Author: Outrunning my demons

Storms of Christmas past

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This year my youngest daughter had her first high school choir concert on the day that my grandma died.

Let’s take a trip back in time to 1967. I wasn’t born yet. My mom was 19. My dad went off to Vietnam.

It was Christmastime. My grandparents were in the process of moving to a new town for my grandpa’s new job. My grandma was 43 and pregnant. Her oldest child, my aunt, was out of the house, married, and expecting her first child. My mom was in college. There were five children left at home and a new baby on the way.

My grandma wasn’t feeling well with her eighth pregnancy. She was on bed rest at the hospital but wrote letters to her family at the new house where no one knew them.

There was a snowstorm the night that she gave birth to a healthy baby girl. After the little baby girl took her first breath, my grandma took her last breath.

This month the baby girl turned 50. She had a big weight to carry the day she was born. She took the last breath of a mother of 8 when she took her first. I think she always felt guilty about it although no one could logically blame her for something not of her choosing. Then she took the life that her mother sacrificed to give her and made a big mess of it.

This month Uncle Rick threw my aunt a 50th birthday party before the choir concert. It was both a joyous and solemn occasion. Before the party, the siblings tearfully read the last letter that their mother wrote the night before she died. It wasn’t carefree and happy like the rest. It was as if she knew it would be her last.

At the choir concert that night, I sat with my mom on the 50th anniversary of her mother’s death. She told me that her mother was my age when she died and she was the same age as my oldest daughter. I felt sorrow for my mother. She really needed to have a mother in her life as the path she beat down was always rocky.

That night, I watched others perform my daughter’s songs from when she was in high school. My oldest daughter was not able to be there. It was hard to hear someone else sing ‘her’ songs. It hurt. Time was slipping by way too fast. It was also difficult to sit next to my mother on the anniversary of her mother’s death. I could feel the loss, the sadness, the nostalgia, the longing for something that was no longer there envelop me.

Past presents

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I think it was my aunt’s mission to get me drunk at the family Christmas party.

Alcohol…it has a way of bringing me to life. It makes me feel emotions that are otherwise stuffed away. I answer questions less guarded. Sometimes not only do I then like people, but I become the life of the party.

I was cornered. Have a glass of wine. Once it is emptied, it was refilled by another. Normally I might have told her to piss off (but probably in kinder words)…I am in control of my body and how much I choose to drink. But for some reason, I didn’t care. My aunt through marriage is a very eccentric person and I am drawn to her because she is exciting.

After a few drinks, my aunt started talking about her college days. Apparently she was in a sorority and could drink most people under the table. She started asking questions about my college days as she refilled my glass yet again.

What I told her was that I spent a majority of my college years taking care of my special needs brother. I told her that my mother needed my help so I stepped up to the plate.

What I didn’t tell her was that I only applied to one college, the one closest to home. I didn’t tell her that I never went to one party when I was in college. I didn’t tell her that my mom had a hard time keeping minimum wage caregivers for Matt because he was violent towards them. I didn’t tell her that Saturday night was shower night for Matt, not party night for me. This was the night I bathed him like a small child, not like a slightly younger brother.

My aunt told me I was gypped. Why didn’t my mother put Matt in a group home sooner so I could have a somewhat normal life?? She told me that she saw all these things happening to me but there was nothing that she could do about it.

Her words brought tears to my eyes that threatened to drop. I didn’t want her pity. I told her it made me a better person. That is just the type of bull I say to make people stop seeing me as a victim. I view myself as a strong person, not in any way am I weak or to be ever portrayed as such even though I once was. This is the protective shell I cover my hidden vulnerability with.

Has it made me a better person?? In all honesty, probably not. I don’t believe that I would’ve been a ‘bad’ person if I went to a keg party instead of staying home on a Saturday might to bathe my brother.

Usually I just keep my mouth shut about topics that could lead to conversations about my childhood. I don’t like people picking at my scabs. I feel very hurt that I was robbed of a childhood. It has been a great weakness for me as a parent. I’ve spoiled my children by giving them the childhood I never had. Deep down inside I feel hurt, anger, and resentment towards my mother for taking that away from me. I feel guilty because I know that my mother did not want it to be that way.

I am living the best years of my life right now, but I can’t seem to escape the constant reminders of a painful past.

When did it happen?

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A couple weeks back on my way into the gym, I saw an elderly lady with two little kids. The little ones outran their grandma and entered the building with me. I got quite a few smiles and happy looks from strangers. People thought the children were mine and were giving me the ‘your kids are sooooo cute’ face.

When did my kids stop being cute?

I felt a little sad for awhile. I hadn’t realized that I haven’t gotten that mother of little kids look for a long time.

When did my kids grow up?

This past weekend, my nieces who are 8 and 10 stayed overnight at my house last minute. Angel was babysitting for another little girl at our house that was 8. We had a girl party. We played Just Dance and painted nails. Even my ‘baby’ was a big help entertaining the girls.

When did my daughters transition from girls to young women?

When it was bedtime, I put a show on to try to get the girls to settle down and fall asleep. But I was the only one that fell asleep. I really don’t know how kid movies can captivate children, they are soooo stupid. Who writes those shows??

When did we stop watching cartoons and kid shows?

The girls had a hard time sleeping at night. Little Gracie complained about the bass pouring out of my son’s room. It wasn’t that loud or maybe I’ve grown used to the noise of having teenagers in my house.

When did my kids stop being little kids?

The next day we had the family over for Christmas. The little girls were bursting with excitement over the presents under the tree. Gracie got this bird that cracked its way out of a shell minutes after she opened the gift. Then she was supposed to raise it as a baby, toddler, and then finally a kid. But not as a teenager nor adult. It glowed different colors to communicate based on some color code on the box or something. Seemed like a big waste of money to me. But boy was that the rage.

When did our kids stop waking us up on Christmas day?

My kids got mainly clothes. Clothes! Arabella got a waffle iron. Adult stuff! No more toys. The teens mainly looked bored. The kids squealed with delight. The adults sat around acting excited about the gifts of the little kids, but it really wasn’t all that exciting anymore…the transition from child to adult.

When did my kids stop playing with toys??

I was able to find some excellent gifts for my teenagers though..

For Angel, I bought her tickets to see Lana Del Rey in concert next week. We will be traveling quite a ways, so I got a hotel room. I also bought her a Lana Del Rey t-shirt. I am excited to go with her, but was instructed not to dress like a ‘mom’.

For Alex, I got him an Ancestry DNA kit to find his heritage. It was something that he mentioned over a year ago and was very excited to receive. Rumor has it that he might have Native American roots (my husband never knew his father). Now we will know for sure. There is some mystery in what will be found.

For Arabella, I took her in today for a makeover. She got blonde highlights and black low lights. She looks very pretty and grown up.

I do miss the wonder and excitement of the younger years, but there is a certain joy to be found in letting go…

Snowstorm slacker and other partly cloudy stories

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Today was supposed to be the day that we were going to get a monster snowstorm. The whole state of Wisconsin was supposed to shut down. Everyone wants a white Christmas, but no one wants to cancel plans, or at least admit that they want to. Instead a few inches are going to trickle in over the next two days. Here comes snowstorm slacker…How flaky!

I wish I could be paid a lot of money for being completely inaccurate. I hope the weather forecasters are wrong about the 15 to 30 below wind chills Christmas morning too!

I thought I would have to cancel my plans for tonight. I have a karaoke date at a dive bar with an older man.

Now before you start to judge, let me explain. I have a thing for older men…like way older men. I have developed friendships with men that are in their 80’s. I am particular with my older men…they have to be flirty, funny, eccentric, and smart. This year my older friend lost his wife of over 60 years. This will be his first Christmas without her. He shares our family passion of singing…maybe this would make his day a little brighter on the darkest day of the year.

Yesterday I called my older friend from work to see if our date was still on. He asked me if I bought him a Christmas gift yet. Then he said, “Honey, why don’t you come down to the bar right now and I’ll buy you a drink?” He makes me laugh. I spend more time with him than with my own dad.

Family, it is a difficult time of year for that…family…strained relationships, obligated gatherings, all creating more stress over the busiest time of year…with the expectation of hearts filled with peace and joy.

I think I am finally at peace with our Christmas plans. My mom wanted to get together at my house at noon on Christmas Eve, but I wanted to get together later in the day instead. Paul, Angel, and I will be singing at the late night service. It is much more than I want to squeeze into one day.

If I have everyone at my house at noon then I would have to plan two meals that day, clean up before and after, and all of the dishes…then have enough energy to deal with family and be ready to sing. Thankfully, Angel has to work Christmas Eve until 4 PM and I DIDN’T WANT TO CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS WITHOUT HER. Plus I didn’t want everyone to eat and ditch before church.

So, my brother Mark and his wife won’t be able to attend. I haven’t seen or talked to them since July anyway. They never come to my family’s events or even send a card…so…oh well. My uncle Rick is having a family party the day before anyway. We will see them then. Uncle Rick is too nice. Everyone is telling him what to do for his party, but no one wants to do the work of having the party.

I think that if you are hosting the party then you should have full control. You pick the time. You pick the menu. You get my drift. I don’t think Uncle Rick wants that though. He seems more content to have people tell him what to do than I am.

Things have been going well. Angel is home from college. It is so wonderful. I get home from work and the laundry is folded and the dishes are done. She asks if she can help with anything else. In the evenings she just wants to visit and talk. She is my only kid that makes me feel like I did something right as a mom.

Other than that, I have been trying to keep up with my exercise routine. I called my cousin last week and told him I would like to run a trail marathon with him next summer. I like to run twice a week and have one day a week where I do something other than running to work out. Last night, Paul and I went cross county skiing the first time this season. I have to tell you that I am not really good at sports. Trust me. Although I run marathons and do Half Irons and stuff like that, I am the world’s biggest klutz. I watched others glide by skating on skis while I managed to fall in the flat area. I have zero sense of balance. I would fail yoga 101. I keep trying though. I’m going to need all the balance I can get as I age.

I probably won’t have much time to talk until after Christmas. It already has been a busy week with Christmas parties and programs galore.

And so far we got zero inches of snow from snowstorm slacker..

Merry Christmas!!

The worrisome life of the rebel’s mom

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He is 17, tall, dark, and handsome. He has boyish good looks with small features. He has thick brown hair with a mess of curls.

He is seen driving around with the most beautiful girls in school. He drives fast and doesn’t wear a seat belt. In the summer months, he rides a motorcycle. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that you saw him with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He is tough. He was a wrestler for many years and now he wants to be a boxer. If only his parents would say ‘yes’. He never steps down from a fight. He would fight anyone that threatens his girl. He would back up his buddies in a fight. He doesn’t let anyone tell him what to do.

He likes to do daring and dangerous deeds. He is the first to dive off the highest cliffs. He rides the scariest roller coasters…he skateboards..plays football..He has no fear. He demands respect.

He can mesmerize audiences with his ability to perform. He learns how to play almost any instrument he picks up. For awhile, he played an electric guitar in a garage band.

He is smart but only willing to work hard when he wants to. He is good at chess and leads his friends into gaming battles of strategy.

He is quiet and mysterious which beckons to be drawn out. He is a bad ass, a rebel…not easily tamed. He wears a lot of black. He is every bit ‘bad boy’ and not a bit ‘nice guy’. He is humorous, exciting, and adventure seeking. He likes to party and have fun. He never cries or shows signs of perceived weakness. He is honest and stands up for what he believes in.

He has a lot of qualities that most young women seem to find irresistible.

He also has a lot of qualities that make his mother (even if she was a calm woman, which she is not) feel worried.

A smashing idea…

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Lately my technology has been going out more than I have.

This month has been a total technology fail for me. Here is the list of things that went out this month alone:

  • My computer at work
  • My printer
  • My monitor
  • My cell phone

Last month my daughter convinced me to upgrade my iPhone 5 at a Black Friday sale. I was hesitant. I hate updates and upgrades. It makes me feel like an idiot. Just when things work perfectly fine, there is another update that I have to spend 3 hours learning. I had the phone over 3 years and just figured out how to use it. Not to mention that it has been almost impossible getting another phone case for my running belt…Knowing my luck, the phone would probably fall out when I am running breaking my new phone and my leg in the process using the old case.

But my phone was starting to glitch out on me. Sometime it would freeze. The worst thing was that I no longer received my WP notifications…Blogging just wasn’t the same without the WP ping. It made me feel like I was writing on paper with a sore inky south paw hand.

On Black Friday, I upgraded to an iPhone 7. I didn’t spend the extra money on the insurance plan for myself, but did for my kids. Seriously, like adults need to worry about cracked screens or smashed phones??

Last week I smashed my new phone.

I was in a hurry like I always am…running late. I grabbed my phone as I ran out the door. My husband was waiting for me in the truck. As I lifted my leg to get into the truck, my phone must have slipped out of my jacket pocket. Once we got to our destination, I couldn’t find my phone. I thought I must have forgotten it at home. It was kind of like a ‘did I turn off the oven’ back burner thought to me. I thought I took it with but second guessed my memory in the rush to get out the door.

I couldn’t find my phone when I got home. Finally my husband found it frozen in the driveway. It looked fine on the outside. I wrapped it in my arms to warm up. But it was too late. It was dead. I took it in to get fixed. Once they opened it up, it was smashed inside.

I had to buy another phone. I also got a new computer, printer, and monitor at work. Now I even have two monitors so I can read your posts when I am sitting half the day on hold at work. I won’t even mention the internet, software, or phone problems at work…just this month. It’s insane!

I spent so much time this month irritated by technology. I even had the opportunity to hear our IT guy swear for hours on end as I sat helplessly watching. What a waste of time!

I want to take all of these items that failed me into a dark room with a baseball bat. I want to bash the monitor…crack my cell phone…smash the computer to bits…and pummel my printer to paper pulp. I might need a padded room. Not for myself! I don’t want to chip the walls.

I can almost hear the glass shatter in my mind. I love the sound of it.

It is so hard to be gentle towards our fragile devices that cause so much rage.

I’ve always had the fantasy of smashing computers…almost like having the car seat burning party I talked about but never had once I was done with all of that.

It sounds like a smashing idea, doesn’t it??

Its been a few days

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Its been a few days since I was able to write. It’s not as if I have writer’s block or ran out of things to write about. I have a long, long list…probably longer than Santa’s…of things to write about. So many things are on my list that I am starting to cross them off not because I completed them either. Who wants to talk about Thanksgiving at Christmas?? The week of parties hasn’t even started yet…Yikes!

I have been very busy…I am standing at the kitchen counter making supper as I write. If I am lucky, I will finish this before I do the dishes and have to pick my daughter up from school. I have to start the spaghetti now.

I try to start a rough draft over my lunch hour at work. Monday at lunch, Paul and I went house hunting. We viewed the house of our dreams. But I will save that for another day. Tuesday at lunch I went to they gym. I am still running pain free!! Yeah!

Yesterday we got our first real snowfall of the season of around 7 inches. We had an employee call in. She totally freaks if there are rumors of snow. So I went home for a quick lunch so I could get back to work right away. I ended up getting stuck in my driveway. The car slid off the pavement and was tearing up the grass.

I just put the spaghetti into boiling water. I hope I don’t forget about it as I type.

So, an hour later, after my husband got my car out of the snow bank he drove me to work. Even though I stayed late, I didn’t get caught up.

Just got a text from my daughter saying that she needed to be picked up earlier. I wonder if she can catch the late bus?

Okay, where was I?

Time to layer my spaghetti lasagna. Great, I found a ride home from the late bus for my daughter so I can finish blogging supper. Supper is in the oven.

Maybe I will be able to go to choir practice tonight.

What was I talking to you about again??

Maybe I should just start folding laundry and forget about blogging for another day.

**Maybe I should let my followers know that I am alright. It has been a whole 5 days since my last post.**

Maybe tomorrow I will have the time to think about my thoughts. Now I have even more ideas to add to my list…

Running update

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Good news! I was able to go for a 10 mile run today without pain!!

I think that cutting back in my running helped my body heal physically.

But it was not good for my mind.

I was starting to get depressed. I felt like life was meaningless. I felt like I had no purpose or reason to get up in the morning. I struggled to keep the tears from my eyes. I was edgy…moody…irritated. I felt like there wasn’t one person in the world that cared about me.

I know that those feelings are not real. My life is actually going pretty good. I’ve surrounded myself with so many people that care.

Not running does strange things to my mind…so it is good to be back on my feet again.

Thanks for your thoughts, comments, and prayers. I really appreciate that you take the time to follow the winding story of my crazy life.

Wow! See? I’m feeling better already!

Thanksgiving leftovers

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The day before Thanksgiving, I spoke to my mom on the phone. She told me that my dad was going to drive 8 hours round trip to drop something off at my brother Mark’s house, but he wasn’t going to come over to my house for Thanksgiving.

I said, “Let me get this straight, dad is going to drive 4 hours to see Mark but he won’t drive 20 minutes to come over and eat a meal that he doesn’t have to prepare?”

My dad showed up for Thanksgiving. Then after the meal, he left without saying good-bye.

Later in the day, we were playing Loaded Questions and everyone had to guess my response to the question asking who I always wondered if they liked me or not. Some people said Aunt Grace or my sister-in-laws. No one guessed that I put my dad down as my answer. It’s sad that I feel unsure if my dad likes me.

It seems ironic that Paul never had a dad and I always wondered if my dad likes me while we were surrounded this Thanksgiving with men that had estranged relationships with their children.

Paul’s step-dad Darryl and my Uncle Rick were guests in our house this Thanksgiving. They weren’t invited anywhere else. Their stories are similar.

Darryl was previously married to a woman that he had two children with. When his children were little, his wife left and took the boys with her several states away. Ever since I’ve known Darryl, he has wanted a relationship with his sons that was not reciprocated. The only time that they called him regularly was when they were incarcerated. Darryl was the man that stood patiently by his wife’s side as she was dying of cancer. Darryl loves to spend time with his step-grandchildren, my kids. Darryl married my mother-in-law when Paul was in his upper 20’s, so he never thought of Darryl as a dad.

My Uncle Rick has a similar story. He is recently divorced not of his choosing. His adult children all decided to side with their mother instead of him. They also cut themselves off from all of his family. My Uncle Rick is one of those nice guys that women seem to walk over. He wears his heart on his sleeve but would give the shirt off of his back. He brought a ‘F off’ letter that his daughter wrote to him for us to read at our house.

 

Paul and I would’ve given anything to have a dad like Darryl or Rick, yet their kids want nothing to do with them. They are wonderful men. I’ve known them long enough to know that. I just don’t get it.

I find it heartbreaking when kids feel like they have to pick sides when their parents divorce. Why can’t they have both parents in their lives??

Maybe someday their kids will come around.

Until then, we are thankful for your broken, discarded, leftover dads.

 

Grandma’s rocking chair

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My eye hurts really bad. It feels like it is on fire as the tears roll down my face.

Matt is screaming again. He poked me in the eye on purpose. We are both screaming now.

I told Grandma that I hate Matt.

She didn’t tell me that I should feel lucky that I am normal. Nor did she say that I shouldn’t be upset since Matt can’t help it. She didn’t tell me that Matt has it harder either. Those were the things that Mommy and Aunt Grace said.

She didn’t push me away to comfort Matt.

Instead, Grandma picked me up and rocked me in her gentle arms. She sang me beautiful songs until my tears dried and I fell asleep.