"You two were annoyingly best friends." I was told by another friend after the rift was created, then band-aided over, then completely ripped open and a fresh (bigger) gaping wound was made; and then to make it more fun another hole right next to the first one, smaller, but in some ways more damaging.
Have you ever lost someone? Not by death, but by something that is (figuratively) just as permanent? Have you ever lost a connection to someone that you thought would be in your life forever, for something that started so small and spiraled into a big ball of WTF. That's happened to me rather recently and, let me tell you, the wounds still hurt. I spent more time being angry and less time acknowledging the pain that this event caused that now, when I finally allow myself to feel it, its still raw.
There wasn't a day we didn't talk, and almost just as many days we didn't see each other. There wasn't a secret left unshared or a thought left unheard. It was easy to become friends, easy to become best friends. There was almost an immediate friendship that was built upon so many similarities, yet just as many differences. But most of all there was unadulterated acceptance and understanding. Its hard to describe a connection that you have with someone that makes your soul feel good- and my friendship with her was that. We are both funny, loud, outgoing, extroverted, crafty, homey, dedicated to our families, have adopted children, both spiritual in nature (though not necessarily religious), and had been hurt by friends and family in the past. She was more gentle then I, more naive, more hippy and free-love, open her heart to everyone regardless of the outcome; the kind of soul that didn't understand war and famine and the reasons people did bad things to one another. I was stronger, harder, more realistic, more honest, who was fiercely loyal but intensely guarded, who saw the world with no blinders on.
In the end- that's what did us in- the blinders and the bluntness. I believe that honesty is the most important thing and sometimes that is too hard for people to accept, especially delivered bluntly; she believed that it was OK to hide things to maintain peace. And the stupidest part of all is that we weren't even fighting about us. We were fighting about others. And I believe we both lost in the long run.
I was so angry at my perceived lack of her truth and her immediately running to speak about me to others after our first (silly) fight that I wasn't in the proper head space to be there for her in probably the worst time of her life... 3 days after our fight- her dad died. The chasm was created and I didn't know how to let my guard down enough to bridge the gap; and she wasn't in the right frame of mind to even attempt to focus on our friendship. I have been hurt by friends in the past that my first reaction is to build walls so high that the most experienced climber couldn't reach the top. I make choices so I don't get hurt. So I walked away. I knew I couldn't give her the support she needed at the time, so I made the choice to end that friendship. What transpired after hasn't changed my mind- and maybe showed me that I made the best choice for me- but that doesn't make it hurt any less. I hurt every day over the loss. I hurt when I see our mutual friends, the group that was came together quickly to form a wonderful sort of FRamily, torn in more than two because of it. I hurt when I think of our favorite restaurant, our margarita obsession, dancing, Sam's club visits, total wine shopping trips, holiday parties, green apple Smirnoff, Ed Sheeran, sunburns, sitting on the couch and talking, and just laughing and laughing and laughing. I hurt. Bad. More than any loss that I have experienced, this one has dug in deep and remains.
I have become completely introverted in the process. It hurts to be social, it hurts to be around friends. I feel like everything is wrong all of the time. I feel a big hole in my heart where she used to reside. People look at me and see someone strong, someone hardened to the world, but that is sometimes a facade. Its what I have to do to survive life because if I allow myself to feel as deeply as I do- then pain consumes me. I have no choice. So I put my big girl panties on and just do it. I feel like I've been forgotten in the process. That my hurt has mattered less because I have kept to myself, and because she screamed her hurt and injustice louder than mine. She thinks I don't have enough sympathy or empathy for her. Little does she know that I DO hurt for her, to this day. I still understand her, much to the surprise of many people when I know what has been said and why. Even over my anger her dad's loss hit me hard. I didn't know how to show it but I did feel it. I've hid most of my feelings because its easier but sometimes it gets the best of me. I need to let it go- let all this drama go; its not healthy for me. People think I hate her or dislike her, though that isn't true. I have nothing but best wishes for her future and hope that there will be a light for her one day. I'm choosing to remember the things I loved and that made us become best friends rather than focusing on the things that caused our hurting. I have no ill will towards her, no feelings of animosity, no desire to lash out and keep hurting. And even though there is no going back, I miss the friendship that we had, more deeply than I can express. Knowing that it can never be repaired, never be fixed sucks. There's really no better word for it than that. It fucking sucks.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
I've been writing this entry for months now and I keep stalling. Its so difficult to finish, to admit. To place my most vulnerable self out in the real world...not because anyone really reads but because I'm officially admitting this to myself...and that is the scariest, hardest thing of all.
I have a secret; a secret that I keep so far hidden that most people would probably be shocked. Outwardly, I am an extremely confident, outgoing person. And most of the time I am that. But on the inside I have a tiny, nagging little asshole that tells me I am worthless, that I am not good enough, that I am fat, ugly and useless. That little asshole wins more times that I would want people to know or that I even want to acknowledge.
I told my honey [the other day] that I think that its atrocious how much worth we put in a number on a scale, but I, too, am guilty of this. Being bigger than "average" really makes you doubt your own self worth and its damaging to your soul and your other relationships.
How pretty I feel is actually determined by how fat I think I look or feel that day.The up and down of a number gives me stress so much that I think about it when I eat, when I am not eating, when I exercise and when I don't; am I doing enough, giving enough? The hardest part is not seeing that number shift in the right direction when you are doing everything you can think of. Its so heart wrenching to see that number stay stagnant when you feel that you have given you're everything. Its very trying and wears you out. You are literally defeating yourself.
How do we get away from this? I wish I knew because I hate being the person who feels down because my number isn't where I want it to be. I'm trying to switch my train of thought to fit not skinny. Its about not beating myself up all the time for yesterday's mistakes. Just hop back on the train. Every day I try not to focus on tomorrow or yesterday and just work on keeping the promise I made myself today. Today I promise I will be better than yesterday. I will make one choice better than the next. I will focus on making myself feel more comfortable in my own body rather than fitting into the mold that undoubtedly society has placed into my head of what I need to look like or which number goes on the tag in my pants.
Sometimes it surprises me that people don't know my daughter is adopted. She's very Mexican, and I am very white but the biggest clue might be that she is 16 and I am 28! People always applaud me for adopting her, which I find strange because its not something unusual or out of the ordinary for me; its not something that makes me "more" than others, so when people get emotional or praise me, its slightly awkward. I didn't set out to adopt her, I never wanted kids- but she was meant to be mine and I wouldn't want it any other way.
So on Facebook there's this status that if you like you get a specific number to write facts about your labor/delivery; since I never had one I thought I'd just do one for my kid anyways, and I got the number 12.
1. I have never had a pregnancy or experienced labor
2. Cristina is adopted, yet not officially (yet) as it costs a lot of dollars
3. I have known Cristina since she was 6 and lived with me on and off for 2 years (mostly on)
4. Cristina came to live with me (legally) when she was 10
5. I literally picked her up from Mexico to come live with me
6. 3 weeks after Cristina came to live with me, her mom fell into a coma. We went to visit her and so Cristina could say goodbye and I told Kimmy that Cristina lived with me now and I would take care of her and never let her get hurt again. I believe to this day that she heard me and was at peace finally.
7. Cristina has 4 younger sisters- 2 adopted at a very young age that she barely remembers but misses with everything in her; and 2 that my mom adopted making my daughter's sisters my sisters. #funfacts
8. I believe being a mom to a teenager is harder than giving birth
9. Everyone tells me that Cristina looks just like me.
10. In the nature vs. nurture debate, in my case, nurture wins because this girl is my double in so many ways.
11. I hate when people tell me I don't love her like I would love my own since I've never had any. Love knows no bounds. Giving birth doesn't make you a mother, being a mother makes you one
12. I do not want my own kids, I don't like babies- they freak me out!
Friday, November 1, 2013
Two years ago, after my divorce, I was absolutely 100% convinced that I would NEVER, EVER, get married again. I had been there, done that and had absolutely no desire to travel down that road again. Marriage was for the naive and innocent and I would never be either again...Then I met my honey. It was rather close to love at first sight and I know with everything in me that we were meant to meet. It was too coincidental to not have been preordained. Initially, we both swore that we might be together forever, but marriage just wasn't in the cards again for either of us. He had been married twice before and didn't want a third; that stigma, that belief he would be ridiculed and/or disappoint his family again, and he didn't want to fail. Eventually I found myself wondering what it would be like to be his wife. To have that connection, the commitment, the intimacy. The idea started appealing to me more and more and I found myself feeling scared, and stupid. I finally told him and of course he acted just as I knew he would-shocked and dismayed! There have been many discussions and although he isn't 100% ready for the married part, I know he is 100% committed to me and there will be a time he will ask-and I believe that time will probably be sooner rather than later.
A few weeks ago I caught the Pinterest bug of creating a wedding board and while some of it may stray from what I wanted or be a little more wedding-y that I would ever really want, one of the ideas has stuck with me. It is a book that is titled "I want to marry you because..." to be written in from the time of proposal and given as a gift on our wedding day. I think this is amazing because it will show him exactly why, exactly how. I haven't found a book to write it in, but I thought I'd start his list here, and keep updating it, until we are married and I can present it to him. So, my honey, I want to marry you because...
you dance for me- and that foot goes up and its so cute
|you love animals and treat them with respect|
and you love ours like they're are kids
you sing to me in bed, the most romantic songs
you are calm and rational
|you have an insane obsession with salt water tanks-and fish-and stores- and equipment!|
|you do things like this|
Wadatenchu! or is it purple?
you aren't romantic, but sometimes you say the most romantic things-when i least expect them
|you love holding hands|
you are an AMAZING daddy
|you go to every sporting event possible|
you know how and when to apologize and mean it
you accept my apologies and never hold them against me
|you love your mom so very very much|
|your parents are wonderful and generous|
you are just like them
you are shy
you think i'm beautiful and tell me every day
|you support me when I run, and encourage me to be better|
|you love me even when im upset and you know how to calm me|
|because when im hurt and need help you are always there|
|you are a goof ball, just like me|
|you're sometimes rather disgusting and a total boy|
|you do fun things with me and dont mind wearing pink|
|you love when i paint my nails fun|
|you love to hike with me|
|you love my daughter |
you always support her, encourage her and listen to her
|you love adventure just as much as i do|
|you made us a family|
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
One of the most important things for me is spending time and making memories with my family. This past May, we decided to make our first family trip to Medford, Oregon where Honey is from; I was super nervous to meet his family, but in the end all of my fears were diminished to nothing and the experience was amazing! We did so much that week, it was like we never stopped moving. We hiked to the tip of the steepest mountain I have ever experienced, hiked to the top of Multnomah Falls, which successfully checked off one item on my bucket list (see a waterfall), went to the top of a Crater Lake which is a volcanic lake and we got snowed on, went to the Redwood National Forrest, spent a few hours on the Oregon Coast - and boy was it cold - the list really goes on! The family memories that we made will totally last a lifetime and I hope our kids will cherish the time we spent together. Even the 17 hour car ride each way was fun and we just enjoyed playing silly road games. Times like these have made me so nostalgic because we only have a few years left with them, before they're grown and gone and probably starting their own families.I know is how important having these family adventures is going to be to our kids one day and I hope they realize that as well. I am sure now they think upon these times as just a normal thing, but one day when they have children I hope they say "our parents used to do this" and expand the memories or even repeat them with their kids. One of the most frustrating things for me is when parents don't spend time with their kids and I never want to hear them say that we didn't do that, and I really hope they can look back and think "that was amazing!"
Friday, April 19, 2013
I think I am addicted to running/runs. Pat's Run http://www.pattillmanfoundation.org/pats-run/ is tomorrow and will mark the longest distance I have ever run. I am ridiculously excited and am happy to share this experience with my favorite cousin and her husband and a friend from high school and with my honey, of course. Tomorrow is a day that we are running in support of our troops, specifically my friend April's husband Max, who is currently deployed in Afghanistan. To know me is to know how close to my heart supporting our Military is. So I am running in support of Max, his company and all soldiers. Initially I thought that I disliked what Pat Tillman's legacy was. I was aghast that we spent so much time and energy on ONE man when there are literally hundreds who have died alongside him. Then I got to dig in and realize that the money we raise goes to our current military to go to school. That makes me proud and definitely makes me want to support this cause. I can't wait for tomorrow. Its going to be a blast!
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
So at the end of December, I got this harebrained idea that I should run a marathon. In fact, I wanted to go out and do it the next day. Everyone thought it was funny and convinced me that running a marathon (which I later found out equaled 26 miles) required training. So as of January 1st I set a personal goal for myself to run PF Chang's half marathon in January 2014 and began my training journey. Now, I have no idea what prompted me to want to run, as I have never even been able to run any great length of distance in my life. In fact, running a mile straight was on my bucket list-that's right, my bucket list. I considered it a feat so great it was on my I must do before I die list. That first day I ran I thought I was going to die. Literally. I was crying and whining and couldn't get halfway down the street. I felt like I was making progress by the end of my first week in that I could run about .25 of a mile before having to walk again, and then... dun dun dun (all dramatic like) I got sick. I pride myself on the fact that I rarely ever get sick, and even then its over and done in a few days; however, this sucker knocked me out for over 3 weeks; no running, no Zumba... nada! When I felt like I could breathe again I went out and for the first time was like "I got this!" and I ran a full mile. My time was 15.03 minutes. A week later, I ran for 3 miles straight in 43 minutes. I was so stoked and proud!
Since then; however, I feel like I have hit this wall. I can still run a mile, but not much more and I can't even run it in the time of my first mile. I am terrified of running my first 5K, which is in less than 2 weeks. I feel the closer it gets to this thing, the more I psych myself out. I feel stupid and I'm letting my nerves get to me. I feel ill-prepared and like I can't do it. I have begun to make excuses why I can't go running at night. I have recently become obsessed with The Biggest Loser, and I've noticed a common theme each week with the contestants; each week someone allows their inner demons to hold them back. On at least the last 3 shows, Jillian says to one of them "what are you allowing to hold you back?" The more I think of this, the more I understand that I am allowing my fear to hold me back. The fear that I am not good enough to run, the fear of being embarrassed, the fear that I am too big to do this, the fear that I will be last, the fear of failing! I saw this picture today and thought why can't that be me? Why can't I push myself past the tired, past the tears, past the fear? Because I won't allow myself to. I am allowing my fear of I CAN'T to overcome the knowledge of I CAN. My fear of failure seems to be a common theme in my life and I am starting to realize that when I am afraid of failing, I close down. I give in and I push away. I constantly self sabotage anything that I fear I cannot overcome; how annoying of a realization that is. I have always thought myself a stronger person than that, and yet when I am faced with one of my biggest insecurities I try to throw in the towel. It's funny how a picture with a few words can force you to reflect on your actions and really dig deep to find the reason for something, but that's exactly what happened. I have a personal mantra, PMA (positive mental attitude) and I preach that to anyone that listens and have come to realize that I am not listening to myself. So I promise myself that I will not give up. I can do this. I will do this. I am worth this. I think that is the key. I am worth doing whatever it is that I want to do. If I can't realize that, then I do fail, and I refuse to fail. So here's to my first 3.1 miles and making the commitment to myself that I can.