I think of you while the sun is rising still baffled how i woke up in your arms,
I didn't know that a full moon could shake me...
or a glimpse of your heart might just break me,
as I lose sleep it is so surprising,
for a moment you were the calm in my storm.
I know it hasn't been a long time,
but the days grow short and you're still on my mind,
the wind is getting colder like my soul,
another birthday in October,
God knows how I lived to see this day...
It's hard to know the right thing to say,
I wasn't prepared to ever feel this way,
like maybe I could try one more time ...
So if I misread the place of your heart,
your intentions twisted from the sparked start,
who knows maybe it was just the fire and gasoline...
To trust in my heart has always leftme so broken,
but somehow between the words unspoken,
maybe your heart's been bruised as much as mine...
So goodnight baby I don't mean maybe,
when I say I think you're soul is solid gold,
hug your babies in the coldest weather,
your love for them is all you're guaranteed forever,
and the comfort that you can always count on change...
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
A Second Glance
I didn’t give a second glance,
The first time you flashed that smile,
Completely unbeknownst to me,
I would only be immune for awhile,
Your eyes that squint and sparkle through,
So seductive and so green,
Would slowly start to chip away the ice,
From every past what might have been,
My heart is safe I tell myself,
The ice too solid and too thick,
The walls I've built are very high,
and the mortar has dried,
Over every tortured brick.
I thought I’d use that picket fence,
and some kerosene,
To light the bed of my funeral pyre,
the devil would dance upon the coals,
Of this soured soul He does desire,
It was just as simple as you being who you are,
Every wrinkle and imperfection,
My nails begin to claw the rocks I've stacked,
To stave out all affection
I still have questions in my core,
If I could love a soul so bright as yours,
I have so many broken pieces,rusted nails and shuttered doors.
Thank you for the light you have left,
in this moonless darkened space,
and if it never lasts beyond today,
I will carry close thememory,
Of ours and the childrens’ laughter,
Which echo through this empty space
The first time you flashed that smile,
Completely unbeknownst to me,
I would only be immune for awhile,
Your eyes that squint and sparkle through,
So seductive and so green,
Would slowly start to chip away the ice,
From every past what might have been,
My heart is safe I tell myself,
The ice too solid and too thick,
The walls I've built are very high,
and the mortar has dried,
Over every tortured brick.
I thought I’d use that picket fence,
and some kerosene,
To light the bed of my funeral pyre,
the devil would dance upon the coals,
Of this soured soul He does desire,
It was just as simple as you being who you are,
Every wrinkle and imperfection,
My nails begin to claw the rocks I've stacked,
To stave out all affection
I still have questions in my core,
If I could love a soul so bright as yours,
I have so many broken pieces,rusted nails and shuttered doors.
Thank you for the light you have left,
in this moonless darkened space,
and if it never lasts beyond today,
I will carry close thememory,
Of ours and the childrens’ laughter,
Which echo through this empty space
I'll just write your name with A blade on my skin,
It's the only metaphor fitting this sickness within,
My touch scars like an acid on soft perfect skin,
My presence will poison your soul from within,
I walk with the demons I crawl with the Flies,
I can't be your Savior my beauty is lies,
I will never hold hands with an angel you see,
I can't fight the demon if the demon is me.
It's the only metaphor fitting this sickness within,
My touch scars like an acid on soft perfect skin,
My presence will poison your soul from within,
I walk with the demons I crawl with the Flies,
I can't be your Savior my beauty is lies,
I will never hold hands with an angel you see,
I can't fight the demon if the demon is me.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Death and Her Kiss (Failed Suicide)
You may know the sensation when you swallow a pill,
Maybe two more, perhaps, another one still?
I have choked on the plastic of twenty, two hundred and more,
Before I knew, on my knees, surrounded, empty bottles on the floor,
You have heard the sound of sirens, seen the flash of the lights,
Maybe once, maybe twice, heard them dozens of nights,
The sound pales to fear as the gurney’s seatbelt goes click,
The “do you know who you are, where you are?” tell me this!
A tube forced down your throat as you cry but can’t make a sound?
The taste of your stolen escape, vomit putrid on your tongue,
The chalk of the charcoal, black like my soul and the sun.
You may know the crisp smell of clean, freshly starched sheets,
How about the echoes, the white walls, felt the ache in the lost's shrieks?
The thud of your heartbeat as you pace through the hall,
The first time you understand how far an angel can fall?
I know firsthand, the shame and the scars, inexplicable desire,
Helplessly self destruct, burn it down, be consumed in the fire.
Perhaps you’ve stood near the edge of a few dirty thoughts,
The confusion, dissociation, you and your reflection aren’t one?
These memories drift through my mind on nights such as this,
Maybe two more, perhaps, another one still?
I have choked on the plastic of twenty, two hundred and more,
Before I knew, on my knees, surrounded, empty bottles on the floor,
You have heard the sound of sirens, seen the flash of the lights,
Maybe once, maybe twice, heard them dozens of nights,
The sound pales to fear as the gurney’s seatbelt goes click,
The “do you know who you are, where you are?” tell me this!
Do you know what it’s like to be held to the ground?
A tube forced down your throat as you cry but can’t make a sound?
The taste of your stolen escape, vomit putrid on your tongue,
The chalk of the charcoal, black like my soul and the sun.
You may know the crisp smell of clean, freshly starched sheets,
How about the echoes, the white walls, felt the ache in the lost's shrieks?
The thud of your heartbeat as you pace through the hall,
The first time you understand how far an angel can fall?
I know firsthand, the shame and the scars, inexplicable desire,
Helplessly self destruct, burn it down, be consumed in the fire.
The tight rope of ambivalence, the desperation, the why’s,
Begged my soul to be free of the pain, body covered in flies.
Perhaps you’ve stood near the edge of a few dirty thoughts,
Have you recited your blessings while choosing your plot?
The confusion, dissociation, you and your reflection aren’t one?
Have you awoken, so fucking angry you did not use a gun?
These memories drift through my mind on nights such as this,
My affair with that sweet Temptress, Death and Her kiss.
Megan Jean Forrest. (Friday November 13, 2015: edited 2/25/2024
Monday, April 13, 2015
Today I regroup...
Today I regroup….
Day 4,356 of my journey out of hell…
Most people think of spring and the equinox as a time of renewal, balance, hope, and of new beginnings, new life. I think of storms, powerful, destructive, frightening, storms. They hit every year at this time, and I am more prepared for some than for others, and some blow by with only a drizzle. . I have felt it brewing for awhile, the first winds began coming in during the last months of this winter. It appeared I had all the loose ends tied down, and was ready… it appeared. When it hit, it was worse than I thought it would be, and had I known at the time, it was only a glimpse into what was coming next, as the hurricane hit this past weekend.
The force of the gale hit me and knocked me, and I am sure everyone in the near vicinity (sorry family), off our feet for a moment. I am still reeling from it, wondering how a weathered sailor such as I, could handle the seas more along the lines of Gilligan (or more like Ginger, pa-the-tic). I hope beyond hope that the damage is covered under the family policy. Figuratively, for those can’t quite keep up with my tongue. (If that is you, don’t worry, my mouth and tongue often run too fast for me to keep up as well, so you aren’t alone.) While I have survived tougher storms, the after effect of any storm has a much larger potential for damage, however, due to the passengers who count on me to keep them safe. I am lucky to have some very supportive buoys to help weather the storm, and to help keep everyone from knowing how truly scary the storm can be. I think, however, that it shook us all to the core a bit, as I know my knees are still a bit wobbly.
But today I regroup. I thank God… (or Allah, or the Universe, or Science, whatever you shmucks who have a problem with spirituality or religion or whatever anyone chooses to believe. My Jesus wears a tuxedo T-shirt and eats lunch with Buddha. Fuck off,)… that I can still be shaken to my core, and come out the other side, to see the new life of Spring. There have been times I was not so certain I would make it, so that is why I talk about it, whether I decide to paint it in metaphor, or choose to express it in cold hard black and white… its depression. It is not easy to talk about, and I can tell you all of my blessings, of all that I am grateful for, and all of the things that truly fill me with joy and life… but when it grips you with white knuckles and does not let go while you hold on for dear life, (literally, at times in the past, again for those of you still trying to figure out the first slip of the tongue,) I can’t explain to you what happens to those things, except that sometimes they fade from your memory like temporary amnesia, or a really good dream you can’t quite remember… you know what happened but you just can’t quite recall exactly what it was about.
So to be able to be shaken to my core, while frightening, is also liberating. On the other side of the storm, while rather embarrassing because you know when the storm hits you never have your hair done and are wandering around in your nightie like you are doing the walk of shame, I also get to remember that I am strong. That I don’t have to go down with the vessel, that I am not going to break because I am not made of glass. That because I have weathered this, that I can help others weather it too. Today someone told me, it would be cool to be a nurse, to do what you do, to help change someone’s life, or even someone’s day. All I did was talk to them. I didn’t give them a shot of morphine, or even a band-aid. I gave them my time, my ear, my empathy (not sympathy) and I helped give them tools to help them guide themselves through their storm. What I have learned… in school and by sailing through my own storms, allows me to use my experience to offer some light in the dark, in times of depression, or just in times of uncertainty. There isn’t a dollar amount in the world to be placed on the feeling of honor to be recognized with a statement such as that.
It is an honor to be a nurse, one with her own scars, one who can help others heal theirs, both internal and external. It is an honor to be let into lives, to be trusted to see into the core of another human being who was, sometimes moments before, a stranger. I have seen into the hearts of people, both literally and figuratively. It is a privilege to be let into an operating room to see someone have a bypass, and them to trust you with their dignity not being sure whether they will live or die. It is just as big of an honor to have someone let me into their home, and into the lives of their family, and to entrust me to be benevolent, and to bare their soul in hopes that I can at least provide some insight, or some guidance, and (sometimes to my surprise as well), I have always been able to come through for them somehow. Some days that is only being a hand to hold with silent lips, but some days, that is all someone needs.
It is not easy, depression, but I will not be its victim. It will not take me down without a fight, and I am not done fighting. I am not done with the privilege and honor of raising two beautiful children, of trying to be a good daughter and sister, and I am not done being a nurse, who is everything from the fly on the wall listening and observing, to the person who may one day literally be holding your body together. So I am thankful for the opportunity to be shaken to my core, because for some I have been the only solid thing to hold onto in a moment where the world was collapsing around them, because I have been on both sides of the storm, and there would be no beauty without both sides.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Today I Speak.
You know, as I have spent much time praying for all my friends right now who are hurting I feel that its time to say the things we all refuse to address. We are losing our friends, our brothers, our sisters, our parents, our children... To tragedy that has a very real but very preventable consequences. Addiction, alcoholism, depression, and mental illness. We choose to sweep these topics under the rug because while we're out smiling laughing drinking and having fun with the very same family members and friends, we do not go home with them to see the real consequences of our fun nights out and how the fun stops for many many people as soon as the lights go out and they are alone again. Sometimes we know they have a problem, yet instead of bringing it into the light we choose to ignore it and go have another drink with them. We ask them how they are but never stop to really listen to their answer. We expect them to pull themselves out of it, to toughen up, and tell them its really not that bad. I am here to tell you it really is that bad. It is not a matter of self pity and poor choices, although those do factor in at some point. But to save lives, the lives of the people we care so much about, yet really never take the time to truly check in with, to see if they really are okay, we have to ignore our bias and our judgment on their poor choices because when it gets to the end it is no longer choice for them no matter what their issue is. This is not a problem of an individual, it is a problem of the society that begins to normalize the behaviors that lead to such tragic consequences for some of our loved ones. Not everyone who suffers depression will die, not everyone who gets drunk on the weekends will be an alcoholic, not everyone who popped a pill or chooses to use an illegal substance will be an addict. But for those of us who do not respond the same way to drugs and alcohol and depression and mental illness as the average Joe, they fight themselves every day for their lives and the lives of those they love. I'm tired of watching my friends die and get sick and truly suffer. We can't save everyone, but we are all guilty of looking the other way and hoping that they will be ok the next day. We have to take accountability for our part in their own self destruction and know when to put the party on hold, and really rip open the wounds that are being covered up with drugs and alcohol and denial and pain so that we can all heal together. There is no easy solution. It is a long hard road. I know because I walk that path too. My own mental illness and struggles with covering up my pain have left me in some moments where I didn't know if I would live to see the next day and truly hoped I would not live to feel more pain and hopelessness. I am lucky because I found some amazing support from people I never expected to reach out and be here for me. I am living with joy I never thought possible, because even in my previous best days there was still that emptiness that consumed everything. Everyday I fight with an army of friends and family behind me who know me well enough to know when it's time to stop the party and check in, really check in with how each of us are doing and when someone is not doing well, we go to any lengths to ensure that each one of us wakes up the next day. We don't have to do it alone, but we can no longer look at this as someone else's problem. It is all of our problem, and together we are the solution.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Today I Fight
Its hard to write, to organize the thoughts, to find the energy after another day of... fighting. The age old tale of good vs evil, of light vs dark,and on and on and on... the wearisome part is wondering how you can ever come up with a strategy to beat your enemy when the enemy is you? How does one convince themselves that the good part deserves to win, that we deserve to spend even a day feeling... good enough. Good enough and not guilty for feeling that way. Good enough and not afraid that it is just another peak and the valley is going to come oh so soon, and you never really know how deep it will get at the bottom. Or wondering once you get to the bottom if you will finally let the bad part win, the part that tries its damndest, even on the most wonderful days, to convince you that the good part doesn't really exist, that it is all just a part of you that died with your childhood, and exists now only to convince yourself not to give up, to keep fighting... that there is an end in sight. That someday I will look back at my plaque of bravery, and medal of honor, and say, "That was some war." Then I will drink my scotch by the fireplace, smile at the pictures of my kids, now off in college, and climb into bed next to my snoring husband and not think about the dark side again until I choose to entertain the thought.
But the truth is I don't think that day will ever come. I am already tired from tomorrow, because I know it will be another long battle, of trying my damndest to make sure my children cannot see who I fight. I will revel in the smiles that are real, and muster up the ones that simply serve to hide the bad parts. The ones that remind people that I also am smart, and funny, and love my children with my whole soul. I will get up, and hope that it is one of the good days, where I truly believe there is some good inside me worth fighting for, but to be honest at this moment, already tired from tomorrow's fight, it is so much easier to believe that the good part will never drive the darkness away. After all, its been around for so long I can't even remember where it came from, or why it came, or why it won't leave. And the most frightening thought... that I might miss it if it went away because I am afraid I won't know how to live a normal life after fighting for so long. I am not ready to surrender, but I am so tired of fighting.
But the truth is I don't think that day will ever come. I am already tired from tomorrow, because I know it will be another long battle, of trying my damndest to make sure my children cannot see who I fight. I will revel in the smiles that are real, and muster up the ones that simply serve to hide the bad parts. The ones that remind people that I also am smart, and funny, and love my children with my whole soul. I will get up, and hope that it is one of the good days, where I truly believe there is some good inside me worth fighting for, but to be honest at this moment, already tired from tomorrow's fight, it is so much easier to believe that the good part will never drive the darkness away. After all, its been around for so long I can't even remember where it came from, or why it came, or why it won't leave. And the most frightening thought... that I might miss it if it went away because I am afraid I won't know how to live a normal life after fighting for so long. I am not ready to surrender, but I am so tired of fighting.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
The Eye
As usual I do not have the words or even the vaguest idea of how to express what has been going on in my head... I could not even point you in the direction where I am going with this, sitting here writing down whatever chooses to escape out of my id and is not clotheslined by my superego. All I know is that the urge to write began to brew and boil and we all know that when I get started with the words and the thoughts that we are only one tangent away from watching that van pull up with the men in their little white coats. Such is the dilemma of being borderline... well borderline me.
Its unbelievable the avalanche of change that has been occurring in my life... here I thought I had was going to settle down in this little valley with my cute little blended family and put bandaids on patients at the clinic for the rest of my life (ok I threw up a little bit too), and had convinced myself that I was happy to travel down the path of least resistance. Until this point you could say my life, as normal as I had desired to be, had never been normal or easy, and very little time after I hit my teenage years have I spent time on the direct route going from point A to B to find my bliss. Perhaps someone let me get drunk and drive the Delorian from Back to the Future with the number of giant leaps backward that I have taken, and then handed me a hover board and expected me to ride that forward over water. Fortunately its easy to choose out of a lineup the person responsible for the destinations of this blasphemer, and that would be me. So settling down, creating the nuclear family, and just being happy with the middle... I had convinced myself that my happiness was not in fact hidden in the farthest corners of the world, but actually had been right here in quiet little Glenwood Springs. And then God, the comedian that He is, said, look at her, all cute with her picket fence and cheap beer dreams. She thinks she's gonna... settle. Jesus, hold my beer and watch this.(And save your existential dilemmas, I have already referenced Christianity and Freud, the former which I suspect and the latter of which I am positive, did most of their significant writings whilst going up and down on cocaine binges..."God loves you, but you are going to burn in hell if you wear mixed fabric!"... sounds unstable to me. Both however, make some excellent points).
So, a bit over a year later, I sit here in the eye of the storm, contemplating where I need to go to find my bliss. I have happiness... but I lack contentment. No one, however, has done great things being driven by contenment. I can feel the electricity building up, getting ready to bring in something new. As dangerous as curiosity can be, I am ready to climb into the next rabbit hole, because it may be getting stranger, but it takes a lot to surprise me and I can't wait to find out what it is.
Its unbelievable the avalanche of change that has been occurring in my life... here I thought I had was going to settle down in this little valley with my cute little blended family and put bandaids on patients at the clinic for the rest of my life (ok I threw up a little bit too), and had convinced myself that I was happy to travel down the path of least resistance. Until this point you could say my life, as normal as I had desired to be, had never been normal or easy, and very little time after I hit my teenage years have I spent time on the direct route going from point A to B to find my bliss. Perhaps someone let me get drunk and drive the Delorian from Back to the Future with the number of giant leaps backward that I have taken, and then handed me a hover board and expected me to ride that forward over water. Fortunately its easy to choose out of a lineup the person responsible for the destinations of this blasphemer, and that would be me. So settling down, creating the nuclear family, and just being happy with the middle... I had convinced myself that my happiness was not in fact hidden in the farthest corners of the world, but actually had been right here in quiet little Glenwood Springs. And then God, the comedian that He is, said, look at her, all cute with her picket fence and cheap beer dreams. She thinks she's gonna... settle. Jesus, hold my beer and watch this.(And save your existential dilemmas, I have already referenced Christianity and Freud, the former which I suspect and the latter of which I am positive, did most of their significant writings whilst going up and down on cocaine binges..."God loves you, but you are going to burn in hell if you wear mixed fabric!"... sounds unstable to me. Both however, make some excellent points).
So, a bit over a year later, I sit here in the eye of the storm, contemplating where I need to go to find my bliss. I have happiness... but I lack contentment. No one, however, has done great things being driven by contenment. I can feel the electricity building up, getting ready to bring in something new. As dangerous as curiosity can be, I am ready to climb into the next rabbit hole, because it may be getting stranger, but it takes a lot to surprise me and I can't wait to find out what it is.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Today I Breathe...
So- Its been a very long time since I actually wrote directly to- myself. I have to write. I write only when my heart and soul have been pushed and pulled so hard that one more tug and I would crumble into a sobbing, snot soaked pile on the floor, barely resembling the strong woman that I know I am. (Besides, when you are already covered in breastmilk and spit up, adding snot to the picture is just gross.)
My son was born! It was an amazing day- filled with laughter, hope, and unbelievable pain. Pain in my body, but also in my heart. The man who promised me he would be by my side (forever, but we will just concentrate on the delivery) shows up with his mother, a woman whom I love, but alas a woman who never ever gave me a chance and determined she hated me before she ever met me in person (thank you, facebook). A woman who's last spoken words to a then pregnant me were "You might as well sign over custody of your child now because I am going to take it from you anyway." While I am not sure what world she was living in where she thought this might be possible, it was still, probably the most cruel thing you can say to someone who's one true purpose in life was to be a mother. To someone driving back after being so heartbroken and disappointed that she took her child and left the state because it was either that or continue to be the above mentioned sobbing pile of snot, minus the breast milk, and to say that while I was on my way back home, or on my way back to house that used to be home, after finding just enough healing in my heart to attempt to face the broken dream that was at this time my life. I digress...
He brought HER into my labor room, and she walks directly passed me, does not even say hello to me, or ask how I, the woman carrying her unborn grandson, was doing. She barely acknowledges anyone in the room there to support me, and proceeds to glare at me and shake her head, as if SHE has a right to be there and I- the one in labor whom GOD gave the duty to bring this child into the world, had no right to be there. The entire mood of the room changed, so much so that the midwives and nurses commented how they could not believe that kind of behavior had just occurred. Anyhow, it was not HER anger and hatred that bothered me, over the last two years or more I had learned to look passed it and love her anyway, to try and be as kind and loving as possible as this woman was the mother of the love of my life, and I was not going to come between them. It was him. He, who knew she hated me, who knew she was not there to support me, who knew that in my last labor took THREE days and I was so stressed out that my daughter's heart had nearly stopped and she had to be vaccuumed out of my body so she did not die. He KNEW all of these things, yet he brought her, with her self-righteous belief that she had a right to be there during MY labor. The fact that after all we had been through, after being completely ignored by him throughout my pregnancy despite giving him every opportunity to be a part of his son's life even before birth, telling him the date and time of every OB appointment, and having him not show up time and time again, even to the appointment revealing that our son was indeed our son and not a daughter (I told him it was a boy from day 1), that he would bring someone filled with venom toward me to my labor, and to think that it would be ok, that I would just shut up and allow this woman to bore holes into my body with her eyes for 16 hours until my son was born. I am sorry, but I am not a doormat, and I would not be walked on as she was determined to walk on me. This was to be a day filled with joy, and love, and support from the people who cared about me. The joy and love was to extend to him as well, but he refused to believe it, because I guess he could not believe after all he put me through, that my friends and I could still love and support him. So I had the nurse ask her to leave. You might think this is cowardice, but this was MY labor day. I was in charge of keeping calm so OUR son's heart did not almost stop because my body succumbed to stress, and I was not going to allow her to take that from me in any way. And it PISSED them off, so much so that I had to BEG him to come back into the delivery room, and he did not do so until I was in full on SCREAMING labor. Another thing that baffled me as to why he might have brought her- she is a strong woman who would never let her grief show or stop her from supporting her son- a quality in her, among many qualities, that I admire... but she herself had a still born, and do not quote me but I believe the last time she was in a labor room was her own, and I cannot imagine what unbelievable soul crushing painful memories that must have brought back for her, when I had spoken to her when she was by my side at one of the early ER appointments and I had said I know this baby stuff is difficult for you, and she had nodded in agreement. I cannot believe her own son would be so thoughtless as to choose her for his support... perhaps they discussed it, and perhaps she had needed to be there in some way to help her heal... and as I said before, despite her hatred for me, I loved and still love this woman, I looked up to her, and I would have let her stay if she would have simply smiled at me and said hello Megan, how are you and my grandson. I would have loved to include her in my day of joy, which the rest of the day proceeded as minus the text messages begging him to not miss his son's birth and to come back into the labor room (which he did with Chad- THANK YOU CHAD FOR BEING THERE FOR HIM, and for me.) If she would have just made an effort to be part of the rose and not the thorn, she would have been a welcome part of that day. I won't even get into the next day where she walked into my labor room less than 12 hours after I gave birth and told me that I had no choice of her being there. I did however, and the only reason I did not make her leave MY hospital room was because I would not make a scene in front of the two precious babies that I loved like my own and hadn't seen in 9 months because I was not allowed to. I would not make her leave and possibly ruin any chance for my daughter to again establish a relationship with the children and their father that she loves so much since she was three years old, and to this day still refers to as her brother and sister, and to him as her "daddy" even though she understands that "daddy" isn't coming home. These were reasons I did not assert myself and show her that I did have a choice, but the most important reason is that our son deserves to know the love of his grandmother. This strong woman, while for some reason choosing me to be on the wrong side of her revolver, is a wonderful grandmother, and loves her family to the point that if you are on the wrong side of her revolver, you better watch out. My son has a right to the love of all of his family, regardless of their feelings for me, and my need to be right far pales to my son's right to be loved. So I shut my mouth, allowed her disrespect, and let her pick up our son, because a mother never puts herself before her child. And I am a mother.
I recently discovered a pod cast in which my ex was interviewed about our relationship, and in which he revealed some moments that were very private, that he has insisted this entire time that we should keep this between ourselves and to not involve the outside. I guess I did not realize how much he must have been getting dirty looks or something, and how much he indeed cares about what people think about him despite how he professes he does not, because that is the only reason I can imagine that he would need to throw the mother of his child under the bus to make me look like an awful person and to make him look justified for leaving me. (I do care to a good extent what people think, but I write for catharsis, not for public opinion.)I am not angry that he left me, because if he wasn't happy then he should not have been with me. I am angry because he had to have known that there was a chance he would walk away from me, because in less than four weeks after making love to me with the intention of creating a life, a life that deserves the love of both parents, all siblings, and is not broken, he was gone. Less than four weeks... and yes we stopped trying for a child after that time, because with my health taking the unknown road, we decided that I should get better first. You do not promise someone their dreams, and create an innocent life knowing that you might not want to be with the person who would carry this life. You just don't do that to someone... unless you are trying to make yourself feel better. He has given me a million reasons why he left... one being an ugly text message I sent him, which is in fact the reason he is now publicly choosing to display... but a hormonal fueled text message is not something you throw away an entire relationship over, so he must have known that things were not solid. While I knew we were having our issues, I whole heartedly believed in every single word he breathed, in every kiss, in every action up until the day he left, that told me he would not walk away, that he was in this for the long haul. I believed that our issues were that of any family undergoing major stress, major changes. I had just graduated, and began a new job, and while some people may think that I was on top of the world, those changes were positive, but majorly stressful. I was now not a student, I was one of the working class, learning how to balance a budget, to take care of a family, to save enough money to give not only one child but now three children a Christmas they would remember in their new home with their new family. We were learning how to combine two seperate families into one... and that is a tough thing to do... to be under one roof that is not a temporary fix as it was before while he was looking for another place. We were both learning what it was like to be parents to these three kids, and they were learning what it was like to have to share the love with another sibling, and how to gain the love and discipline of another parent. I guess he never thought it would be that difficult... but I thought it was all part of the settling in, and didn't expect things to go smoothly at first. I guess I never really let on how petrified I really was about all my health issues either... but to have half of my body go numb periodically was frightening, especially in light of me being the only parent my daughter can rely on. The thought of something happening to me that would render me unable to take care of my baby, and to possibly not have more babies, was the scariest thing I have ever faced in my life. I remember crying to him about it one night and he admitted how frightened he was too. The only thing that got me through it, the MRI's, the lumbar puncture, the bed rest and the massive pain after the LP leaked, was knowing that he was there, and that he told me that he would always be there, and knowing that if anything ever happened to my daughter, he would take care of her, because he was now her daddy. I had faith in this man, my hero, who I was so proud of, who worked his ass off for us, at work and at home, I knew he would be there. But I really didn't know, because he never told me that he was falling out of love with me... I know he didn't quite look at me the way he used to... which is why for my birthday and christmas I asked him to give me... him... just a night out with him so we could forget that we were employees, and parents, and people with all this responsibility, and remember that we were just two people who were in love... the love that I still felt and thought he felt too... cause I mean, you don't tell someone that you want to create a life with someone if you don't love them with a forever kind of love, do you? I didn't think so. I trusted his words, and his love, for the first time in my life I truly trusted, and it was a mistake. Sometimes I feel foolish for that mistake, but then I say, no. I will not feel foolish, because I would rather be the person who gave everything to someone, including their body to create a life, and who's heart was broken by that person, than to be someone who never believed that that kind of love could exist. I still believe that love is out there, its just hard, even to this day, to believe it wasn't him.
I guess it is harder, holding our son, to let it all go. To look back at all the cruel things he has done to me, the silence being the worst... to all the broken promises to me, and at the broken promises to our son after I told him not to promise me anything else, and that if he wanted to make promises, to promise our unborn son... (after all, she, the new girlfriend, will never be more than a broken promise to our son, and he knows what that means), even with all of this, to not want to make our family whole again. I know that I deserve someone who has not broken me, and who would not walk away, but when a person is the least deserving of your love, isn't that the time when you should love them the most? I think so, but he does not need my love, and I can accept that. I do accept that... but it doesn't mean that the mother in me, and the dreamer in me, does not picture an alternate reality where he comes home, and I hear the kids laughing, or playing, or fighting in the background, and he is there to share the smiles of our baby boy, and he can hear the cooing, and the crying, and the sound of our son saying thank you in his baby language... thank you mom and dad for loving me, and for being there for me... because the hardest part of this all is to have imagined all these precious baby moments happening and having someone who loves this child as much as I do- is wanting to share them with someone... with the person who looked at me and said "I love you- I want to give you a baby and I want you to know what it is like to be supported during your pregnancy and to bring a baby into an intact home- I love you and you deserve to know what that feels like". The hardest part is not being able to share that with him.
So no, he should have walked away when I told him that not having a baby would be a dealbreaker... he should have walked away when I told him that I was wrong and loved him with or without a child and marriage and all my dreams, because having someone to love, and having our three (four with his oldest) children, was more of my dream than I imagined I could have, and his love was enough for me to still have the forever love without the ring and the baby carriage... he should have walked away then... instead of coming to me a week later and telling me the words that changed our lives forever... I want to create a life with you. Because I sit here, day after day, month after month, feeling every kick of our unborn son, and hearing his words, and now looking at our son, whom I would never ever take back having because he is meant to be here, and meant to be our son, and his smiles and cries, and coos and sweet baby smell make my life worth living, but I wonder what it would have been like if he had just stayed, and known what it was like to be with a woman whom had just had her dreams come true because of him...
Our son has been on the outside world for 48 days... and has only seen his father on three of them. A man who said he would stand by me through the pregnancy and to raise a child even after he left me... has not been there for anything but his first breath... and it was a fight to get him to be there for that... and no matter what I do... no matter how many pictures I send, no matter if I say I will leave him the baby for a couple hours ALONE so he can bond with our son and I won't even be there, I will just stay within a few minutes drive in case our son needs to eat or needs me... he has not had anything to do with our son. I just do not understand how he can turn off every feeling inside him and bury it God knows where (or in God knows who)... and not know his son, and not allow his son to know him... I just cannot comprehend how that can happen... it hurts me because it has to hurt him, and it does not hurt my son now, but someday it will hurt my son, and I do not want my son to be angry at his father ever.
I will survive, I am surviving,I am beginning to thrive... but some days like today I just breathe...
I want our son to know that no matter what mama said or texted or did wrong, and no matter what his father has done, or how his mother and his father hurt one another, I love Henry's father, even if I don't like him right now. ... and even if he has been cruel to me, and is not here to help or to know his son today, I still believe in him... I still believe that he will probably never come around enough to have the family I wanted, and he may never even allow himself to heal enough to be my friend... I don't even know if I am ready for that, although I will always try, but I still believe he will come around enough for our son to know his love, because no matter how imperfect, that love is huge, and my son deserves to know the love of his daddy. I want my son to know that his mother and father once had a love that neither of them imagined they could have and for awhile it was beautiful... Henry, my love, my son, my light, you were made out of love, and you are meant to be here. I love you my son. Love, your mama.
My son was born! It was an amazing day- filled with laughter, hope, and unbelievable pain. Pain in my body, but also in my heart. The man who promised me he would be by my side (forever, but we will just concentrate on the delivery) shows up with his mother, a woman whom I love, but alas a woman who never ever gave me a chance and determined she hated me before she ever met me in person (thank you, facebook). A woman who's last spoken words to a then pregnant me were "You might as well sign over custody of your child now because I am going to take it from you anyway." While I am not sure what world she was living in where she thought this might be possible, it was still, probably the most cruel thing you can say to someone who's one true purpose in life was to be a mother. To someone driving back after being so heartbroken and disappointed that she took her child and left the state because it was either that or continue to be the above mentioned sobbing pile of snot, minus the breast milk, and to say that while I was on my way back home, or on my way back to house that used to be home, after finding just enough healing in my heart to attempt to face the broken dream that was at this time my life. I digress...
He brought HER into my labor room, and she walks directly passed me, does not even say hello to me, or ask how I, the woman carrying her unborn grandson, was doing. She barely acknowledges anyone in the room there to support me, and proceeds to glare at me and shake her head, as if SHE has a right to be there and I- the one in labor whom GOD gave the duty to bring this child into the world, had no right to be there. The entire mood of the room changed, so much so that the midwives and nurses commented how they could not believe that kind of behavior had just occurred. Anyhow, it was not HER anger and hatred that bothered me, over the last two years or more I had learned to look passed it and love her anyway, to try and be as kind and loving as possible as this woman was the mother of the love of my life, and I was not going to come between them. It was him. He, who knew she hated me, who knew she was not there to support me, who knew that in my last labor took THREE days and I was so stressed out that my daughter's heart had nearly stopped and she had to be vaccuumed out of my body so she did not die. He KNEW all of these things, yet he brought her, with her self-righteous belief that she had a right to be there during MY labor. The fact that after all we had been through, after being completely ignored by him throughout my pregnancy despite giving him every opportunity to be a part of his son's life even before birth, telling him the date and time of every OB appointment, and having him not show up time and time again, even to the appointment revealing that our son was indeed our son and not a daughter (I told him it was a boy from day 1), that he would bring someone filled with venom toward me to my labor, and to think that it would be ok, that I would just shut up and allow this woman to bore holes into my body with her eyes for 16 hours until my son was born. I am sorry, but I am not a doormat, and I would not be walked on as she was determined to walk on me. This was to be a day filled with joy, and love, and support from the people who cared about me. The joy and love was to extend to him as well, but he refused to believe it, because I guess he could not believe after all he put me through, that my friends and I could still love and support him. So I had the nurse ask her to leave. You might think this is cowardice, but this was MY labor day. I was in charge of keeping calm so OUR son's heart did not almost stop because my body succumbed to stress, and I was not going to allow her to take that from me in any way. And it PISSED them off, so much so that I had to BEG him to come back into the delivery room, and he did not do so until I was in full on SCREAMING labor. Another thing that baffled me as to why he might have brought her- she is a strong woman who would never let her grief show or stop her from supporting her son- a quality in her, among many qualities, that I admire... but she herself had a still born, and do not quote me but I believe the last time she was in a labor room was her own, and I cannot imagine what unbelievable soul crushing painful memories that must have brought back for her, when I had spoken to her when she was by my side at one of the early ER appointments and I had said I know this baby stuff is difficult for you, and she had nodded in agreement. I cannot believe her own son would be so thoughtless as to choose her for his support... perhaps they discussed it, and perhaps she had needed to be there in some way to help her heal... and as I said before, despite her hatred for me, I loved and still love this woman, I looked up to her, and I would have let her stay if she would have simply smiled at me and said hello Megan, how are you and my grandson. I would have loved to include her in my day of joy, which the rest of the day proceeded as minus the text messages begging him to not miss his son's birth and to come back into the labor room (which he did with Chad- THANK YOU CHAD FOR BEING THERE FOR HIM, and for me.) If she would have just made an effort to be part of the rose and not the thorn, she would have been a welcome part of that day. I won't even get into the next day where she walked into my labor room less than 12 hours after I gave birth and told me that I had no choice of her being there. I did however, and the only reason I did not make her leave MY hospital room was because I would not make a scene in front of the two precious babies that I loved like my own and hadn't seen in 9 months because I was not allowed to. I would not make her leave and possibly ruin any chance for my daughter to again establish a relationship with the children and their father that she loves so much since she was three years old, and to this day still refers to as her brother and sister, and to him as her "daddy" even though she understands that "daddy" isn't coming home. These were reasons I did not assert myself and show her that I did have a choice, but the most important reason is that our son deserves to know the love of his grandmother. This strong woman, while for some reason choosing me to be on the wrong side of her revolver, is a wonderful grandmother, and loves her family to the point that if you are on the wrong side of her revolver, you better watch out. My son has a right to the love of all of his family, regardless of their feelings for me, and my need to be right far pales to my son's right to be loved. So I shut my mouth, allowed her disrespect, and let her pick up our son, because a mother never puts herself before her child. And I am a mother.
I recently discovered a pod cast in which my ex was interviewed about our relationship, and in which he revealed some moments that were very private, that he has insisted this entire time that we should keep this between ourselves and to not involve the outside. I guess I did not realize how much he must have been getting dirty looks or something, and how much he indeed cares about what people think about him despite how he professes he does not, because that is the only reason I can imagine that he would need to throw the mother of his child under the bus to make me look like an awful person and to make him look justified for leaving me. (I do care to a good extent what people think, but I write for catharsis, not for public opinion.)I am not angry that he left me, because if he wasn't happy then he should not have been with me. I am angry because he had to have known that there was a chance he would walk away from me, because in less than four weeks after making love to me with the intention of creating a life, a life that deserves the love of both parents, all siblings, and is not broken, he was gone. Less than four weeks... and yes we stopped trying for a child after that time, because with my health taking the unknown road, we decided that I should get better first. You do not promise someone their dreams, and create an innocent life knowing that you might not want to be with the person who would carry this life. You just don't do that to someone... unless you are trying to make yourself feel better. He has given me a million reasons why he left... one being an ugly text message I sent him, which is in fact the reason he is now publicly choosing to display... but a hormonal fueled text message is not something you throw away an entire relationship over, so he must have known that things were not solid. While I knew we were having our issues, I whole heartedly believed in every single word he breathed, in every kiss, in every action up until the day he left, that told me he would not walk away, that he was in this for the long haul. I believed that our issues were that of any family undergoing major stress, major changes. I had just graduated, and began a new job, and while some people may think that I was on top of the world, those changes were positive, but majorly stressful. I was now not a student, I was one of the working class, learning how to balance a budget, to take care of a family, to save enough money to give not only one child but now three children a Christmas they would remember in their new home with their new family. We were learning how to combine two seperate families into one... and that is a tough thing to do... to be under one roof that is not a temporary fix as it was before while he was looking for another place. We were both learning what it was like to be parents to these three kids, and they were learning what it was like to have to share the love with another sibling, and how to gain the love and discipline of another parent. I guess he never thought it would be that difficult... but I thought it was all part of the settling in, and didn't expect things to go smoothly at first. I guess I never really let on how petrified I really was about all my health issues either... but to have half of my body go numb periodically was frightening, especially in light of me being the only parent my daughter can rely on. The thought of something happening to me that would render me unable to take care of my baby, and to possibly not have more babies, was the scariest thing I have ever faced in my life. I remember crying to him about it one night and he admitted how frightened he was too. The only thing that got me through it, the MRI's, the lumbar puncture, the bed rest and the massive pain after the LP leaked, was knowing that he was there, and that he told me that he would always be there, and knowing that if anything ever happened to my daughter, he would take care of her, because he was now her daddy. I had faith in this man, my hero, who I was so proud of, who worked his ass off for us, at work and at home, I knew he would be there. But I really didn't know, because he never told me that he was falling out of love with me... I know he didn't quite look at me the way he used to... which is why for my birthday and christmas I asked him to give me... him... just a night out with him so we could forget that we were employees, and parents, and people with all this responsibility, and remember that we were just two people who were in love... the love that I still felt and thought he felt too... cause I mean, you don't tell someone that you want to create a life with someone if you don't love them with a forever kind of love, do you? I didn't think so. I trusted his words, and his love, for the first time in my life I truly trusted, and it was a mistake. Sometimes I feel foolish for that mistake, but then I say, no. I will not feel foolish, because I would rather be the person who gave everything to someone, including their body to create a life, and who's heart was broken by that person, than to be someone who never believed that that kind of love could exist. I still believe that love is out there, its just hard, even to this day, to believe it wasn't him.
I guess it is harder, holding our son, to let it all go. To look back at all the cruel things he has done to me, the silence being the worst... to all the broken promises to me, and at the broken promises to our son after I told him not to promise me anything else, and that if he wanted to make promises, to promise our unborn son... (after all, she, the new girlfriend, will never be more than a broken promise to our son, and he knows what that means), even with all of this, to not want to make our family whole again. I know that I deserve someone who has not broken me, and who would not walk away, but when a person is the least deserving of your love, isn't that the time when you should love them the most? I think so, but he does not need my love, and I can accept that. I do accept that... but it doesn't mean that the mother in me, and the dreamer in me, does not picture an alternate reality where he comes home, and I hear the kids laughing, or playing, or fighting in the background, and he is there to share the smiles of our baby boy, and he can hear the cooing, and the crying, and the sound of our son saying thank you in his baby language... thank you mom and dad for loving me, and for being there for me... because the hardest part of this all is to have imagined all these precious baby moments happening and having someone who loves this child as much as I do- is wanting to share them with someone... with the person who looked at me and said "I love you- I want to give you a baby and I want you to know what it is like to be supported during your pregnancy and to bring a baby into an intact home- I love you and you deserve to know what that feels like". The hardest part is not being able to share that with him.
So no, he should have walked away when I told him that not having a baby would be a dealbreaker... he should have walked away when I told him that I was wrong and loved him with or without a child and marriage and all my dreams, because having someone to love, and having our three (four with his oldest) children, was more of my dream than I imagined I could have, and his love was enough for me to still have the forever love without the ring and the baby carriage... he should have walked away then... instead of coming to me a week later and telling me the words that changed our lives forever... I want to create a life with you. Because I sit here, day after day, month after month, feeling every kick of our unborn son, and hearing his words, and now looking at our son, whom I would never ever take back having because he is meant to be here, and meant to be our son, and his smiles and cries, and coos and sweet baby smell make my life worth living, but I wonder what it would have been like if he had just stayed, and known what it was like to be with a woman whom had just had her dreams come true because of him...
Our son has been on the outside world for 48 days... and has only seen his father on three of them. A man who said he would stand by me through the pregnancy and to raise a child even after he left me... has not been there for anything but his first breath... and it was a fight to get him to be there for that... and no matter what I do... no matter how many pictures I send, no matter if I say I will leave him the baby for a couple hours ALONE so he can bond with our son and I won't even be there, I will just stay within a few minutes drive in case our son needs to eat or needs me... he has not had anything to do with our son. I just do not understand how he can turn off every feeling inside him and bury it God knows where (or in God knows who)... and not know his son, and not allow his son to know him... I just cannot comprehend how that can happen... it hurts me because it has to hurt him, and it does not hurt my son now, but someday it will hurt my son, and I do not want my son to be angry at his father ever.
I will survive, I am surviving,I am beginning to thrive... but some days like today I just breathe...
I want our son to know that no matter what mama said or texted or did wrong, and no matter what his father has done, or how his mother and his father hurt one another, I love Henry's father, even if I don't like him right now. ... and even if he has been cruel to me, and is not here to help or to know his son today, I still believe in him... I still believe that he will probably never come around enough to have the family I wanted, and he may never even allow himself to heal enough to be my friend... I don't even know if I am ready for that, although I will always try, but I still believe he will come around enough for our son to know his love, because no matter how imperfect, that love is huge, and my son deserves to know the love of his daddy. I want my son to know that his mother and father once had a love that neither of them imagined they could have and for awhile it was beautiful... Henry, my love, my son, my light, you were made out of love, and you are meant to be here. I love you my son. Love, your mama.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
I found this written on a sheet of paper in a box I never unpacked when we got to the Glenwood house. Its funny to try to hold onto something so tightly and then read something that makes you remember how I had considered letting go so many times before.
I found this written on a piece of paper in a box I packed from Rifle and never unpacked in Glenwood. Its funny how I convinced myself I never wanted to let you go... when I had considered it so many times before I made the decision to stay and move in with you... but it was written about you, so I am sharing it.
May 21, 2011
Even if the earth just swallowed me whole,
I ‘d still have my soul,
So full of pain and the times that I tried,
And gave all I had just to tide someone over
So I wouldn’t ache
so alone and the break in my heart
Might have a chance to heal from the start
But it seems Im just so far away from the finish line
every time I commence to mend the breaks
The emptiness overtakes as I make more mistakes
And I lose all the ground I have gained
And the love that I’ve found
Gets so lost in the sound of my tears while I drown
dreaming away this nowhere town…
But its not as bad as the taste of the lies
or the silence that buys us
one more minute to waste
as I put off goodbye
Tell me just a few more,
lie that you’ll stay and everything is ok,
That I am not all alone
That I will always be home
in your arms…
I am so charmed by your smile,
It captured my attention,
Not to mention my lips and my hips,
In a pool at the tips of your fingers
While the memory of your touch just lingers like an echo
On my skin not enough to relieve but enough to give everything that I’ve got,
Is it enough, probably not
But I’ll still try
Give my soul til the earth swallows me whole
or stop telling you lies that I want to stay,
putting off my goodbye.
I found this written on a piece of paper in a box I packed from Rifle and never unpacked in Glenwood. Its funny how I convinced myself I never wanted to let you go... when I had considered it so many times before I made the decision to stay and move in with you... but it was written about you, so I am sharing it.
May 21, 2011
Even if the earth just swallowed me whole,
I ‘d still have my soul,
So full of pain and the times that I tried,
And gave all I had just to tide someone over
So I wouldn’t ache
so alone and the break in my heart
Might have a chance to heal from the start
But it seems Im just so far away from the finish line
every time I commence to mend the breaks
The emptiness overtakes as I make more mistakes
And I lose all the ground I have gained
And the love that I’ve found
Gets so lost in the sound of my tears while I drown
dreaming away this nowhere town…
But its not as bad as the taste of the lies
or the silence that buys us
one more minute to waste
as I put off goodbye
Tell me just a few more,
lie that you’ll stay and everything is ok,
That I am not all alone
That I will always be home
in your arms…
I am so charmed by your smile,
It captured my attention,
Not to mention my lips and my hips,
In a pool at the tips of your fingers
While the memory of your touch just lingers like an echo
On my skin not enough to relieve but enough to give everything that I’ve got,
Is it enough, probably not
But I’ll still try
Give my soul til the earth swallows me whole
or stop telling you lies that I want to stay,
putting off my goodbye.
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