I didn't know. Like you need to turn on your sides as they are still bright white. And you need to lift up your arms. And when you lay on your back things settle and separate. NOT flattering. At all. To have these facts be brought to light...hehe light. It's also very illuminating the parts that touch one another and no light was shed there. On the upside those parts aren't red and burned and prickly. Did you know stretch marks burn even worse than regular white skin? Wow. True statement. <br /><br />Can't wait for next time...H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-50928744830303034172011-12-26T22:32:00.000-08:002011-12-27T00:04:28.427-08:00Merry Christmas 2011<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUL6eE5jLyQMoBY06Dz3QBxkUG5G9vxVyOGdf0e7Dy1KIQTOdtwdfqefala9Mcuk7TP8UXWvNY1MKi_NyfxF3LQMum3d4dkMFwnu6AG4ovgntsv2iS16gxli-YsX2YnIgWioWT88npY8/s1600/IMG_3120.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUL6eE5jLyQMoBY06Dz3QBxkUG5G9vxVyOGdf0e7Dy1KIQTOdtwdfqefala9Mcuk7TP8UXWvNY1MKi_NyfxF3LQMum3d4dkMFwnu6AG4ovgntsv2iS16gxli-YsX2YnIgWioWT88npY8/s400/IMG_3120.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715687166882114" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyhy01MNcQfT1Ag4B1G-aDpSQg83LEmzzHw7I8IOdc7Gui-mdS1xbeYnxHnjWdyMyHDltQHBVAAxc0WTkX1dBzJTMtFh-Dauj5mYiz1fkIPuvM5QPuDkFpHoIlf-RRtZSnKbyOBzFt3U/s1600/IMG_3042.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyhy01MNcQfT1Ag4B1G-aDpSQg83LEmzzHw7I8IOdc7Gui-mdS1xbeYnxHnjWdyMyHDltQHBVAAxc0WTkX1dBzJTMtFh-Dauj5mYiz1fkIPuvM5QPuDkFpHoIlf-RRtZSnKbyOBzFt3U/s400/IMG_3042.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715669276128450" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLMbkPHQ7I3Bb7uRQ6THUEjEc3IxIOaErlu6pI-lopC1wYxzQ3oAGG9r4iaPGsJ3j5PIaG3Qtk8Cd3xUtH9krVN6LgGvEIddb1sxLF9QSnfG0iTN4Y1YhNZ-hBKqkY6_SmoP_teX_X8Ao/s1600/IMG_3000.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLMbkPHQ7I3Bb7uRQ6THUEjEc3IxIOaErlu6pI-lopC1wYxzQ3oAGG9r4iaPGsJ3j5PIaG3Qtk8Cd3xUtH9krVN6LgGvEIddb1sxLF9QSnfG0iTN4Y1YhNZ-hBKqkY6_SmoP_teX_X8Ao/s400/IMG_3000.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715668329514562" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKVclR6CmNv80lcl8ip0jSoYsqUvP7E8BgHw2YaAvk6Adj5uvVHKvSFBgFuemhgkIRFZurUgx7brKt0YTN1-VXKhJZ_dAqZN9HXjHGB8PR1JcFvqsm2x48R-XzssEguOi9VA1JVxk4mQ/s1600/IMG_2969.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKVclR6CmNv80lcl8ip0jSoYsqUvP7E8BgHw2YaAvk6Adj5uvVHKvSFBgFuemhgkIRFZurUgx7brKt0YTN1-VXKhJZ_dAqZN9HXjHGB8PR1JcFvqsm2x48R-XzssEguOi9VA1JVxk4mQ/s400/IMG_2969.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715664982043810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6N_oYH3mAQ7bIKt4C0aCEpmlb7-u_k495Xdu0ncDZuJmSUUwiIFUB2IPmJjdUFf2HUS6B8XcnH2xVeciOFvRbTOL11S8zPnh_dv36Y3nuohO8ujdEh7ZU1To_fMGAKgvxWlrV0qSBZDc/s1600/IMG_2961.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6N_oYH3mAQ7bIKt4C0aCEpmlb7-u_k495Xdu0ncDZuJmSUUwiIFUB2IPmJjdUFf2HUS6B8XcnH2xVeciOFvRbTOL11S8zPnh_dv36Y3nuohO8ujdEh7ZU1To_fMGAKgvxWlrV0qSBZDc/s400/IMG_2961.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715476698064658" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcXZC5mFcN5wEaNEIBBPfN_xaUaJ7ASSoAwxajAVJYbhjUSwHdl-SHtSgEj_bqtEgrxy2LzrzLqGMwr2kbKBQek6DgkcFIj7N21ebz1EPWpRrsSegtZGuAdWfCnJaoYuB0Tx59abTIxrg/s1600/IMG_2937.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcXZC5mFcN5wEaNEIBBPfN_xaUaJ7ASSoAwxajAVJYbhjUSwHdl-SHtSgEj_bqtEgrxy2LzrzLqGMwr2kbKBQek6DgkcFIj7N21ebz1EPWpRrsSegtZGuAdWfCnJaoYuB0Tx59abTIxrg/s400/IMG_2937.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715477969953858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFvPKD__zJjDJ5JtmLvb1wUy8wxgL6rkfWHKJmlp7U_CW-9TOlOHoj_XwXTDEy2HcjxVs7NnckLnlJGArsABU9Y1B_3KbSUHeRCeP1hivBPa1yR4-qcmBZ_z_sYuc0qTuSdwDAgODMyk/s1600/IMG_2905.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFvPKD__zJjDJ5JtmLvb1wUy8wxgL6rkfWHKJmlp7U_CW-9TOlOHoj_XwXTDEy2HcjxVs7NnckLnlJGArsABU9Y1B_3KbSUHeRCeP1hivBPa1yR4-qcmBZ_z_sYuc0qTuSdwDAgODMyk/s400/IMG_2905.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715471322211794" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8g8HpjIvIn_Csyv5urvzf9URlJTPwfaZbK0WsfRsaZmbf2Yx4Wk6zK-rbiGaHlZZTBNhQy7El6_hVdnI70Q9SSa-d3EwOnBD-_nhjYHWqhNz1XAotSxEFT-XlphSPZWk2SEc2sj01-8/s1600/IMG_2866.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8g8HpjIvIn_Csyv5urvzf9URlJTPwfaZbK0WsfRsaZmbf2Yx4Wk6zK-rbiGaHlZZTBNhQy7El6_hVdnI70Q9SSa-d3EwOnBD-_nhjYHWqhNz1XAotSxEFT-XlphSPZWk2SEc2sj01-8/s400/IMG_2866.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715460354546082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYb40r0IrtiN9eQhKE6JFNBxVZw2Vc00hRRRTBXXk-iwI9mb5IJvVSHGaCVdcZadGRln245a4MplxJOcjz8Bs8be867QwsM7viuJVxx-92OUza1exdF0Ms_WCDyyw1p1okMS_3ufEoj4/s1600/IMG_2866.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYb40r0IrtiN9eQhKE6JFNBxVZw2Vc00hRRRTBXXk-iwI9mb5IJvVSHGaCVdcZadGRln245a4MplxJOcjz8Bs8be867QwsM7viuJVxx-92OUza1exdF0Ms_WCDyyw1p1okMS_3ufEoj4/s400/IMG_2866.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690715458970004962" /></a><br />Have had some serious bloggers block the last year and it's killing me. Not a single blog I start am I able to start and sit through. I think it may be mirroring whats going on in my mind. So I am gonna start easy.<br /><br />Jean, in the picture with Katie came to town (she lives in England), as Dennis (Darren's dad) had a heart valve replaced and it's taken longer than expected to wake up much less get better. I guess she was worried so she came for a quick visit. She's super funny and the kids really like her. So we all met and went out to lunch while she was here in town. And As you can see Katie loved it. <br /><br />We always do the same things every year as a family around Christmas. We go to zoo lights and downtown to see Santa and go out to dinner. And these things really matter to me, I think they really matter to the kids as they are...tradition. <br />Darren bailed on these and that was really hard. But we still had so much fun. Beck was nuts for the lights. I mean nuts complete with shrieking and laughing and pointing. And a fair amount of refusing to walk. Anna and her class sang at the zoo and it was lovely and just made me feel proud. I am proud of her. And I know I am the lucky one. I get to be there and I have no fear that I will miss out on these details of their life. I just need to get over the work I have to do to that. I am trying so hard to accept that I will have to do this on my own, something I never wanted to do. Just like cutting down a gigantic christmas tree. BY MY SELF. And by my self I mean with my kids and bestie so I guess not really by myself. I will correctly rephrase without Darren. It was huge. It made my biceps burn. It was so friggen heavy and it was FULL of spiders. I hate spiders. We had to cram it into the tree stand and it shed like a million needles when I stuffed it in the front door. None the less I felt so victorious and proud of myself so thats a start right?<br /><br />I also managed to take the kids to see Santa. Stand in line, coerce them into sitting in Santa's lap, out to a yummy dinner. Giggles and Joy abound. Beck shouting at Santa without making eye contact and blowing my shopping list and throwing me into a shopping frenzy! Want buttons with truck, and by this he meant a truck with buttons to make noise and generally annoy me. So friggen adorable. I will never trade these moments for anything. Ever. I finally understand what daily bread means. That life, on an everyday basis is hard and lots and lots of work. And no single event is all easy or good of funny or without complications or trouble. But they also are not without love and laughter and hope and future and chance and joy. Daily bread is that. You cannot choose just one side of the equation. The work is the nourishment. And I right now am super nourished. <br /><br />Christmas this year was hard and different and filled with uncertainty. But it was also filled with on the fly parties with the best friends ever, they save me sometimes in what feels like just the last moments, fun adventures, shopping, gifts joy and so much love. It even, most shocking of all, included an afternoon with all the cousins on Darren's side of the family. And that afternoon, was great. I was so uncomfortable and so forcing myself to do that. I had the hardest time trying to figure out what the best way to do christmas was. But as everyone who knows me knew I can never refuse the kids and Katie really wanted her dad here so he came. And it was nice. A little awkward but nice.<br /><br />It's weird not knowing how to be around someone your married to. To be so uncertain of how to act and feel towards someone you love and want to be with but don't know how. To not know anymore. To wonder so completely about the past we shared and what was true and lies. To be so shocked and hurt. To feel so unsure, sad, scared. This is where I get confused. <br /><br />I wanted to take the kids tubbing and sorta at the last minuet we decided to go. And I was shocked by how much fun I had. How much fun the kids had!! My favorite moment was when Beck, who hated tubing, was being swung in circles and then....Darren let go and down hill baby Beck flew, up over and embankment and over the side disappearing along the side of the building. Thank god it was only about 4 feet down and Beck was well wedged in the tube, shocked and big eyed, but ok. It felt so nice to just have some fun.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-68143622743037419002011-10-16T21:42:00.000-07:002011-12-21T04:07:12.056-08:00Feel the burn...That could mean so many thing in my life right now.<br />But mostly it means I've got my mac back!!!<br /><br />It's not quite the same burn I'm used too. My other Mac got real real warm uncomfortably warm. But what i'm most excited about is getting to sit and hang out and blog. <br /> <br />Then there's the hot yoga. What a stupid idea. Stupid stupid.<br />I bought a groupon for 20 hot yoga classes. I hadn't really given much thought to the kind of class it would be. <br /><br />So when it was time to go of course I suckered my dear and darling friend teresa to come with me. I had no lofty goals or expectations, I thought if I can just manage to stay in the room for the class I will call that a victory.<br /><br />Oh my. I had no idea!!H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-84071645539064779282011-08-06T05:21:00.000-07:002011-08-06T05:49:42.084-07:00excuse me?I am struggling to start this as I am floored and completely confused.<br /><br />It has been a crazy and wild year. It's been by far the hardest. <br /><br />Last new years and by new years I mean chinese new years (so that makes it February for all you white folks) my mom said she paid to have prayers for me. I said I was excited for the New year as I hoped I could just move on from the past year and never look back. Last year was not a year that I wanted to look back on and remember. My mom laughed a little and said OOh Heather, you have no idea it will be worse this year. <br /><br />As I normally do I laughed and igonored her. I thought to myself really how could it be worse? What more could more miserable than this last year? <br /><br />Well I found out and let me just say it sucks. <br />it sucks ass and I want to crawl in a hole and dissapear.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-43028575707152275892011-07-23T06:09:00.000-07:002011-07-23T06:35:12.541-07:00Family BelongingsSpent the night looking at houses in Langley Canada. And the immigration process. And jobs.<br /><br />We went to Jeff and Queenie's wedding and had the most wonderful time. It was long and loud and in a language I don't really understand. There were people smiling at us the whole day, gently nodding their heads yes whenever we spoke. It all seemed so positive. <br />It even included a Chinese grandma speaking harshly, expectation and shame. The dinner was filled with lots or food that I did not recognize or want to eat but it was still so familiar. <br />I spent a good part of the day wondering what the feeling in my heart was. <br />It was big and warm and it made me smile. <br />It was quiet and simple and safe. <br />It was old and full of childhood memories that are so very dear and sweet and fun. It was family history and acceptance and joy. <br />It was time and love and belonging. <br /><br />It's the kind of belonging that only happens...sometimes. And under the right circumstances. For some wonderful reason the magic combination exists in this nothing town of Langley. It's an OLD old thing that is transported from a time and culture that I have known but never knew. I know it's always existed there for me but it must just be the time in my life that I am able to feel it and appreciate it. <br /><br />I've had for a long time an idea of family. An expectation of family that has just never been. Being in a house full of cousins, uncles and aunts who have the same idea of family was so much fun. To know, no matter what I did, what messy noisy chaos the kids whipped up or how poorly behaved anyone was, they were loved.<br />Equally.<br />It was cool to watch how that standard was cultivated and monitored. How it was ingrained and managed. I'd like to be closer to it. To learn to do it. To be a part of it.<br />To be with my family.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-64123628558209261942011-05-18T01:38:00.000-07:002011-05-18T01:53:25.860-07:00Thing's I'd say on Facebook if I wasn't friends with my kids....Softball Sucks...<br /><br />You're a card carrying member of the Bro's Before Hoe's club and I wish you'd go live in the clubhouse.<br /><br />Having to work sucks and I'd love to just say later bitches and lave my life for somewhere sunny.<br /><br />Drinking is fun and it sucks that you got bad genetics.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-65663162398796836462011-03-29T04:48:00.001-07:002011-07-23T06:42:06.277-07:00Waiting...And waiting and waiting and waiting. I feel like i've been waiting and waiting. <br /><br />What am I waiting for?<br /><br />Nice. I feel like I'm waiting for nice. <br />Smiling. I miss having the person in my life smile when they see me. That little twinkle, the twinge in the heart.<br /><br />Adoration. Someone to buy me shiny pretty diamonds or at least want to. <br />A little tiny bit of appreciation. <br />Gratitude. Gratitude and appreciation bind, it's the cement. <br />Comfort and security and faithfulness.<br />For things to not be so hard!<br /><br />It sounds so sad and pathetic. This unhappiness, this waiting. <br /><br />I stopped wearing my wedding ring a while back. It seemed so fake to me. <br /><br />I was soo excited to get married. And so pie eyed and optimistic. I so remember sitting at marriage counseling thinking in an annoyed fashion...none of this applies. I love him so much none of this will ever happen. I will love him like this forever. EVER. <br /><br />I was wrong.<br /><br />I had no idea the things that would happen between here and there. <br />I had no idea of how much I'd grow and change. <br />I had no idea of how far a person can be pushed.<br />I had no idea of how long i'd wait.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-77140368069426512042010-11-27T19:25:00.001-08:002010-11-27T19:32:07.345-08:00For Roms. You are persistent!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJevbRZRxRRduw9AfdZAaDBghIR7lm6aVCGcJNqOyYy0eiqqPEn8g9jvUZ5hw4tzlosNk3NGIlJH0uPysq9PyFs1v3aGYEU24bI8h-e0HlEA3sx923NtwOwjZiHvJ02v82HUfvx5HmXng/s1600/IMG_6352.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJevbRZRxRRduw9AfdZAaDBghIR7lm6aVCGcJNqOyYy0eiqqPEn8g9jvUZ5hw4tzlosNk3NGIlJH0uPysq9PyFs1v3aGYEU24bI8h-e0HlEA3sx923NtwOwjZiHvJ02v82HUfvx5HmXng/s400/IMG_6352.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544438010343022642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnt8Cx39XXAcU4NuVoaCKTgv9Wv8kjHuHp8RW39FMxXIP8agQmVLdavPK1867Q9n_9mSWVXlCZrFsFXDjc3U_B1aI8yz4f6QcAx95HtLbtsVu6VOFj9TqMDxppjJSXagpslQ_TorH_Fh0/s1600/IMG_6349.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1AI4V0TzZVufArLkvOI3p4V4VyEerUAqNggTWmbm2tFAZoOBny-AwPbFmhHbNdWNGNrwtnzaR6-NwNGXY_Hmz4IltC407sE2trNb4eVfDy-0Hh31nqa-uJooEJh_05JUw7NeIy9BHtM/s400/IMG_6300.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544437106852487954" /></a>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-73557294091433296712010-10-10T19:35:00.000-07:002010-10-10T19:47:12.417-07:00Lasic...My friend were over visiting and we were talking in the kitchen about how their dad had offered to pay for lasic eye surgery and did they want to have it done? For her she said it was a matter of vanity, to not have to wear glasses anymore. Is it worth the risk of her vision?<br /><br />I know Darren had terrible eye sight and it was in his opinion the best possible thing he could ever do. He couldn't see without his glasses on, at all. (I wonder what a shocker it was climbing in bed that first night, being able to see...haha) In my mind I totally look like a supermodel.<br /><br />I know random. But I guess I'm just feeling silly today. It's been forever since I've has time to just blog. Well there is still laundry to do and dishes but if It think about it too much I may go insane. House work NEVER ends. It should be death, taxes and house work. A coworker calls housework her whore chores. I love it. I may borrow that phrase.<br /><br />D was around this weekend. We did really exciting things like watching movies and trimming bushes and cleaning. I loved it. It's so interesting this practicing life again. One thing I do like about it, is if it gets really screwed up, since it's practice we can just start over again tomorrow. It makes things much more forgiving.<br /><br /><br />I am dying for the floor in Becks room to be done so I can put the house back together. I want to clean shit out. Lots and lots of stuff be gone...something cathartic about purging the old.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-75786035699719420242010-09-21T14:02:00.000-07:002011-07-23T06:43:56.944-07:00Hope, Optimism and Niagra FallsI think Niagra falls is beautiful, amazing and terrifing. So powerful and luring. You can gaze and wonder, but only get to close before you are swept over. Once your pulled by the current no amount of struggle can free you from the inevitible, you will be moved forward. <br /><br />Love and optimism seem to be the same. You can swim around, even up to that line, but once your in, your in. I like to say with gaurded optimism I look forward. That I have hesitation and reservation about loving my husband.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-83349280533725380482010-09-17T01:17:00.000-07:002010-09-19T01:41:52.431-07:0028 days.I'm smiling. Really smiling.<br /><br />If you'd told me that in 28 days I would:<br /><br />Be certain I can live my life as a single mom...Have amazing things happen that are also reffered to as miracles...Allow my friends to take away tiny bits of fear,hurt and sadness untill I was left with very little...Take Beck to baby school all on my own...Be taking Anna to meetings and making it a prioriety for me to go too...Think my mom is one of the smartest women in the world...Be blown away by the people who have fallen into my life and given me so much kindness and wisdom...Be feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for a list of things that is too long to make...Think, with gaurded optimism, that there may be a life with my husband...Feel sorry for my inlaws...understand how hard it is to change...have a daughter who is compelled to carry around a coin with the serenity prayer on it...cuddle my little girl who has dreams that her daddy comes home to snuggle in the middle of the night and it sad to wake up to just me...understand that my happiness is MINE and so is my misery...gain so much peace and freedom by just letting go...learn so much about myself and feel really ok with it...be excited about what the future holds, despite the uncertainty...learn so much about forgiveness and love...become certain about the power of faith...cry for hours and wonder and worry...feel peaceful...be so loved and supported by SO many people is such quite but powerful ways...<br /><br />I would have thought not in a million years...<br /><br />Sometimes being wrong means being so right.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-33474931465014366412010-09-04T00:52:00.000-07:002010-09-04T01:06:58.448-07:00A crabby death...I have been pretty firm about not letting the kids bring anything alive to our home to live. I feel like I am having a hard enough time keeping the things already under my roof alive without adding to the mix. Well I caved and we welcomed four pinchy hard shell hermit crabs into our home. <br /><br />Anna has done a wonderful job carring for them but of course the morning she left for camp one was popped out of it's shell looking quite, DEAD. After a day I was certain, not only by the lack of movement but the smell. Dead sealife smells like dead sealife. Gross. I decided to wait untill she came home for her trip to burry it, in part I didn't want to touch it. <br /><br />She screamed and cried but finally decided a funeral was inorder, so I dug a hole and her friends and I gathered around it's final resting place to say good bye. We all pinched her in honnor of pinchy. <br /><br />The next morning I got to return pinchy to the new final resting place as olaf brought him back into the house.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-90174585942500314842010-06-27T03:33:00.000-07:002010-09-19T01:42:56.343-07:00Happy AnniversarySo today was year 12. <br />Married for 12 years. <br />I remember our premarital counseling, sitting there thinking, ignoring, we'll never have those problems. I adored him so much, I couldn't imagine what we would ever fight about. <br />Wow. <br />I think part of what has been so hard is that we've had to grow up together. We got married so young. It's inevitable. We've had lots of wonderful kids, but they are alot of work. We've been real busy living life an not taking much time to take care of us. <br /><br />It makes me so sad the way things are now.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-84403424799769629402010-06-07T21:51:00.001-07:002010-06-10T00:56:37.534-07:00Spring Fun with great friends.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9tjrZbu0f8hNUzpFRTNWFS7a5ucV89tkMHf5qNxWrjXkPnt9t7BVXI6QPPLnL7kD3IQSrW-DjhneFEwXxnldX25SkdTzEdIXdxUN2CtoBemWR7wsW8feN-R7Io5TXCr2K19DdvqgKxQ/s1600/IMG_1304.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9tjrZbu0f8hNUzpFRTNWFS7a5ucV89tkMHf5qNxWrjXkPnt9t7BVXI6QPPLnL7kD3IQSrW-DjhneFEwXxnldX25SkdTzEdIXdxUN2CtoBemWR7wsW8feN-R7Io5TXCr2K19DdvqgKxQ/s400/IMG_1304.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481050814675139138" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRqQ9iE-AAKMJQv-eDncNNVlASoFuua08xlX8wGh_RcxnaAgbevl_PjshLVyrA49ArZIEtuglk3Pcv32O76WrrLhTHePpflwuOXwtsOgSapVHcV9Mv097QgjmvbdKkNqgqTSnhZAkbbU/s1600/IMG_4450.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-fKR0HbqfjtSW0DlzkTyvjOLz291UW-RBNO565D5uY-FrNMo9YbBt7L30DJAJdgTWlBB00nlOATD235lz9zOxephpyWvrm9jh-d3oSd5E_t9Sn5Fpnn24G2uacQfmhT1jvg1aa6WtW0/s400/IMG_3462.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480261384670471874"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Wdqf1qZT0LWzrU_2USG1vlQLxB8YSU6FtaFLEPM-9hFy6oAQ91zXVrC8yqe59HAtrdlDNO0CLuJDqTXDjSkRLbOi86MMiLbKJkhKXx9zGmObMVDlRTwyMC1V63cR7Q5xyDDL1d3soEg/s1600/IMG_1352.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Wdqf1qZT0LWzrU_2USG1vlQLxB8YSU6FtaFLEPM-9hFy6oAQ91zXVrC8yqe59HAtrdlDNO0CLuJDqTXDjSkRLbOi86MMiLbKJkhKXx9zGmObMVDlRTwyMC1V63cR7Q5xyDDL1d3soEg/s400/IMG_1352.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480261378728717970"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXG3MV1JdXr_olxkfxZES3nxh4jePA9MwVeixLVKHK2ahS3unAHgcJ76xRfrgaYjXu37tAGfnsj3bXW0DvcQSXXOpfMOe4mtFjQBK_DGGjPnMrdP3Urbclaxkgz72rH0V3Ga4KNqsgVIE/s1600/IMG_1288.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXG3MV1JdXr_olxkfxZES3nxh4jePA9MwVeixLVKHK2ahS3unAHgcJ76xRfrgaYjXu37tAGfnsj3bXW0DvcQSXXOpfMOe4mtFjQBK_DGGjPnMrdP3Urbclaxkgz72rH0V3Ga4KNqsgVIE/s400/IMG_1288.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480261369490193426"></a>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-34926279112616764692010-06-06T02:35:00.000-07:002010-06-06T05:16:28.300-07:00Sticks and Stones.Wow.<br /><br />It's been a funny thing, these past three weeks.<br /><br />It feels like time is moving so slowly. The days drag on, the nights drag on. It's like a reverse time warp.<br /><br /><br /><br />I like to blog. It helps me clarify my thoughts and feelings. It helps me understand things better. It makes me feel less alone. I know I am not the only person <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">experiencing</span> the things in my life and perhaps someone who also has <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">experienced</span> these things will have good insight. Or maybe someone else won't feel quite so alone.<br /><br /><br /><br />I have never given as much thoughts to the comments people have posted until the last post. I do believe as much as I have the right to blog <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">about</span> whatever suits me, people have the right to their opinions too. So post away your comments but bare in mind a few things.<br /><br /><br /><br />I do not live by the judgement of others. I know this is a frustrating thing. I will not be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">governed</span> by other peoples expectations. I will not chose my action based on how that will influence what you think of me. I desire the approval of very few. That is maddening to some. If you do not like me that is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ok</span>. If you don't want to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">believe</span> me that is fine too.<br />I know the truths in my life, I live them. <br />I believe in civility but not pretending to like someone I don't. I do not have to like everyone. I do not have to care what your opinion of me is. I actually feel like it's none of my business what you think of me.<br />I will not do things I regret, I don't believe in regret. Life is too short to waste. I rarely do things I am ashamed of or could be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">humiliated</span> by. <br /><br />I have deep reverence for the opinions and feelings of those who are close and meaningful to me and I will always try to listen and respect those. For those who are strangers that want to share their <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">experience</span> or insights to my situations thank you. You never know what wisdom or words will resonate.<br /><br />If you simply want to attack me, judge me, please be bold enough to stand behind your words, your insights into my life and be who you are. Why must you hide? I am merely one woman who has no impact on your life why would you fear me?<br /><br />It's because you simply don't know. Those who do know our life, those who could be justified in calling me names, laying out my poor behavior for my inspection would do so directly. And it would be meaningful.<br /><br />I suspect you form you opinions from irregular isolated contact that has little to do with our family. Project your own <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">experiences</span> and desire to have a say in the outcome of someone e<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">lse's</span> life from a distance behind a wall.<br /><br />Very cowardly.<br /><br />As was it to ambush me at my home, drunk, in front of my kids. To make comments you cannot stand behind.<br /><br /><br /><br />Time will tell.<br />The Truth is unstoppable.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-56654381943554879772010-06-04T00:05:00.001-07:002011-07-23T06:44:51.715-07:00<div>I want sunshine and vacation.</div><div>I want smiles and movies.</div><div>I want to sit on the couch and laugh.</div><div>I want to snuggle and feel safe. </div><div>I want to retire someday with a shit ton of money.</div><div>I want to trust.</div><div>I want to laugh.</div><div>I want to not wonder all the time.</div><div>I want to not work!</div><div>I want to be appreciated.</div><div>I want to be loved and adored.</div><div>I want respect. </div><div>I want courage.</div><div>I want the opportunity.</div>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-32687681801210331572010-06-03T23:34:00.000-07:002010-06-04T00:15:59.773-07:00What next?<div>One of D's friends showed up uninvited, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">unannounced</span> to our house tonight. We happened to be coming home, there was a band concert and I wanted to make a nice dinner. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">experience</span> was overall quite unpleasant.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just a short list of the things his drunk friend had to tell me. </div><div><br /></div><div>That I am a controlling bitch. That everyone, all of Darren's friends, know this. That I don't care about his happiness. That he is a wonderful father and I poison his children against him. That I am stupid and fat. Something like a donut, or donut hole. I'm not sure. That he wants to leave me but I won't let him. That he doesn't leave because he doesn't want to leave his kids. That Darren doesn't love me. That he, being Steve, doesn't cheat on his wife because he loves her, and that D cheats on me because he doesn't love me. That I am a terrible person who is ruining Darren. He also cried because he loves Darren so much. That someone had to stand up to me because he didn't. That someone had to come tell me what a terrible bitch I am. That I changed Darren's number so no one could call him. That I won't let people see him or talk to him. That he's always thought I was a stupid controlling bitch. </div><div>At one point I had to tell him to get out of my face, that he stunk, and that he was drunk and disgusting.</div><div>I asked him to leave. That he was not welcome. </div><div>I cannot believe that he came to our home, where our children are to do this? </div><div><br /></div><div>What next? What else is going to happen? </div><div>Is there NO ending to this? </div><div>What have I gotten myself into?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-8557268656158096702010-05-20T00:17:00.000-07:002010-05-20T00:30:18.737-07:00SleeplessI have always fancied myself a champion sleeper. <div>Cat nap after babies, in the car. Loud banging, lawn mowing, shrieks of the kids. No problem. Olympic quality sleeper.</div><div><br /></div><div>It blows my mind that this is what shatters that illusion. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can't turn it off and it's torture. All day, all night, in my dreams. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dreaming about my husband cheating on me with my best friends. Neighbors..everyone. </div><div>It really doesn't matter who it is it all smarts the same.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am dying for just a break. Some silence. To not wonder. Is what I imagine worse or better? </div><div><br /></div><div>I feel so desperately the need to have a answer. A plan. A solution. It's just not there. It's not that easy. There is no straight forward. Where do we begin?</div><div><br /></div><div>We have spent our whole adult lives together. There is no one who knows me as well as he does. There is no one I have loved they way I have loved him. There is so much past and future everywhere I look and cannot begin to imagine it all as separate. </div><div>I don't remember out last kiss. I didn't even consider this could be it. The last time I fell asleep snuggled in his arms, content. Who logs those things, who thinks, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tonite</span> it's it. The last one. </div><div>It's an awfully big hole. </div><div>I go from broken hearted, sad beyond words to pissed off in the course of 15 minuets. What a crappy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">roller coaster</span> ride. I wish it would stop. I would very much like to get off. I think from now on I'll ride those little trains that slowly tour the park. No fast starts, abrupt stops, huge falls. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-10841592253146550202010-05-14T22:31:00.000-07:002010-05-14T23:03:56.276-07:00A day to rememberMy husband has decided to not come home again <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">tonite</span>. It shouldn't come as a surprise on the heals of what has been happening the last 24 hours. I discovered that he's been cheating on me with a girl from work, who happens to have herpes. Awesome. He also swears that he didn't sleep with her but I feel like it doesn't matter much. I shouldn't care, but I do wonder if he's with her now. Even if he is what difference would it really make?<br /><br />He said he didn't want to move out, that he wanted to go to our counseling appointment on Thursday to see what we could do. It's been a hard day. I am so surprised by how much all this hurts. It's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">alot</span> to lose in one fail swoop. I know <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">alot</span> of this has been coming but stopping to look at what's going to change makes it all very real.<br /><br />We talked like 6 times a day. For good reasons for bad reasons. That's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">alot</span> of talk to no longer talk. I didn't realize how much we talked until I saw something and thought oh <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">darren</span>...then OH <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">darren</span>.<br /><br />Laying in bed makes me want to cry. I was cuddling Beck to sleep and thought about all that has happened in that bed. We laughed and fought there. We brought babies home from the hospital and nursed them there. We made vacation plans, dreamed, slept, planned our futures there. We made babies there. I climbed into his arms there when the days were bas, he'd hold me and kiss me on the top of my forehead and that somehow would make it better.<br />Losing that hurts. It's been such a surprising slide down and I wish we could have stopped it. Changed it.<br /><br />This sucks. It's a blinding pain that rips through you. It tugs and pulls. Makes it hard to breath. Losing all of this. It really hurts to be betrayed. To be cheated on. It makes it feel like married didn't mean anything. It's not been easy but I believed it was always worth while. There are so many tears. I wonder where they all come from. It hurts so much.<br /><br />I feel stupid for trying to hang on this past year, for continuing to believe and want this. How did I get so duped. Oh hard and fast I held onto this idea that we could do this. We could make it out to the other side and we would both be better. The kids would be better.<br />I thought <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">alot</span> these past weeks, all the while he messing around. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Texting</span> messages about kissing and fantasies while the children sleep in our bed next to him.<br />I thought and tried and reflected and HOPED. It's the hope that hurts right now. All of the hope and openness and effort. Being open and vulnerable only to be betrayed. Man alive that hurts wicked bad. I mean really. I am so scared of what the future holds. I don't, truth be told want to go there. I want to go back. Two years. Four years. Fourteen years to when we met. To when it was so easy to just love. No expectation. No disappointments. But I know there is nothing in the past.<br />There is only tomorrow. Softball game. Work. Tears, heartache.H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-55060636363416592562010-05-12T00:33:00.000-07:002011-07-23T06:45:44.387-07:00M #5-6-7. To infinity and beyond...<div>I hope not really. I don't want to feel like my life is a series of miserable experiances. Numbering into the thousands by the time I die. I want to feel like, wow my life is awesome. </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>I have realized that there are some things, once learned can't be forgotton or ignored. </div><br /><div>Maybe it's best to just not know.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div> </div>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-37910470144459308842010-04-21T13:45:00.000-07:002010-04-21T14:11:44.903-07:00M#4A new milestone for me, my 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">alanon</span> meeting, I no longer had to raise my hand and be like yes this is my less than 3rd meeting.<div>Please everyone look at me. </div><div>It's such an awkward place to be.</div><div><br /></div><div>Darren has been giving me crap about going to these meetings so I said hey come why don't you. I I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">surprised</span> when he came. I also sorta felt like he was crowding in on my personal space. But in the end I am certain last night was way more awkward for him than me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have come to realize a few things and I love it. Darren's parents have been a brick wall. I understand that he is their son and they love him. I guess I have felt so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">desperate</span> for help, support. I have so wanted him to get help and be well and I though his parents could help him, us. But I have realized they don't have to understand, it's not my problem and I don't have to convince anyone there is a problem. Not his parents. Not him. No one. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's nice being able to focus on me and the kids the past two weeks. I have felt so overwhelmed that even the easiest decisions had been hard to make. One or two gallons of milk? Do we NEED more apples? But I guess that's part of it, the overwhelmed, not being able to DO anything. With the help of some very dear friends I have been doing things and it feels good. </div><div>I went to the red dress party and ran around <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Portland</span> in my underwear. CRAZY fun the involved a huge headache and two blisters (on my toes). We have started a redo on our living room so as of right now it's concrete and empty but I am hoping for some new floors, cabinets and couch. We also cleaned and reorganized the living room making it just more livable. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">That's</span> kinda my thing right now. Just making it more livable. Weather or not I like it or want it, this is my life right now. It's not what I have planned or dreamed of. It's often not what I want or <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">fantasize</span> about. It's much harder and hurtful than I could of ever imagined. It is full of challenges that I never thought I would have to face, but here I am. So I guess <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">I'll</span> just try to make it more livable.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-55667412469473869902010-04-06T23:47:00.000-07:002010-04-07T00:17:55.668-07:00Happy things, too many to count.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnx6ThOIu0t9Ts-2U4VpaBrNFqbdEz1YuV9BS6kTnDlb_KuP1wMOsGlOE4pt3APZguF78eulw3fPXaa6DVmFc-sMuYJ43GtaINm9fWvdNnvjuLnTGDfu_W6HdMuO8bUQ3XD_wBmP50AJ0/s1600/IMG_3112.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnx6ThOIu0t9Ts-2U4VpaBrNFqbdEz1YuV9BS6kTnDlb_KuP1wMOsGlOE4pt3APZguF78eulw3fPXaa6DVmFc-sMuYJ43GtaINm9fWvdNnvjuLnTGDfu_W6HdMuO8bUQ3XD_wBmP50AJ0/s400/IMG_3112.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457289648913436706" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKP7_kBBwaEy4B0tzAgbXwg4Nz-lF59W9baZI_FsRLvEPYR6vDuKReWPB6Oc1CBnoOFkVy6GQBpEusdJhpishQRFcxxKU2c3fgdenVr5qtB5Kkj57OgaGcr-NjdwkIWUgY6Lciy2DmhEQ/s1600/IMG_3023.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpvGMMAC7k-MbrBQWXAhK94BRNCqn7pK8wapinqKsogrkAqarTXkJPMIQe8_L1dFICwSpGYbk5jsrluMapxqfiANEW2bI9WZ2abNIK3p7Q4rBqecBtMbT71-BkFswL5mPg6suhyDz0mc/s400/IMG_2681.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457286413591883634" /></a>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6075467415899546225.post-30878439472170629642010-04-06T22:53:00.000-07:002010-04-06T23:56:22.071-07:00Miserable things #1,2 and 3#1<div>So I went to my first ever Al-Anon meeting last week. Despite my best effort to miss it, the wrong place at the wrong time, I hung out the hour early I was and went. <div>Miserable.</div><div>Heart pounding <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nervous</span> and awkward. </div><div><br /></div><div>No idea of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">etiquette</span> or flow. </div><div><br /></div><div>No idea really of what they were talking about. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lord have mercy powdered coffee AND creamer. Thank god and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Roms</span> I had a big gulp.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Cliche</span> serenity prayer and when you say hello EVERYONE says hello (insert name here). </div><div><br /></div><div>Makes <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">disappearing</span> into the ground much harder when everyone says your name. So they make you fess up that this is the first meeting, ever and EVERYONE says welcome. Not so invisible. They make you read aloud which proved to be a challenge cause as it turns out I have a million tears just dying to spill over and well, no matter how hard you bite your lip, blink and swear, you just can't stop that sort of flood so to add insult to injury I just sat there and cried. And cried and cried and cried. </div><div><br /></div><div>I hate to cry. I have even more crying in front of complete strangers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Everything made me cry. Everything everyone said. I wanted to hide in the toilet and sob but that just seemed too dramatic so I sat there, my jacket zipped up to my ears and tried to be a turtle who simply had allergies. A leaky eyed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">boogery</span> turtle who just could not get it <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">together</span> enough to quit crying. I don't even know why. </div><div>I have some ideas. Maybe <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">relief</span>. Maybe hope that this will not go on forever. Maybe because I had finally done Something. </div><div><br /></div><div>They read of out this book and then talked about what they read, in relation to their own <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">experience</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>They called them, "My alcoholic."</div><div>They said, "My Program."</div><div>They talked about "Working the Steps."</div><div>They mentioned "My <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">sponsor</span>."</div><div>They talked about "Higher Power." (I'm not talking about trading in the Double A's For the Double D's Either)</div><div><br /></div><div>How did I end up here? Not in the distasteful I'm better than this how did I end up here, but HOW THE FUCK is this MY life?</div><div><br /></div><div>I have a my alcoholic. I am apparently going to have a program? I have to do steps which I admit I don't understand much less know how to work. A <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">sponsor</span>? As in someone to send me their spare change so I don't starve? A program that so far does not have instructions. I must <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">admit</span> I don't understand very much of what is going on yet. It's only been and 1 hour, 45 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Min's</span>, so I will have to be patient and wait to see and hopefully I'll begin to understand some of what they are saying.</div><div><br /></div><div>Don't get me wrong. Everyone was nice. And even though I don't think I want to I will go back. They said if nothing else just keep coming back. So for now back I shall go. </div><div><br /></div><div>#2</div><div>Oh the never ending joy this adventure had brought me. So I called Anna's school counselor too. I needed to talk to someone who knows more than me and though there are an infinite number of those around she seemed like a good start. I wanted to know if she knew of any Ala-teen meetings and to get her thoughts on the situation. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's so much fun to tell people:</div><div><br /></div><div>No were not nice normal people like you thought.</div><div>Yes, we're really messed up and broken.</div><div>Please look at me like we're bad and incompetent.</div><div>Yes, I too though we were better than this but no, we have really really screwed up our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">lives and</span> by proxy our children.</div><div>Oh I agree it's creepy and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">disturbing</span> and somehow dirty.</div><div>Please nod at me and smile like I'm unstable and may demonstrate how crazy I am at any minute.</div><div>Look at me with pity as I married an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">alcoholic</span> and didn't even know it.</div><div>Yes, it was all a facade, we are not descent people. </div><div>I know not reliable at all.</div><div>I am very ashamed that this is where I am.</div><div>Look at Anna a feel sorry for her, look at her differently now that you know she doesn't come from a "good" home. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now she didn't say a word that in anyway indicated she thought any of this. But It's how it feels. You kinda want to be a certain way and then all at once you're not AND you have to share that with other people. It sucks.</div><div><br /></div><div>HELLO WORLD I'M A FAILURE. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah look at me school teacher, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">epitome</span> of good and nice and kind I'm a royal screw up and my kids are getting hosed in the deal! Oh how wonderful it is to share.</div><div><br /></div><div>But it's done. It's done with the hope that now there are more kind, loving and supportive eyes on my kids to help me catch them when they stumble, to love and encourage them so they can find the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">resilience</span> to float even when the world weighs them down. I guess a good dose of humility does the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">character</span> good. </div><div><br /></div><div>#3. </div><div>The list goes on. </div><div>good grief.</div><div><br /></div><div>meeting #2. </div><div>Yeah some new sucker who's now the newbie! Twisted I know.</div><div>Less anxiety producing as I knew what to expect. I still don't think I understand much of what they were saying and I managed to speak. No uncontrolled blubbering until after the meeting. It's so fragile, like mascara that's not water proof in the rain. It just runs at the slightest <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">provocation</span>. </div><div>I don't wear mascara either.</div><div>The book was different but the reading was the same. I just tried to listen. To really really listen. Your not supposed to say anything or make comments of what the other people say. That takes the pressure off. But it's hard to really just listen and not form replies or ask questions. Especially for me. I am very demanding of details and full of thoughts. Well here neither are allowed so I just have to hear what they say, say thanks and move onto the next person. So I am learning a new skill. We'll see how it turns out. </div><div>You don't have to talk and last week I didn't. Maybe 10 words the whole time. Shocking I know. So this week I decided what the hell. I'm here. My life's wreck and they say this can help so I am going to do it. I found it hard to talk. I don't know what to say. I can't say much without the damn leaky eyes so I just try. It's nice to know it's good enough. That today I did at least one thing that was good enough just the way it was. </div><div>I know that last line was very mopey. But it's late and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">I'm</span> tired and feeling a little sorry for myself so mopey it will be. </div><div>I don't get this higher power stuff so I'll just have to let it sit for a while. </div><div>I like the catch phrase, there are a ton, but the one I like they call them the three C's.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't cause the drinking. I can't <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">control</span> the drinking and I can't cure the drinking. </div><div>So simple. </div><div>It's not my problem. I don't have to convince anyone there is a problem. I don't have to find a solution to the problem. It's not my problem to solve. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had the greatest e<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">piphany</span> this week. I had been feeling so trapped and stuck in this situation, bound by money and the tangles of marriage. It had to do with my wanting, I think, Darren to leave and his refusal. I think he refuses because he thinks he will lose his "rights" to the house if he does. I can't leave as the mortgage is in my name. Essentially trapping me here but worse with him. </div><div>Then it was said to me, Just sell it. Those three words were like magic. I can sell it. It's just a house. Simple. Home will come with me wherever I go with the kids. Home is inside us and the house is just a place. It would be less than ideal to move them, but I am not stuck here. </div><div>It feels so liberating to know I can get out. Any ole time I want. I don't know when it will be or if that is what will happen but I KNOW I CAN and for right now that is enough. I am not, will not and cannot be held against my will. </div><div><br /></div><div>Awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>H Digbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292930081933857477noreply@blogger.com4