Sorry For the Word Vomit…

I know it’s been awhile and I know I said I was going to stop apologizing when I missed a Wednesday or Sunday post, and I am… (yes, I do know it’s Thursday) I just don’t want anyone to think I forgot about them or this blog.

We moved three weeks ago. (A BIG, HUGE thanks to my friend John and Tetris!) I think by today, we could have the last of the boxes from the garage come inside and find their place, so that’s exciting.

That’s not entirely the reason I haven’t written though. It’s a big part of it… there is more though.

I did get offered the PCA job and yesterday finished with the paperwork and fingerprinting. I’m hopeful about starting training soon.

Babymaking is… getting a lot less fun. A lot more stress and I wonder if it’s the right thing to do anymore. I want to leave it up to God. I keep telling myself I am leaving it up to God but somehow, I keep managing to wrestle it away from him and stress over it some more.

September is right around the corner, which means many things. School is about to start. My fingers are crossed that Tayla will not struggle as she has in the past. At least, not in the same way. September 29th will be my grandma’s birthday and Noah’s due date. And the 11th, of course, is Natalie’s birthday. My eyes are stinging and my throat is closing up as I write.

I’ve been going through a lot of stuff, with the move. I have three jewelry boxes which I find pretty amusing since I don’t really wear a lot of jewelry but in one of the boxes with the bracelet she gave me for being her maid of honor. I remember shopping for her wedding dress with her… the one time she told me I was right (she should’ve gone with the ivory colored dress, the one that made her look like a princess).

The toast she made at my wedding as my maid of honor. The singing, the dancing, the hot tub. Somehow it reminded me of sneaking out on the golf course to go drinking. When she threw that party, had fliers made up and then had no idea how she got busted…

The times she took me along to some event with her friends, forcing me to have fun… ever the older sister in spirit…

And now, I feel so empty and hollow.

How can that be? I have a husband, a daughter, wonderful family and friends, yet the absence of this one particular person… makes me feel utterly alone.

I keep telling myself that once her birthday is over, it’ll get better… but after September, it will be my birthday and then after Halloween, it’ll be all about Christmas and I don’t know if I can handle that right now. I guess I don’t have to. I’ll try sticking to one day at a time.

But maybe not this day… it’s hard to reassure myself that things in my life will be okay when the world around us is in such utter chaos. I don’t have the energy to get into politics but I think we can all agree, we as a nation, are not where we’d like to be and the world right now is a scary place.

On that lovely note, I think I’ll take a nap and hope things look better when I open my eyes again.

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Peace.

Well SOMEBODY Must’ve Said It…

Just be yourself. I’m sure someone told me that. Then again, I can be pretty out there, so maybe I made it up? I don’t know. The point is, I’ve been sitting here for the last three hours trying to think of what to blog about that’s not super depressing. But I can’t. It’s September 29th. Noah’s due date. Even though I know he would’ve been here already (he was going the same route Tayla did, swimming in sugar, getting all huge and “moose like” and would come early via C-section. I can’t even talk myself into thinking things are better off this way, for the time being. Grieving is a full time job, hellish hours, almost NO PAY… I’m not sure how equipped I would be to handle and infant, a teenager, a death AND post-partum hormones. It doesn’t matter. My heart has a boo-boo and I want my mommy and my baby.

It’s also grandma’s birthday. Happy birthday “guccum”. I’m sorry I probably won’t get around to my usual releasing balloons and making a card ritual but maybe I’ll take Tayla to Dairy Queen and the fountain. I’ll try hard not to cry as she runs around the water, splashing and smiling because it’ll remind me of Natalie and I chasing each other around and around that Shelter fountain. The colored lights changing the hues of the water. Finally resting, able to eat that Blizzard and cuddle up with grandma just enjoying that sweet Columbia MO air… it always smelled better there. Probably all the flowers.

And it’s Thursday. Another fucking Thursday.

I’ve been trying to give myself pep talks, not wanting to ruin or waste a day (even a Thursday) having a pity party but I haven’t found anything that works yet.

I actually keep going back to that advice from a football player… (I know, right? In my defense, he was on America’s Got Talent- as a magician) and one thing he said that really makes so much sense to me is: “Don’t listen to yourself; talk to yourself”. When I listen to myself… oh man. I can go down the rabbit hole, FAST. But talking to myself? That sounds like a good idea… but maybe I’ll start tomorrow.

Thanks…

“Thanks for the memories even though they weren’t so great” -Fall Out Boy

Over the weekend my email was hacked. I’m borderline computer literate at best and didn’t figure it out until I got 50+ bounce back emails and one angry letter, which at the time, I wasn’t sure was directed at me for my blog posts or in regards to the shit ton of spam I unknowingly unleashed into unsuspecting mailboxes.

Now what? I didn’t really know what that meant. Thank God for Geek Squad protection. It’s a necessity for me. I went to the online help and had a tech remotely search, scan, delete, fix and update everything. It took almost three hours. But, I had a professional do it, so I know it was done right. I changed my password and didn’t give it a second thought.

Until today. Today, I checked my bank balance and was in the hole by $85. WHAT THE HELL?! I look at the transactions and immediately see the problem. There was a charge for $49.99 and a charge for $59.99 both from Scottsdale, AZ.

I immediately start bitching about the injustices of the world when Don cut me off, mid sentence. “Are you sure YOU didn’t make those purchases in your sleep?” The nerve of hi- oh, wait. I have done shit like that haven’t I… Fuck. So, I’m thinking. Retracing my financial steps, my sleeping habits are examined and I deduce that No, I did not make those purchases. I reasoned that when I have bought things online in my sleep, my wallet is always out, (usually tossed on the floor near my desk) my debit card lying next to the keyboard, guiltily.

There was none of that.

So, today (fairly convinced of the truth) I went to Wells Fargo to talk to a banker. I explained my situation and he asked for my driver’s license and debit card. He made a comment about Natalie’s picture on my card and I told him she was celebrating a friend’s wedding. He nodded his head and told me he needed to call the claims center and file a claim to refute the charges. Halfway through the call, he hands me the phone. The man on the other end of the line asks a couple of questions and then puts me on hold. I stare into the banker’s desk. My vision starts to get blurry and I realize this is the first time I’ve been inside the bank since I got the call about Natalie.

“Are you ok miss? Do you need a napkin?”

A napkin? Not a tissue? Wouldn’t that be more accessible? Does he have a Burger King bag next to his desk? Is he just going to grab a handful of slightly grease stained napkins and offer them to me? I’m focusing the tiniest details so I don’t have to look at the bigger picture. I’m about to break down.

Breathe, I tell myself. Look around. Find three things that are green. Grass. Leaves. Part of that guy’s tie. Three things that are blue. The sky. That sign. That advertisement. Breathe in: 1,2,3,4. Hold: 1,2,3,4. Breathe out: 1,2,3,4. Hold: 1,2,3,4. Repeat.

I’m able to blink away the tears that haven’t fallen and recover.

“Thanks, no. I’m fine.” I lied.

 

WTF?

Lately, I feel like I could start every post with that title. Hell, every conversation even.

But today included a serious WTF moment.

It’s not often you can pinpoint the exact moment when the shit hits the fan… but for me today, it was 1:58 pm.

I was on hwy 77 South, just starting to cross the bridge and it came out of nowhere. “IT’S THURSDAY! IT’S BEEN 6 WEEKS SINCE NATALIE DIED!

I felt ill. How could I forget? I mean, the past five weeks, I’ve dreaded each Thursday. I usually started on Sunday night or Monday morning and it would grow with each passing hour. By Wednesday, I was trying to hide out in my bed for as long as possible. And for what? To avoid thinking about THAT DAY? That doesn’t work so well. I spend almost as much time/energy/effort on trying to avoid thinking about Thursdays  as I do on actual grieving!

Last night, watching the home videos, I don’t know. I don’t know if that was such a good idea. It was almost like watching the impossible. The past came back to life. Grandma and Grandpa Scott at Christmas… hearing their voices, hearing grandma say my name again, such a double edged sword.

This time period was way before Justin was born and I don’t think I ever realized how much we depended on each other for … everything. Sharing, loving, trading, goofing off, teamwork… And I realized I never thanked her. I mean, we told each other we loved each other but we veterans (of sorts) who served together in life’s unavoidable war. I don’t think she knew how much our shared experience and the individual ways we dealt with it meant to me. I don’t think I knew how much it meant to me.

I pulled over to wipe my eyes and clear my head. I took a deep breath and saw her at two years old. Four years old. Pre-teen, with braces and a mouth guard. Those ridiculously high teased bangs and premature makeup. I saw her grow and mature. Get swept up in friends. In boys. In drugs.

My heart started to race. “I have to call her. I need to talk to her right now!”

I pulled up the keypad on my phone and realized she wouldn’t answer.

Where was her phone, anyway? Still at the police station? In a baggy, locked in an evidence box? Did the phone company take it back?

“Fuck! I have to see her, where is she?”

The Rolodex of memories flip to our first house. The second house on Hidden Oaks Drive. The last house. Her apartment. The skyline. How long was I staring at those buildings six weeks ago? Oh Jesus. She’s gone. I see the casket. The flames. Ashes. The urn…

Oh my God, she’s gone.

In my mind, I run to her empty apartment. I break down the door. I search frantically for her, but of course, she’s not there.

Just some clothes and makeup. More shoes than any human could possibly wear in a lifetime.

I resume my freak out in the car. Crying and screaming. Damn, I was so hoping to be done with the screaming….

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