Sucker!

So I finally succumbed to playing mafia wars. Oh my gosh. I don't know why, but I did it. After literally years of people on myspace inviting me, I get on facebook and sign up. What a nerd I am. Other than that, I really don't have anything to say.

Well...how about joining my mafia??

Hell

No, I'm not a fire and brimstone preacher here to call everyone to repentance. Fact is, nobody needs that more than me. Preaching to the choir? Something like that.

No, this song, "Hope it give you hell" makes me think all the time. There was this guy I knew in High School. Matt. He had beautiful eyes and this smile that made me go totally weak in the knees. It was kinda that shy yet seductive smile that could do that to anyone. I thought he was beautiful. His mom was a good friend of mine and warned me against him. Now, if a woman warns you away from her son, saying he isn't good enough for you, you better listen.

He was abusive, selfish, and hateful. He still is. Fact is, I've seen his name in the newspaper for domestic violence so many times I've stopped counting. I've lost track of him completely, but I looked in my yearbook tonight just for fun, to try to remember what I ever saw in him. There it was, large as life. I totally know why all those girls and women put up with being beaten half to death by that man. Not that I would, but I can see why they do/did.

Not to appear to be too random, but whenever I am asked the question, "what is your greatest fear?" I have had the same answer all my life. No, not being raped. No, not losing my children, my husband, or my legs. All those things terrify me, don't get me wrong. But my greatest fear is falling in love with something I can't have. It's happened to me a couple times, and getting up every morning with the knowledge that what I want more than anything in the world will always be out of my reach is pure hell. I hate it. I think I'd rather live without legs than have to live with the constant hell of knowing that.

The two thoughts are completely unrelated, which is kinda funny, but not completely random, either. Thinking of Matt reminds me of high school, which reminds me of the man I married 14 years ago. He's gone now, and I fell so deeply in love with him that nothing can ever replace that feeling. Oh, Garry's still here, but he is not the same man he was in 1996. I married THAT man, and I was in love with THAT man. I love him still, but being so in love with who he was has blinded me to who he is...and who I am, I guess.

I don't know. Maybe I'm tired. Yeah, I'm tired.

Spring

I've had a love-hate relationship with spring most of my adult life. In high school, I hated spring because of spring fever. I would go crazy all winter being cooped up in the house with nothing to do. Then for whatever reason, spring would come and I couldn't stay in the house, or in school for anything. I got into a lot of trouble, ditching school. In one spring, my Senior year, I went from 5th in my class with a 4.1 (honors) GPA to being 28th with a 3.7 GPA.

When I had my oldest son 12 winters ago, I developed a very annoying allergy to everything that might produce pollen in the spring. So I hated spring.

Then 9 winters ago, I moved to St. Johns and developed a deep despise of spring. Why? Wind. Oh, on the news it says to expect winds up to 30 mph with gusts to 45. Last night, they were sustained at 45 with gusts over 60. Today is more of the same. In a single day, the wind blew 5 inches of sand and dirt up against the back of the shed we finished last night. Last year, in a single day, it filled my 6-foot diameter pond completely in ...6 hours. It was 8 inches deep.

Where's the love part, you ask? Well, I'm still looking for it. I know there was a reason... it has to be here. Oh, I remember. Growing stuff. Unfortunately, as stuff starts to grow around here, the wind and dust beats the hell out of it until it is nothing more than a dried-out stick of nothing with shreds of dried leaves desperately clinging to it.

I hate the wind. And the worst part about it is that I can't do a danged thing about it. AARRGG!!

A Sad Truth

I got my tickets and announcements for my graduation from college today. I got ten announcements and 8 tickets.

Even with all the family that I have that would give a crap about my accomplishments, I have 5 leftover announcements.

And even with my own husband and kids using 4 of my tickets, I have one leftover.

Isn't it sad that people who work their butts off to accomplish the things that are most important to them, still have nobody to share it with? I've been working on this degree for 15 years now, when I can afford to go to school, when I don't have broken bones (not that it stopped me) and when I am not pregnant with children.

And I can't think of 8 people who would come to celebrate this with me.

It's sad to me.

The Truth? You Can't Handle the Truth!

All my life, I've heard that line and I have no idea what movie it is from. My dad used to say it, so I assume it is either one of those mobster guy movies like The Godfather, or some western with John Wayne. I have no clue. Now that I see myself writing that, I feel like a moron. I could google it and know in a moment and not look like an idiot for not knowing the source of a great American "line". But I don't care.

I know I can't handle the truth. I suspect the truth is awful. I suspect someone somewhere knows how horrible the truth is, and just doesn't think I can handle it. That's part of the truth.

My personal truth is that I struggle every day with addictions. I'm sure people I know from church will eventually find my blog, as everyone is on here nowadays, and will realize I am not entirely what I appear. A bit about me...

My past is ugly. I've been involved with alcohol, tobacco, and sex. I've been addicted to alcohol from my first taste when I was about 7. I drank heavily all through Jr. High and High School and often found myself in the company of people who probably would have taken advantage of the situation had I ever let myself be alone with them. Fortunately for me, there was only one person who I ever let my guard down with, and now I'm married to him. Because of my addiction and so many other issues I just can't even begin to address here, I hated myself. I still do. I struggle every day with the idea that the past has somehow defined me and that no matter what I do, I can never fully repent of all the things I have done in the past that were awful. In short, I believe God can save, and He DOES save, he just won't save me. I'm not worth it.

I tell my friends at church, or the extended family who cares to listen (thanks, Uncle Bill, I love you!!) how inadeguate I feel to teach spiritual things, or talk about spirituality or my knowledge of scripture or God or religion, and they chuckle at me as if everyone's little skeletons are like mine. Like they have been addicted to alcohol and sex and great looking men who somehow manage to make them forget who and what they are. Nah, they don't know. There ain't one of those people who have even the foggiest notions as to why I hide all I truly am from everyone who might delve into my past...

One of these days, I am going to decorate my profile and send the link to my blog to certain choice individuals whom I trust and believe in. There aren't many. In fact, right off hand, I can only think of three people in the whole world, myself and my mom included, who would not judge me by my past and condemn me to the same fate to which I have condemned myself. They are all men, and they are all people I've shared parts of my past with. They are all men, two of which I can have nothing to do with because they are part of my problem. And that is my truth, or at least part of it.

But I thought I would write a bit about my life. My kids, who number 3, are great. The littlest one, who is 4, is hell on two legs. He's a monster, and I don't exactly mean that in a loving, doting way. He's just plain horrible. He's the human version of Marley from the book "Marley and Me". The worst kid ever. He's loud and abnoxious and has this "Satan face" look that literally scares the hell out of me. And he's mean. He'll just walk by and pull your hair out by the roots and keep walking like he didn't even know he did anything. Or kick you or pinch and twist your skin off. Oh, and he doesn't realize after 4 years that some places you just have to sit down and shut up and not wrestle with people. He yells in church, "I hate freakin' prayers. This is stupid. Let me go, I want to get a drink," and then jerks your hair out and kicks you with his hard shoes and bites your hand when you try to cover his mouth. If I believed in demon possession, I would have him exorcised in a heartbeat because normal children do not behave this way. He's like Dennis the Menace, but mixed with Chucky and that scary little kid on Pet Cemetary. You can't spank him because he'll wait until you aren't looking and hit you in the back of the head with a golf club or tennis raquet. If you yell at him, he'll go in his room and cry loudly and say things to himself, loudly, like, "I really hate my mom. She's so mean because she always yells at me and I just wanted to break brother's finger because he won't let me tear his ear phones off of his i-pod and that just isn't fair. And my mom is mean hateful and I wish I could go live with Tisha. I really hate my mom because she always makes me put shoes on when I just want to throw them at Dakota because I never wanted to have a sister." Stop laughing. This actually happens on a daily basis.

But it is almost summer and my hope is that if I can shoo this evil child outside in the sunshine and fresh air, some of the hateful will rub off him and people can stand to be around him. Maybe if he plants some flowers or feeds the chickens some bugs, he'll develop more of his sweet side and people won't be afraid to be around him. And maybe if I am outside, I will develop more patience with him so that I don't feel like choking him as often. I don't know.

Again, you want the truth? You can't handle the truth.