Day 4: Describe your relationship with your parents.

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Like most girls with a host of daddy issues, mine wasn’t a good one. He was handsome as hell and very lucky when it came to women and making beautiful children… but that was about it. He gave me four sisters and a brother that I can’t imagine my life without.

I asked to meet my dad when I was 7 years old. We met at Wendy’s, of all places… and he bought me a cheeseburger without knowing that I was being raised by vegetarians. It was love at first sight… and bite. I can still taste the memory of that day, and it softens the sad ones that followed. He sued my mom for custody after that strange afternoon and I got to meet my little brother and baby sister too. He gave me a wonderful bonus mom in my beloved stepmother and she did her best to buffer the awkward moments of them getting to know me and vice versa.

My dad taught me to love steak, designer jeans and cherry popsicles. He gave me a serious weakness for men who can cook, big strong arms, empty promises and men who don’t want me. While I appreciate the good genes, I could have lived without the vices.

I tried to build a relationship with him as an adult, after my son was born and I was overcome by how much love one little baby could inspire. I sent packages, wrote letters, took my son to visit and he was still the same shitty father I remembered as a child. He lied to me after I sewed him a quilt and sent it and I told him I hoped he’d die alone like he deserved. He did. The end.

My mother carried the entirety of my childhood. From riding a bike to braces, she did it all. She taught me all the important things and gave me a love for gardening that has gotten me through depression, poverty and everything in between. She taught me to can the windfall of vegetables after I’d grown them, read to me and shared her favorite books. All the good in my life and every healthy coping mechanism came from my dear mother. I owe her everything and I hope someday she knows just how much I love and appreciate her. ♥


Day 3: Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and how they became fears.

I’m a huge true crime junkie and listen to farrrrrr too much murder for a woman who lives alone. Oddly enough, I don’t worry about being murdered as much as I worry about something happening to someone I love. I’ve read this prompt three times and realized that my fears are basically trivial and not terribly… scary.

This requires a little more soul searching and a little more time spent delving into the scary stuff… those dark areas of my heart that I try not to give much light to.

It’s been a year of loss in my life. I’ve buried too many friends and let some friendships fall by the wayside in being overwhelmingly depressed. I have to admit that my biggest fear is being stuck in this sad place instead of having enough love for myself to want to climb out of the swamp.

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The world lost a truly incredible man this week. Kirk Miller was a beloved member of my community and a dear friend. His son played at my house as a little kid and my heart is in my throat as I realize for the umpteenth time that “I’m sorry for your loss is a hollow sentiment when it feels like your entire universe has imploded. Kirk made the world beautiful, with no expectation of profit or success. He lived a quiet, remarkable life that filled the world with beauty. I spend so much time going through the motions, folding the same laundry, scrubbing the same floors, making the same recipes… etc. Having someone so quietly spectacular leave the world so suddenly, reminds me that I need to light a fire under my own exceptional life. I worry that I waste so much time doing the necessary stuff and focusing on the things that are missing in my life, that I neglect the truly important things I should be more focused on. I absolutely fear the idea of running out of time having wasted all of mine on stupid shit that makes me unhappy.

I worry most about being in a situation where I can’t protect my children. I have two over the age of 18 and I’d bet my life they’ve been in some sketchy situations that would turn my hair grey. I don’t even want to know. I have my own scary list that would send my poor mother to her grave early.  Yesterday was the 8 year anniversary of my stupid ass flying to Puerto Rico for a first date with (surprise!) someone else’s husband.  I’m lucky  my mother didn’t lock me in a box after that and I was in my thirties. I suppose after having put myself in such an awful situation that gave no respect to the hard work she put in to get me to that point, I gained a fresh perspective about the value of my life.  It’s one thing to lay my own neck on the line… it’s quite another to have my children in danger and not be able to help them. I’d rather fly to meet that moron again before watching any of them do something so stupid and reckless. I can hardly stomach the thought of something happening to any of my beloved trio, let alone in my presence.

Then we have the damn vermin. Those awful mice. My biggest childhood fear and the source of all my screaming. I grew up in a 100 year old farm house and the attic was my bedroom. My dad was a chef, not a builder, and his idea of making the attic into bedrooms was nailing some drywall up to the existing lathe and plaster walls. I spent much of my childhood listening to those awful creatures chew on the chalky white drywall, as they tried to get back into the rest of the house. I regularly woke up with mouse turds on my bed in the morning. My sister slept with her mouth open (shudder) and I was forever afraid she was going to have one climb in. Ack. As an adult… I have less patience and more fear than ever. Their shitty little descendants have recently decided to use the ceiling above my bed (my very own attic in my house) to run laps in the night. I haven’t slept well in weeks because I wake up wide eyed, horrified… and contemplating putting the Dumpling in the car with our cats and dogs, lighting a match and burning the whole damn thing down.

I grew up with my mama telling me that many fears were borne of fatigue and loneliness. I have learned a million times over how very right she is. I had a phone call from a beloved friend last night and it broke my heart wide open. She told me about the man she loved, who worked overtime to hurt and disrespect her. He has one foot in her life and one foot in someone else’s, and the saddest thing to hear was how much love and understanding she has to offer someone who can’t be troubled to worry about her feelings or how destructive his selfishness is. With no thought to her own shattered heart, she told me how much she hoped it would work out and how happy she was to see him again. My greatest fear is that I encouraged such lunacy or fed the idea that disinterested men, change. They never do. If he can shit on your heart from the beginning, he will never turn into that guy your friend’s and family hope you’ll have in your life and heart. Nobody ever says “When we met he was a miserable fuckboy but now he’s an incredible husband and father.” As sad as it is and as hard as it is to reconcile that you could possibly love someone who could so flagrantly disregard you… it’s just the way it is.

Fear keeps you in places you shouldn’t stay. Fear borne of hard lessons gives your heart too much fuel to keep fighting losing battles.

I wish all of mine were as easy to deal with as mice.


Day 2: Discuss your current relationship.

Just the word “relationship” gives me hives. I have zero interest in any that resemble one I’ve had before. I have been exceedingly single for the past 6 years and I’m slightly afraid that I won’t ever want to belong to another human being again. 

Confession: Do you know what I have now? A girlfriend. 

I should introduce her a little, since you read all about the bad men I love. I should tell you a little more about the great lady in my life. 

She’s funny in all the moments I need her to be. She makes me laugh when I’m on the verge of looking for rope to hang from the rafters with. She laughs at my bad jokes and finds even worse for me.

She loves dad jokes and cheesy pick up lines. 

She’s resilient in ways I couldn’t ever dream up. She juggles more than she should try to keep in the air and she rarely drops a thing. If she does, she laughs it off and tries again. It’s one of my favorite things about her. 

She’s crafty AF and there are times I hate her for the mess her creative process results in. She leaves yarn and knitting needles EVERYWHERE. She has a glue gun on the counter where most women leave makeup and she saves WAY too much in the hopes it can be repurposed into something magical.

She’s always silky soft, smells amazing and has a difficult time saying no, three more of my favorite things. She’s the sexiest girl I’ve ever met, with an appetite to match. She keeps me awake at night, most nights. I’m not complaining because those are the most noteworthy and satisfying nights in my life. 

She’s sensitive beyond reason, but that’s the cost of feeling everything so deeply. She loves so freely that she leaves pieces of herself behind with every failed attempt. It doesn’t make her jaded and I’m forever in awe of how wantonly reckless she is in pursuit of her own happiness.

She has a million fucks to give, without hesitation or regret. 

She can cook and bake the pants off anyone, any day. No culinary mountain is too high and she rejoices in purchasing another kitchen appliance if necessary. This darling woman may be the death of me, but I will die satisfied, well fed and with an enviable mitten collection, if nothing else 

She’s driven, she’s focused… and she’s fucking lethal if/when she wants to be. She doesn’t like no and doesn’t wait to be disappointed. She will smile you into submission, charm you into agreeing to things you don’t want to do and persuade you to capitulate willingly enough that you think it was your idea in the first place. 

Like a walking bowl of hot and sour soup…she warms you from the inside out and leaves a sharp reminder in your mouth that even the sweetest girls have a flip side. 

It’s taken me 43 years to find her, to love her and to celebrate the good and not so good parts of what makes her my best friend. 

She’s me. 

For the first time in my life I’ve focused on building a better relationship with myself and the parts that make me cringe. Instead of searching for validation in a man, I’ve spent the last few years focused on BEING a good partner as opposed to looking for one. 

It’s still early but I have to say.. I think she’s the one. 🙂

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Day 1: 20 random facts about me.

  1. I spend more on yarn than makeup. Always will. While I realize that I should probably care more about learning how to make myself pretty.. I just don’t care AT ALL. I’d rather be ugly, with mittens.
  2. I apologize for everything. It makes one of my sisters yell at me… and you should hear her flip out when I apologize to her for her being mad at me for apologizing. Oof… I can’t help it. I’m still learning to like myself. (Sorry).
  3. I can’t wear mismatched socks. I don’t understand those of you who can.
  4. I don’t eat eggs because I had a violent stepfather who forced me to eat them until I vomited. He had a monumental effect on my life because I’m so careful not to inflict the same life long suffering on my children or those that are in my life. Don’t like it? Don’t eat it. I will cut a bitch defending your right not to.
  5. With a Catholic foundation I built for myself and Mormon roots that run deep into the heart of Utah… I am an atheist. I would love to believe in God, Jesus and all their friends… but I’m pragmatic and have suffered enormous trauma. Two things that make faith a whole lot less available. I have a serious weakness for a faithful man though. I don’t know exactly why, other than the sight of a man on his knees in prayer makes mine buckle. Go figure.
  6. Thread count is my religion. Call me shallow AFTER you sleep on some 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton. I dare you.
  7. I can’t love a man who hates tomatoes.
  8. Same goes for men who love Android phones. I hate them and I want to see those three dots from the man I adore. I’m an apple girl, through and through.
  9. Brewers yeast on your popcorn is not optional if you’re eating it at my house. It’s NOT called nutritional yeast, either. I’ve eaten it since I was born and this whole “nutritional” trend annoys me. I will re-label any jar that refers to it incorrectly.
  10. I quit CrossFit and I’m heartbroken over it. Between the $334 a month (for an hour a week) it costs and missing work, I was going bankrupt trying to be healthier. I’m really proud of myself for transitioning my workouts to home and determined to stick to my goals, even if I have to light a fire under my own ass. It cost me $1200 to lose 10 pounds and I gained them all right back as soon as I started eating again. Live, learn and lift.
  11. My best friend is my therapist. I owe her my life and all the good things in it.
  12. I believe in love, marriage and building a life with someone. That has taken a decade and is still painful for me to admit. I fell in love for the first time in my adult life last year and it destroyed me a whole lot. I didn’t like who it turned me into and I spent a year working on my character so that I didn’t deliver the same thing to some poor unsuspecting man.
  13. I’m happy. I work really hard at it.
  14. I sincerely regret getting a puppy… but I know it will all work out in the long run. Commitment is challenging for me and adding more stress to my life was perhaps not the best idea I’ve ever had, but she’s such a big part of what helps me breathe instead of scream, laugh instead of cry and cling to that last tiny shred of faith I have.
  15. I’m afraid of a lot. This year is bringing a lot of ENORMOUS change and I’m learning to just have faith and keep walking forward. Where we land doesn’t matter as long as we are together when we get there, right?
  16. It’s 4:11 AM and I got up at 2 AM to write. I’ve lost my ability to sleep again. Virtually anything that disturbs my sense of peace and tranquility results in me being exhausted. Yay for undereye concealer.
  17. My son hasn’t spoken to me in 10 years. My mother and one sister have a relationship with him and that precludes me from really loving either of them as much as I’d like to. I’m just being honest and fallible. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again. I was a damn idiot 10 years ago and I don’t blame him for bailing. I would’ve too if I could have.
  18. I’m stupid dramatic when it comes to my feelings… of which I have too many.
  19. I can drive anything, learned to fly a plane when I was 16 and use Google to fix or do anything I haven’t learned yet. I am incapable of asking for help until the whole dumpster is on fire.
  20. At 43, I’m still absolutely fucking things up left and right, but I come from a place of peace and reliability now, where I used to have such a chip on my shoulder and expect so much more from the universe than I was ever promised or “owed.” I don’t hitch my wagon to anything… I carry it myself.

Did I really agree to this? 🙂

 


30 Days of Nonsense

I hate dating. I admit it. I’m a relationship girl. I’d rather fast forward to the sleeping in his t-shirt and making him coffee part… the beginning stages are not my cup of tea.

Sidenote: I sleep in my favorite guy’s shirt. Perhaps that’s why I am not at all inclined to try to work myself into a more agreeable one. Part of the magical beauty of him is that he’s no threat to my freedom. That’s a difficult shirt to compete with.

So when I talked to my darling Rachael today and she told me I was woefully behind on writing, I told her to go find me a 30 day challenge and I’d do it. 

J-Not that damn 30 days of truth again, though. I’ve done that twice and still feel naked as a result.

Today marks the painful anniversary of my stupid ass getting on a plane and flying to Puerto Rico for a first date with a (SURPRISE) married man. 8 long years have changed everything about me and I’m still getting to know myself again.

30 days of nonsense is always more about my own soul searching than it is about meeting contracts and deadlines. It’s always more about seeing that I’m not still floating around like a hurricane.

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Here we go…