thoughtswrittenaloud

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

IF YOU AREN'T GOING TO TAKE PROPER CARE OF KIDS DDON'T HAVE THEM AND DON'T TAKE THEM IN. I don't know how many ways I can say things like this. I understand people don't have the same thought process as me, but they're KIDS. They rely on us to keep them safe, to teach them, to love them. WHY would you ever take them in and not do those exact things?? COOL you get some money from the state. You're not some savior to treat them terribly and get them removed from your home. This poor baby is sitting here sick to his stomach for whatever reason, possibly because he finally said what he needed to say.

It's shit like this that makes me hug my daughter even tighter at night and makes me want to be an even better mother. It makes me WISH I had more money so I could afford a bigger house so I could take them in and show them what a parent is SUPPOSED to be. It's disgusting.

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

This week

In roughly 3.5 hours, it will have been a week since my water broke in the middle of the night. A week since my biggest fear in life became something I had to face.

I've always been terrified to give birth. I saw a movie as a kid where the mom dies in the process and since then I was scared. It wasn't the most fun I've ever had, that's for sure, but it was also just about what I had anticipated all of these years.

Since then I've cried more than I have in a year from happiness and some fear if I'm being honest with myself. It's a roller coaster of emotions to finally meet the little person you've been carrying around with you for almost a year. I've also been so tired my eyes literally puffed up and I was so out of it that I didn't know what day or time it was for a second.

I've also been able to actually hug my husband again. It's been months since I was able to be flush against him when giving him a hug.

It's also such a weird feeling to expect your child to look like your husband and they come out looking more like you. There's also this weird feeling of I'm in pain because I had to get you out of my body, but we worked together so good job I guess?

So far this past week has been a new and (currently) unidentifiable emotion, but I think we'll get there.

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

Untitled

Tonight we went to our friends house and had a steak night. It was an amazing time, even being the only woman there. We joked, played giant Uno, and bull shitted.

But I didn't want to be there like that.

I wanted to be that annoying lady who says, "Oh, I need my steak well done." or when they were asking who wanted to take shot, somebody bust my ass that I can't have any.

But that only happens when you're pregnant. And I'm not anymore.

I want to be obnoxious, rubbing my belly, telling people we're waiting to post on social media until we find out the gender to know it's going to be safe for the baby.

But nope. The universe sent me yet another FUCK YOU. If it was going to be a sick, unhealthy child then I can appreciate what my body did. But I'll never know that.

Instead, I'm sad and angry and tired and resentful.

I want to be worrying about when my clothes aren't gonna fit anymore and how annoying my mother-in-law is about everything.

Instead, I am hollowly aware that my womb is now empty. I saw the ultrasound. I saw the tissue when it left my body.

It's an image I'll never be able to get out of my head. I knew as soon as I saw it. A bundle of tissue with a little sack attached to it. No structures visible to the naked eye, thankfully.

I talk to people about it and they apologize like it's their fault. I can only be so annoyed with them because I would be doing the same exact thing, but their apologies can't bring it back. It doesn't fix anything.

Other people tell me how strong I am. Yeah, I'm aware, thank you. I've been strong pretty much my entire life. If I wasn't I would've been dead inside a long, long time ago.

The only time I feel somewhat okay is if I'm around others, but specifically my husband. He was there with me when I found out. He was home with me while I was dry heaving, trying not to pass out from the pain the miscarriage was causing me. What happened was as much him as it was me. Yes, it physically happened to me, but he's the other half.

Sometimes I worry that the bad or sad or tough things that happen in my life bring him down, that it's causing him more harm than anything. If I were to ever tell him that he would tell me I was being silly and hug me while I cried or did whatever.

I just really wanted this. I want to get a big belly, something that I've been afraid of for years. I want to be annoyingly excited to those I do and don't know. I don't want to feel this empty feeling inside of me.

I just want my baby. I know we can make another one and still start our family, but this was my first one ever. I've never had a positive pregnancy test before. I've never had any of these things happening in my life. Part of me regrets telling so many people so early on, but it's supposed to be exciting. It's supposed to be something that makes you nervous but happy at the same time.

I just want that back. I know I can make it happen again, but nothing will ever be the first one again. I just wanted this one thing to go smoothly and without complications. Like I said, I just want my baby.

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

Impact statement

For starters, fuck you. I knew immediately. My sister told me she said, "I'm just not ready to talk about it yet" and I knew. I knew who and what. I wanted to be wrong, trust me. I wanted to be so wrong I got laughed at. But I was right. Because I've spent so much of my life being not only a daughter to her, but a partner, emotional support, a friend. You either didn't know that or didn't care enough. It's a weird feeling. Being SO in tune with the person who grew you, taught you, fed you. I always thought everyone was like that, but as I got older I realized it was atypical in most cases. Not that I regret it because she didn't have to say anything. I don't know all of the details. I don't want to know all the details. I can assume and that's more than enough. What I do know though, from conversations and comments here and there, this wasn't a 'one time' or even 'first time' offense. She told me she went to my uncle, someone who's spend most of his life practicing martial arts, and even he couldn't find a way out for her. I don't know what it was, but that's not a fluke. That's practice. You're disgusting. You're subhuman. You're literally nothing. I hope your children don't learn who you are to the full extent. I hope they grow and get a gut feeling. I hope that they go with that feeling and never speak to you again. I hope you spend the rest of your miserable life alone. I hope you never find happiness in anything you do. I don't hope physical harm comes to you. I don't wish death upon you. That would be too good for you. That would allow for an end to any sort of pain you feel. I want you to live with the fact that people know what you've done, who you are. For you children though, I wish nothing but the absolute best. I wish for them amazing partners, lives, children if they please, fulfilling careers, nice things, happiness. They deserve that. I would never wish anything poor on a child, even yours. Especially your son. I hope he turns out to be nothing like you. We never liked you, my sisters and I. Even before we met you we didn't like you. And then we did. You were late and expected HER to make your plate for you. Plus you've got man boobs. I actually can't picture your face. I genuinely only see that blue/grey sweater with the moobs sticking out from the front. That's literally how I picture you. It's almost humorous. Almost. You don't have a face because you're not human. You don't deserve that. You had spent enough time with her. You know her past. You know how she grew up. What the fuck made you think you had the authority to summon that again? Who the fuck do you think you are? You had no right to make her feel that way. To do that to her. When you eventually do die, hopefully of old, old age nowhere in the future, I hope you burn in the deepest and hottest part of hell. I also hope you're never given any sort of opportunity to do what you did again. God forbid that happens, I hope you go to the hardest, meanest prison where the other men make your life a living hell. I'm not a violent or hateful person, but I hate you. Loathe you. Despise you. This isn't the first woman I love to go through this and statistically, it won't be the last. It's disgusting. It's disgusting that the chances someone else I care about will have to endure something like this. It's men and people like you that make me cautious. Make me not want to trust others. I consider myself lucky that I've never been in that situation. Crazy isn't it? I consider myself LUCKY to not have been sexually assaulted. That's fucked up. Anyway, I needed to get my thoughts and feelings toward you out, even if no one ever reads this. I've spoken it out in my car and in my head so many times, but putting it out into the world like this makes it feel more real. Makes it feel as though you'll somehow happen upon it, know how much I hate your existence. Now I'm going to go back to studying for one of the biggest tests of my life. You get no more of my energy. The fact I've given you this much is unnecessary because you're unworthy of my time and energy.

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

Suicide

“Suicide is the intentional taking of one's own life. This case from Maryland, explains that “suicide is the intentional taking of one's own life, i.e., by his or her own hands.””

It’s such a strange word. The thought entered my mind for but a few moments about 15 years ago. I’ve personally never seen the draw, but I know plenty of people who have.

I’ve seen people as they’re being admitted; dark, lifeless eyes staring back at you, not caring for a moment if you tell them you love them or need them in your life.

I’ve seen what happens when people do go through with it; the questioning, deep hurt, and too many questions.

i’ve also heard people make jokes for as long as I can remember. I’ve made them a time or two, but again, it never felt right.

Knowing it may be happening to someone else sets off a flight or fight response and I’m suddenly 23 again. Trying to figure out what’s happening and what needs to happen next.

It’s weird, but I also feel a sense of calm in knowing what to expect when it comes to the hospital. Lots of sitting and waiting. Lots of questions and wondering. Then if they’re staying or can go home. I don’t know which is worse honestly. It’s just another of those weird experiences that comes with getting older. Not a fan though.

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

A weird feeling

It’s a weird feeling, being so close to what you’ve worked so hard for. To have it be within reaching distance, the light at the end of the tunnel finally getting bright, and you second guess yourself.

I don’t even think it’s second guessing. Self-doubt? Anxiety? 

I know I’m good at this. Not in an, “I’m the best, now everyone bow down to me” kinda way, but it just flows. People pay me compliments all the time and I don’t quite know how to take it. Mostly a joke or a shy ‘oh thanks’.

It just comes naturally, most of the time. Knowing I’m going to be tested and my words analyzed by someone I may or may not know, on a topic I’m not as comfortable with, it’s intimidating.

I know I’ll be able to do it and be able to walk out of the tunnel with a smile on my face, a little ragged and worn, but make it to the other side. 

Knowing that soon enough people will be calling me as the ‘expert’ or ‘the go-to’ for certain things is scary. It’s also exciting, which is what makes it feel weird.

Almost 10 years of my life. 10 YEARS. And I’m not even 30 yet. I know I’ll get questioned because of my age, a glance here and there, people not knowing what I do or diminishing accomplishments. I’ve been mentally preparing for that since I signed up for the major. Hell, at that point I didn’t even know what it meant.

But now, almost 10 years later, it means everything. Stepping into that classroom on that first day of class, having a professor so engaged and in love with her profession (even if the class all together was a shit show), feeling puzzle pieces mentally click into place.

I hope it isn’t my whole identity, although sometimes it is difficult to separate  myself from my work, but it is what keeps me going. 

Knowing there’s a kid who needs my help to let their parents know that they don’t like a food, that they’re in pain, what their day was like... It’s important. I’ve always been able to communicate. Not everyone can say that. Doing this work and knowing how to do it is important. I know that. It’s just that the path to get there is looped and ever changing, like a labyrinth that’s alive.

But, even knowing then what I know now, I would still start that walk through; start the maze that would take me down wild paths and allow me to have experiences I would never have imagined. So yeah, I know I can do it, but I also wonder, “What if I fail?” 

There’s only one way to find out I guess, and it’s a weird feeling.

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

So in my late teens I found out I had Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. It wasn’t unexpected since my mom has it, but when we found out she also had Lupus I had hoped I wouldn’t get those genes too. 

I knew by my senior year in college I did. I could feel it in my blood, all throughout my body. Prior blood tests came back as borderline, but never crossing over to a diagnosis.

I got a confirmation phone call today that I do have Lupus, but luckily my thyroid is looking good and it all appears mild. For now, was my first thought.

I’ve heard of and seen the horrors it can cause another human and it scares me. I’m 28 years old. That’s not a small thing to find out about yourself.

I made sure my husband is very well aware these are genetic disorders and that having a son doesn’t exclude him from the possibility of getting these genes.

He understood.

He was kind.

IS kind about it.

I told him this afternoon and his first reaction?

“Let me know what things you can and can’t eat and what we need to do so I know what I need to do” and while he’s at work right now, he’s doing RESEARCH on it. He’s looking into different things in case it gets to a more severe point and what methods of treatment are being worked on for the future.

I know to most it’ll seem as though I’m boasting, maybe I am a little bit, but this is not how I pictured my life with a husband growing up.

Someone who tries to understand what’s happening. Who doesn’t get mad at me when I want to take a nap because the things I did during the day have completely depleted me of my energy. It almost feels like a dream at times. I found a meme and sent it to a friend of mine, “You know you’re traumatized when someone treats you right and you feel like it’s a joke”. 

The power I felt in that quote when I read it was insane and I chuckled at it. It’s very true to those who have been in or have witnessed chaotic relationships. That’s what I thought I was headed for as a child and young teenager. But somehow, 10 years into my relationship with my husband, I feel more loved and supported than ever before. 

This is something I’ll explain to my children one day. Don’t accept less from a partner and BE that person for your partner. It amazes me sometimes how great he can be, especially with all the shit I unintentionally throw his way at any given moment.

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

Is it bad?

Is it bad to want something for yourself? When you’ve spent a majority of your life doing things for others. Stabilizing relationships, ideals, and countless other factors for others? I don’t think it is, but is feels selfish. At the same time though, I kinda want to be selfish. I want to want something. I want to finish something I’ve started. Not for anyone else, but for myself. I want to be able to say, I did this for ME. I want to do these things without questioning if I made the right choice. I want to move on to the next stage of my life and know that I’m a good parent, spouse, professional. I don’t want my significant other to wonder if I love them or if I’m happy. I don’t want my kids to wonder if they’re wanted, were wanted. I want those I work with to know I’m there 100% to do my job. So is it so bad to make sure that I can do and have those things? Be those things? I know it’s not. But then why does it feel like it is? Why does it feel like I’m taking something from others when I’m not? Unless I am? I know that the chances of me being paranoid are extremely high, but what if they’re not? This is my biggest issue day in and day out. Those what-ifs. Whichever choice I make at any given point I wonder if I should’ve done the opposite. What would’ve happened? Would it be so bad? And yet again, is it bad to keep wondering? To keep pulling myself back and forth? To, in a way, mentally torture myself thinking about a situation that’ll never happen? Is what I’m thinking bad, or what I do to myself bad? Is any of it bad?

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

To you

Hey man, I've been trying to think of what to say and I'm still a little lost. First off, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you felt that you had no other options. I'm sorry that you were alone and felt that way in the world. I'm sorry I didn't know how you felt. It definitely hurts knowing that you felt that way and I didn't have any idea. You were such a great guy, super smart, and from the time you were a kid you were able to make a room full of people laugh. I'm so thankful I got to grow up with you and have the experience of a brother that I didn't have or even know I needed. Thank you for being that. Thank you for being so goofy and showing us to look at the world in a new way, for letting me win all of the Judge Judy cases against C no matter how good her side of the argument was. I know we kinda went our separate ways after a bit, but I would still defend you and S to the end. I'm still in shock, but I'm not angry. I can't even begin to understand what was going on in your mind or how you felt. Sometimes shit gets too heavy and one person can't handle it on their own. I hope that you don't feel pain anymore. I hope that you know just how many people love you and will continue to do so, I don't mean that in a way to make you feel guilty but in a way that you know that you were such a big part of so many lives. I hope you find my Mama C, she'll look out for you and help you however you need. I hope you find Travis and the grumpy old man lets you run around with him, that there's the biggest mountains you could ever dream of to snowboard down, that there's good company and good conversation. Know that everyone down here is going to be okay. It's gonna take a while for the wound to heal even a little bit, but especially S will be okay. One big sibling to the other I know how much you care about her, no matter how much of a hard time you gave her. I'll see you on the other side one day Ry and I hope we can grab a beer and catch up. I love you Ry and I already miss you a ton. Keep looking out up there 

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Yesterday:

Yesterday is the day you died, most likely. I say this because no one else was there. I say this because when you were found today this is what the medical examiner said, apparently. Yesterday I drank half of a beer that we will be discussing when I see you again. Was it better than the Natty I drank on your birthday? Yes. Was it good? Not at all. But I forgive you for having that taste in beer, you were fresh out of college. Yesterday there were so many thoughts racing through your head 365 days ago. I can’t even imagine what they were, to an extent. I at least know what one was. The past few days the weather has been a little all over the place. It’s warm, then it’s cold. It’s snowing, then it’s raining. Sometimes all within the same day. Is that what you were feeling?

Today:

Today is a mild day. No super cold, but not very warm either. It’s a very ‘March’ kind of day. I’m home sick and I can hear the birds on and off. The sun is out, but it’s not very in your face. It’s almost as if nature knows that there are those of us who need it to be a mild day. Today is the day 365 days ago that she went to check in on you. I know for a fact she was cursing you up and down. Probably pissed beyond belief when your landlord told her the cops had to come do a wellness check. Then a total flip of emotions. I try to keep that look on her face of, “What the fuck are you doing??” on her face, annoyed that she’s outside waiting for someone to wake you up so she can yell at you or roll her eyes. I never quite understood how so much attitude could fit into such a tiny body. Even now, she’s probably the smallest she’s ever been and I can still feel her personality come through her photos.

Tomorrow:

Tomorrow is the day that 365 days ago I got a text message. It wasn’t meant to be cruel or mean or malicious. It was a message of concern and then I’m unsure what to call it. It was a friend checking in because he knew I knew that name. He was unsure who exactly the name belonged to to me, but he knew it meant something. When he called her was caviler. He later apologized for that, which I still appreciate. He asked why I suddenly got quiet and I explained I knew you too. He lost all of his words too. I thought it was a car accident. I’m assuming people had been told it was an ‘accident’ and all of their minds immediately went there. I was devastated. And I thought it was a car accident. I called my sister, no answer. I called my parents and told them first instead. They were in shock. I spoke to my sisters. Again, in shock. My husband offered to stay home, but I told him to go. Everyone would be here soon and his shift would be short staffed. He went and I’m actually very grateful for that. He saw me over the next few days. I didn’t need him to see me in that moment. I didn’t want to see me in that moment. B came, Art came. My parents and sisters and their boyfriends came. One even brought her dog. We didn’t eat until almost 10 pm because we could barely move. We drank some wine and talked. We cried and looked at photos. I couldn’t find the one I wanted. So badly wanted. I found it around Christmas when we were taking out the tree decorations. Tomorrow is one of the worst days I can have in my memory because of the words I heard on the other end of a phone from someone who didn’t even know you, “Yeah I guess he died in a car accident.”

He was wrong though. He didn’t know at the time he was wrong, he was just relaying information he had. My mom called your aunt and that’s how we found out what really happened. She went to check on you because your dad called, you hadn’t shown up for work. The cops came for a wellness check, that’s what we were told. They found you in your room. You had shot yourself. The beautiful boy with the golden brown curls in his hair. With the most perfect evil laugh and eye roll when up to no good. With a caring and sensitive heart, I’m unsure how many people you truly showed that to. With the need for adventure and curiosity I haven’t found in anyone else since we were kids. With such a free spirit, but such a heavy heart inside.

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

A different kind of loss

There's so much to do. There’s always so much to do. Assignments, reading, housework, so much that it allows me to put feelings to the side. Some days though, it’s hard. The days when I’m already anxious, feeling like my plate is too full. These are the days that I struggle with the most. Something as simple as seeing a child that has the same name, maybe dances a similar way, looks up at you with big brown eyes. The look is uncertain because that’s what he is, uncertain. He’s a child, he doesn’t know what life is, what it could be, is supposed to be. It makes me think of the eyes from the pictures. The same look, big brown eyes, uncertain of what will happen next. So child-like and yet so hurt. The look that I’ve seen depicted in movies, seen in the eyes of loved ones when it’s all coming down around them. And yet, I couldn’t recognize it. I couldn’t recognize it in your eyes. In the photos- past and present. Or I guess they’re all past photos now. It feels weird to think, which is probably why I can’t say it outloud. Why I try not to say it outloud. The thought that there will never be another picture of you somewhere doing something fun with your friends, family, or traveling. It’s a pain I didn't know was possible. I’ve lost people before. People I’ve loved have died. That pain I know. This is different though. This one lingers differently. Other deaths have lingered, yes, but not in the same way. This one lingers in a heavy, sometimes suffocating way. It lingers in a, “Why didn’t I notice?” type of way. I know what to look for, I’ve been taught multiple times. I tell myself if I had noticed I would’ve said or done something. Would I have? Would I have worried more about you thinking I was crazy for reaching out? Would others have told me I was being crazy? I don’t know the answers and I guess I never will. I don’t feel anger. That was short lived. It wasn’t even anger towards you, honestly. It was anger at the world. Anger at the fact that you felt there were so few options. Anger at stigmas and feelings of not wanting or not needing help. Anger that it’s even an option. Anger that you were alone, alone for days. Anger that no one was there to hold you, hug you, kiss you in those last moments. That angers me the most. That you were alone. You were alone and felt that way about all walks of life. Now I can only hope. Hope that you see how much you mean to people. Not meant, mean. Because you still do and will continue to. Your friends and family will tell stories about you and laugh and cry. Hope that when I do have children and I tell them about my childhood and the role you played in it, you’ll somehow be there, laughing with me as I tell them about the ridiculous things you did. When I tell them about the boy who taught me to rap, swear, and be silly without feeling bad about it. Who showed us James Bond, drove our sisters crazy, and would smile and ask how you were doing regardless of how long it had been since the last time he saw you.