Thoughts

A few weeks ago I was laying in bed and relaxing before going to sleep and calming my breathing and thought patterns as has become my habit lately. Also something that has become part of my life is thinking of K too much. I try to avoid it as much as possible. I pushed thought of him as far I could. Sometimes thoughts of him would come, but it’s wasn’t so much thoughts of him so much as thoughts from him. And sometimes I figured what’s the harm of enjoying what little of him I had in my life? And I would allow the thoughts from him to hold me while I slept at night or tell me he loved me… things like that. But a few weeks ago, as I was relaxing, and getting rid of my thoughts from the day and releasing unwanted emotions and energy etc, all of a sudden I was just a thought. I wasn’t even in my room or on my bed. Me, in my whole entirety as C, was represented as only a thought. I had no weight of the world holding me down. No previous emotions or situations keeping me here. I was just so in that moment that I was singularly that thought of Me. And I was with the singular thought that represents K. And we talked.

And then to reform my world was a slow scary step by step process. What should I do first? How should I move to ‘rebecome’ C? The room and remembrance of where I was on my bed in Kelowna took place first. And then from there the whole world as it was just sort of fell into place in my memory as I reached slowly for a drink or water. The whole time thinking is this the right move to make? Or should I be recreating this scene differently? Am I fucking up all of my future? Or is this predestined already? Anyways. I laid back on my bed and went to sleep almost immediately, and dreamt of K which at this point is normal.

What was not normal? K called me the next day. After all this time.

Up until now, I could basically play it off like this was all in my head and I’m just a girl who was way to in love with a guy. But when he called the next day and said he was thinking of me the night before… a lot. And that he’d been thinking of me a lot all the time? It was both a relief and a stress.

Now this is real real. Like now I can’t just play it off like this is only in my head. Now he’s obviously connected to me too. I explained what happened to me (kinda, I mean how do you explain this) expecting him to have experienced the same, but was disappointed when he said no, he just heard my name said over and over so loud and clear in his head. I asked him who’s voice it sounded like and he said his own. So either he’s downplayed what happened to him, or he’s not experiencing things as deeply as I am, in which case lucky him because this shit is scary. When the whole universe dissolves enough to bring your being close enough to someone else’s so they hear your name, but then the reality is recreated like no biggie? How else do you describe it other than terrifying?

And how do I move on from here? It’s not like there’s a textbook full of studies on the subject. When you’ve discovered something this mind blowing and new, it’s…. well mind blowing and new. So I’m at a loss.

A loss so big it’s leaving me feeling very alone and helpless. Because I literally feel like there is no one to turn to for support, as this is not something that’s been dealt with before and the person I’m supposedly going through it with, is not even as deep as I am.

I Wake Up In The Basement I’m So Hungry/ I Must Be Here Sleepwalking

How to explain the unexplainable.

Sunday night I made homemade spaghetti and meatballs with ceaser salad for dinner and the kids loved it. Everything was all good. So I decided to send the leftovers with them to daycare for lunch the next day. I asked Z to get out 2 containers for me to divide it up for them. She made a big deal about her getting the green lid one and Little E said he wanted the green one too, leaving the blue lid unclaimed (seems like a stupid detail but just wait). I ignored them hoping they would forget about it by the morning, a pick your battle kinda situation and just closed them up and made my salad in my own Tupperware, with a red lid for anyone keeping track. Then I stacked all three in the fridge, thinking nothing more about it.

Skip forward to Monday morning when I tell Little E to get their lunches ready and he says there’s only one spaghetti container in the fridge. I yell from the bathroom to look harder KNOWING I just put it in there last night, three Tupperware one on top of the other. You can’t miss it. A minute later he calls back saying it’s not there.

So I’m thinking he’s just being lazy and not seeing something that’s surely right in front of his nose, and I stomp off to the kitchen prepared to whip the door open and prove him wrong and find the green lidded container that had most likely dropped behind something and go one with our day. I open the fridge. I look. I can’t find it. I LOOOOOOK hard. It’s not there. I look in the freezer. It’s not there. I check kitchen cabinets. Nope. I look in the damn garbage. Nothing. I call Z thinking she might’ve possibly hid it in some secret place to ensure she got the green top. She has no clue. I might’ve gone over board on my interrogation techniques, because seriously wtf could it have gone, but I could tell both the kids had no clue, and as a mom you know if your kid is lying. So I let it go as far as them lying went.

Then, since I was running out of options I even went so far as to check to make sure all the outer doors to our house were locked (lol I know) to make sure no one came into our house in the middle of the night and indulged on my fantastic spaghetti and then left leaving everything else untouched. Locked, obviously. So now I’m left with sleep walking/eating? And I’m like 100% sure it’s not my kids since I hear when they get outta bed to use the washroom. Little E is in a metal bunk bed that makes hella noise when he moves let alone gets in and out. And Z just doesn’t understand how to open a door quietly. So was it me? Like honestly did I eat or hide this stupid container? I’m not sure about anything anymore.

So I give Little E my salad since we’re running out of time and I have to get to work. When we got home I started a mass hunt for this thing. I looked through the fridge thoroughly again, under couch cushions and beds. Double-checked all the cupboards and drawers. Backpacks and purses. Everywhere and anywhere I thought of I searched and I can’t find the stupid Tupperware. And I know I used it because it’s not in the cupboard clean. It’s not in the dishwasher. I remember the kids fighting over it.

So we have some proverbial fairy stealing pasta making me go crazy. But I honestly have no idea what happened to it, and I don’t want to find it in a week or two based on the rotting smell coming out of somewhere.

And if someone in my house IS sleep walking? Well that’s just a whole other level of stress I don’t have patience for.

– Alice Cooper / The Awakening –

My Shadow’s The Only One That Walks Beside Me

I went to Wal-Mart last week and found this  for Z’s room (see previous post for reference)

IMG_1291 (Edited)

Yes, I know the hair is covered which kinda defeats the purpose, but my options were limited and it was better than nothing. Next I went to the dollar store intent on buying gold paint to redo her dresser handles and match the painting (which is massive) and ended up calling my mom for advice. This was where I made my mistake. All I needed was advice on if the kind of paint they had there would stick to the metal handles or if I needed to go elsewhere, since I’m not a crafty person I wanted to get it right. That’s it. But nope, as my 31 years should have taught me long ago it’s not that simple with my mom.

I guess I just still feel like no matter who you are/what you’ve done, you should always be able to have a relationship with YOUR OWN MOTHER! At least that’s what I’m trying to teach my children. So anyways, I guess deep down in me, I keep trying. Trying no matter how many times I’ve been hurt by this woman, to keep reaching out. Opening up, and just end up getting slapped in the face.

So I’m in the dollar store and I call her for paint advice. She really doesn’t know but just tells me to get what they have and that it should work and to by some of the cheap brushes they have there too. I have some at home but I just let her say her thing and give her motherly advice even though I say twice I already have brushes. I briefly explain why I’m doing this for Z, and it doesn’t really faze my mom, which bothers my on it’s own, but I know by know not to expect much from her in that area. She’s kind of a you made you bed now sleep in it woman. I go on to give other small updates regarding my life. How I registered Little E for soccer, she asks why didn’t I sign Z up for dance, I explain it doesn’t start until the fall. I talked about how I was looking for a second job, both to keep busy as well as meet new people and bring in extra income. She poo-pooed the place I was interviewing at. I explained how I had just come from the Dr’s that morning and filled my seizure med’s and had also asked for a prescription for anti-depression medications, because I just didn’t think I could make it until spring anymore, and basically rounded out the call with “and that’s what’s new” to which she responded with “Actually C none of that is really new. It’s all very round about and the same old stuff for you”

So I was just like, ok bye. And all I could think about is how my family always complains that I never share things with them. Can they not see that when I do share, I get responses like this? So I sent her the following text. IMG_1286

IMG_1287

And so I find myself here.

On my blog.

At the request of my oh so loving mom. With literally nowhere else to turn. I’ve made no friends here in 8 months. K and I no longer talk and I long for those meaningful conversations with someone who at least pretends to care.

I have nothing. And it’s more difficult than it should be for anyone pretending to live at a level where they have to maintain sanity for the sake of their kids, but when does even that seem stupid and pointless?

And for those wondering, I haven’t spoken to my wonderful mother since, nor do I have any plans to in the foreseeable future. 🤷🏻‍♀️


-Green Day / Boulevard Of Broken Dreams-

So Please Help Them With Your Youth, They Seek The Truth Before They Can Die.

So it’s here.

That’s time of the day when the kids have gone to sleep and the lunches are packed and the house is clean because I spent all day vacuuming (I even did between/under the couch cushions) and mopping and scrubbing. All three loads of laundry are clean and folded and even put away. The dishes are washed and drying. We even went for groceries that are now all put away nicely. The kids are sleeping on freshly washed bedding with freshly washed bodies and freshly brushed teeth.

And then it hits me. In the silence as I stand in my bedroom. The thing I’ve been avoiding for forever.

There’s nothing left to do.

There’s nothing left to try and preoccupy my mind and keep it busy to pretend like I’m not constantly thinking about what I’m unfortunately thinking about.

The emptiness is literally all around and I’m engulfed in silence.

I never thought my life would get to this point. To this completely and utterly alone point. Where there’s nothing left to distract me. There’s no way to even pretend I’m in the most lonely place in the world.

I’m in my mind. Alone.

And I hate it.

It happens every night even I get undressed and ready for bed alone. When the house is in total silence except for the few familiar sounds I make. But that’s it. There’s no music blaring in fear of waking the kids. I don’t sit in the living room and watch tv because that seems like a couples thing. I put the kids to bed, clean up, and then I go to my room. I own this whole house, but I find myself stretched out on my bed, even now, writing this post from my phone. Sure the office is a few rooms away with a fully functional computer and a nice chair etc, but it feels uncomfortable. Not in the soft squishy sense. But uncomfortable in the fact that it’s not what I’m used to.

I’m a creature of habit. And my habit is to be safe, and warm. Not venture out in the dark alone. So when my kids are asleep… I’m here. On my bed. Endlessly scrolling instagram hopefully for its stupid entertainment. Listening to music, needing it to fill my void. Watching pointless things on Netflix.

But its in that moment before I get ‘settled’ on the bed, that the hopelessness finds me. Each night getting worse. The feeling or ‘why even bother’ ‘how pathetic can I get’ ‘look at how sad your life is’ ‘your not going anywhere C’ ‘this is your story’ ‘no ones going to even remember who you were… and rightfully so’ …. that I just hate myself.

I wish a million times over that I could’ve done so many thing differently to have never ended up where I am. I think of what could’ve been had I not have done this or that. Or instead pursued this opportunity or that option when it was offered. But instead… I stayed in my confining comfort zone. And I’m left with this.

This ‘life’ that is nothing of a life at all. Its a routine that I have to complete everyday and nothing more. It’s a struggle and a burdensome weight that I carry only with the hope that my kids will maybe possibly discover something more fulfilling than I have. But then I realize I’m doing nothing to help foster any dreams they may have.

I stifle any individuality they may show by my strict rules and discipline all in an attempt to keep my routine as easy as possible for myself. I don’t allow them freedom to express or explore… ever basically. I have no extra funds to encourage trying new extra curricular activities. Instead I’ve come to the understanding just now while writing this, that my entire reasoning is counterproductive. I want the best for them but provide none of the opportunities to achieve that. I’m to exhausted by the end of my day to even play a god damn board game with them.

So I shovel them off to bed to rest myself, and then hate being alone.

You know what? I just don’t even have a decent enough train of thought to reason this one out. Facts seem pretty clear: I’m a ridiculous mom.

I say I want to be a good mom. And on the surface I invest a lot of time and energy into the things that would paint that picture. But when it comes down to it, my kids are getting a pretty shitty end of that stick.

I guess this is what I get for thinking to much in bed at night.

A shitty stick 😕

-Crosby, Stills & Nash/Teach Your Children-

The End

Hello all.

Thanks for taking the time out of your lives over the last year and a bit to learn about mine.

Unfortunately life is just to shitty to even find the desire to write and update you guys anymore so I’ve decided to shutdown the whole blogging part of who I am for now.

Thanks for understanding.

C.

Why’d You Have To Wait? Where Were You? Just A Little Late You Found Me Why’d You Have To Wait To Find Me?

I’ve come to the understanding within myself that I’m not where I’d like to be in my life. Which, on it’s own is not that big a deal you’d think right? Just go out and change, or get what you want etc. and you’d be all good C right? Except that where I want to be is out of my own reach.

After I wrote my last blog, I truly realized how much I wanted another baby. For some reason I didn’t think it was that big of a deal before, but after I let it out, like put it from my mind out to the world, it made it so real… too real.

All I ever wanted to be was a family. A wife and a mother in a perfect little family. I didn’t realize it was such a deep truth for me until I’ve come to see how much of a failure I’ve become in this area.

I wanted a simple wedding with a first dance. Maybe a honeymoon if I was lucky. I wanted cute little kids, to grow up with two parents who love them, and each other. I wanted to cook dinner for my family while my husband helps the kids with homework, or shoots hoops in the backyard. I wanted to go for family walks after supper while my man and I hold hands and the kids run off ahead. I wanted to see my husband change a diaper just once, or rub my pregnant stomach and maybe sing to our unborn baby. I wanted to have fun looking at houses together or possibly picking out then putting furniture together for our place.

I even wanted to do my mans laundry, because folding clothes is my favorite. And as I fold his clothes I can make note of which items are wearing out and needing replacement. I wanted to nurse a baby in the middle of the night that my husband carried to me because it was “his turn”.

I wanted all these things and more, but I experienced none except the cute kids part. And the thing that chokes me up the most, is that I can’t change it. I can’t make a man appear, let alone love me and choose me. I can’t make another baby happen on my own… well technically with IVF, I could but that won’t change the course of my single mom life.

Sure I can make dinner for my kids. I can fold their laundry. I can take them for walks. I can do all these things mentioned… but I have to do them alone. And trust me. Four years of experience tells me it’s not the feeling I’ve been looking for.

Imagining holding someone’s hand… not the same as feeling it. Imagining laying in bed with someone else? Not the same as feeling their warmth and hearing their breath. Cooking for two kids? Not the same as making a real hearty meal for a man.

So I’ve just realized that I’m not where I had hoped to be, and frustrated that I cannot do a damn thing to change it on my own.

So instead, I’ll just have to keep plodding ahead as I am. Attempting to be the best mom I can, to the two kids I do have. Because they only have one parent in the picture which means I have to be doubly good…. maybe even more so because my efforts so far haven’t been top notch.


-The Fray/You Found Me-

Not ‘Cause She Ain’t Livin’ / And This Here Ain’t A Scrimmage Mothafucka, We Ain’t Finished

This morning I woke up determined to have a good day. Actually that’s a lie. I woke up about an hour before my alarm having to pee. So after I used the bathroom and crawled back into bed, Z walked into my room and asked to snuggle. So I pulled her up and tucked her in then listened to her fall back asleep.

Then I laid there and started crying as quietly as possible as to not wake her again.

Like I’ve done most days for the past little while.

But as I laid there and tears rolled down my face silently, I looked over and saw Z sleeping. Peacefully. Because she trusts me. No matter how fucked up things have been for me, my kids trust me to care for them and take care of them. They trust me enough to sleep easy at night. So I can’t fuck it up.

I have to make it work.

I have to keep pushing through.

Even though last night I felt like giving up to the point I planned out exactly how I would do it…give up, my kids trust me. Maybe they shouldn’t, but they do.

So I gathered her in my arms and held her while I cried and decided that I would just have to take all the shit the universe sends my way for the sake of my kids. Maybe. just maybe, if I take enough of the burden, there will be less evil for them to bear later down the road.

To watch her wake up and snuggle me and see her love… was hard to hold the tears back in front of her. But instead we put on the music, and started our day.

I put on my big girl pants and a smile determined to make the best of whatever I have. I still have no idea how I’m going to make up the money deficit I have, but I decided to try to do it with dignity and grace. To try and make my kids proud. Because for some reason, they believe in me.

So I got up and got ready for the day. I put on a full face of make-up which is rare. I attempted a new hair style, which sort of worked out. I made myself a proper lunch and even grabbed an apple for breakfast. And then headed out the door to greet the day.

Well literally ONE step out my back door, and the world was like “nope. not today C” because I slipped on the ice and fell right on my ass. For a split second I considered staying there. Honest to god, I thought maybe I should just take the fucking hint already, and not get up this time. I should just call into work and crawl back into my pajama’s and back into bed and NEVER get out. How nice would that be?

But instead Z asked if I was ok, and I lied and said yes, dragged myself up, wiped myself off, and here I am at work.

Again.

I really was initially determined to have a good day. And I really don’t want all my posts to be just me complaining about life.

So with that said, my next post which is inspired by a title I glanced over yesterday, is a work in progress (which is RARE, since I normally write all my posts in one sitting, about whatever’s on my mind at the moment), and won’t be about my day-to-day life. The post I saw was called something like “What would be in my dating profile if it were completely honest.” Which I thought would be fun and refreshing.

No, I’m not looking to meet/date anyone new right now. Nor am I looking to write any profiles for any dating websites/apps anytime soon, but just thought this would be a fun glimpse at me.

Plus it gives me something to focus on other than my body aching from the car accident and the fall, or my financial issues. So you can look forward to that, although *spoiler alert* I”m pretty much exactly how I seem in my blog… So I doubt there will be many surprises lol.


-Rihanna N.E.R.D./Lemon-

I Wish Somebody Would Have Told Me That Some Day, These Will Be The Good Old Days

So I’m going to Kelowna this Thursday.

My boss paid for flights and handled our overnight accommodations, and it’s happening.

We all just decided that we needed to get a better sense of the city and maybe view a couple different houses, see the schools, and just get a better feel of the different neighborhoods etc before we move further with this. Although at this point it’s pretty much green lights all around.

Like guys. I’m moving to Kelowna. For real. Soon. By this time next year I’ll most likely be in a new place.

And I don’t know how I feel. My boss finally let himself get excited today when we finally made the decision that this was happening. That it was going to work for everyone and be a good move, the right move all around. You could totally tell he was happy, well my coworker, J, was too for that matter. But A verbalized it a few times, point-blank saying, I’m getting excited now. And it’s not that I’m not excited. It’s just that I don’t normally show it. I legitimately have Googled, on more than one occasion, and read multiple studies on the traits of psychopaths, just to make sure I’m not one, just because of how emotionless I am sometimes. Don’t worry. I’m not a psychopath… at least according to Google I’m pretty sure I’m not 🙂 But I definitely wasn’t as excited about the move as either one of them.

Do I want to move? Yes.

Would I be okay to stay? Yes.

Am I happy about moving? Yes.

Is it stressing me out? Yes.

Do I think it would be good to move? Yes.

Do I think it would be easier to stay? Yes.

Soooo, you can see my newest issue.


-Macklemore Ft. Kesha/Good Old Days-

 

Figures, I Gave You Ride Or Die And You Gave Me Games/Love Figures I Gave You All And You Gave Me Shit

I’ve never felt so outright disrespected probably ever, at least that I can remember. W? He was killed. E? Never knew what he was doing. But this? This is K actively being… well just awful.

So the mess with K? Well I’ve been working behind the scene trying to get word to him. Making sure he knew that he needed to add people to his contact list and all that jazz.

Just a refresher though…
K asked me originally to track down his final check from work and send him the money. So I’m thinking he’s expecting something from me in the mail to be delivered to the prison, and therefore will want my name added to his list of approved contacts. Sounds logical right? To me it does.

Well not only was the original money order ($100 out of my own pocket just so he would have something) I sent returned to me because he hasn’t added my name to his approved list, but when I tried to get word to K about the approved contact list, because in my mind I’m thinking he must not know about it if he hasn’t already added my name… he called yesterday to basically piss all over me about it.

Saying no, don’t bother with the money anymore, keep it for him in the bank (yeah right) he’s had my address memorized the whole time…and he’ll call me when he gets out. He doesn’t want me to be anymore involved in this prison stuff.

Fuck no!

Who does he think he is? Making that choice for me, about when our relationship/friendship/fucked up life goes on hold? On the call yesterday he revealed that he’d been calling everyone EXCEPT me. And all this time, I’m writing him, and trying to do what I can to support him, and now he’s throwing it in my face. I don’t even know how, but somehow it’s my fault for trying to be there for him.

He told me months ago how his ex twisted things for him the first time he went in, messed shit up on the outside and played with some shit that screwed him over, and I was trying instead to do the exact opposite of that. But apparently he’s been calling the ex (and everyone else) and she’s been twisting my words and making me look like scum and he’s just eating it up, without a second thought. He didn’t even bother to ask me what happened between me and the ex when we chatted on the phone, he just took whatever she said at face value, even knowing that she’s already fucked him over before.

I’m like wow. You just believe everything she said point blank. You haven’t even called me. You asked me to do these few things for you and when I try and follow them through, you shit all over me.
Then you say you’ll call me when your out, like that should be some gift to me.

No thanks.

A few people have said things along the lines of guys don’t like to mix the life inside with out here and try to just do their time, then move on when they get out. People who don’t even know K and I and all that’s happened. And if that was the case, I MIGHT have been more understanding. But nope. He seems perfectly comfortable mixing the two worlds when he calls his family or friends from back home or his ex, who already messed up prison for him once. So like what the fuck.

It’s a damn privilege to have someone like me in your life and you K… just fucked yourself over. I literally would’ve been a ride or die. So to choose to push me aside? Dumb.


-Jessie Reyez/Figures-

Figures
I gave you ride or die and you gave me games
Love figures
I know I’m crying ’cause you just won’t change
Love figures
I gave it all and you gave me shit
Love figures
I wish I could do exactly what you did
I wish I could hurt you back
Love, what would you do if you couldn’t get me back
You’re the one who’s gonna lose
Something so special, something so real
Tell me boy, how in the fuck would you feel?
If you couldn’t get me back
That’s what I wish that I could do to you, you, hoo, hoo
To you, you, hoo, hoo
Figures
I’m the bad guy ’cause I can’t learn to trust
Love figures
You say sorry once and you think it’s enough
I got a lineup of girls and a lineup of guys
Begging for me just to give ’em a try
Figures
I’m willing to stay
‘Cause I’m sick for your love
I wish I could hurt you back
Love, what would you do if you couldn’t get me back
You’re the one who’s gonna lose
Something so special, something so real
Tell me boy, how in the fuck would you feel?
If you couldn’t get me back
That’s what I wish that I could do to you, you, hoo, hoo
To you, you, hoo, hoo
Figures

All The Good Girls Are Home With Broken Hearts ‘And I’m Free, I’m Free Falling

So at my family dinner on Canada Day, I brought up the fact that I would like to go skydiving, and asked would anyone want to go with me. Purely from the selfish point of view that the larger the group the bigger discount I get 😂.

Wow. Until this point, I honestly did not realize how utterly and completely boring my family is compared to me. I literally have always though of myself as the good one in the family but in that moment, as I listened to all their shocked responses, I learned that I’m the black sheep/wild child of us all.

As I heard them talk about how risky it is and in all seriousness have I prepared a will, maybe I should try bungee jumping instead…the comments barely registered because all I could think about was all the ridiculous and outlandish things I have actually done in my life… and how foolish it was of me to ever consider myself anything less than a badass for lack of a better word lol. Well I’m sure there are plenty of better words, and I’m far from a badass, but I’m discovering that I’m even FARTHER from a goodie good.

Like who does or goes through even a handful of the things I have, and turns out half as chill as me? No one that’s who. Rape? Destroys some people for life. Domestic violence? Messes with some people for years! Heck, having a loved one get shot and killed? No wonder we have suicide!

But I’ve realized I’ve had those few things happen and far far more, yet I’m out here living. Really living. I tried following my heart across the world and lived in another country… twice! I have a son and daughter each. I’ve been married and felt loved, not necessarily from the same man. I’ve had low lows and high highs, but standing where I am now, I wouldn’t change anything in the past.

It all makes me, me. And I’m fantastic. I’m not some boring person who sits around on their rear all day instead of getting out and living life. I’m someone who goes skydiving.

And that, in and of itself, is something I can smile at.


-Tom Petty/Free Falling-