gravity

well you'll be pleased as punch to learn i've moved on since my late sunday night tirade and that no, i'm not holed up in bed, still leaking like a faucet and mourning my existence.

coincidentally, that particular entry was a product of the very first time i'd ever taken the laptop to work with me. since purging the home phone and modem that we could never use last week (thanks for the memories, Embarq) and going to the air-card, (God bless Sprint). all of a sudden the internet has become available. Whenever We Want It.

and friends, it is a beautiful and glorious and technicolor thing.

however, note to self, not so, at 3 am. at work. with too much time on my hands and in full-fledged melt-down mode.

next time, i intend to spend my energy dusting. or cleaning grout. or here's an idea. maaaaybe, i dunno, praying.

so last night, tossing and turning, searching in vain for sleep, i spent alot of time doing just that; praying. and doing plenty of thinking.

my weight and overall body image has been recently, pardon the pun, heavy on my mind. and i blame it for everything. my inability to get pregnant. the fact that i'm just not as into sex as my dear husband. or i catch a snippet of dr oz, talking about belly fat and diabetes and my brain just goes into overdrive, because i've lived in fear for so long that i might develop diabetes like my mom if i don't get myself straight. healthier.

echhh. if i could get my body to exercise as much as my brain? we'd be in an iron-man this summer.

everyone remember counselor ed? raise of hands. right. the dear, exasperating yet well intentioned therapist that jason and i went to for a period of time after the rape.

last night, i was remembering in morbid detail, the one particular session wherein he single-handedly crushed what just might have been left of my very fragile dignity and self-image. i was halfway through explaining how abandoned i'd felt by jason through the aftermath of what had happened, when ed switched gears and to jasons rescue and defense, questioned the *mother role* i played in our relationship.... what jason had been searching for. and why not. because i appear motherly, in all aspects. "soft and cushiony", i believe, were his exact words. and he wondered if my weight wasn't something i hid behind.

anyway. all this time later, i wonder if his somewhat lopsided "counseling" didn't have a little more to it, after all. because sometimes, i wonder if my outside hasn't just been representing all that heaviness my insides have been holding onto.

food for thought....

at any rate, God was awesome and made yesterday gorgeous and gave me the slightest hope for spring. so i celebrated by whisking bella off to the park after school and playing and taking a good long walk, which was delicious.

today, i tried on some of that loaded oatmeal that lorrie brags about. turns out, i'm a late bloomer on the oatmeal love too. bella, not so much a fan. but ya can't blame a mom for trying.

and then, i went back to my favorite park and walked 2 miles around the trails.

and it felt great.

happy tuesday.

kermit

his name makes me angry. it brings out feelings of such absolute rage and pain that i can't even begin to explain.

before now, i've always called him k.

but in the spirit of bitterness, and yet intent on healing,tonight, i say his name.

so many times, i've thought i'd moved past all "this". that i've forgiven. that i'm in a healthy place.

but i hear his name and it all comes back. the rape. the mangling of lives.

he and jason talked tonite. jason, spurred on by my anger and tears. kermit told him he's changed. he's had to "grow up and take care of his family". that he's trying to stop the lies. that he's had a porn addiction.

really.

3 years after the fact.

i think its all well and fine and great when people move on with their lives. get their stuff together. fix themselves. they've "got straight with God"

and its great, too, that they can hide behind a tagline like "addiction" and on their own, *poof* call themselves "better".

so now he's a recovering sex addict. right?

in the meantime, how do they ever make peace with what they've done.

or rather, how do i make peace with it.

how do i continue to shrug it off. and if this is the lot that i'm dealt, how do i live in the day to day, fighting my way thru all the depression and emotion and hurt and ugliness that's barely bottled up inside all that is me.

3 years. three. and its still just as fresh and painful.

and every time. EVERY TIME, i think i've given it to God, that its too much for me to bear, i find myself in this place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this comes on the tail end of a letter i received from my paternal grandmother back in january. its taken me this long to respond. if ever i had to thank someone for my passive aggressive tendencies, mabel be her name; every letter of hers filled with how well off the rest of my family is, and how awful, for me, that i'm not like them.

i've not interacted with my birth dad in 10 years. a fact that i imagine to be sad, yet i feel nothing. mostly. truth be told, i feel alot more than i allow myself to dwell on. because, whats the point.

every year, i send a christmas card and a picture of my daughter. every year, i get no response.

this year, a month late, my grandmother, his mother, sent a letter and $50 for bella. she also enclosed a pictorama of their 60th anniversary celebration at the lake. bright photos of everyone on that side of my family. everyone but me. i was surprised i was even mentioned, in small print, towards the bottom.

but staring at those pictures, my father, 2 siblings i barely know, aunts and uncles, cousins now with children of their own, it was so painful.

i remember a time, long, long ago, when i had a "place" there with them. no, i never really fit in, they made sure of that. but i remember christmases and early morning fishing trips with my grandfather.

i remember alot of things....

so it took me until this last week to send a reply. i kept my letter light and airy, full of fluff and filler. and i jovially congratulated them on their festivities, mentioning only that with me being so far away, its easy to lose touch with so many of the family and they must've forgot to invite me, smiley face, but boy, did it look like they had fun!

and then i sent a letter to my birth dad. getting some things off my chest. simple. direct. to the point.

and i let it go.

or did i.

i'm in such an awkward place tonight. God has blessed my socks off lately. i've so much to be thankful....grateful for. happy about. but then these little things, they ease their way into my joy like tiny sand crystals filling in all the cracks. uncomfortable. and eventually, agonizing. torture.

my dad ~ my stepdad ~ has given me so much love. and thru his family, i always had a place to belong. i had a full childhood with so many good things. a sister. memories. an enormous extended family.

but there IS that hole that i can't explain, in the place of my biological dad. he doesn't want me. its entirely possible he never did. but that emptiness is there, still, after all these years. and all this time.

my marriage is in a stable place right now. but there is a hole there, filled with pain and hurt and mistrust and resentment. and try as i might to dig it out, get rid of it, it is there.

and kermit is there. my rape is there. how does that go away. fairly. justly.

my sister is pregnant. and friends, whom we've been tentatively planning a vacation with next year, giddily announced recently that they're expecting, by way of proudly showing off a pregnancy test, and smiling knowingly at eachother, saying that our trip might be on hiatus for awhile.

so i do what i always do. i gulped and plastered on a huge smile.

because i'm happy for them; my sister and friend. i am. i'm SO happy for them. over the MOON happy, even. and when we talk about baby things, its with genuine love and excitement and wishes and prayers for all the best things for them.

but inwardly, i cry. so hard and so long. because i've wanted and tried for another baby for so long and honestly, in my heart of hearts, feel its never going to happen for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

there are these moments when i feel so very horrible and inadequate. that i'm fat and insignificant and a hot mess and absolutely unstable. incapable. unloveable. and sometimes the pain from that is just so incredibly intense.

and while probably quite abit of all that is true, its also a blatant lie.

and i know that its just a moment.

and kermit, is just a name.

i want the men in my life...all of them, to love me and not hurt me so badly. i want them to own up to their mistakes. i want to understand why. i want to be held and taken care of. just once.

but i know God is taking care of me. even and especially when i don't feel those arms holding me.

i had a really good devotion tonight. my emotions have run the gauntlet and i have alot to think about. so i'll leave you with this:

February 21 - Nothing Can Hurt

The way is plain. You don't need to see far ahead. Just one step at a time with Me. The same light to guide you as the Hosts of Heaven know -- the Son of Righteousness Himself.

Only self can cast a shadow on the way. Be more afraid of your spirit-unrest, of soul-disturbance, of any ruffling of the Spirit, than of earthquake or fire or any outside forces.Because these are the only times when evil can find an entrance, and are keenly alert for one such unguarded spot, through which an arrow can pierce and do havoc.

When you feel the absolute calm has been broken -- come away alone with Me until your heart sings, and all is strong and calm.em>

stuff

i watched Today's interview with gayle haggard this morning and while i know her stance is viewed widely thru *skeptic vision* around the world, i find her to be blatantly honest, with a dignity and grace that are unparalleled. and i understand why accepting her choice seems so strange in today's world, where leaving is logical and staying and choosing to love through something so unbelievably painful seems insane to so many.

but to me, it shows hope. and it makes me feel so not all alone.

i started a new shift at work last weekend. fri/sat/sun 12 hours overnight.

i jumped at the chance when it was offered. more hours = more money = less on-the-job stress due to less business politics and unruly staff to deal with = more time with the family = win/win.

i dunno. i guess i thought magical fairies would pop out of my gluten free breakfast cereal and sprinkle rainbows and energy after a 2 hour nap, and i'd have all day on the weekends to ride bikes, steam clean carpets, master the art of french cooking and do craaaazy things like spend quality time together.

the term *regret* might be accurate if maybe somewhat premature, as jason gently points out. saturday, laying down at 10 am, with the help of tylenol pm, i was up 4 pm. the house was empty. i was energized. i whipped up a batch of brownies and made one of my signature *homemade* pizza's. i watched a couple "ellens" on the dvr. i checked the clock like 60x's. i texted jason. i ate a piece of pizza and warmed the oven up for the 3rd time. at 10 after 7, jason and bella arrived back home. bella, in time to grab a brownie and a change of clothes, blowing a kiss out the door to a sleepover. jason, apologizing for having too much fun, playing on the 4 wheelers with his buddy.

so i left the house angry, and 30 minutes too early. and i drove around aimlessly in the dark, crying, feeling sorry for myself, trying to pass the time.

whats' funny, is that they'd been trying to do me a favor. i happen to have what i like to call bat sonar for ears. which has been both really helpful and incessantly annoying, thru the years. during a migraine, every single vibration is intensified. and sleeping is never deep; i can hear a flea fart at 20 paces. i've worked 12 hour shifts for the past 3 years and it takes me nearly 2 days to recuperate, after my schedule. i'm not being a whiny baby, but sleep is just so not a friend of mine. i try to avoid the sleep aids unless completely unavoidable and neccesary. so i feel tired alot of the time. if it isn't my brain on auto-pilot, its my ears. and the rest of me is just along for the ride.

but back to my depression. ugh. its just so not fair, this money business. i miss the good old days when moms got to be moms and grow gardens and plan meals; host tupperware parties, and visiting was something you all did together. when one income was enough. when life didn't cost so much.

mostly i just hate that i have to work, period. there, i said it. life sucks and then you get the runs. and i'm just feeling sorry for myself. i know its just growing pains, but i feel like i work so hard and yet i'm left out of nearly everything & i don't get to participate in my family's life on their off-time. i've applied for cna work... many places have a hiring freeze right now. and even so, i've come to terms with the very real possibility that any job i manage to pick up there will more than likely involve the 12 hour shifts as well. working the weekends, or overnight shifts, ensures that one of us will always be there for bella. if she's sick, if she's on break, has a dentist appointment, summer...you get the picture. and so, that's what i do.

i know this too shall pass. and i'll get over my whining. but sometimes life is just one big hemorrhoid. and me, without a butt pillow.

le sigh.

so where was i....so saturday night, when i did clock in, it was to absolute chaos and destruction. while i gritted my teeth and began rounds and cleanup, one of the day staff just sat on the couch, watching me work, sprawled out, like a weeks' worth of washin', and my blood just finally boiled over. so i took a deep breath and confronted said staff sprawler, asking her nicely to please keep me out of future conversations with another staff member.

now then. i was perfectly sweet. polite. i even plastered on a smile for good measure, for i couldn't help myself.

but i didn't need to. and i should have left it alone. its kinda like the old story, the boy kicks the dog who bites the cat who scratches the dad, who yells at the mom who scolds the boy, who kicks the dog.....you get it.

but this is me we're talking about, of course. the one that cannot leave well enough alone. and because i couldn't control anything else, well why not control my mouth either.

out of the blue, i got a text message from another coworker earlier in the week, informing me that the 2 of them had been discussing my weight. how thoughtful.

i think it went a little something like this: "so L and i were talking and i mentioned there's a girl in my class that looks like you and she said oh really? and i said yeah, and she said she thinks you've always been kinda big and i said i think i remember when you were smaller."

now, then. i knew better. because, come on, i'm almost 35 years old. because on my non-fat days, i am totally convinced i am one fine cougar.

because, they have just reintroduced peaches and cream barbie from 1985, my friends. for 45 bones, mind you. but which, at any rate, brings back realllllly fond memories from 25 years ago.

because, come on, what is this, kindergarten? it was stupid and childish. and this particular coworker loves nothing more than a good fight. so i understood it for what it was....she was simply trying to bait me; get under my skin. hurt my feelings. get something started.

and as much as i hate to admit it, she did a mighty fine job. because it just so happens i've been on a body loathing hiatus for the past month or so and then this schedule change that has left me soooo uplifted, and so because i was in such a spectacularly super mood, i kindly asked the 2nd perpetrator to leave me out of future discussions.

ba-dum-bum. 'nuff said. moving on.

instead of apologizing , however, said staff sprawler burst into tears and somehow, rather than gloating in my own self-defense and satisfaction, i found myself holding her, trying to calm her down, as she bawled at the injustice of the texting narc who tattled on her.

what just happened.

i mean, seriously, God? seriously?

i'mma tell ya what. if this state of the union address tonite doesn't at the very least ensure that jason will be hired on permanately after 90 days?

not for nothin, but obama, you so owe me a butt pillow.

how joy comes

it is the result of desiring my will only, in every detail, and then the realization of the wonderful way i can act for you when you leave the planning to Me.

that was an excerpt from my devotion tonite. and very much needed.

its been such a busy week with a work filled weekend up ahead as well. i'm so tired. and this wanna-be pneumonia type crud thats been hanging on me for 2 weeks now isn't helping. i find myself longing to talk with someone.

i think i spent so much of the first part of my life, trying to find my voice. and then when i did, i never really learned to shut up. sometimes i think i talk TOO much in conversation. desperate to be listened to. and often, i'm cut off or interrupted. something that i've grown accustomed to, yet nevertheless, hurts.

a coworker texted me tonite asking for information. and while answering her back, i thought i was sharing what she wanted to know, when she abruptly cut me off and said, "thanks. that'll do it. not to be rude, but i'm tired and i have a long day ahead."

yah. me too. i'm taking 2 of our MR clients to knoxville for dentist appointments in the morning and will be on the clock til 8 tomorrow night. i'm familiar with "tired".

le sigh.

so my mantra today is, "let my words be few. and let them be from You."

with people, that is. so i'm thankful for this space that is mine. where my voice has a place. where i can speak from my heart. more often than not, i feel so inadequate when i pray. yet somehow, here in this place, i'm able to quiet my heart and talk to the one guy that's never let me down. so this has become my prayer closet, of sorts. my confessional.

and i'm so grateful that God never gets tired of my voice. no matter how far lost i manage to find myself at times.

a hopeful heart

i love bloglandia. so many beautiful reminders out there today. here are just 3, by three women i greatly admire and am always so inspired by:

I try to wrap my mind around what it takes to keep this field, this family, alive and thriving. I know I should be watching her hopeful eyes and capable hands for a sign, but all I can see is her feet. How she carefully picks her way through the muddy field, how she knows where to step, how to walk, where to stand. How the immense strength of her spirit carries her, even as the frailty of her body dares her destiny and expands her hope

and this...

Skate is a word that speaks to me of letting go. Skate speaks to me of childhood, and crystal blue skies and forward motion. Skate speaks of speed and abandon and laughter.

So SKATE, I choose you as my word. I welcome you in and hope you bring a sense of ease, grace, fluidity. I know you will bring falls, and bumps, but I will remember they are teachers and like my hockey suited self, I will bounce up from them unharmed. In fact, they will make me laugh. I look forward to gliding along and seeing where we go together, you and I.

Now, you, tell me…What is your word for 2010? What do you wish to welcome in to your year?

and this...

“Can you imagine what it is to cross the ocean? For weeks you see nothing but the horizon…perfect and empty. You live in the grip of fear. Fear of storms. fear of sickness on board, fear of the immensity. So you must drive that fear down deep into you belly… study your charts, watch your compass, pray for a fair wind and hope……pure, naked, fragile, hope. At first it’s no more then a haze on the horizon…so you watch…you watch. Then it’s a smudge, a shadow in the far water. For a day…for another day, the stain slowly spreads along the horizon taking form until on the third day you let yourself believe…you dare to whisper the word, “land….” Land, life, resurrection, the true adventure…coming out of the vast unknown, out of the immensity into new life…..that is the New World.”

In the right perspective I feel that this is a overwhelmingly and bold description of a life of faith and hope… and how I can only dream it feels to be entering into the New World promised to us by our God says there is always a hope… no matter how long it has been since you saw land.

Where do you find hope?