Missing the Pacific Northwest during this part of the year  is a little like missing that one boyfriend you had in high school who made you cry and feel crappy about yourself.  Except what you find yourself remembering are those times when he was also the sweetest person you’d ever known, and how his kisses lit you up like the forth of July.

The weather up there right now is the reason people think of it as a miserable, soggy, cold, horrifying place to live, and that’s only because right now it IS a miserable, soggy, cold, horrifying place to live.  It feels like it should be spring, like things should be warming up and the sun should be out but it’s NOT.  It will rain again and be cold again and I swear, it SNOWED last weekend.  I feel so sorry for my friends.  It can make you feel a little crazy.  A little like living in L.A. might be a pretty good idea, and how crazy do you have to be to ever think THAT?

Still, I miss it.  I miss the glorious sun and how you felt like it was a personal gift when it did come out.  The way a bald eagle kept pace with my car upon occasion.  The beauty of the sound.  The kindness of the people.  Not that everyone is perfect and sweet all the time, but come on, we’re ALL assholes once in a while.  If you don’t agree… well, there you go.  You’re an asshole.

Mostly though, I just miss my friends.

Not that I’m lonely much anymore.  I have a couple of really good friends, and others I hope to get to know better.  My husband is here, and I am a better person when I’m with him.  I feel brave, like I can do anything in the world when he’s around.  When I don’t want to STRANGLE HIM of course.

It’s different though, can I tell you that?  D I F F E R E N T.   Like the effort the people here put into getting a nice, manicured green lawn.  It just seems EXHAUSTING to me.  And what’s the point?  No kids are out there playing on these perfect green carpets.  Because that would smoosh them.  And then they wouldn’t be perfect.

I know that seems silly to think about, but it’s things like that that are so different.  No one in Washington would water their lawn, and not ONLY because it rains so goddamn much you don’t need to.  The WASTE involved in trying to keep a green lawn in a climate like this is just so far beyond what anyone I knew up there was about… and even the people who weren’t tree-hugging hippies might agree.

How about breastfeeding?  I can’t tell you the last time I saw someone other than myself breastfeeding.  Oh wait, yes I can.  It was months ago, in the park with the group of crunchy mamas I met.  That’s it.  I get the looks I couldn’t imagine getting while I was in Washington… ranging from leering from some men to outright disgust in men AND women.  And mostly women.  Look, ladies, I’m not going after your men by feeding my baby.  If I wanted your men I’d just offer them blow jobs, TRUST ME.

However… a place is just a place.  I’m still me, still fighting my demons, still just Beth.  I’m  different, though…stronger.  I lived through parenting alone for six months and the good new is that I’m coming out the other side.  I am changed, but for the better.  I was so afraid that I would never again feel like me again… but I do.  I laugh again.  I sing and dance like an idiot in the mornings, and my kids sing and dance with me.  Or laugh at me and roll their teenage eyes.  Either way, it’s fun to be … it’s just fun to be again.  We’re together, and we really really love each other.

It was my birthday a week or so ago, and every birthday I always wish for the same things… world peace and to live happily ever after.  This year, I only wished for world peace.  I’m LIVING my happily ever after.

I hope you are, too.

xo, b.

Holy mother of god.  I have been working on getting this damn site up and running for EVER and now, voila!  I’m back!

I have three kids who are about to go from that manic-’don’t stop playing or you’ll fall down asleep’ mode to freaking all the way out, but damn it, i just HAD to put something up here!  Come back soon, I promise there’ll be more to read!

xo, b.

My sister got married this summer, and I wanted to make a speech telling her how much she means to me.  I tried.  I tried for a year to write it, and every single time I’d start to compose something, I’d burst into fucking tears.  It was ridiculous.  And I mean EVERY. TIME.  It got so bad that I stopped trying to think of what to say for a while.  When I revisited it, bam!  tears again.

The consequence is that I feel that I under-whelmed her, and that makes me sad.  So here’s what I wished I had said.

I would have started with her husband, C.

C, I know I’ve only met you all of three times or something, and so I don’t really ‘know’ you, but I feel like I know you more than it would seem.

See, I know that you are kind, because Catherine couldn’t abide someone with a cruel heart.

I know that you are funny, because my sister loves to laugh almost more than anything.

I know that you are smart because my sister is smart, and she wouldn’t be able to tolerate someone less intelligent than she is.

I know that you are brave, because of your service to our country.  Thank you for that, by the way.

I know these things, C, and I know one more thing.  I know that you love my sister.  I know that you love her for the person she is because I see her being herself with you.  It was the first thing I noticed about you.  You love her for herself, because she is amazing.

And she IS amazing.

Catherine, my sister.  You have meant so much to me, so many different things.  I remember when you were born.  I remember thinking that ‘Catherine’ was the most beautiful name I had ever heard.

You were my baby too.  I fussed and hovered over you.

Later, you were my antagonist.  we fought like only sisters can, with tooth and nail and love and blood, and you always won.

Now as adults, you are my sister, my confidant, my best friend.  I know you will be honest with me when I am looking for advice, gentle with me when I need a shoulder to cry on, and can always, always make me laugh.

I’m so happy for you, sister.  In Clay I see that you have found the man who knows you and loves you, and I know that you understand and love him.

My advice, though unrequested, is this; when you love, love with abandon.  When you fight, fight fair.  Be true to your own selves, and loyal to each other.  And above all else, may you both live happily ever after.

I love you.

I’ve had a difficult time finding the time to shower lately.  Being alone all the time, plus depressed has made it very hard to say that this is a good time to leave the kids alone and bathe.

Well, a few days ago, enough was enough.  I could smell MYSELF.  And it was NOT. GOOD.  I don’t even know how long it had been since I had showered.  Ew, right?  Yes.  super ew.

My eldest son was in his room playing his video games and the other three were in the living room, happily playing.  I asked Sally to make sure Catey didn’t hurt herself or choke and literally ran to the shower.

I had just gotten my body wet when Sally came running in to the bathroom, shouting something about Bobby and the front door.

Wait, WHAT?!?!

Bobby, who hasn’t worn a stitch of clothing since late June, had heard someone knock at the door and ANSWERED IT.  NAKED.  Like, HI!  I’M BOB!!!!!

I told Sally to run and get Elijah and tried to pull clothes on over my wet, naked body.  You know how hard it is to get clothes on when you’re wet???  Add straight up PANIC!! to that equation, and you have an idea of how I was flailing about in the bathroom.

I finally made it to the door, wet clothes clinging oh so attractively to my body,  panting, to sign for the package that had arrived.  You’re welcome, UPS dude.  Sorry about the naked three year old.

My husband is coming in eleven days and we are all getting on a plane on Halloween for Los Angeles.  I’m not getting in the shower until he gets here, you’ve been warned.

After I gave birth to my eldest daughter five-plus years ago, my father warned my husband to watch me in case I started exhibiting signs of post partum depression.  I guess my mother had it after she had given birth to me, but to be honest, Andy and I looked sideways at each other and wondered privately if her ‘depression’ wasn’t more like ‘I’m SO. PISSED.  at you!!’  Plus, I hadn’t had depression after I had my eldest son, so… whatever.   Neither of us took the warning all too seriously.

Anyway, Andy and I snickered.  Not a lot, because I Am Kinda Crazy, but just because… well, it didn’t seem possible.

And then I started raging.  I hit him, I threw things, I kicked down doors.  I leapt out of our moving car.  I drank.  A LOT.  And one day I woke up and realized I wasn’t even excited to see my daughter any more.  Everything was awful and all I could think about was all of the many, many things I had done wrong in my life.  Bad friendships, bad decisions.  I gnawed on them, worried them like a dog worries a bone.

And I raged.

I went on zoloft.  I was saved.

I got pregnant with my son, Bobby.  I stayed on zoloft, I was OK.

I weaned (properly) off of zoloft, and was fine.  I got pregnant with Catey.  I was still fine.

I’m not fine anymore.

It’s taken a while to come to this conclusion, but after the last few days… Its pretty clear.  I’m not fine anymore.  I’m raging.  I’m scaring my kids and myself.

It’s kind of amazing I haven’t felt this bad until now, actually.  My husband is gone, has been for six months.  I’m doing all of this parenting alone.  I’m exhausted.

And earlier this summer one of my best friends broke up with me.  I’m not sure how else to phrase it… a relationship that was once one of the most important things in my life is abruptly over.  I am struggling with how to deal with this loss.  I’m trying to understand and to forgive her.  It’s really difficult and mostly I just want to cry and give her a good shake and make her snap out of it… but I’m trying.

Otherwise… today? today I’m doing OK.  I’m smiling and it’s not forced.  I’m  not screaming.  I’m not raging today, so today is OK.  Do me a favor, though… if you know me in real life?  Please don’t call me up and ask me how I am.  Don’t call me up and ask me how you can help.  I can’t help you help me, I’m having a tough enough time helping myself.

You know, I wrote that bit of melodrama yesterday because I needed to.  I needed to say those things, to feel those feelings and to let them out.  Because today I wake up and I am blessed.  I have my family, my children.  I have the love of the finest man I have ever known.  I have friends who love me and stand by me even on my darkest days.  Friends who don’t abandon me because I’ve had a bad day…a hard month and a difficult year. 

I am alive, my children and I are healthy.  My husband is healthy and working hard to support our family.  I am beyond lucky.

Because I am also witness to real tragedy.  A man loses his life doing something that was supposed to be fun.   And not just tragic for him, may he rest in peace.  Tragic for his family.  His mother.  His wife.  Children?  I don’t even know who is mourning this man, I can’t bring myself to look him up.  What makes this more personal to me is the fact that my friends were there.  When he fell, he fell near where my friends were playing with their children in the river.  My friends became part of his life, part of his story, and he is now a part of their story. 

A peripheral friend, a beautiful woman… a sad and tortured soul.  I can’t even begin to know the ramifications of her passing will be, can’t comprehend the pain she endured and the pain her loved ones are feeling now.

I’m trying to say that I know my life is hard right now.  I accept that.  I allow myself my bad days, my moments of self pity, because it IS hard.  However.  Life is hard.  People go through worse shit than I am going through every day.  And people who don’t have it as hard or harder than me… they go through shit too.  Everyone has their demons, their trials, and we should allow ourselves to acknowledge that, to feel those feelings.  I think it’s insane to try to act as though everything is fine when it’s not.  Then its time to recognize and accept the positive parts, time to refocus on what is good and real right in front of you.  Not doing that would be a real tragedy.

I’ve been alone so long now I wonder if I’ll know how to be a part of a pair again.  I have been sad and angry and worried for so long now I wonder if I’ll ever remember how to laugh with my head thrown back, with abandon.  I worry that I’m becoming hard and bitter because I am bitter that everything is so hard.  I force myself to laugh with my children which makes me sad, and my smile feels painted on.  I wonder and fear that they can tell.  I’ve eaten at McDonald’s so often I think they know my name and what I will order, and I worry because I can hardly manage to give a fuck.  I don’t sleep.  I rarely shower.  I try to remember that every day is a day closer to the day I can be with him again, that we can all be a family again, but I still don’t know when that day will be, when this wait and trial will be over.  I’m stronger than I ever wanted to be, and I worry that I will never again know the bliss of letting go, I worry that without all this worry I will implode from the lack of pressure.  I’m stronger than I ever wanted to be and it makes me angry that I have to be.

I hate that I allow my insecurities, my fear of failure, dictate how I live my life.  I don’t know where it came from, because I remember feeling full of optimism and confidence at one time in my life.  Increasingly however, failing to begin or to follow through on projects has become my ever increasing standard. 

For instance, I’ve made being late my tag line.  I CAN’T be on time any more, I don’t know how to.  Well, that’s not true, I know HOW, I simply won’t.  Why?  I don’t know.  I decided when I had Bobby that I wasn’t going to stress myself out over being ‘on time’ to things… meetings, play dates, my own PARTIES.  That kind of thing.  It’s gotten so bad that I am now ALWAYS late to these things.  I hate it. 

So yeah, I hate that.  I hate that my fear has made me a failure because so often I simply don’t begin.

I don’t know if it counts as stealing, but this was someone else’s idea, and I am using it.  Crap, what’s that word…?  Oh lord, I HAVE NO BRAIN LEFT.  Anyway.

Since I have no brain, and yet the desire to write is still upon me, I am going to follow this meme thing my friend posted on her site, dragonfly whispers. 

Day 01 — Something you hate about yourself.

Day 02 — Something you love about yourself.

Day 03 — Something you have to forgive yourself for.

Day 04 — Something you have to forgive someone for.

Day 05 — Something you hope to do in your life.

Day 06 — Something you hope you never have to do.

Day 07 — Someone who has made your life worth living for.

Day 08 — Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

Day 09 — Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.

Day 10 — Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.

Day 11 — Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

Day 12 — Something you never get compliments on.

Day 13 — A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)

Day 14 — A hero that has let you down. (letter)

Day 15 — Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.

Day 16 — Someone or something you definitely could live without.

Day 17 — A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.

Day 18 — Your views on gay marriage.

Day 19 — What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?

Day 20 — Your views on drugs and alcohol.

Day 21 — (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?

Day 22 — Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.

Day 23 — Something you wish you had done in your life.

Day 24 — Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)

Day 25 — The reason you believe you’re still alive today.

Day 26 — Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?

Day 27 — What’s the best thing going for you right now?

Day 28 — What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?

Day 29 — Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.

Day 30 — A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Let’s see how long I can keep this going.  Starting, of course, tomorrow.