Failing

Until a person becomes a parent, they cannot possibly understand what it feels like to hold another person's life in their hands.  Every decision we make as parents affects our children.  Every word we speak, every mistake we make, every irresponsible choice.  And the worst feeling a mother can feel is the feeling of failing her children. It's not the first time I have felt like a failure, it won't be the last. 

In my life, I rely very heavily on support from a man that I cannot tolerate (hate would be too harsh of a word).  Yes, it should be a no brainer that he should just pay for our three children.  But the bottom line is, if he chose not to pay, in that moment there would be nothing I could do.  That feeling of fear of how can I provide for these three other human beings, that thought of "if I can't pay rent, what will we do".  Until you have felt it, you wouldn't understand it. 

I am a very positive person, I don't let little things get to me, I almost always have a smile on my face.  And yes I do know that no matter how bad I may feel in a moment that someone else has it worse & has felt worse.  But "look on the bright side" can't always wipe away that ache that a heart is feeling.          

What is happiness?

Does it mean you are content in your life?

I can finally say that I am content, I don't want anything at all & I have all that I need.

I have the three pieces of my heart, the three people who make everyday beautiful. They make me laugh, they make me angry, but they make everyday matter. If they can grow into adults loving life, being happy with who they are & just genuinely caring about the people around them, then I know that I have done my job. Yes, I walk a fine line between Mom & Anjie, I'm not one of those moms that says "my children are my life", but they are what makes my life complete.

I spent way to many years trying to make a man happy, for the first time in my life I am making myself happy. Every single person in life is dealt some kind of shit; you can wallow in it or you can pull yourself up, brush it all off & move on. Deciding to stay single doesn't mean he's won, deciding to stay single means I've won. I've won my life back & I'm living it for me. I'm not ready to give a relationship the kind of work it requires, I'm not ready to give that part of myself to another person. True love will sweep me off my feet. When it's meant to happen, it will happen, I don't need to seek it. And if it never happens, so be it, that's the way it was meant to be. And I couldn't be more happy with that :) .

I wanna talk about what I talk about...

in my beloved journal. As you can imagine, what I write on paper varies greatly from what I write here. These words I share, those words I don't. But I've been thinking lately, if I die tomorrow, people will read those words. At that point it doesn't really matter what people read, I'm gone, there are no repercussions, there are no embarrassing moments, just me, all me in my most honest form (not that I'm not me, all me all the time :P ).

Essentially though, that is my biography, right? The people who love me are going to read it when I die. I imagine my children going through my stuff after I'm gone & coming across my journals. What do I want them to read? At this point it doesn't even matter & I have no intention of changing what I write. But I want to be able to answer any questions they might have, there will be questions, there will always be questions, I know this because my mom has been gone for almost 9 years & I have so many questions. What I would give to have read a journal my mom might have written. To see her words, in her handwriting now, would be a priceless gift. I can't control my time on earth but I can control the legacy of me that I leave behind for my children.

Are answers always necessary...

or is it better to leave sleeping dogs lie??

If you know me then you know that my mom died 8 years ago :( , before she died she told me a secret. She told me that her & my dad had decided to separate & in that time she met a guy, a guy who was already engaged to another woman, they fooled around and I was conceived. For whatever reason he couldn't leave the other woman to be with my mom. My mom's history with men is not a very good history so who knows what the truth of the story really is. But she also told me that he knew about me & that she had taken me to see him when I was born. She told me his first name & where they met, she also told me that if I wanted to know more she would do whatever she could to find out information on him for me. At the time, I didn't want to know. Then the cancer came & took her from me.

For awhile I wondered about him, and had even toyed with the idea of contacting some dumb talk show like Maury but ultimately decided to just set it all aside, I figured that I would never be able to find him anyway, that was alot of years ago after all.

But then it hit me a few days ago, as I was looking at posts on a Facebook group full of old timers that remember so much about the history of Bloomington, how simple it would be to make a post asking about him. Or asking about my mom. I even looked through the names of the members to see if his name was there.

And then I got scared. Is this something that I really need to know? I am 36 years old & up until about 10 years ago I didn't even know this little bit of history. What could I possibly gain from this? What if he is everything I never had in a dad, but what if he is everything I never wanted? What if he is still with that same woman & she hates me for what my mom did? So many questions & too scared to ask them? Too scared of the answers...

Your God vs. my God...

Religion:

1. a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, especially when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.

2. a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.

3. the body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices: a world council of religions.

4. the life or state of a monk, nun, etc.: to enter religion.

5. the practice of religious beliefs; ritual observance of faith.

This word & the battle of beliefs have been the one thing holding me back from believing in God. Being a stubborn woman has always dictated my opinion on this matter. I don't want to believe in your God, what you believe in is your personal choice. And what I believe in is mine. Day after day I witness "holy" self righteous people doing the exact opposite of what they are preaching. I cannot bring myself to believe in their God. When someone throws their God in my face & tells me what I believe is wrong, I will get defensive & I will fight it. I don't want to believe in your God, in my eyes what you are preaching is the exact opposite of what is at my core, what is in my soul.

In Native American history (at least my perception of history based on what I have been told or taught), when a young warrior comes of age & he is sent out to meditate (I guess that's the right word), to find his spirit, he fasts & does not sleep until his totem comes to him. I feel like that warrior discovering my totem, or in other words, my God.

In my quest to learn about something that I believe in, that I didn't even realize existed, I came across a passage in this book, Many Paths, One Destination: Love, Peace, Compassion, Tolerance, and Understanding Through World Religions by Ram Ramakrishnan. Page 198 thru part of page 199, 'Love, the way to God' is very enlightening. To read this is to see the core of my beliefs in writing. All this time I have been fighting God, I have been fighting a belief that is already instilled in my very soul. Where this belief came from, I'll never know, but my God is a loving God. The way I choose to live my life, the way I choose to treat other people is a loving God that has always been inside of me, maybe I just needed to see it in writing with my own eyes.

Assume... to make an ASS out of U & ME

We have become a society where the words on a screen have become the only knowledge we have of someone & we form an opinion of someone based on those random words. We have stopped caring about who they actually are. Words are just words. I can say stupid shit all day long & you will ASSUME you know me. I drink a few beers & you ASSUME I'm an alcoholic. I flirt randomly with someone, because that is what I do & you ASSUME I want to sleep with them. When will you stop making up your mind about me & just freaking ask me?

Yes, we all do it, I do it too. But if I really want to know, I'm going to come right out & ask you. Communication is what makes relationships of every form work. Friendships will not last without honesty & communication. But in order to be a good friend to someone, you need to accept them for all their flaws & realize that they are no different than you. They struggle every day with life, with family, with love. The only difference between you & me is the way we react to a similar situation. Your pain & your problems are not bigger than mine nor are they less than mine. And making you feel less about yourself is NOT going to lessen my pain. So respect each other, love each other & live in peace together knowing that we are all here together, we might as well learn now how to do it with happiness.

Christmas...

I decided that I wanted a stocking this year so I made new ones for all of us. As I did Briana's name in silver glitter, I remembered the last time I did the kids names on stockings, he got drunk & threw Briana's stocking, smearing her name. The memory snuck up on me & hit me... hard. I don't want these sneaky memories to come out of nowhere. So I tried to battle it with a happy one. I mean, in 17 years together there had to be one, right? One Christmas that wasn't clouded by fights & his drunken anger?... No, not one Christmas that was truly peaceful. I can't even say that last Christmas was a happy peaceful Christmas.

Christmas is supposed to be full of love, happiness, peace, family, friends. But I am lonely, very lonely. I have great friends, true enough. And I have awesome kids, there is no doubt in that. I have a job, I have a vehicle, our needs are met, we aren't cold or hungry, we have clothes on our backs. All I wanted to do was give my children what they wished for on Christmas, and I stressed about it too much. But somehow I had forgotten that I have given us all what we have wished for for so long, peace at Christmas. For the first time in 18 years, there will be peace & quiet in our home.

So why can't I be happy with that? Why am I still angry with him? Angry with myself for spending so many years in unhappiness? Why can't I just look to the future & forget the past?