Look What I Got!!!!!

Kristen from The Fertile Infertile had a virtual party and I won a door prize! WOOOO!!!! I'm pretty sure it was the soup I brought. Or that I was willing to eat ALL the German Chocolate cake another lovely woman brought. I'm a giver, and all.

Thank you Kristen, I love it! It's so soft and cozy. It's the perfect length and it matches all my coats and sweatshirts! Your talent makes me jealous, but if I'm able to get a beautiful scarf from you, I'll deal with it!


Happy ICLW week! I hope everyone enjoys reading new blogs and getting to know everyone.

Honesty

Honeywine gave me an award! Wooohooo!!! That's 2, I am excited. I'm going to do my best to honor this award and be as honest as I can. Here goes...

The honorees of this award are to: A) first list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep! B) pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap.

Ten honest things about me:

1) Before I was pregnant with Zilla, my younger sister had an ectopic pregnancy and one of her tubes burst. She had her son by then, but her and her boyfriend of years wanted to have another. I told her that if she couldn't get pregnant again, I would carry her child for her. I didn't have to do that for her and she had her daughter 6 months before I had Zilla.

2) When I was 11 or 12, my best friend at the time was on vacation in California. I remember being so sad and lonely that she was gone. I was also confused by hormones, feelings, or whatever, that I asked my mom if I was lesbian because I "LOVED" Sam. My dear, sweet mother didn't bat an eye lash and said "I think you and Sam are just really close friends. No matter what happens in your life, you will be the best you, you can be and we will love you no matter what". Seriously? How great was her response! She didn't laugh at me, she didn't placate me or pat me on the head and dismiss me. She answered my question with love and understanding. Awesome!

3) I have a small box containing sympathy cards, pamphlets, and my eulogy from my mom's funeral. That box is in my linen closet because I can't have it in my room. I'm still to scared to look at it every day. Once a year is enough for me.

4) I know we made the right choice to get my tubes tied since I have problems getting/staying and being pregnant, but sometimes I wonder if we'd have more children if I didn't go bat shit crazy when I'm pregnant.

5) I'm not nearly sick as much as my friends and family think I am. I use it as an excuse when I'm sad or in a funk.

6) I've had my ipod for 2 years and I just put music on it on my own. Husband had taught/shown me how to do it many times, but I never paid attention. I thought it was going to be too difficult. I finally bit the bullet and did it on my own and it wasn't difficult at all! Silly me.

7) I haven't had a job in almost 3 years. The last job I had, I was "let go" because I wasn't picking up things fast enough. That was a big blow to my ego.

8) I sometimes wear my 11 year old's tops. They fit a lot better then mine do. They make my chest look nice, but don't hug my middle section.

9) I am willing to change my diet to better my health, but I will NOT give up coffee. No way, no how!

10) I will not exercise in front of others. I've never been to a gym for this reason. I'm perfectly happy going on jogs and exercising in my living room when NOBODY is home.

Whew that was difficult! Of course as I got to number 10, I found a few more, but I will maybe reveal those at another time. Then again, maybe not.

Now on to, the 7 bloggers I'm going to "tag"

1 Brandi from Dreaming of Baby... Girl, I just bet you have some juicy secrets, so spill em sista!

2 Stephanie from Loving Thee...And More. Stephanie just added me on Facebook and I'd love to get to know you better.

3 Celia from Breeder Beware...She helped me with my FIRST Christmas dinner. She gave me tips and I didn't mess up dinner! She's mentioned a few times the things she can cook and she makes me mouth water.

4 Mischef from My Neuroses... I've known her since high school and without her undying support and insight, I have no idea where I would be in my journey to acceptance.

5 Coffeegrl from Okaasan Mommy and More...I just read her blog for the first time the other day. Of course, I just LOVE her name, but I'd also love to get to know more about her.

6 Liv from The Life of Liv...I also, just came upon her blog. Her last post made me all mushy and girly inside because her husband is so damn sweet!

7 Third Time's A Charm...I came upon her blog via ICLW and I really enjoyed reading her words. The first post I read of hers was about a co-worker's kindness. I love those stories. Reminds me that even though I feel like everyone is out to "bring me down", there is still A LOT of kindness in our lives.

OK ladies, get to it! I can't wait to read your honesty.

Coming Clean

My mother in law sent me an email on Friday asking how Thursday went and how I was doing. I replied to her email with as much honesty as I could, without revealing too much. I told her I was sad and it was hard, but I got through it. Her reply to that email was a few questions. She wanted to know why I'm so sad and was wondering if I still feel my mom around. I didn't reply to her email until today. I was trying to find a way to reply without her thinking I was crazy and calling up Husband and telling him to take the children and run. Once I realized there was no way around it, I came clean with her. I told her everything that's been going on for the past 3 years.

Not many people know exactly what I've been going through. That's my fault. I didn't let anyone in. I pretended I was fine, especially around others, so I wouldn't have to deal with it. The time of pretending is coming to a close. I took the first step today and let someone in.

I told her I am finally feeling the loss. I told her the ugly parts of the past 3 years. I told her the real reason we left their house Christmas morning last year. It wasn't because it had snowed a few inches and we were worried about the roads. It wasn't because the children were bored and waited to go home. It was because, the night before Husband and I went on a walk and I cried the whole time because I was so sad. It was because I was fighting to stay present that morning while everyone opened up their gifts. It was because it was not easy to put a smile on my face as we sat down to eat because all I really wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry in a dark room somewhere. I also, told her that the 2 weeks after that I didn't do much but eat cookies and lay in bed or sit on the couch. I also, told her that Husband and I almost didn't make it. Not because of the depression, but because he was hurt by my hiding things from him and I was hurt because my mom is dead.

She was worried about the children. She was worried that I'm carrying this around with me and it's affecting them. I assured her that; neither of the children know what is going on. They, of course know I get sad. Especially on certain days, but they don't know the extent of the sadness. The 2 week period, I was lucky enough to have a lot of support and the children were kept busy. Of course, Nae isn't dumb. She knew what was going on to an extent, but generally I do my best to keep them out of the loop, so to speak. I'm learning to slowly let them in, as well. They deserve to know why I'm sad. Especially Nae. She wants to remember my mom just as much as I do.

I was brutally honest with her. I told her about the panic attacks I've had. I told her how the pain hurts my heart, physically. I just told her everything. It wasn't a pretty story, but it had to be done. Part of me wishes I hadn't done it. Not because I feel like she doesn't understand, but because it's so personal. I feel so raw, at times and to allow others to see that part of me also, is scary.

She took it well and I'm happy to report that she didn't call anyone and I'm not locked in a padded room *yet*. She actually understands what I'm going through, her father passed away 2 weeks before my mom did and she hasn't had much time to grieve. She takes care of her mother and that is a time consuming job for her.

As of right now, I'm glad I did it. It's a small step, but it's a step none the less. Hopefully with this revelation, will come some understanding of why we haven't left the house much the past 3 years. It might also explain why I've been so "sick" lately. I'm just hoping that when we do see her again, she won't treat me in a way that will make me want to kick my own ass for doing this. I can't see myself having a cup of coffee and re-hashing all of this with her, but one never knows.

I'm learning as I go. I'm taking the steps that feel right as they come. I know that if I take a misstep, someone will be there to catch me. Maybe one day, that someone will be me.

Show and Tell: My Dad

My dad! I've mentioned a lot about my mom, obviously, but not very much about my dad. Since this is my first Show and Tell, I figured what better topic then my good ole dad!

His name is George and wasn't born in our country. He was born in Holland. More specifically, he was born in a concentration camp. His family was moved to one when his mother was pregnant with him during the war. His dad was off fighting in the war and his mother was left to tend to 3 girls and to give birth to a son, all while trying to survive in a concentration camp. There's much to tell about the beginning of his life, but I know I can not do the story justice. So, I'll tell you all what a wonderful father he was to us, as we were growing up.

Growing up, we were always laughing and joking with each other. I can't remember a time, even when things were really rough, that we weren't laughing. Life was about laughter, not being "depressed" about what turns and twists our lives took.

The relationship I have with my father, is very different then any of my friends had with theirs. I always knew that I could go to my dad and talk to him about anything, even the "girly" stuff. Never once did he make me feel like my problem was nothing, nor did he ever brush me off. He was always patient and kind, even when I was on the phone at 2 am when I wasn't suppose to be. Of course, that didn't mean I didn't get in trouble. I still did, but I also knew that I was loved.

Him and my mom were a huge part of our education. He did the news letter for our little Catholic school, he helped design our mascot for the swim team, they were at EVERY game/meet, he did so much for that school. I see, now, why the school was so upset when my younger sister and I "graduated" from that school. Never once did I hear him complain about doing so many things for us and the school. I also, never remember being embarrassed that my dad was at the school almost every day.

There are so many things he has done for us, but the most recent one is pretty awesome. My dad is on a fixed income. 7 years or so ago, he went blind because of his diabetes. Him and my mom had to change everything that they did. He went on disability and my mom went to work. My dad was always the one who did the driving, and now it was my mom's turn to do all the driving. He, of course, never led on how frustrating it was for him, not to be able to see anymore. He is "legally blind", not totally blind. He can see, everything is just a bit darker and blurry.

He wasn't able to spend Christmas with us this year, but that didn't dampen his spirits and gift giving. He sent us a big box full of gifts for us. He picked out each gift with that person's interests in mind. He knew that I enjoyed myself so much when I went to see Mamma Mia and how much I love the CD, that he bought the movie for me. He let my roommate and husband in on the secret so I wouldn't buy the movie for myself. He also bought me a tube of bubble bath, because taking a hot bath is one of my favorite things. The other gifts that he picked out for everyone else were so thoughtful and fun. But the best part of the gifts were the little poems he had attached to each gift. He personalized them for each of us and taped them to our gifts. They are so clever and full of love.

He had to sit at his computer and slowly type out each poem, print them, cut them and tape them to our gifts. I can't imagine this wasn't easy for him because I know he gets frustrated when he needs help seeing something on the computer screen. The fact that he did this 4 times, meant the world to me. For me, that was the best part of the gifts he sent.

My dad is an amazing man and I can't think of a better man to have raised me and my sister. He's been a source of comfort for me while going through the grief of my mom's passing. He's been patient, kind, caring and most importantly he has loved me despite any mistakes I have made in my short 33 years in his life.

Thank you dad, for being an amazing father and for giving me the gift of love.

Go to Mel's blog and take a peek at what the others are sharing this week.

Fear

I don't like fear. If I am afraid of something, I usually try to face it and overcome it. In me, I think of fear as a sign of weakness. When I am fearful of something, it makes me feel stronger to face it and overcome the fear. I use to be afraid of guns. The first time I held a gun, I was so scared, I was shaking, tears were running down my face. My poor husband felt HORRIBLE for convincing me to hold the gun. He SLOWLY took it away from me and never asked me to hold a gun again. Last summer, I held a gun again and faced my fear and got over it. I was totally fine, holding a gun that time. There have been other things that I've been afraid of that I overcome because I don't like to feel weak and fear makes me feel weak.

I've overcome every fear I've had except the fear of the pain of losing my mom. I've allowed myself to feel the pain a few times, but it hurts so much that I usually shut down and pretend all is well. Clearly, this is unhealthy. Hell, I've even told people NOT to do this. Thursday I faced my fear and it was less then fun.

As we were driving to the church, it wasn't so bad. We chatted and kind of avoided the topic of what we were doing. We parked the car and walked up to the church. I took a deep breath and opened the door, half hoping it was going to be locked, and walked in. I didn't even take the time to look around, we walked directly to the table and I lit a candle.

I didn't pray, my mind was a mess. I couldn't really think. I just thought about my mom. I sat down and was immediately assaulted with flashbacks of the funeral and of our childhood. I wasn't prepared for that. I was not expecting to see the funeral unfold in front of my eyes, again. I wasn't expecting to see all the places we'd sit when we went to church as a child. I'm not really sure I had an expectation of what was going to happen, but I do know that I was NOT expecting all of THAT.

I shut down, stood up really quickly and told Husband, "I can't do this" and just about ran out of the church. I stopped in the restroom to catch my breath and grab some tissues. We walked out to the car and I made myself open up again. I sat there and cried and felt the pain. I took a lot of deep breaths and tried to talk to my husband. We shared a few memories and such. He also told me it's hard for him, too. He misses her, as well. That was an amazing thing to hear. It's not that I didn't think he didn't miss her, but I guess I didn't realize how much of an impact my mom had on our lives. And how much of a hole she left in our hearts when she died. Not just mine, but my "cold hearted" *his words not mine* husband's heart, also.

The ride home was very strange. He told me he didn't know how to help me and was sorry for how much this hurts. I was honest and told him "I don't think there's anything anyone can do to help me do this. I think I just need to do this in my own way. And it sucks". We talked about why it's so painful and I think that ride home was more therapeutic then anything else. I was able to open myself up to everything and finally get some things out. It was a good thing.

The rest of the day was horrible. I felt so raw and exhausted. I felt like I was run over by a mac truck and it took everything I had to just put one foot in front of the other. I took a bath, and cried in the tub. I laid in my bed, and cried some more. I took out the box I have that has everything from the funeral in it, looked at all of it, and cried. It was a rough day, but it was a productive day.

Friday, I had an emotional hangover. My eyes hurt, my body hurt and I was SO exhausted. I felt like I hadn't slept in days, but I was past the point of sleep. Despite the emotional hangover I had, I felt pretty good. I felt like I got through some major issues. It was a bitter-sweet feeling.

Today, I feel refreshed! I feel like I just popped my head out of the water and took a deep breath of fresh air. The sun is out today and I'm feeling it. The weather matches my mood and most importantly, it matches my heart. I feel a little like kicking my own ass for not doing this before, like 3 years ago, but I'm doing it now and that's important. I'm also kicking my own ass for not seeing the support I had 3 years ago. I was too busy pretending to be fine, to see it. I have a lot of support of friends and family and all I need to do is reach out to them and allow them in.

I'm learning to be honest with myself and others. I'm allowing to be treated as I treat others. It's a good thing to do.

I faced another one of my fears and I'm stronger for it. Whatever comes my way, I am able to come out on the other side. Even if it takes me a few years to do so.

Be Kind

This poem may be a BIT over dramatic, but right now, it's how I feel. Husband took the kids to school, I started a load of laundry and cried. I took a few deep breaths, didn't really work. I'm not hysterical, but I'm not OK. I told the children we were going to the church today and why. I cried saying the words "Oma died 3 years ago today". Nae gave me an extra hug when she left, that made me tear up. My roommate took me aside because she's worried about me. She doesn't want this to put me into a deep depression. I appreciate that, but it's hard to explain why I need to do this. I don't want to do this, I wish I didn't have to do this, but I do. This is my life right now and I need to get on with my life.

I realized last night that I k now my mom is dead. I know this. Obviously I know this. But I don't think my mind has comprehended it. I prayed last night. I prayed to her. For strength, for peace, for everything that I should be feeling 3 years later that I'm not. I can't picture her. I know what she looks like, but I can't picture her in my head when I'm praying. I don't know what that means. I think it means I'm still in denial. SHIT. I'm going to work really hard to acceptance today and from here on out.

That's all I want out of this year. I want acceptance.

Finding My Center

For the past 3 years I have been trying to find my balance and center myself. When my mom was alive, I knew exactly who I was. I was, Judy's daughter. I was her first daughter from her second marriage to my father, George. I was the product of a healthy marriage. I had a great childhood. We went on trips, we laughed, we talked, we fought, we had a happy life. There was never a moment in my childhood that I wished I had different parents, or a different family. Of course, I could have gone without the 4 other children my mom had with her first husband. The children that did, and still do drugs. The children that disrespected both, my mother and my father. But, without all the dysfunction, I wouldn't realize just how horribly drugs affect so many lives. And I might not have the undying love I have for my little sister and both my parents. Even now, that I only have one on our planet.

When my mom got sick, my world came crashing down. I collapsed into Husband's arms. After months of rehab, she made a recovery. She wasn't who she was before, but she was still "mom" and her and my father were always still at the head of our little family. My world was slowly being rebuilt. Then it got torn down, ransacked, burnt down, and changed forever when she died. There was no going back to that life and who I was. That woman was gone. Forever. I made the mistake of suppressing all the bad feelings and all the shit that went along with those feelings. I didn't see the need to feel sad. It wasn't going to change anything. Me being heartbroken was not going to bring my mom back, so what was the point? All it was going to do was make my family and friends worry about me. Plus, my grief was NOTHING compared to my dad's. He lost his WIFE! The woman he fell in love with. The woman who was his LIFE PARTNER. How could I feel sad when I "just lost my mom"? That's the way it suppose to be. Mothers are SUPPOSE to die before their children *in a perfect world*. What mother doesn't want that? Plus, I had moved out and had my own life. She did her "job" and did it well. But my dad? He lived every damn day of his life for over 30 years with her! How is my grief suppose to compare to THAT?! Yes, I talked to her every day, but I didn't see her every day. I didn't sleep in the same bed with her every night. I didn't share the best and worst of times with her like he did. So, in my mind, I should be sad for a bit and then move on. Yeah, not so much.

I tried that. I even succeeded for about a year. I had my therapist convinced. I had my husband convinced. I had my friends convinced. I was "so strong". I helped rebuild every one's lives. When in reality I was a fucking mess! I felt like I was a live wire on the inside. I was going crazy on the inside.

During the last year, I have made great strides in coping with my mom's death. I can't say I have "come to terms", because that would be a lie. But I'm doing OK. I allowed myself to feel the loss. I actually felt it. It didn't feel good. It sucked, a lot! But, I did it. I cried when listening to songs. I cried when someone would say something about their mom. I sobbed into my best friend's mom's chest. I just wanted to feel that "mom hug" one more time. I needed to feel that. As the past year moved on, so did I. I got less sad. It was a gradual process. I didn't wake up thinking "oh hey my mom's dead. Bummer, but hey that's OK. I had 30 years with her" and jump out of bed and start my day. If only! There were times this year that I slip back into the "I miss my mom" moments, but I think I did a pretty good job acknowledging them. I would allow the sadness to cover me and take me for a ride. Then I would take that feeling and let it slowly go.

There have been many times during the last 3 years that I thought I was letting her go. I didn't. I don't know if I ever will. I do know that as of right now, in this moment, I am feeling more centered and more balanced. I also learned that the bond my mom and I had when she was alive doesn't have to go away because she is dead. It does have to change, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Even though, at this moment, I am feeling centered and balanced I am still dreading Thursday. I am hoping that this week goes by slower. I know that going to the church we had her funeral at on Thursday is the right thing to do. I know that asking Husband to go with me, is a sign of improvement. I also know that, telling my friends that I am going to be a mess that day and maybe a few days after is also a sing of me growing. I have had this day planned for a few weeks. I told Husband what I wanted to do and I felt so sure of myself. I still feel it's something I need to do, although I can't do it alone. I shouldn't do it alone. That would be reverting to old habits, bad habits. I know that I need him to take me there on Thursday. Even so, I really really for really reals do. not. want. to do this! Not one part of me wants to do this.

I haven't been in the church since her funeral. That church is our childhood church. I went to school there. Went went there, as a family every Sunday. We went there, as a family every Catholic holiday. I had my Confirmation there. That church and everything related to it are a part of my childhood. The childhood I had with my mom, when she was alive. Me going there might make me take a few steps back, but I don't think I can avoid it. For some reason, even though I'd love to avoid it, I have a need to go there.

When I asked Husband to go there with me, I said "Will you take me to the church on the 15th or the 18th, so I can light a candle for my mom?" His reply was "Of course, but why either of those day? Obviously I know why the 15th?" "Well, the 15th is when she died, but we had the funeral on the 18th. Either day is OK with me as long as one of those days is NOT a Sunday. I can't go on a Sunday, just can't". He didn't question me further. I doubt it was because he understood why Sunday was out of the question. He was probably confused. Or maybe he did understand. Maybe, I'm not giving him enough credit. My thought process was this: if I go on a Sunday, there is a very good chance of seeing people I grew up with. See my friend's moms. I won't be able to handle that. I will totally hide, suppress, and tramp down any sad feelings and put on a smile and pretend everything is "just fine" and I am "OK". If I did that, I will surly take 100 steps backwards, rather then just a few.

I'm doing my best to stay balanced, I really am. Both, physically and emotionally. I think that going to the church on Thursday is part of that balance. I have to learn how to balance the fear of grief and feeling it without allowing it to take who I am. It took me the one time on January 15, 2006, but this time it won't.