Scared no more?

I keep saying I'll get pregnant when God is ready for me to be pregnant. Truth is I'm tired of waiting. I been waiting all those years before I started fertility treatments and I've waited all these years after I lost Shealyn. I've been waiting longer to get pregnant than actually being pregnant.

God has a plan. Yes that may be true but I can push that plan along. There are ways to make the plan move a tiny bit faster. But will I? Nope not a chance. Why? Well aside from saying I would never do fertility treatments again. Catholic view it as a sin.

Not to play devils advocate but fertility treatments and fertility drugs are two different things. Now if the question were would you use fertility meds to try and get pregnant? My answer may be completely different. True is I'm scared to death. Scared either way. Scared if I get pregnant on my own. I'm scared if I get pregnant from meds. At the end of the day I am scared that the result will be the same.  Scared that I'd be having a funeral for another child. I don't want to live like that. I don't want to have the thought that babies die. I hate that I even know that. I'm mean yeah I knew that before but now I KNOW it and I hate that I have to live in and with this reality. Why?

There's got to be a reason for this had I have been dealt. Something more than an infection that cause my water to break so early. I should have done more. Is it my fault that I am here? I should have insisted the doctors do more. And not just take their word for it. I'm stubborn with everything but I wasn't that day. Why? Maybe subconsciously I was ready. No that is not possible I'd been ready my entire life.

Idk I hate having these thoughts. They mess up my head so bad. They make me doubt so many things. Hell everything. Makes me doubt me. Makes me doubt God. And I don't want to doubt him if his plans. I need more faith. More faith in faith more faith in him.

33 Now Boarding Flight GoodBye

As the last month of my 33rd year of life begins I find myself contemplating things. Wow! That sounds life the beginning of a "Dear John" letter to my life. I honestly did not intend for it to sound that way. My 33rd year of life started out amazing. I finally got baptized and am now Catholic. The last 3 months or so have been rough.

There is something I really want to write about but I'll do that in my actual journal. It's something I need to work through on my own and privately I guess.

Anyway, back to the last three months. My mom ended up in the hospital and almost dying from an infection from a boil. Between the hospital and the rehab/nursing home she was gone for like two months. I could go more into that but why? For what? The only outcome of that is I'd only be pissing myself off again over the situation. It's not worth it. I'll let people think what they want on that. My mom is not 100% but she's home and getting better. She will need reconstruction surgery on her legs. And that is better than before. In the beginning she was in the icu. It's was scary and heartbreaking.

Just when I thought we'd catch that break that was coming to me. My hubby's grandmother literally went to the emergency room like once a week till finally they kept her for about a week.  While that happened my own grandmother went into the hospital. She was right across the hall for hubby's grandmother and I was running back and forth between the two rooms. It was crazy. Thank God everyone is now home and on the mend. My grandmother now has to do dialysis three times a week for the rest of her life.  It has been put off and push back for quite sometime. It was inevitable and it was only a matter of time. And that time has finally come. She is not happy and often reminds me that my grandfather was on dialysis before he died. I have to remind her the dialysis didn't kill him. The stroke he had while on the operating table ultimately killed him.

Work has been so stressful. It seems like one thing after another comes up. At times I feel like I may be overreacting but it gets so overwhelming and there is no support. So when I get hit with everything's all at once I get awful panic attacks. Sometimes they feel like heart attacks. I wonder if I've had at least a couple small heart attacks in the last few weeks. I'm seriously not overdramatizing.

Back to my 33rd year of life. This past year I've seen wonderful things. I've seen relationships begin. Relationships end. I've seen marriages begin. Congrats D and B.  I've seen marriages fall apart and ultimately end. I've seen birth announcements, announcements of pregnancies.  And with birth comes death and I've seen a few of those this year. My grandmother's sister being one and a good friend of mine who helped plan my wedding back in 2004.

I am no where near where I want to be in life. I'm not there yet but it's a long process. 34 will be amazing.

So This Is What It Is Like...

...to be homeless.

Yup. We have no home to call our own. It isn't the first time and I pray to God it is the LAST time. I won't go into details on how we ended up like this. But will the passing of Billy's grandfather it kind of works out for the best. Thank God for my mother in law. We'd be living out of my car or in a motel if it weren't for her. She was kind enough to open her home to us.

It was bound to happen. I got so far behind in the bills and rent. I tried everything I could possibly think of to prevent the inevitable. But here we are, living out of bags and storage. Its kind of like and extended camping trip. I like camping. Not sue I will like it in a day or two. But for the time being I am fortunate to say even though I don't have a home, I have a warm place to stay. Not many people can say that.

We may be down but we are not out. I/We have been through worse. I think the worse thing we've gone though is the passing of our daughter. I can sit here and say that I am 99.9999% sure Billy would agree. We have a plan and by the grace of God that plan will come to reality and hopefully soon.

These last few months have really put things in prospective for me. I made the choices. I wanted to LIVE and not worry about money and what I can and can't afford. I am now paying for it but for those few shot months I was able to reconnect with Billy and just be....US. If that makes any sense.

Anyway, back to our plan. The plan is by the end of the year we will have a house. Not a rental but our own house. It'll be the 4 of us, Billy, his mom, grandma and myself. It will be interesting to say the least but we will be able to call it home and make it our own. I am already jumping the gun and mentally designing the house but that keeps my mind off other things. Like these insane anxiety and panic attacks. They have been so bad recently. To the point of physicality. That's not who I am. Yeah, as I kid that is what I did. Hell, I had to fight to survive. But, now that just isn't me. But shit happens.

Anyway, this is my life right now. Things are sucky but I have m health and my life, and the people that matter in my life. I am just in one of many dips on this rollercoaster ride that is life.

Change Yourself and We Can Change the World

We as a society are on our way to hell in a hand basket.  Hell we are probably there already. I don't watch the news anymore, haven't for a long while now, its too depressing. The media never wants to report anything good or positive.  Always negative. Kids missing, cops killing people whether they are innocent or not, riots other countries hating us, isis, you name it. All that stuff just makes me want to lock myself up in a room and call it a day.

Growing up I used to want to save the world. Save the homeless. Save the hungry babies in Africa. Save the less fortunate here in our own backyards. Then I realized I couldn't save myself how would I save the world.

Years and years later I found a quote "you cant save everybody but everybody can save one person". I have decided that even before I can save anyone I have to save myself. If we all saved ourselves we'd then be able to save others. What has become of this world? Years from now they will find evidence of us being here and just like the Mayans,  the Egyptians and the people of Atlantis, they will say what happened to these great people? What happened to us?  We no longer care for our neighbor. We only care about ourselves and not in a good way.

I am not one to preach the bible or preach religion. What you believe is what you believe.  Hell I'm confused just as much as the next person. But I have been looking to myself. Trying to make myself better. Reading the bible and other religious works. 

I had posted something on facebook about the recent protests and riots in Ferguson Missouri.  I understand the protests but the riots took things too far. Anyway I ended up deleting the post because the comments became hateful almost. And people that didnt even know each other were calling each other names, etc. Anyway in the post I had mentioned something that I read and couldn't remeber the context or where I read it. Anyway, it was from Psalms 78. "A stubborn and rebellious generation, a generation that did not set its heart aright, and whose spirit was not faithful to God." That is what has become of us. That is what has become of this world. What happened to kindness and compassion?  What happened to us being....humans? We need to get back to peace and kindness.  Love thy neighbor.

I remember as a kid that we respected law enforcement and they the same. They were there to protect and serve us. And I'll probably get shit for this but now it seems like they protect and serve themselves. Law enforcement back in the day where seen as heros. Now they are viewed as villians. Yeah their are bad cops but there are also good too. At least that's what I chose to believe. It all boils down to RESPECT. Respect from us and respect from them. Stop with the attitudes when questioned. That goes for black, white, brown, purple, green, blue, yellow, red and so on.

This hatred we have for our law enforcement must stop. You wouldn't have this hatred toward our military,  navy and army personnel.  So why do you have it for your local law enforcement?  Like I said yeah there are good cops and bad cops. There are appropriate avenues to go about making complaints.  Riots and more violence is not the answer.

We are the change people talk about. We must change our world we live in. But thay change must start from within.  Change yourself and we can change the nation.

Dear Poppop,

15 years ago, I remember standing at the foot of your bed, just after they took the tubes out. 15 years ago, I remember crawling in bed next to you, putting my head on your shoulder and kissing you cheek for the last time while you were still warm.

I was numb.

I whispered good night one last time as I left the room, taking one last look before leaving the room. That was the second time. The first time, I didn't get past the doorway.

I was angry. I guess I still am. I believed, deep down in my heart and soul that you would wake up soon. No one gave you that chance it seems. I remember sitting in the waiting room and although I was surrounded by mostly your family, I felt so alone. Where was the rest of my family? Why weren't they there? Did they ever truly care?

 

I remember Uncle Lenny (RIP) pulling my husband (boyfriend of only a few months at the time) aside and asking him to take care of me. I curled up on the ungiving couch in the waiting room, eyes blurry with tears, staring at the door and silently begging God, or whoever was listening to bring you back and take someone else. Hoping and wishing with all my might for you to walk through the door from the overly bright hall. But you never did. The room was dim but seemed to grow darker with every breath you were no longer allowed to take. It was so unfair. I needed more time with you. But was grateful for the time I spent. You were the only one who understood me and now I was alone. I didn't know just how alone I would be until a few days later at your funeral. And so would everyone else.

 

In. The. Back. Of. The. Church. Is where I sat. Billy on my left, your great-nephew and his wife to my right. It felt like people were staring at me, wondering why I was even there. No one said, "Hey sit here, we saved you a seat." No one said "sorry for your loss". You might not have been blood, but I saw you as more than my grandfather. I saw you as my father. There I sat in the back of that church holding my boyfriend's hand and my second cousin's hand, he holding his wife's hand, waiting for the ground to swallow me up. I felt lower than the black sheep, lower than scum, lower than dirt.

I am not really sure where this is going. All I know is that I miss you. I am not sure why it get thrown on me that I am a bad person. I'm not really. Since becoming an adult, I've only ever asked for at least half of the effort I put in. And I get nothing. There really shouldn't even be an effort it should just come naturally. If it were for facebook I am not sure I would hear from anyone. No cards, no calls. When did things get so fucked up?

 

I have this vision in my head that all differences are put aside and everyone isn't fake, everyone is sincere and true. It's just a vision though.

15 years ago, you got called to a better place. Now, I am thankful that you get to see how everyone really is.

 

Since being married, I have grown a bond with hubby's grandfather. Our conversations usually consist of a few grunts, points, snickers, hums, umms, what are you saying, I don't understand. But somehow we know exactly what the other is talking about. He can never take your place but comes pretty close. He's a strange man; you'd get along with with him. I am thankful that he has seen me through in your physical absence. I realize now that you had to go, someone needed to get things ready there for Shealyn. I have no regrets. And am thankful I got to talk with you truthfully and honestly before you got too sick. I still have so many questions that will NEVER get answered.

 

One day differences will be put aside. But I fear it is too late for things to go back the way they were.

 

Miss you more that I can describe.

Blue Face

I haven't posted in a really long time. I don't know why I do this to myself. And then when I get on here I end up posting this really long post and it is mostly me venting and I feel like it make me sound ungrateful.

I am not ungrateful by any means. I use this blog to vent, to share my hopes, share my dreams, to share my life. Though I don't know if my blog will help anyone or even anyone really reads them but they help me. My posts may not make any sense, that is because I just write what is on my mind and post. I hardly ever edit them. Anyway if you do read them thank you.

I haven't posted in a while about my loss. Don't ever think that I never think about my daughter. I think of her everyday. I just have nothing to write about when it comes to her. Does that make me horrible? I will say that this past May marked 4 years. FOUR. FUCKING. YEARS. I should have a four year old running around.

Now onto my vent.

 I can speak until I am blue in the face, but when I am blue in the face things still don't get done, or are as I want them to be. So why do I even bother? Because I deserve to have things the way I WANT THEM. I sound liker a petulant child but it's the truth. I have come so far in my 30 years. I was supposed to die when I was 14. Took a knife right to my wrists. Only had superficial cuts and the scars have all faded, although there are still some. But my point is. My life was hard. REALLY HARD. Yeah everyone at one point in their life says that, but for me, it was and is the truth. I pretty much raised myself and my siblings. Other things were going on too. Maybe one day when I finish one of my books and get published you'll know.

Then I met him and things felt...right. He told me I wouldn't have to worry. Told me he'd take care of me.

So why do I sit here blue in the face? Because I am keeping my mouth shut. Nothing has changed nor with it ever. I sit here blue in the face because.... I. LOVE. HIM.

No really much of a vent after all. Oh well.

Are You My Daddy???

There is so many things I want to say. So many things I need to say. I don't even know how to begin to organize my thoughts to be able to say all I need to without hurting anyone's feelings.

The number one thing is:

I will be turning 30 next week. For 30 years I have not known who my father is. For 30 years I have made up stories for myself to explain to my self why I don't know who he is. He  moved to German shortly after I was born and dies in a riot that happened when the Berlin Wall was knocked down. IDK if there was a riot but I made up one in my head. He was a prince in some far off country and didn't know I existed. He was in jail for killing someone who tried to kidnap me. Yeah I know these are far fetched but when I was young everything I thought "who is my dad?", or "where is my father?" I'd tell myself this and that would answer my inquiry for a little while. When I would actually ask my mom she say it was this guy but then she'd change the story and finally ended with saying she didn't remember. How could you not remember a person that you were intimate with. What are you hiding. Then a family member got crazy and started saying some crazy shit about my grandfather being my dad. HE IS NOT THE KIND OF GUY THAT WOULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT. And even if he did he was an amazing man and I didn't want for anything when I was in his care. Then when I was 15 she said that this other guy was my dad. IDK if she was just trying to shut me up but I knew deep down this guy and his family were not a part of me. Trifling ass people they were. Conniving con-artist. Lower than low. They were...trash. I went through the motions but slowly we grew apart. He declined a DNA test say he knew I was his daughter. IMO most mixed people look very similar when they are young.  That is probably why I felt that his daughter and me looked a like. :-/ Maybe she didn't want to hurt my feelings. But now after 30 years. I REALLY need to know. Since 2009 I have been wanting and needing to tell my "father"about his granddaughter, my daughter Shealyn. He needs to know she existed and I need to tell him she existed. I think that after 30 years, I am a big girl now and can take whatever the truth is. For some reason my family has always kept things form me. I guess they though I was crazy. I see it as being a passionate caring person. If you tell me something and I don't agree with it I will speak my mind. Most of the times when I went' off on them they would come at me with some off the wall shit and expect me not to have a reaction to it. Well like a good friend on mine has said, "it's not what you say it's how you say it."

I just want to know the truth. I just want to know who my father is. I have names..a few names in fact. My issue kind of my main issues if you tell me my entire life that this one guys is my father why all of a sudden would you change that? I don't get it. I really don't. I will probably go on the rest of my life not knowing and will probably die not knowing and that my friends...fucking sucks.

Biting My Tongue

There is so much I want to say.

So much I need to say.

I know all the anxiety I am getting has a lot to do with all of the crap I am holding in. I don't even know why I am feeling this way. All I know is that I am just...miserable. And the anxiety just make this fifty million times worse. How, when did I become so bitter? It's border line hatred. Not toward anyone in particular, not to anything in particular. I really don't like that way I am feeling.

I don't know I hope what ever is going on with me ends soon, because i am tired of feeling this way.

Laters,