Today was a day of rest for me. I was blessed with my most favorite birthday gifts ever: a spa day. Spa days rejuvenate me. They revive me. The comfort me. They relax me. They remind me that I'm still a human being, even though I'm immersed in kid-ness all day long. Kids just have a magical way about them.

Something that stood out to me, over the course of my wonderful relaxation day, is how tired I am. Multiple times today, I almost fell asleep. This is very unlike me. I think it's something that washes over mothers when their kids aren't around. When we finally get out of the high intensity alert mode, our whole bodies crash. It's like our brains finally say to themselves it's okay. We can relax now. And what happens when we relax? We fall asleep!

Everything today was exactly how I'd imagined it to be. I was blessed to enjoy the wonderful pamper day. The children and I had a lot of laughs this afternoon. Then I got to have adult conversation with one of my Army sisters. I learned about a couple of schools near my house that I'm going to talk to the Lobster about.

My back is still not back to normal, but I can move and function, just carefully.

I miss the lobster. I wish he was here.

So I am feeling mushy. I am feeling gushy and emotional and so much closer to normal. My heart is going back to its normal state and I am thankful.

The past couple of weeks, I have felt like I was barely functioning. I don't necessarily know how to explain why, and I don't really know what the whole problem was. I don't know if it had to do with the lobster leaving, or the trip to SoCal, or Charchee and her suffering, or my body not cooperating with what I want it to do, or a collection of all of it. I have been incredibly depressed. I have been barely hanging on.

I am usually a happy person. I usually spend an enormous amount of time and effort to laugh, to make others laugh, and to revel in joy. The past couple of weeks, I just lost the ability to find the silliness in things. I felt so disconnected from the lobster. Truth is, no matter how much I say it, people don't realize (including me to be quite honest) how much that man keeps me sane. There's a saying in a song (and I'm going to swear, so my apologies) that goes "The difference between you and me baby, is that I get fucked up when I'm alone." I do. He holds me together. He keeps me laughing. He keeps my mind in perspective. He is the glue that keeps me from disintegrating.

These reminders are beautiful for me. They are beautifully treasured in my heart. To try to explain how it feels to have someone strong enough to hold me up is like a piece of earthly heaven. The man gets me. He knows me. He knows me way better than I know myself. He is the only person I've ever known who is strong enough to penetrate my crazy and bring me back to sanity.

Today, my pillar of strength, was broken. Today he allowed me the beauty of being his support. I can't explain to you what that feels like when he does. You see, he knows how much he needs to be my rock, but he also knows how much I need to be his. I wish I could explain to you his integrity. I wish I could communicate how he can be so angry at someone, and he will not dishonor them, bash them, or degrade them to me ever. He won't tell me who it is, and he will never bash a peer or superior in the earshot of any of his peers or subordinates.

He has this light that shines out of him, even when he's angry or upset. He has this way that just gets to me, and I can't stop myself. He has this way that makes me giggle, and gives me peace, like no other person. He reminds me over and over and over again how blessed I am to have him. He treasures me. I mean, he really treasures me. He values me. He sees me as his greatest earthly gift. He is, in every way, the man that I pray God gives to my daughters.

My girl friends lift me up in ways I don't adequately explain. I would guess that in the past couple of weeks, they've felt slighted, or ignored, or not really included in my universe. I don't know that for certain, but I imagine that's how I'd feel if I was them. But this is where my blessings abound even more, despite my disconnect, they still love me. They still are there for me. We're still a team. I wish I could have figured out how to explain what the heck was going on in my mind. I just didn't. I didn't even know how to communicate it to myself, which is weird since I'm usually so good at communication. I hope you never doubt my deep affection and admiration for you. I value you, and hopefully my period of crazy is done for the next year, however I make no promises!

So, despite the fact that my back is out, and I've got almost no reason to feel so exceptionally happy at this specific moment, I am! I have a lot to be thankful for.

On behalf of a grateful nation...

Trying to shake off the haze of last night. I had the most agonizing dream I think I've ever had in my whole life. It was so real, and so vivid that it was like a memory. In fact, if I didn't have assurances to the contrary I might believe it was real.

The mind is incredibly powerful. It has the ability to convince itself of its most horrible circumstances. It has the power to launch us into images and dreams that are completely fabricated.

I dreamed last night that you died. I dreamed details of the day that I was told. I dreamed it so clearly that it was as if a memory and not a dream. I dreamed the echo of the hand knocking on the door. I dreamed their faces with intricate detail. In fact I think I could draw a picture of them, it was that clear. I dreamed what the kids and I were doing before that knock on the door came. I dreamed what I was wearing, what they were wearing, where Jake was... I dreamed that I was sitting in my grandfather's chair screaming and I couldn't stop and I couldn't unclench my fists. I dreamed going to bed and trying to wrap my brain around the set of circumstances I was in. I dreamed that I was laying in bed staring at skype, willing you to sign on, so that it could all be a mistake. I dreamed that when I finally fell asleep, I was dreaming that it didn't happen and wasn't real. I woke up to the memory of the knock on our front door. I woke up feeling hungover and emotionally exhausted. I woke up feeling like I was uncertain if this whole situation was real or not.

I am thankful for your message to me. I am thankful that dreams are just dreams and not realities. I am thankful that for this moment, you and me are still "us". I am thankful that I can laugh today. I am thankful that my best friend is still breathing.

I am devastated that for some family today, this is not the case. I am broken by the suffering that some person is having poured on their lap on this Thursday afternoon. I am devastated by the doorbell ringing, or the knock on the door, and the two men in their dress uniforms telling that person their soldier has died. I can only pour out endless heavenly prayers that God's illogical comfort will be rained down upon them. I can only pray that God will bring the most loving people around them. I can only pray that in their suffering, peace will abound. I can only say that my heart is aching with them. I can only beg this nation to honor these soldiers and their families forever. I can only promise that I will. 

This has not been a good day in regards to Charchee. It has been on/off screaming fits almost all day long. She has been incredibly defiant. All of this has culminated in outrageous behavior. This afternoon, she started destroying a book, so I took it away from her. She proceeded to scream at me that she would do whatever she wanted to. So I put her in time out. In time out, she started punching herself in the face and stomach, and ripping her hair out by handfuls while screaming at me that she was not going to do what I tell her to do.

I realize that every child has difficult times while dealing with deployment. However, this seems like it's moving into a realm that is beyond needing patience, gentleness, and grace. Needless to say, I will be looking for a psychologist. I seriously never thought I'd be having my four year old see a therapist.

I can't seem to make myself stop crying.

Lobster

I get pretty weary from the traditional Sunday morning battles that I've been dealing with since you left. Every morning it's the same. I wake up groggy and tired. Your youngest wakes up enraged. It's been such a tiring experience. What is it exactly about Sunday mornings? Does she have an internal clock that says to her "today is Sunday! I should act like a crazy person today!" Is it just coincidence?

I miss you. I miss having you here. I miss going to church with you. I miss sitting with you in our car. I miss you being here to help combat the craziness of our children. I miss the peace I get from being around you. I miss laughing together. Do you know it's been forever since you and I have laughed together? I think the ache that is the undertone of every one of our skype chats prevents the laughter from coming. It's hard to laugh when it hurts.

Maybe that should be our goal, if we get to talk today. Maybe we should make certain to tell jokes, or do be silly, or to talk about funny aspects of our days. It seems to be so easy for us to do when you're home, why is it so hard when you're away?

I ache for you. I'm hurting. I'm tired.

Engagements

I've been enjoying taking these trips down memory lane with the Lobster. I like them for a couple of reasons: I never want to forget our "story" and they remind me of all the mushy gushy stuff that we experienced in our younger years. On tonight's menu is the story of our engagement (the second one, AKA the one that "stuck").

The lobster sent me off to go do girly things. I got my nails done, and went to the "spa", which in me-zone is heaven on earth. I almost always feel incredibly guilty spending money on myself for those types of things, but the lobster is the only person who encourages it, and does it in a way where I feel treasured, not selfish.

He sent me off to a full pamper day. He also picked out an outfit for me to wear, which I am ashamed to admit that I don't remember what it was. And no, that's not because it didn't stay on long, you dirty minded people. Jesus cries with your thoughts!

When I came back from my pamper day, we went to a restaurant called the "Gold Fork". It was in the city where he was stationed, and it was on the upscale side of that town. I don't remember what we ate. I honestly knew he was going to ask me that day, so I was kind of nervous and anxious and just waiting for it to happen. I was also quite curious as to what environment he would do it in. Was he going to go the often occurring way, and embarrass the crap out of me in the restaurant? Would he take me to a park? Would he give a speech? How would this all play out?

Now I'm going to take you down a little rabbit trail here, but that's what I do, and this is my blog so go with it! Every girl puts almost equal thought into her "engagement" question as she does into her wedding. In my universe, I spent more time dreaming and dwelling on the engagement question than I did on the actual wedding. Even in my younger years, I was terrified of having to participate in a wedding. As much as I like to tell jokes and make people laugh, love has always been the most serious part of me, and I don't like to show it to strangers/semi strangers/and family members. The lobster is the only human being that I could kiss in front of others and not be embarrassed. He's the only person that I could hug in public, snuggle in a movie theater, and be vulnerable around with other people present. However, it took him approximately seven years of marriage to reach that level with me. I'm a tough nut to crack! Anyway, I had a complete dream of how I wanted to be proposed to. The other challenge for him is that this was technically the second time that the whole marriage question had be coming from his mouth towards me. The first one was romantic and impulsive and beautiful in its own way, but it was nothing even remotely close to what I dreamt about as a girl.

Now back to our story...

The dinner was wonderful. He was incredibly nervous but he was trying to play it off. Actually on the nervous scale, he wasn't all that off the charts. He was pretty cool, calm, and collected. I think the whole time, throughout the dinner, I was screaming in my head "PLEASE DO NOT BOTCH THIS!!!!!!!"

The dinner finally ended, and I was kind of going along for the ride. He then took me back to what became our apartment. To be truthful, when he said we were going back there I thought that maybe I had pegged everything wrong. I started to doubt myself. Then he said, "I just have to do something really quick in there. Just wait in the car." This made me curious. I stopped doubting, and I was now completely certain he was going to ask me. But I was truly under the impression that he was going to grab the "ring" and then come back out to the car and take me somewhere else.

I sat in that car for twenty minutes. I started to get angry, if I'm honest with you. I was about to text him some angry message, when he came back outside. I will tell you that I remember what he was wearing (is that weird!?). He was wearing black slacks, dress shoes (this is exceptionally rare in his world), and a sweater that I got for him. I don't know why I'm adding this information now, but just go with it.

He came outside, opened my car door, and started walking towards the door to my apartment. At this point, he. was. nervous. Literally I think his whole body was shaking in combination with his endless fidgeting, and insanely sweaty palms. I have to give you some background here (sorry...). My apartment was a second floor apartment. My front door was on the ground floor though. You would open the door, walk up an immediate flight of stairs, and then into my apartment. Okay, now that this business portion is out of the way, you can understand the next part. He took my hand and stood at the front door. I remember him pausing for just a split second. In retrospect I wonder if he was gathering his thoughts, calming his nerves, or trying to decide if he wanted to back out. Maybe he was doing all of that at once? Either way, at this point, my childhood fantasy was completely fulfilled.

He opened the door to the stairs of my apartment covered in rose petals and candles. There was no carpet, just roses. In fact, my entire apartment was lit up with candles. I walked up the flight of stairs, and with each step I could feel my heart skipping beats. I could feel the beginning of something amazing happening. He asked me if I liked it, and I said it was beautiful. These types of moments between us used to be immensely awkward. I struggle with affection now, but then I was horrible at it. I didn't know how to express to him what I was feeling. So I probably very awkwardly tried to revel in the experience, and told him it was beautiful.

Once I reached the top of the stairs, my entire apartment was covered in red rose petals. There were white candles literally covering the entire place. He walked me into my bedroom where he had purchased a massive bouquet of red roses and placed them on my dresser. You put rose petals all over my bed, and also had candles here. It was truly a scene out of a movie. He sat me down on my bed and then froze.

Now as I'm writing this to you, if you don't know us personally, you have to understand how this portion of the night's events was completely fitting to our personalities and our relationship. He stood there and started talking to me when I interrupted him and said
"Aren't you going to get down on one knee?"
"Yes! Give me a second!"
"Okay. Just checking!"
"Will you please just let me do this my way!?"
"Are you going to make a speech!? Because I want you to make a speech! I've been dreaming of the speech my whole life!"
"Yes, I'm going to make a speech!! You are making me nervous!"
Then I laughed because I was being retarded. Then I said
"Don't be nervous baby. You know I'm going to say yes."
"Well you might not!"
"Are you serious!?"
He muttered something that I don't remember.
I said "We're getting off topic!"
"Okay. I'm ready now. I'm really nervous!"


The speech he made is engraved on my heart. It was magnificent and beautiful and exactly what I desperately wanted it to be. The words he said were what every girl dreams of hearing. As wonderful as they were, they are our secret. While I love sharing so many portions of our relationship, there are some treasured moments that are personal, and best to be kept between the two who spoke them. That moment was the most significant moment in my life, at the time, and I want to keep it personal.

After his speech he finally said:
"So, will you marry me?"
I'm sure you can figure out that I said yes. Then I proceeded to tell him that blowing out all these candles would probably set off the smoke detectors and he said he had thought about that, but thought the moment needed the candles. I agreed.

We got married very much so shortly after that moment. The Army beckoned him off for another deployment, and he was a bit frightened that I would deployment ditch him again, so we got hitched. Maybe some day I'll share our wedding day events with you. For now, I'm giggling about the silliness of that night, and the amazing journey that this man committed himself to. For him to give me himself was the greatest of gifts that anyone had ever offered me, especially after I had broken off our first engagement.

What was your engagement moment like? Any funny aspects to it?

I'm sitting here emotionally depleted baby. I feel lost in a crowded brain. I feel like all these voices are screaming in my mind and I don't have you here to come and find me. I don't have you here to touch me and bring me back to reality.

As I wrote that my screwed up brain traveled to your face, in particular your dark brown eyes and your smile and I felt something stirring in my chest. I felt warm for the moment that images was stained in my mind.

Did you know that the house feels so different without you here? Did you know that I won't touch your sweatshirt, or your shoes. Do you know that the flag you wore on your shoulder is often found in my clenched fists when I don't know what else to do with myself? Did I mention that the craziest things randomly send me into waterfalls? I stumbled across your keys while looking for something and I swore that it was almost as if just a second ago you had placed them there. When my mind goes to those thoughts, it always eventually travels to the one where what if you don't ever touch them again? What if you don't ever touch me again? Remember that day when I was so upset with you? I know you wanted to swear the crap out of me, and scream at me up and down, and I'm grateful that your pride kept you from doing it. I'm grateful that the embarrassment of screaming at me prevented you from doing it. I think it baffled me a bit. I think I expected it, and was waiting for it to come.

I'm struggling with this. I need you to give me grace. I need you to support me. I'm trying and it's hard. Will you please help me?


I came running out of the ice cloud that I had buried myself in. I came running as fast as I could, because you asked me to.

Yesterday was a day of celebration. We got the greatest news that the lobster passed the board and is now promotable. If I'm honest, I don't really have adequate words to say how excited and relieved I am. If I speak in completely honest ways, I would have to tell you that I have not known an individual who deserves it more.

Last night, the girls and I were dancing together in our living room. It was a period of laughter and fun. It was also a great little work out!

This morning, all four of our kids are playing and laughing together.

Today is the anniversary of my Grandfather's death. His death has been the single most painful loss I have ever experienced. Yes I have lost other people who meant the world to me, but they were all believers. My grandfather wasn't.

I miss him constantly, not just today. I can't tell you how many times I've accidentally tried to "call" him even though I know he isn't there. When I was in California, I was over by his house, but I couldn't bring myself to drive by. It hurts too much.

I miss talking to him about the Army, and what it's like to have a hundred kids. I miss discussing politics with him. I miss telling him about my frustrations. I miss hearing him talk about my grandma, whom I don't remember very well. I miss our friendship. My grandfather was my friend.

Yesterday was such a wonderful day of celebration, and today is a sad day of remembrance.

B-Days and Deployment Fairies

There is a "legend" that is spread amongst military stay-at-homers (SAH): the deployment fairy. This lovely little fairy goes around wreaking havoc on all military SAH's special days.

This year has been no different. Today was my birthday. Yup, this is the day when my mama went into the hospital and out popped a little ole me! This was also the day that the deployment fairy paid me a visit.

The deployment fairy strike number one: This morning my cell phone decided to overheat. Not just slightly overheat, we're talking scorching hot. It burned my hand! Because of this, I was incredibly paranoid that the lobster would try to contact me and the phone would be of no use. I made every effort to get him a message that my phone was on the fritz and I was going to have to go to the Apple store to get another one (um, thank God for Apple!!!).

All of my message sending was really of no use. He never came on. Deployment fairy strike number two.

After spending almost my entire day glued to my computer trying to fix my phone, then re-setting up my phone, then getting a new phone and having to sync that one, I decided to go get dinner at my one of my favorite restaurants.

The food wasn't hot, the meat was filled with so much fat that there was scarcely any meat, the sauce was horribly blended. Deployment fairy strike three.

I think the only difference between this year's deployment fairy and the last ones is that this year, she didn't win. I didn't end up in tears, and I'm not angry. In fact, this year, her actions only made me laugh. They actually entertained me! When you get to know the deployment fairy, one honestly must start to get excited about the adventure that she will inevitably take you on while your soldier is away, or you will surely go insane.

So today I am officially one year older. It's strange how nothing is really different. :)

Miracles

Believe it or not, there was an incredibly dark period in my marriage. Most of you are aware of the details, but due to a specific and current request, I will not rehash the reasons behind that. It was agonizing, horrible, ugly, and intense. It nearly killed me, my marriage and my love. 

During this time the lobster and I did not live under the same roof. There was a period of complete silence between us. We didn't say anything to each other at all. I think we were festering. Or maybe we were questioning. I can't speak for him. I can speak for myself. Every single day was an ongoing argument over what to do...Do I leave him? Do we get divorced? How can anything ever get better? What do you want me to do God? 

I do not believe in asking God for signs. Truthfully I think it's wicked and selfish, in almost all circumstances, and completely displays a lack of faith and trust in Him. However, there was one night, where I asked Him for one. You see, the hurt I held in my soul was so much bigger than anything I'd ever experienced. The dread I carried around was heavier than anything I'd ever held. I needed a sign, I needed something to tell me if I should have stayed or if I should have gone.

The lobster called me because he had to pick up some gear. I don't remember why, but he had to come and get it extremely late at night. He asked if I would mind if he slept on the couch and then left for work in the morning. I said that I didn't mind. He planned to get there, crash, and then leave before I was awake.

I don't know what compelled me to do it, but I made up a bed for him. I blew up our air mattress, put sheets and blankets on it. I got him pillows and set everything up for him to have a good night's rest. I will tell you that even in that moment, the amount of anger I felt was astounding and there was nothing other than God that would have caused me to do anything kind for him.

I went to bed at my normal time, and the lobster hadn't arrived yet. This night I was particularly devastated. I was tired of waiting and wondering. I needed to know if I should give up and move on, or wait. I didn't believe it possible for miracles to come. I had nothing to hold onto. So in a moment of insanity, I prayed "God, I need you to show me if my marriage is going to end or not. So if it will all end up okay, please have him come in here and tell me goodnight. If not, then I will know that it's over." With that I went to "sleep."

I heard the lobster come into the house. I heard him get ready for bed, and I heard him climb into the bed that I had made and turn off the lights. I wept. I cried so hard. There was my answer. It was over. He didn't say goodnight. I sobbed silently. I literally made no sound. I was crying so hard that it was impossible to make one. I will tell you that the agony was so intense that I literally withdrew from reality. I couldn't hear, I couldn't smell, I couldn't see. I was devastated beyond belief.

And then I felt his lips on my forehead and I heard him saying goodnight. I never heard him get out of the air mattress, or heard him open our bedroom door. I just felt his lips on my forehead and heard him saying "goodnight". The reaction was instantaneous. It was impulsive, reflexive, necessary. My arms wrapped around him tighter than they had in months. Tears were pouring out of my eyes. My whole body merged itself to him. He collapsed into our bed and we just laid there. In that moment, all of the hurt, all of the torment, all of the pain wasn't in between us. In that moment we were just two incredibly broken people hugging each other after what felt like a lifetime of being apart. We spent that whole night crying and cuddling. We didn't even talk. We just cried. In that moment I had my answer: wait. It was all going to be okay, but I had to wait.

Waiting I did. It took a lot more months before things got to where they are now. It took miraculous healing, on both of our parts, and beautiful moments of rebirth. But I will tell you that night saved me. It was clear cut. It was precise. It was simple.

As hard as that time of our lives was, that night is ranked high among my list of favorite moments with the lobster. That was the moment where God became the clear commander of our ship, and the world's opinions, directions and stupid advice were put on the back burner. 

The lobster told me later that he had no intention of coming in there. He said he thought I was asleep and didn't want to bother me by waking me up. He said he had no idea I was crying. He laid down and tried to go to sleep. He said that something inside of himself compelled him to go and say goodnight to me. He said that he couldn't ignore it and it was keeping him awake, so he went and did it. He said he intentionally tried to be as quiet as possible so that he wouldn't wake me up. 

That night I asked God for a sign, and He gave me a miracle.

Today the lobster and I had a very long and overdue conversation. I will not divulge the details, however, it was a solid reminder to me of how blessed I am. He is the only person to whom I can pour out my emotions, my thoughts, my passions, knowing that he understands what I mean, trusts me completely, and supports me. I can tell him the things that I am afraid to tell anyone, and I know that he will accept them, support them, and love me anyway.

I don't have enough words to say what it means to be his wife. I don't know how to say how comforting it is to be his partner. I love being safe and comfortable with him. I love sharing my life with him. In every way he is my greatest friend.

Today I was thankful to pour myself out and to receive his understanding, compassion, support, and encouragement. Today I was thankful to support him, listen to him, and provide comfort to him. Today was a prime example of the beauty of marriage and friendship.

I feel so giggly. :)

Today I threw a temper tantrum. Well, sort of. The Lobster did something I didn't like (and I had good reason not to), so I behaved in an age old way... if you don't have something nice to say, then don't say anything at all. If I'm honest with you, I was hurt. I was angry. I felt betrayed. I felt overcome with doubt. I had nothing wonderful, or kind, or caring to share.

After a length amount of me having an attitude, and him being patient, out poured a beautiful request for grace and support. He had every reason to demand I do what he wanted me to. I was, after all, being unkind, but he didn't. He appealed to me in love. He asked me to give him what he needs.

I truly have never met a man that even comes close to his character, integrity and leadership. All men should aspire to be like him. I am blessed beyond what I deserve.

Lobster

I want to smoke a cigarette. I want to get drunk off my ass so that this doesn't feel the way it does. I want to self destruct. I want to be free to be angry, when I can't. I want to fall to pieces because that's how I feel. I feel like I'm just functioning on auto pilot. I am moving forward, one foot step at a time, and trying to remind myself to enjoy the moments.

I don't.

I don't like this at all. I don't enjoy being without him. I don't enjoy sitting here in my living room, putting together this package. I don't want to put it together at all. Sending him packages means I have to admit to myself that he isn't here, and that he won't be here anytime soon. Damn war.

I hate what I have given to you America. I hate giving you my hugs, kisses, and touches. I hate giving you his warmth. I hate giving you his mind. I hate sharing him with you. While you immerse yourself in bullshit statements about eradicating the few perks we enjoy. You deploy, deploy, deploy, and you stand there and flip us the bird.

I am so emotionally exhausted. I relate to Charchee and her screaming for three hours. Maybe that would make me feel better. If only I could get away with it...

I feel like I'm grieving so many things I don't even really know how to comprehend. I don't really know how to explain who, what, where, and why. I have so much to be thankful for. I feel like my insides are being ripped apart.

Baby I wish I could leap across the planet and be near to you. A friend of mine said that based on the speed of light, you're only eight seconds away. I wish I could be light, so that I could be close to you so quickly. I wish I could be what illuminates your face. I wish I could warm your skin.

The lobster told me recently that he has started reading my blog consistently. It's actually somewhat of a strange revelation. I think he's on a mission to understand me differently. I think he is diving into my hopes, dreams, and challenges. Truthfully, I've never known him this way. A couple of years ago, everything in our relationship changed. Okay, I'll admit, we've had significant life changing events that have changed our marriage before, but this one wasn't any sort of internal (intra-relationship) event, it was external.

The Army burned me. When they attempted to scald him with their boiling water, he didn't back me up. He didn't defend me, stand up for me, or protect me. It was devastating. It was life altering. As you read this, you might be thinking that all of those perspectives were geared towards him. They weren't. I was devastated by myself.

At the time, I had an amazing life-mentor around who was going through hell in her marriage. She kept talking to me about submission and I kept smiling and nodding (while thinking she was stuck in 1948 and needed to come to the present). She had a thousand reasons to leave him, biblical ones, and yet she stayed. She kept right on trying to submit to him, despite how difficult he made it for her.

When the lobster didn't stand up for me, I realized something: why would he stand up for me when I've done nothing but duct tape him to the floor. I was devastated by myself. You see, I lived in the lie that says "if he won't lead then I have to!" I could not conceptualize a universe where he would lead, when I stopped.

I started this study that literally changed my life. It changed my thinking and made me see everything so differently. I think the lobster noticed. The conversations changed from: "I'm going to do this" to "What do you think I should do about this? I don't want to do anything that you don't lead me to do. I don't want to ever be in a situation where you doubt my character." When you talk to your husband like that, it is impossible for even the most reluctant man (who has been duct taped for years...) to not lead. Truth is, they want to, most of the time we don't let them.

Can I tell you how different my life is now? It is amazing! All the worries that I used to carry around on my shoulders are gone. The anxiety, the resentment, the sleeplessness are gone. The fear I used to have all the time is completely different now. I have a sense of safety that I didn't know was humanly possible. I have peace. I have freedom. I have so much more freedom than I ever had before.

Can I tell you how different he is now? He is the man I fell in love with ten years ago. He is ballsy. He is determined. He is more loyal than the word can even begin to describe. He is completely in love with me. He'll kill anyone who even remotely tries to mess with me. He defends me. He protects me. He appreciates me. He compliments me. He cherishes me. He guides me. He warns me. He listens to me. He respects me.

He is the epitome of my knight in shining armor. He is everything that I ever wanted in a human being. I never knew that love could be like this. Who knew how desperately men need to lead, and how much we need to be led? I sure didn't!

One of my children has been acting like a lunatic lately. She is extremely angry and acts out at almost every opportunity. You can barely get her to talk about her father. Last night was a fun-filled passionate night of outrageous behavior. She screamed (yes, screamed) for three hours. I am not kidding you. She didn't stop at all. She didn't say anything she just screamed.

It also did not matter what I tried to do to get her to stop.

Needless to say that last night was exhausting. I think I finally got to bed at around one o'clock. I woke up today feeling like I am rocking a hang over, even though I haven't had any alcohol to drink. My body hurts, my sinuses hurt, everything aches. Stress anyone?

Last night, this child, asked me to explain to her what would happen to her father if he died. She wanted to know if he would have bandaids and where he would go. No, she was not referring to the heaven/hell talk, she meant the physical aspect of where would his body go...would it stay in Iraq? Would he come back here? Would she see it? What would he wear? Would he fly here or drive? Would he be lonely?

So I did my best to describe it. I'm glad it was in the dark, so she couldn't see me crying. I don't understand this. I don't relate to the personality that ignores what hurts them. This is a challenge for me to try to penetrate her walls and barriers and help her to understand that talking about them will help her to feel better. I don't know how to make a four year old see that bottling it up and ignoring it, is only making herself miserable. Screaming, clearly, isn't making the sadness that she feels disappear, and it isn't bringing her father back.

I woke up this morning needing something to be different. I prayed that God would help me to handle this day with his grace, kindness, and compassion. Do you know what I woke up to? My dog pooped on my floor. Yup!

Dogs

This hilarious little diatribe happened between my two dogs today. My dog Jake, walked up to the door, barked once and then walked off. The Spaniel then did the same thing about a minute later. Another minute later, Jake walked up to the door, barked once again, and turned around and walked off. Then the Spaniel did a sort of irritated bark at him (like she was saying HUMPH!) and walked off from him down the hallway. 

It was the strangest and weirdest thing I've ever seen. The windows are all open and no one was at our door. My current theory is that he wanted to go for a walk? 

My two crazy dogs! :)

Helpers hands and addiction

I think I have hit the let's-find-some-sort-of-normal phase of deployment. I find myself strangely energized, eager to organize, sort through and purge. I find myself wanting my house to be more and more like my home. I find myself eager get my own system and routine down.

It helps to slow down my busy-ness. It helps to remove the obsessiveness that I have with my complete and utter workaholic personality and refocus. It helps, but it's actually incredibly hard for me to do. I have a plethora of trust and loyalty issues, and I can't handle the thought of having someone feel uninformed, left out, or ignored. These things burden me, so they push me to spend hours and hours each day on the phone, on facebook, sending emails, having meetings, and answering text messages.

I think God had a lot of reasons for why I didn't become a doctor, and why he also made me a woman. I can only imagine how utterly heartless I would be if I were a man. I would be completely married to my work. It would be my total focus. To be honest, I sort of am now. I am blessed that I have a husband who is entirely capable of making me settle that down, and four children whom I love enormously, who help me to stay grounded.

I am a complete over achiever. I think I have always been that way. I don't really know how to stop it and to be honest I don't think I really want to. The Army, and FRG's in particular, need more over achievers. They need more people who actually really love this life and are crazy passionate about living it to the fullest. They need more people who care less about titles, promotions and awards, and more about the people who are living it. That's not to say I don't like to be recognized, I definitely do! It is always nice to have someone notice how hard you're working and give encouragement. It just shouldn't be the reason to do things. I do this because I remember what it was like to go through this the first, second, third, and fourth times. I remember what it was like to be pregnant with my husband away. I remember what it was like to have three very sick children while my husband was gone. I know what it is to lose friends in this life. I know what it's like to support my husband while he grieves his friends. I have fought the medical system. I have studied the acronyms, studied the ARs, moved my family, and on and on. This life is hard sometimes. It is also the most amazing experience ever. I was blessed that during my third rodeo, someone came alongside me and showed me how to love this life. She literally is whom I owe so much of my Army wife perspectives to. I want to pay it forward.

So yes, I am a workaholic. I spend way "too many" hours helping other people. But to be completely truthful, I know that on my death bed I'm not going to say "I really wish I hadn't helped so many people."

Why do people use hot button words when it's so obvious what's trying to happen? People like to go for emotions. They like to defend and preserve their emotional perspective by drawing out further emotions from others.

Why are people so one track minded? Why do they refuse to analyze situations from all perspectives? Why are people so hell bent on viewing the world through their own rose colored glasses?

It makes me angry. I hate being someone's blame board for their own misery. It is neither my job, nor my passion to be the concrete wall that you throw your canons at because you hate your own set of circumstances. Just because I'm strong, it doesn't mean that I'm willing. I will not be anyone's doormat.

Updates

Today has been an incredibly busy day. I barely sat down until about ten o'clock at night, and that was just to finally eat something. I reorganized, sorted through, cleaned, laundry'd, tried to fix my vaccuum (which might be broken, verdict isn't in yet on that way, repaired a door, repaired a dresser, moved furniture, played with children, and spent almost all day long answering emails.

I am exhausted but yet strangely energized. This is the time of day when I am usually so fatigued that I'm ready to quit, yet I feel rejuvenated. I feel somewhat refreshed.

Today I intentionally tried to avoid my telephone. There were a couple of phone calls that couldn't be avoided, but other than those, I tried to have nothing to do today. My children have been having an incredibly difficult time. My son is constantly needing hugs, Charchee is the angriest child ever, Brun is withdrawing from society, and Lolli is manipulating and trying to control everyone. I realize that you might be sitting there saying to yourself, this is all normal, however for our children, this is not.

Going out of town for my sisters wedding was incredibly difficult for them. It triggered incredible emotional hardship in them, as was evidenced by the time we got on the airplane. You know that person who has a blood curdling screamer on an airplane? That was me. Hello autism! And I'm sorry fellow passengers. It was impossible to convince Charchee that her father would not be at home when we got here. She was fine on that plane ride, however, when we got home and her father wasn't, her anger came to visit and has stayed for a week now. Grigio is being aggressive and lashing out at his sisters. Lolli is literally trying to boss, manipulate, and be cruel to every single one of her siblings.

Everyone around me is stressed out, so my normal support system for cheering up is non existent. I suppose,  truthfully, most people are not used to me being angry and miserable, so I don't really blame anyone. It is what it is. As a result of this, I made every attempt to make today a day of complete focus on my kids.

Between friends and FRG, I have been running around like a chicken with my head cut off. The kids and I are both suffering from it. We haven't detoxed. We haven't processed. Their father has now been gone for two months and the anger is beginning to settle in. We're all angry. Angry at the circumstance that we're in. It's not that we don't realize how blessed we are. We do! We are grateful. The lobster is the world's most amazing human being and there are not enough words of praise, respect and adoration to shower on him. It just hurts and to be honest, eventually one has to stop crying, and so instead of crying, you get angry. The 7 stages of deployment grief... We are in the angry phase.

My children need the safety of routine, when the lobster is gone; they need the consistency of knowing what to expect, having a plan, and sticking to it. I realize it is important for children to be taught flexibility, however, in this phase, in this moment of their history, routine makes them feel safe, and safety makes them less angry.

The amount of fighting today was insane. I was saddened to see it. They are all four so compassionate and kind and to see them so angry breaks my heart.

Charchee has so much rage. Do you know she almost never cries? Seriously. I can't remember the last time I saw actual tears coming out of that girls eyes. She ignores. She rejects. She explodes. She internalizes all of the emotions that she feels. For example, tonight, I was having extra snuggle time with her and she started talking about my necklace and how daddy is the only one who puts it on and takes it off. She asked me if I was sad that he is in Iraq. I said that I was. She said "me too" and immediately launched into some conversation about clothes and playing dress up. This is how she always is. If she feels sad, she tries to focus on something else. Then, for hours she will be screaming over everything under the sun, and fighting with all the fight she has in her. She hates to be held. She doesn't want hugs. You almost have to beg her to let you cuddle with her! However, once you penetrate those walls she has up, she doesn't want to leave the safety of the snuggle.

Lolli is trying to figure out the balance between her own emotions and controlling her heartache. It's almost like this massive aspect of her life being completely out of control is causing her to micromanage who even looks in her bedroom. She is terrified. She doesn't know how to process it, so instead she is hell bent on preventing anything else from being out of her control.

Grigio wants to be exactly like his father. Seriously. Everything he does is a concerted effort to copy him. However, almost all day long I am dealing with his intense desire for hugs and ten thousand kisses.

Brun... Brun doesn't really want to be around anyone. She doesn't want hugs. She doesn't want to play together. If everyone is in one room, she leaves. If everyone goes to where she's at, she goes to someplace else. The only thing that she seems to get her to sit still and communicate is, strangely enough, Mr. Spock from Star Trek. Something about him comforts her. She wants to watch Star Trek all the time (which I'm sure you can imagine is not happening that much). I think she appreciates his emotionless. Brun doesn't handle emotions well at all.

Me? I'm furious. I'm exhausted. I'm stressed out. I feel completely alone. I feel like I need a vacation, but truthfully, I have no idea what I'd do with myself on one! I just need to laugh. I need a day where I don't have to fix a hundred people's problems. I need a day where people aren't angry or agitated. I need to feel like misery, fear, and dread aren't present. I need peace. I need him. With all the distractions that permeate my days, none of them compare to him. None compare to the way I feel when he's next to me, or near to me, or looking at me. None compare to his laugh and the way it thaws my north pole of a heart. None compare to the way he makes me laugh, or the peace I feel in his embrace. I need him.

So in the meantime, we're figuring things out. We're refocusing our attentions and readjusting. We're going through the angry phase and getting back to the joy in the challenge. We're handling things one day at a time, and sometimes one hour at a time. We're going through this together looking towards the day when, hopefully, our soldier walks off an airplane and hugs us. That day will be like sunbeams from heaven straight to my soul.

RAJ

I miss you. I wish I could see you running around. I wish I could hear you laughing. I wish you were discovering life with your siblings. I can't wait to see you in heaven.

Truth

How many of you actually know what it means to be protestant? How many of you actually KNOW what it is that "protestants" are supposed to believe? Does being protestant mean that you don't have to uphold to or hang on to any sort of standard of belief? Is it the symbol of ultimate defiance? I believe what I believe, but as long as I say I believe in Jesus than everything is fine! It has to be. Even though that statement makes everyone who isn't Catholic incredibly uncomfortable. There are somewhere around 20,000 different denominations roaming around out there in the realm of "christianity".

"Only one of those can be right."

That's a statement that a friend of mine spoke to me while challenging my beliefs. As much as I hated hearing it, and made every attempt to dutifully argue against it (I was, after all, a "good" evangelical), he was right. Only one of those can be right. So how do you know which one?

I know the arguments you are going to make for your "denomination". I made all of them. Trust me. I think the best one I thought up was "As long as everyone believes that Jesus died on the cross, rose from the grave, conquered death, is the Son of God, came to fulfill the prophecies, then all is good. The rest are semantics and worship rules." Okay. Fine! It's a good argument (I did think it up myself). Then answer me this, if that is true, why are the majority of protestants anti Catholic? What is it about protestants that causes them to say this statement over and over again: I'm sure some of them are "saved"? There is something about believing in a lie that causes us to need to disprove the truth.

The Catholic church hasn't exactly helped her cause. Truth be told, she was filled to the brim with people who were very content to know almost nothing about their faith, their church, or their belief system, and they went out telling everybody a bunch of nonsense. Shame on those people. They, themselves, almost prevented me from ever coming to see the truth. I am grateful that God placed people in my life people to answer my questions, challenge my viewpoints, and help me to see the Truth.

Churches tell us all the time to "question and study what we're told". So, have you really done that? Have you really studied and questioned the history of your particular church, or biblical line of thinking? If you go to a Baptist church, have you studied John Calvin? Are you aware that he is the "founder" of your church beliefs? Have you looked at the history? Have you asked questions? Do you believe in sola scripura (scripture alone) or sola fidelis (faith alone)? Do you even know what those are? Do you actually know that scripture itself opposes those perspectives despite the fact that they are the backbone of everything protestantism is based on? Do you believe the division of churches is what Christ prayed for when He prayed for us to be united as one?

I challenge you to examine. Question. Challenge. Seek answers. Keep seeking until you're satisfied. Do you really want to risk eternity on your reticence? There is such thing as one Truth. I can assure you that it isn't what's true for me and what's true for you...

lobster

Insanity seems to surround me. I feel like the fog is rolling in over the hills and it's so thick that I can barely see my porch light, let alone the candle burning in the window.

To say I miss you is the grandest understatement. It's like calling love easy, or Everest tiny, or death insignificant. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

I want to crawl in to the safety that is your skin and your chest and your embrace. I want to get lost in your smell. I want to be immersed in you and erased from the stink of the reality of this endeavor.

I feel weak baby. I feel fragile and I feel like my concrete barricade is cracking. I fear that the rushing ocean water is going to break through at any moment. I fear that I'm going to wander around all night long only to discover that the porch light has been turned off, and the door locked. I don't want to be outside in the cold.

So come to me. Come to me tonight while I sleep. Climb inside my subconscious and allow my fog filled brain to revel in the porch light that is you. Lead me home. Lead me back to laughter.

I am a sucker for happy thoughts. I love to turn on my "love songs" mix and rock out to memories in my mind of the world's greatest man. It's my happy place. When everything sucks and the world turns ugly, I close my eyes and play "our" song and I delete the reality of my surroundings and I fall in love again. 

He has this way that he whispers in my ear. It's so quiet like the sound of a breeze blowing through the grass. He blows through me. I can feel his chemistry merging into mine and I can feel when it passes through. 

Have you ever felt the sun? Have you ever felt the warmth of the sun on your skin? Have you ever bathed in its glory and rested under its gaze? Have you ever been in love?

I married the sun, on a humid, horrible day, I married the sun. And on that day he became my beginning and my end. He became the force from which I would move beyond myself. He became the lesson in loving someone other than myself. He became the equation necessary to create something bigger than myself. He became my name.

It's funny how stories go. I had a story before him. I had a story that was tragic and awful and melodramatic. I had a story that I rarely tell, and that I honestly don't think about very often. It has been written, it has been published, it has been exposed. After all of that, it was bound up nicely, put on a shelf, and no longer the central figure in my nightmares. It still exists, it was what it was, but it isn't the engine that propels me to be the person I am today.

I never knew what it meant to write the story of us. I don't really know how to do it. How does one find words to explain touch? How can I make you close your eyes and get lost in my happy place? How could I ever find the words that could well enough paint the picture of elation that I feel when he is sitting next to me? How can I describe to you his heart beat, or his laugh, or the feeling that swells in my body when he plays? I love watching him play. I love watching him grow and change. I love discovering how God has created in him the ability to be a man. 

Love does conquer all. But not in the way that so many people think. Love doesn't heal anything. Love doesn't take away agony, or pain. Truthfully, love is often the central figure in brokenness and heartache. It is often the key to tear-filled moments, and sleepless nights. Love is what hurts more than anything else in the world. But it doesn't stop there. Love kills you, over and over and over again. That's what love is... it's dying. It's dying to yourself, and being born to someone else. Love is giving up your ideas of the moment, and allowing someone else's Mona Lisa to take center stage. Love is watching their favorite movie, even if you don't want to. Love is watching them play video games, because they want to play, but they just want you near them too. Love is making them dinner, because it puts a smile on their face. Love is snuggles, when you're hot. Love is kisses when you're irritated. Love is rolling around in the grass, when you don't want to get dirty. Love is moving beyond what you think you want, and discovering what you can give. Love is dying to yourself. 

It took six years for me to realize that I was killing him. It took me six years to see how I oppressed him, even though it was unintentional. It took me six years to give up and stop trying to win all the time. It took me six years to learn that losing, is often times winning. It took me six years to let him be a man, to let him be my man. It took me six years of staying as rigid as possible, to learn that breaking ends up making everything so much better. 

Love is finally wanting to stay awake, because reality is so much better than your dreams. Love is having a new beginning, and a five lettered end. 

My son loves airplanes. When he sees one, he starts hollering and going on and on about how exciting it is. This evening, I am a bit tired and I have some stuff to get done, so I turned on a documentary about the Memphis Belle.

My son is currently sitting and watching, completely mesmerized.

As I sit here, I see so many images of his daddy before my eyes. The way he looks at the screen, his facial expression, looks exactly like the Lobster. Even the way he is sitting is virtually identical to his daddy.

Oh how I miss him...

chains, tanks, and Jesus

The quiet comes at a random moment and I find my head going immediately to you. My hand drops down from my chin to that gold chain dangling around my neck. I look down and that tiny white gold tank is staring right at me. Hidden behind it is the diamond cross necklace that you gave me on a valentine's day oh so many years ago. Two things that seem so counter intuitive: weapons and Jesus.

I wish I could say I hate you. I wish I could sit here with tear stained cheeks and say what an asshole you are for doing this to me. But the truth of the situation is, that is impossible for me to do. How can I hate what I love more than life itself? How can I hate the person who fills my days with laughter, whether in person or in memory? How can I shun the person who tells me cheesy come on lines, and still makes me feel like the most freaking beautiful girl in the room every time you are with me? How can I take the volcano of emotions that are bubbling under the surface of my humanity and turn them into rage, when all they want to do is shoot across the world and shower you with the ash of our exploding love?

When I close my eyes tight enough, I can remember the ghost of your silhouette sitting next to me on the couch. My legs draped across yours, and my head on your chest. Your left arm wrapped around me and your kisses on my forehead... I can remember the feeling of your hands on my skin, or your fingers laced in mine.

I miss kissing you. I miss interrupting your talking tirades with kisses and then dropping to the floor in laughter because you always say something along the lines of "Okay! I get it! I'll be quiet!"

I miss the booty dance. I miss the fact that it's my secret thing that you do. I miss the expression that washes over your face when you are pondering just how loved you are. I love how your mouth curls into this way that I don't know how to describe.

I love your ten year long quest to find the one place where I am ticklish, and the fact that you still haven't found it!

I love how you protect me. I love that I can hide behind you and that you are enough of a man to stand tall, and defend this chicken. I love that you don't give a crap about who is coming at you in regards to me. I love that you are the only man I have ever really seen, and the fact that you are mine baffles me.

Did I ever tell you that I feel closer to you when I am at mass? I feel like the time and distance between us fades away, because it is you and me and Christ, and everything else fades away. It's my favorite place to be.

It's funny what a little necklace will do to your girl.

There is something about a gritty connection, something about your face looking at me from the other side.
I never had too much to promise you baby, but I know I promised you a crazy ride

When the sun sets and it's just you and me with the white noise blaring and all of my fragility
Do you ever get tired of building brick walls high enough to maintain my sanity and stability?

The creativity of kids

My children are playing with one of my bras. I realize that writing this is somewhat tasteless, and for my male readers, I apologize if this causes you any feelings of discomfort. It is not my intention. The purpose behind the statement is the way that they are playing with it.

Charchee is currently wearing it around her neck like a necklace. Lollipop was wearing it around her head like a headband for a while. Brun was using it like a leash to drag her other sibling around. All three of my daughters are creating different, unique, and hilarious ways to play with a bra. 

When did simplicity disappear? Is it lost behind all of the technology, colorful toys, and exciting new endeavors to purchase? When did we forget that kids are just kids and playing with random objects is a blast? 

As I write this, one of my kids has decided to use the bra like a tail. She is pretending to be a horse and my bra is her tail. 

My children literally crack me up! They are seriously, seriously hilarious!

Grief

I have spent the past several months living under the weight of what if. What if the lobster dies? What if he gets hurt? What if he loses his job? What if the kids spend this year in the hospital like the last time? What if he comes home, and his brain, his heart, his love, his lobsterness stays back in that hell hole? What if...

It's a dirty sentence. It is a short two word sentence, but yet it's filthy and ugly and grotesque. It causes us to fill our minds with horrible thoughts and makes us dwell on everything but truth: our worrying doesn't change anything!

When I nutshell down all of my worrying, there is an answer. For the first time in my life, I am walking away from something that I have held dear my whole life. Everything that I used to cling to, lean on, rely on, is all of a sudden being transformed into something else. It. is. terrifying. It is mind numbing. It is causing everything in my small existence to be questioned and changed. I am afraid of conversion.

I can't really tell you why though. Logically, philosophically it makes sense. If you are questioning what truth is, and Truth reveals itself to you, how can you ignore it? Emotionally it's a completely different story. Emotionally I feel like something is dying. I feel like everything that I used to know is being buried. I feel like I'm mourning. This huge piece of myself is going away. I know it has to happen. I know it's supposed to happen, but yet it hurts. It hurts to let go of everything that has been familiar and to walk into something foreign.

It is incredibly scary that this journey into the unknown, is done with the lobster far away. It creates an environment where I feel like I have to do the leading of our children, I have to do the encouraging and question answering, I have to figure it all out without his help, without his wisdom. I hate when his leadership isn't here to guide me.

I am coming to understand that these what if thoughts and visions, are real. They represent something massively significant: the loss of a relationship that I've had for twenty five years. I loved that relationship. I cherished it. I shared it. I encouraged others in theirs. I taught. I learned. I gave...

When pouring this stuff out to the lobster, he told me that he would pray for me. I am grateful for that. I am grateful for his companionship. I am grateful for the vulnerability that I can always share with him. I am grateful for the safety that he brings me. It always amazes me how he challenges me, but yet encourages me exactly when I need it. I love how he always reminds me that we are unified and that I don't need to feel alone. It's like when I'm in a hole, instead of yelling at me about what I'm doing wrong or the stupid thing I did to get in it, he climbs in and just holds me in the darkness.

I really love his version of love. I love that his love for me is present while I am grieving...

Some SoCal-ness

It has been a while since I've written you all. This has been for several reasons, the main one of which was that I was out of town in what can only be considered internet slow mode and I could barely sign into facebook, let alone upload a blog. I am now safely back in my internet zone, and have so much to catch up on.

Last weekend my sister got married. It was sort of surreal to see someone, who in my mind is still twelve, get married. I was blessed to have been her maid of honor, and to be able to experience that with her. Nevermind that I didn't get to do almost anything that a maid of honor gets to do, and the "photographer" didn't take a single picture of me with my sister alone, but whatever. I will be Yelping that one asap.

Southern California is my version of hell. To put it quite honestly, I loathe that place. Flying into it is like flying into depression itself. There is nothing but concrete for the last twenty minutes of the flight. When I hear people say that it's beautiful, I'm honestly sitting there saying to myself, 'Where!?' Every single surface has been maimed, tainted, and destroyed by humanity and their ever continuing quest to conquer, destroy, and change. I hate what Californians have done to that place. It is so bad that you can almost hear the earth begging, pleading for someone to allow it to breathe under the weight of all that stone... Why would anyone want to live there!?

When I think of beauty, I think of the rolling hills of eastern Kansas. I think of the grass that stretches for miles and miles. I think of how it ices over in the winter and it looks like fields of crystals sparkling in the sunlight. That is beautiful to me. Not concrete and fences, and buildings...

Quite honestly, I don't belong in SoCal. I spent the majority of last week with nothing to say. I always teach my children that if they don't have anything nice to say, then they should say nothing at all. So I didn't. I was present, but silent. I just have nothing to contribute to that realm of whateverism where everything is superficial, inconsistent, fake, and entirely self focused. No one really helps anyone else, and everyone is hell bent on pushing, enforcing, and staying neatly confined in their version of life and events. Quite honestly, everything is all about self in SoCal.

And my family? They're exactly like the environment they live in. I don't relate to them at all. I don't know them. I have no connection other than the blood that flows in our veins. I am nothing like them. Sure, we have mediocre similarities that tend to occur when you grow up in the same environment, but beyond that... I see no similarities. What I value, they don't. What I believe in doing, they don't. What I stand for, they oppose. Complete opposites. It's so bad that I can't even communicate when they're around. What's the point? Why would I want to waste my breath, thoughts, and emotion on people who aren't interested in really changing anything, but are just resigned to mediocrity and self indulgement? It's like being an addict. My life sucks so I'll hook onto the latest thing that give me some momentary feeling of satisfaction and contentment, until that high fades and I have to find something else.

It's a bit sad when you step back and look at it as a whole.

Do you know that only one person in my family asked about my husband the entire eight days I was there? Only one. My dad. That's it.

Walls are so meaningless and pointless. I hated them when I had them for so many years as a child. I constantly felt stifled and abandoned. Truth is, I don't know how to shine, or be myself, around my family. Why would I? I have consistently been unaccepted. I have always been different.

If I'm honest, SoCal always leaves me saying to myself, "Is anyone really happy there?" I have yet to meet one person who really is...