Some Words...

Oh my goodness....I feel horrible today. The sun is shining, it's going to be 70, and I want to hurl. It's official, morning sickness has begun. I never had morning sickness when I was pregnant with Alice so I escaped quite unharmed through most of my preggy days. I suppose I am not going to be so lucky this time. Maybe it means it's a boy...boys like to cause trouble don't they?

So forgive my lack of post this fine morning but I really must put my head down on my desk and breathe deeply. Happy Friday...and have a most fulfilling weekend.

I'm positive about a lot of things in this life of mine. I'm positive at the moment that I'm pregnant and I'm positive that I'm ecstatic over the new little soul I will soon have the chance to know. I'm positive that although life is sometimes down right painful, sometimes - it's not. I'm positive that my heart is big enough to love more than one person. I'm positive that this heart of mine sometimes feels too small to love myself. I'm positive that there are people in this world that do not deserve children. I'm positive that there are people in this world that any child would be lucky to have as a parent. I'm positive that when someone I love is in pain - I feel it as if it were my own. I'm positive that I cannot save everyone that needs saving, but - I'm positive I can save myself. I'm positive that I come here to this place each day because I need all of you. I'm positive that some tiny part of cyberspace - needs me.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

Thanks for all the well wishes yesterday...I'm still glowing and I'm sure there will be many more days of that to come.

I wanted to post about something that's been bothering me for awhile. My niece, my brother's child, is in pain. She lives with my brother and his wife of about 2 1/2 years and her 5 year old child from another marriage and a new sister they had together. My niece has had a horrific time adjusting to this new life. My whole life I've pretty much known that adults can be extremely selfish and most times it's the children that suffer. My own childhood was filled with selfish adults who put their own needs before mine - but I survived. I have to wonder, is surviving enough? In my nieces new family structure she has been diagnosed with AD/HD, depression, suicidal tendencies, and now because all of the medications are not shaping her into the model teenager her parents want her to be, a new label must be found. Asperger's Syndrome. For those of you who don't know what that is it's Autism. I'm so furious at my brother. I'm disappointed in his ability to remember that when he was a teenager he was far from a model child. I'm pissed at my sister-in-law for giving my niece the silent treatment as punishment. The worst possible thing you can ever inflict on a depressed child is isolating them from all forms of communication. Can't they see that she doesn't need a slap in the face, she needs arms wrapped around her body and the words 'I love you' shouted over and over until the moment that she not only hears them - but she believes them. I'd ask all of you if you can imagine how it feels to think that no one loves you but I know that most of you know exactly how that feels - it hurts - it breaks your spirit - it makes you want to run away - it leaves you feeling more empty than you did before. Adults can be so selfish and it's always the children that suffer. I remember once when I was a child and my father left me locked in his truck for 4 hours while he got plastered in his favorite watering hole and when he returned I asked him if he was going to drive, he replied, "of course." I told him I was scared. I told him I wanted to walk home. I begged him to love me enough to call my mother so she could come and get us. It was as if he his ears fell deaf on any words I spoke. My father was so selfish that he could not see my pain. He could not hear my pleading. He could not see - me. Right now I feel as if my niece is the one locked in the truck while her father and step mother dangle the keys to her future in front of her. Why can we not hear a child's voice over the self indulgent voice in our own head? They are so innocent and we steal that from them. I wonder what it would take to give it back?

I'm not sure how to help my niece. I tell her I love her. I try to talk to my brother but he's brain washed by his wife who has no interest in saving his child. Pretty soon she just might have her wish - there might not be enough left worth saving.

In a child's eyes you will see a reflection of yourself - look closely.

Sometimes just when you think you couldn't be surprised by life anymore, life slaps you in the face and says, "guess what - we're not done here yet." I have a secret. Part of me thinks I shouldn't say, sometimes secrets need to be kept - at least for awhile. But inside my stomach is turning round and round with tiny butterflies and each time I open my mouth it feels as if that secret is going to pop right out. I've never been good at keeping my mouth shut and this apparently is going to be one of those moments. Do you think secrets are good? Sometimes I'd have to agree that a secret should be kept if it's going to cause someone pain but then again, doesn't it always hurt worse when the secret comes out...because they always do don't they? I suppose there are people in this world that just don't want to know, they like to be the 'uninformed' because denial is so much easier than acceptance - at least in the beginning. I'm getting side tracked. This secret of mine is not a bad one, at least I don't think it is. So I'm going to tell you but you have to promise not to tell anyone ok? Are you ready? Ok, here it goes - I'm pregnant. Yowza, the mere word makes me giggle. It's still early but baby is in there as real as you or me. You want to know the most amazing thing...I wasn't even trying but then again I wasn't not trying either but they say when you are my age it's much harder for a woman to get pregnant so I didn't really think it would happen. Sometimes surprises are the stuff that makes life worth while. I have this litte girl named Alice to prove it. So, it's new and exciting and scary because I'm old - sort of. But one thing is going to be very different this time around, I have no fear that my sig. other knows he can be a father and a really good one too. You know I didn't realize when I was saying those prayers every night for God to make my family whole...that there was actually one tiny piece still waiting to be part of our puzzle. Then again...there's a lot I don't know but I'm learning - one day at a time.

It was such a beautiful weekend that my daughter and I planted flowers. My heart was full as we pushed our cart through the aisles and Alice pointed to the flowers she wanted. "They pretty mommy," she'd say pointing to the 'fowers' she wanted me to put in the cart. As we filled our cart with colors of pink, orange, and yellow I was lost in the fascination in her eyes. Isn't it amazing how quickly we forget how simple happiness can be and how easy it is for a child to remind us? We unloaded our car and Alice ran to get her shovel and gardening gloves. I'd dig the hole and she'd place the flower in it and then help me push the dirt over the roots. After we finished she grabbed my hand and gave me a mini-tour to admire our work. "Mommy fowers are happy," she said. She was right you know, the flowers were happy because they have to put down their roots in order to blossom. We so often wonder why our lives are not pretty to look at but we forget the most important part of growing something, planting our roots firmly so we have a solid foundation. If only we could stop and replant our seeds in a soil more fertile, maybe then we'd discover how beautiful we are when we let ourselves blossom.

The other night I was talking to my mom on the phone and she mentions that my brother is mad at my dad because he clearly loves me more. "What," I exclaimed. "Your dad loves you more and he doesn't even try to hide it," she replies. She goes on to say that my dad is always bragging about Alice and he hardly ever talks about my brother's kid who is almost the same age. I sat there listening to her complain about how inappropriate my father is and I really couldn't think of one thing to say in response. My parents are divorced and have been for 20 years and as much as I love my mom I can't stand how she talks about my dad. I told her she was wrong and I hung up the phone. I've been thinking about that conversation ever since and it really bothers me. My whole life my brother has been jealous of me for being my dad's favorite. Is it wrong for a parent to have a favorite - probably, but I'm sure it happens. Do I feel bad that sometimes I have to admit my dad does favor me over my brother? Yes I feel bad but only for a moment because there is one major difference between my brother's relationship with my dad and mine, I actually love my father regardless of all his faults. It is so easy to hate someone for not being the way you think they should be isn't it? But you grow up and you realize that people are who they are, good or bad, sober or not, and that still has nothing to do with how much you love them. Why do people put so many conditions on love? I'm sure my dad doesn't love me more than my bro but I do know he feels closer to me. Maybe it's because I've been honest with him about our past, how he hurt me, how he stole my childhood and made me grow up before it was my time. Maybe it's because I've told him I know he's an alcoholic and that I accept that it's a disease he cannot shed like an old coat that doesn't fit anymore. Maybe it's because I love him despite the pain he's caused me and I love him with my whole heart - not just the parts that escaped damage. My father loves my brother but he also knows that no matter what he does my brother will always be his judge and jury. Instead of telling my dad how he feels he punishes him by keeping his children from their grandfather, by talking behind his back to my mother who is the least objective person on this earth. My brother cannot accept that my father is human and has flaws just like the rest of us. My brother is like so many people that I know - a hypocrite.

I wanted to tell my dad how my brother felt but I didn't see the point because I know that my dad does love us both equally. He loves us both but he knows the love he has for me comes with less stipulations, less rules, less judgment. It's so much easier to show your love for someone that has their arms wide open ready to accept it. Love belongs to those who want it. Love belongs to those willing to accept it for what it is and nothing that it's not. I want to leave you with something that my father wrote me so very long ago:

My dearest girl with eyes so full of question, it has been my fear that those beautiful dark eyes that came from me will end up being the judge that sentences me to a life away from you. Once you made me promise that I'd never go away and I've struggled to keep that promise because sometimes I know that distance may be your only savior. So I'm writing words on paper hoping that someday you'll read them and know a part of me exists that lives to protect you and your brother from the cruel world I have created. I am weak dear child but when I falter I look back at you and still you are standing there begging me to return to your arms so you can hug my neck and kiss my cheek and remind me that nothing on this earth is stronger than your love. My lil' Irish lass please love me when I cannot love myself.

My dad doesn't love me more, he loves me back.

My daughter makes me laugh. Sometimes I look at her and see myself many many years ago before life made me cynical. I pray every day that my child never experiences the pain that I did in my childhood. I pray that I'll be strong enough to show her the right path to choose when she comes to me with those questioning eyes. We have so much responsibility to help them through the hardships we know will surely come. Today I'm grateful for my scars because they give me strength.


Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

Thanks to everyone for their 'doggie prayers' yesterday. I really think they helped because when I went home yesterday Jake was walking...slowly but still under his own power. Hopefully he'll be back to semi-normal soon so we can get that first ACL surgery!

So over the weekend I went back to my hometown for Easter. It's the first time I've been back since my step dad was put in a nursing home so I was a little worried that my daughter would be confused as to why her 'Papa' wasn't there. Before we even got to my mom's driveway Alice started saying, "Papa's house," and my heart started to break. She's only two, too young to realize what's going on but old enough to realize how much she loves him. So we started trying to distract her by pointing out trees and birds and a park with slides (her favorite) but nothing worked. As soon as we pulled in the drive and got her out of her seat she ran up to the door saying, "Where's Papa." I think it was one of the first times in my life that I've actually been speechless. Luckily she saw Nana and soon forgot that Papa was nowhere in sight. On Easter my mom brought my step dad back from the nursing home to spend the day with us and as soon as he walked in the room Alice ran to him, "Papa where you been?" Kids are so darn innocent and life ruins that doesn't it? As I stood there watching Alice hug her Papa and her Papa's face light up at the sight of her I feared that too soon he wouldn't remember who she was. God I hope that I can teach Alice to remember enough for the both of them. It seems that on a daily basis I'm reminded how damn unfair life can be. I want to make life easier for Alice. I want her to feel less pain in her days of growing up than I did in mine. I want her life to be more fair. I know that's impossible isn't it?

When it was time for Papa to go back to his new home Alice cried, she hung on to his neck, she screamed, "I see you." I remembered JJ and how she's always telling us the same thing. It has taken me years to see people for what they are and still love them anyway. Alice is two and already she's figured it out, she sees Papa as the whole man he once was - not the fragmented version. I'm not scared anymore. When she finally let go of Papa's neck she kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "love me papa." Some day not too far off Papa may not remember Alice - but I know she'll remember enough for both of them.

In my lifetime there have been few things that I could give my unwavering faith. Faith is a risk and sometimes it's just too damn hard to make the leap. People tend to let you down, maybe not always on purpose but the result is still the same - mistrust. Once, I took a leap of faith with no forethought or fear of what may come. Once I placed my faith in a male as if he were the last living creature on this earth with the power to heal me. I let him near my broken self, and as I wrapped my arms around his little body, he wrapped his heart around mine. Ten years ago I adopted a dog. A furry little brown ball of energy who chewed on my toes and ripped my shoes to shreds. Jacob Marley was my beacon of hope.

Yesterday I went to pick up my dog from the borders where he stayed while I went home for Easter. When I arrived they told me that they had trouble getting him to walk. "What do you mean," I cried. As I stood there listening to their excuses to what may have happened my heart was sinking farther and farther into the pit of my stomach. Last week I took my dog into the vet to get his hips examined because as a Labrador he's pre-disposed to hip problems. He'd been walking slow and the natural meds I'd been giving him stopped working. Turns out his hips are fine but he has torn ACL's in both of his back legs. I don't know if you have pets but if you do and they are a part of your family like Jake is a part of mine you realize that no matter what the cost - you want them fixed. So I'm standing there listening to my vet tell me that it will cost $1800 per leg, 12 weeks recovery, therapy...but when it's all said and done he'll be good as new and without a flinching I decide that the vacation I planned to Spain will just have to wait. There are things in this life more important than money, more important than vacations, things that matter more - than anything else. So I'd decided to get the surgery for Jake and when I'd dropped him off at the borders I was specific in my instructions that he needed to be walked, he couldn't be caged, he was my baby and they damn well better take care of him. They didn't. I took him back to the vet and they said he had severe muscle cramps from being caged but after a shot of pain meds and some PT he'd get back up again. Yesterday was spent massaging his legs, carrying him out to the yard so he could go to the bathroom, rubbing his belly, kissing his nose, and making sure he knew how much I loved him. Yesterday I discovered that love helps you lift a 90lb dog up into a wagon to wheel him down to the vet, love allows you to never think twice about giving up a vacation you've dreamed about, love makes you wake up at 1, at 3 at 5 in the morning to make sure your very best friend in the whole wide world - isn't in too much pain. Love erases limits.

Jacob Marley is better today, he can walk a little bit and his tail is wagging and I'm here back at work writing this post to all of you. You may deem me silly for having so much dedication to an animal but you see, Jake's my heart. He was the shadow that followed me around in the darkest days of my life reminding me that life would in fact get better. He was the cold nose nudging my face forcing me to get out of bed when nothing else in life could. Some might consider his life insignificant but me...I know better. A beacon of hope is always significant.

Well...I have a half day today and I'm excited but that also means I have to work harder so I don't fall behind at work. Why do vacation or holidays always come with a price? Anyway this is short and sweet...I hope all of you have a fab weekend whether you believe in that seven foot rabbit or not! Personally I'm making sure my Easter basket is out before I go to bed tomorrow night. I never miss a chance to get free candy.

Have a great weekend!

When you look into the rear view mirror you see the things you left behind;
Some good, some bad, some you've grown indifferent to.
You see the mistakes that lead you to this moment, right here, right now;
Some you've learned from, some you have to repeat a few more times.
You see those you've loved that have loved you back;
And those you've loved who didn't deserve it.
You see questions you now have answers to;
And some you are still perplexed by.
You look back to remember where you started;
So you can measure how far you've come.
Sometimes you think you can step back into those moments...but then you remember,
In the rear view mirror things always appear closer than they really are.


Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

Do you remember the first time you told someone you loved them? Someone other than your mom or dad that is... When I was fourteen I was sure I knew what love was. It was the butterflies in my stomach when I heard my boyfriend's voice. It was the anticipation of seeing him every morning before school. Love was that feeling I knew would last forever - no matter what. Do you remember the first time you realized that loving someone hurts like hell? When I was sixteen and twenty and twenty five and thirty and....I was sure that I had no idea what love really was. It was hard realizing that those butterflies in your stomach eventually flutter off into oblivion and that the anticipation of seeing someone you love quickly turns into an expectation. It took me a long long time to admit that the memory of love sometimes lasts longer than the love itself. And now I'm thirty-something and still I'm not exactly sure I can define that word - love. Is it a feeling? Is it an action? Is it something we're all entitled too? Can you give it back if you don't want it? Can you shape it into something that suits you better? Can you lay it down if it becomes to heavy? Will it save you? Will it comfort you? Will it be something special - always? I'm not sure I can answer any of those things but this morning I think I felt it, touched it, heard it...when my sig. other kissed me on the forehead as he passed me in the hallway and said, "you're really pretty." Maybe love is what we never thought it would be - simple.

When I was a kid Easter was a big deal because it meant two things, one - another day off school since Catholic kids cannot go to school on Good Friday, and two - tons of candy. Those two things were always in a battle with each other for the top spot of 'most important' things. Easter also meant that my mom would drag me shopping for a new dress and Easter bonnet. Oh yes I was quite the sight in my white tights, frilly dress, and perfectly placed bonnet. All the old ladies in church would stop and pinch my cheeks or ask me for a hug. Why is it that when you are a kid you hate hugging old people...they seemed scary or something didn't they? Easter was the one day my mother made me look like a girl. I was much more comfortable in my torn up jeans and sneakers because really, I wanted to be a boy. You see, I discovered at a very young age that boys had it much easier than girls. No dresses, no getting told to 'sit like a proper young lady'...they got to play with trucks, and climb trees, and get dirty...and everyone expected them to do those things. But if you were a girl, dirt was a big NO NO, trucks were for boys and dollies were for girls. I remember once taking my cabbage patch doll and strapping her to the top of my brothers army tank...because it looked cool. My mother about had a heart attack. "Girls do not behave that way," she said. My father wasn't much help either because after my brother was born he wanted a girl more than anything so when I came into to this world I was his real live princess. Let me tell you that being a princess is not all it's cracked up to be. Anyway, on Easter my mom scrubbed my knees, cleaned the dirt from under my fingernails, pulled my hair so tight into braids that my eyes slanted, and dressed me up like a girl so that everyone could see how pretty I was. Actually I think my mom wanted everyone to see how pretty she was and I was just a side ornament..but that's another story. So we'd go to church, my mother would pull my braids to make sure I was paying attention and life was the way it was supposed to be - for one day.

Now I'm one of those 'old people' but not much else has changed. I still prefer my torn up jeans and sneakers to a dress and my mother still calls me to make sure I have a proper outfit for Easter mass. I don't much mind anymore - the scrubbing of my knees, the cleaning my finger nails...and one more thing - I don't want to be a boy anymore. Life is the way it's supposed to be - at least for today.

I had a fabulous weekend. I didn't go out partying or do anything mildly spectacular but it was one of the most fulfilling weekends I've had in a long time. On Saturday my work had an open house geared towards children so we brought my daughter down to watch Ralph's World (children's band). As I watched how my sweet angel worked the crowd with her 'butt shakes' and 'hand clapping' I realized I was having a proud mama moment. She stood up in front of the crowd as if they didn't exist at all. She was lost in the music oblivious to anything else around her. I have to admit I was a bit envious of her boldness, I remember those days when only my own happiness mattered. I suppose that soon enough she'll grow up and the importance of her own happiness will be shoved behind that of someone else. Why do we do that? It's not that I think we should only take our own happiness into consideration but shouldn't it at the very least be near the top of our list? As sweet Alice danced her way across the room she actually came back for me, grabbed my hands and said, "dance mommy." She wanted me to share in her happiness as if it were big enough for both of us. You know what? It was. Maybe the key to being happy without being selfish is to always get other people involved.

A lot of you left comments yesterday about your own experiences similar to mine and although that comforts me a little to know I wasn't unique, it saddens me that we 'like' people traveled that path in the first place. It's amazing how many different routes can take you down the same road isn't it? I wish that somehow we could break the pattern, change the bad choices, make the scary stuff disappear. But we can't do that can we? One blogger commented that her daughter is headed down the same path and I can only imagine how worrisome that must be. It takes so much for us to escape our pasts, the pain, the memories, the mistakes - that it seems impossible to be able to turn all those things into the power to convince someone else that they never deserve to be inferior. We know from experience that when you are in those moments, you listen to no one. I think back to all the words of wisdom people spoke to me and I realized that not one of them shouted. No one screamed in my ears, " Wake up, you're making a mistake." No one tied my hands behind my back so I could hurt myself any more. Would any of those things have made a difference, maybe. So from this point forward I think we all need to take that pain and turn it into something positive. Tab said she's going to be a counselor and I applaud her for that. Although not all of us have that in us, we can still make a difference in someone else's life. Maybe the whole point of healing is to start a chain reaction. What a wonderful thought...one heart heals another.

Ten years ago I left my husband, not because he was bad - because I was. I wasn't bad in the sense that I did cruel things to him or anyone else, I was bad in the sense that I thought I wasn't good enough or nice enough to deserve a man that loved me so. He was a wonderful man, caring and sensitive and he loved me for all that I was and nothing that I wasn't. When I left him I got involved with someone I deemed more appropriate, a jealous, ego maniac, controlling man. I didn't really go in search of him, he just sort of found me. I know now that when you are in that place where you think you deserve less than everyone else, you will find someone that completely agrees with you. I hesitate to use his real name but honestly the man caused me so much grief that I feel I can't make any part of him make believe...not even his name. Mark was probably one of the worst mistakes I've ever made in my life. Before I met him most people considered me a strong woman, independent, willful, not the kind of person to let anyone control her but when I let Mark into my life - that changed. One thing I've learned about control is that just when you think you have the reins of your life gripped securely in your hands, it only takes one strong 'jerk' to pull them free. Mark controlled everything in my life. He once went through my closet and threw out all the clothes he classified as 'slutty'. He told me who I could talk to, who my friends could be, where I could go, what time I should go to bed, how to wear my hair, how often I could speak to my mother. I was never allowed to talk to another man without his permission and if he found out that I did, well then I was the biggest whore around. He had people follow me to make sure I wasn't disobeying his rules. It sounds crazy doesn't it? When I look back at those two years I let him control my life, I shudder in disgust. Sometimes I can hardly believe that person was me, that I could give up so much of myself to another human being and be left with an empty shell. My friends and family tried to hold a mirror up to my face but I refused to see my reflection. When anyone tried to tell me how awful a man Mark was I'd simply reply, "but I love him." I know now that wasn't love, it was an addiction. People assume addictions can only be to drugs, alcohol, food, sex...but I'm here to tell you that is the farthest thing from the truth. I was addicted to this man because I believed he was treating me the way I deserved to be treated. It's not like I told myself on a daily basis, "you're trash, you deserve pain." But in my heart of hearts...I believed it to be true (and that's a whole other story of why). I wish I could say that I wised up and saw Mark for the monster that he was but that would be a lie. Mark grew tired of me and threw me by the wayside. He was such a selfish man that even when he decided he needed a new woman to break, he still kept a firm hold on those reins. I remember the lows after he left. I remember the pain like it was yesterday. I remember feeling that nothing would ever feel different than how it felt in those moments. And for a long time - nothing did.

So how did I escape? How did I manage to become the strong willed woman I am today? I hit rock bottom where I laid in my own self pity. No one came to pick me up. No one brushed the dirt from my face and told me I was worth something more. No one could do those things for me because I wouldn't let them. I honestly can't tell you how I escaped. It's almost as if I blocked out that journey back to myself...I know it's there somewhere in the recesses of my mind but at this moment, I can't recall the exact point in time that I realized I needed to change. Some say it's important to remember how you got somewhere...but I believe the more important discovery is that you realize where you are now. When I think about Mark now I realize it wasn't him that destroyed me, that was something I did all by myself. If I ever doubt that I must remember one of my favorite quotes: No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. — Anna Eleanor Roosevelt

Today, I feel deserving as I stand before you...half nekkid.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

After being 'stuck in the moment' yesterday and many days before that I actually started thinking about the things that lead up to that moment and the things that followed it like a dog chasing it's tail. Moments do not exist like an enigma, separate from everything else, they exist because of everything else. The thing I realized yesterday is although I thought I was stuck in just one moment, I was actually stuck in many. Sometimes we put blinders on and all we can see is what's right in front of us. We don't ask questions - we make assumptions. Assumptions that we know why things happen or why they don't, but in reality most of us have selective memories. Some of us remember only the bad because we believe it's shaped who we are. Some of us remember only the good because we're in denial that bad things happened at all. I wrote a post a while back named 'Remembering makes you free' and I had forgotten the words I spoke, I'd missed my own advice. Last night I remembered things, some good - some bad and you know what? Today I feel lighter, maybe not any more enlightened as to why things were the way they were, but definitely lighter. Isn't it strange how heavy moments can become? Sitting on top of your shoulders whispering in your ear, "remember me?" I've never been good at laying those burdens down but I really want to try to change. I'm not sure how to begin but I suppose a first step is to write those thoughts down, make them as real as they were when they happened. It's painful to remember isn't it? But not remembering can be just as harmful.

So for a few moments beyond this one...I'm going to write about some things I thought I'd forgotten. Things I should remember so that I truly can move past them. I hope that's ok...that I let you into those secret places that even I had forgotten about. You know...today is 04-05-06 and they say it's an occurence that will never happen again in our lifetime. I think today I'm going to do something special to mark the occasion, I'm going to 'unstick' myself from the moments that came before this one. This moment right now, it's my new starting point.

Have you ever been stuck in a moment? A moment you keep remembering, keep re-living, keep pressing to the front of your brain so it's near impossible to forget? For some time now I've had this moment pulling me back to things already passed. I dream about it, I let thoughts of it consume me as I'm standing in the kitchen drying the dinner dishes. The strange thing is that even when the moment was actually happening, it didn't seem that important. How can something become more important after it's already happened? It's not a moment that defined me, not a moment that completed me, not a moment that even seemed like it was something I'd need to remember for later...at least I didn't think so at the time the moment was occurring. So this morning I'm combing my hair and there it was, the moment flashing back at me as if it were a reflection I'd been trying to escape. Some people say we get stuck in moments because there's something unresolved that we need to deal with. I guess I believe that but how can you resolve something that never appeared to be a problem in the first place? I try to force the moment out of my brain by closing my eyes, refusing to look at it's reflection. I manage to escape it briefly but it leaves this nagging feeling inside my chest that I can't quite define. As I'm riding the train in this morning I close my eyes hoping to block out the images of strangers surrounding me and I let it happen, the moment. I'm remembering several years back when I went to this all night boating party which was supposed to be with my boyfriend but he ended getting pissed off that some guy was flirting me so he left me...I ended up there alone, knowing not a soul. I managed to make a few friends and ended up staying on their boat. Like I said before it was nothing significant. I remember drinking way too much trying to block out the reality that my boyfriend cared more about himself than me. I remember waking up the next morning forgetting where I was and wondering how the hell I was going to get home. I remember...and then it hits me, a moment that wasn't a moment at all rather it was a string of moments wrapped up into a lifetime. The ironic thing about moments is that when you are in them you think you'll remember them always, like tattoos branded on your arm. But moments are not permanent, they fade and sometimes they fade so quickly that you miss the relevance of them.

Today I realized that I'm stuck in a moment not because it was a moment I wanted to remember forever, but because it was a moment I wanted to forget forever. It was a moment that I let define how I would deal with rejection, loneliness, betrayal...by not dealing with it at all. So why now? Why does it resurface six years after it happened? Because not so long ago someone mentioned to me that they had seen my old boyfriend, the one who left me stranded at that party so many years ago. I remember my heart sinking into the pit in the bottom of my stomach but I quickly dismissed the thought that I could still be affected by that man. And then the moments came to me like a thief in the night, stealing something so precious - the facade of strength I display so proudly. The truth is, that moment wasn't insignificant. And so I remember, I get stuck in it, I wrap my sanity around it. What do I do with it now? I feel it. Moments are meant to be felt regardless of their pleasure or pain. So right now, I'm feeling it - the loneliness I felt, the escape I tried to make, the pain of knowing someone can love you but still leave you behind. And when I let it go - finally, the moment will fade into something less.

Sometimes I think I have all the answers. There are always so many questions and I've always been the one at the back of the class, jumping up and down in her seat, hand waving furiously in the air, "Pick me, pick me." Sometimes I do actually have the right answer but most times I end up forgetting what the hell the question was to begin with. Have you ever searched so hard for an answer that by the time you think you have it, the question has changed? My father used to say, "We are always searching for the right answers, but there are no answers, there is only life." I wish I could remember that piece of advice every single day because if I could...

I'd stop wondering why people are not as kind as they should be.
I'd stop trying to figure out why lies hurt more than the truth.
I'd stop looking for the easy way around things because the easiest path is usually the wrong path.
I'd stop second guessing someone's good intentions and just accept that sometimes good things are just good things.
I'd stop wondering why God picks on me when really all he is doing is saying, NWC pay attention.
I'd stop wondering how things get so messed up and start straightening them out.

Life is a not a question, it is the answer.