This book of blank pages has been with me back and forth to work, moved to my purse, taken on trips, and sat next to my bed for about a year. The cover, a soft wrinkled sea-foam green, in black print it says, nevertheless she persisted. It is still full of blank pages. I had big dreams for you little sea-foam green book.

One page says “The strength of the team is each individual member. The strength of each member is the team.” I am not 100% satisfied at my job. It’s a career, I have put so much time and energy into being in this position. Money is good, benefits are good, actually the job itself is good. The people who run the place and the coworkers are awful. I come here and just do my thing hoping to avoid all the drama and all the stupid. I consider myself a team player as well as making sure I am satisfied individually. I cannot say I am one of the go-getter employees now after 10 years of being here. I used to be and I enjoyed it. I got stomped all over and felt very unappreciated so I chose to not be a part of those groups that took extra energy out of me. I happily do what I am asked and that is all they are getting. Lets just say I am very happy to leave at the end of shift. There really should be a VERY hard personality/communication/job skills/empathy/work ethic test for applicants to pass to become management. That’s all I’m saying.

Another page of the sea foam green book says in scribbled cursive “emotional intensity, we all have our should’ve’ s, what are your musts” and underneath that it says “break that glass ceiling, release the limitations, we choose to set in the past.” I am going to take a stab and assume that should say we choose to sit in the past, but I can barely read my own handwriting. Two notes here, first of all, damn I need to use my penmanship more often it has truly gone downhill. Scary actually. Second, the commute to work that day listening to personal development must have been really deep.

Emotional intensity is a lost art. I beg others to understand. I know I hide so many emotions, good, bad, weak, strong, fun, sad, excitement, blah, sympathetic, you name it. I want to be able to be myself. I don’t feel like its accepted to be emotional, especially with intensity. Brings tears to my eyes, that is how I know I have been hiding these thoughts for a long time. I think when you do let loose, society is so quick to judge. Yes, I suffer from some level of anxiety. I have never been medically diagnosed but damn I tell you.. shits real. I remember a time when I could show energy and not be stared at or questioned for being real, and no I’m not talking about being 6. I am saying its tragic that society has caused us to play down our emotions. Just today on Instagram I saw a subject of Hollywood popularity post a picture saying Happy Birthday to their child who looks so sad. Did you pick that picture because he has that male model look? Do you really not have a picture that screams childhood is fun! ugh.. heartbreaking. Have we really conditioned ourselves to just being blah? Will our kids have childhood memories of being happy and excited?

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve but I didn’t, and I don’t. I don’t have many regrets. Some of the huge events that have happened to me in life were totally meant to be. Some of my actions probably weren’t musts, however, I am a true believe that I MUST have needed to do all the things and have all the experiences in order to be where I am. I am not just speaking of physically where I am or in life where I am. I am saying more of the “street cred” where I am. Thanks Caitlin for telling me I have street cred. Not in a million years would I have put that under my qualifications. I like it.

That slightly gives me a lead into breaking that glass ceiling. At this point in life, age 40, not really feeling like I’m making a difference, not really feeling like I matter, I have bounced off that glass ceiling a few hundred times, but breaking it I believe shall come. I am trying so freaking hard to release the limitations in my soul, to feel again. I need to let go of so much, showing up with a smile and a laugh, but never really letting many in. That last sentence could probably be on my headstone. Always a work in progress.. aren’t we all?

The third and last page that has any ink on it is a page full of topics to write about here. That page brings me joy in the fact that for so long I have wanted to do this and finally started. Here goes nothing! Glass ceiling, I am coming for you!

The holidays are coming in hot friends. Working 7 on 7 off seems like a stellar schedule until your days off are so crammed with events and being a mom of involved teens you don’t even realize that your days off are over and its back to work you go. Today was MY day. I had to just be. I slept in until after 9, and spoiled myself with a long hot shower.

I went to sleep last night telling myself that I would maybe fast for a couple of days to revive my energy level after these past few days, but nope. A shortbread cookie ALWAYS goes with coffee.. and so does my mom’s family famous shrimp dip, and also leftover taco salad. Needless to say my energy level is not 100. So here I am sitting next to our boxer dog, The Duchess, and she is snoring very loud. We are twinning in energy today.

The realization that if Christmas decorations don’t come out of the dungeon last Thursday they wouldn’t be up until mid December hit Wednesday night. I went one red and green tub at a time and only brought up what I felt was keeping it simple. We aren’t hosting any dinners or family this year, so keeping it simple actually sounds great considering it makes putting it away so much easier. I hit 23 floors that day I think on my Fitbit, up and down the stairs over and over again. Even decided to take a shot of pre-workout drink at 8pm! I got so much done that day however it wasn’t done.

Friday morning I did a quick trip to Missoula, MT. The teens had sold wreaths and my big mouth/heart said, “of course I’ll deliver to you”! Our schedule got crazier than normal with a dance scheduled and a fundraiser auction we always attend that same weekend. So my mom magic had to make it all happen! They were fresh wreaths! They had to get delivered! 515 am road trip it was. It was such a beautiful drive going through all the small towns before dawn, getting so see all of their Christmas decorations on the main streets and as the sun rose the trees were all glittered with white frost. Stunning. I snuck in and out of Missoula with just one non-wreath stop at my favorite grocery store bakery to bring the best shortbread cookies back to the family. I also breakfast treated myself to these killer caramelized raisin bran muffins they make. I had one stop off on my way home and was back napping on the couch by 2pm.

That night the kids had a Snowball dance. I LOooveee helping my kids get snazzy. I am not sure they will ever know how much it means to me that they make me feel important, that is until it comes time for picture taking, then they get ornery. I got to bubble wand curl,  loose braid and bun E’s hair and add a barrette of sparkle. I got to golden her eyes and pinkish her lips. I got to steam C’s shirts and help him decide what to wear. I couldn’t have been more happy when he decided to go with the batman Hawaiian shirt and vest. There is nothing better than some fun personality in an outfit. E’s date and his parents arrived, we played with the puppy they brought, googled over how nice the kids looked, talked over each other in typical mom’s who don’t know each other silliness, and finally took some pictures. Off the kids went to have a delicious steak dinner “Marybeth’s mom” offered to cook. Sounded like it was a great night, and about 11 teens arrived afterwards for grilled cheese, soup, oranges, Swedish fish and Sour Patch Kids. Movie night in the shop guest room! I love being a safe place for them to hang out. I just make sure there is enough teenager food and they are set.

Saturday was awesome. No alarms set for anyone! We had a relaxing morning once the teens made their arrival to the kitchen. Coffee, fresh from our coop eggs, hash browns in the air fryer and I think there might have been a sweet tiny green coffee mug of Matt’s famous Cuban coffee by the pellet stove fire. We had more wreaths to deliver in Great Falls and then our favorite event of the holidays, the auction for Toys for Tots. I put on my new bright red pants romper, a grey 3/4 length cardigan and some strappy grey boots that were not for snow and ice, but when you are Montana girl you take the risk. Matt is a silent auction bandit. We definitely brought up those bids with our bidding wars, and their money raised was record-breaking. We ate prime rib with Santa. (I’m not exaggerating. THE MAN in the RED SUIT sat with us at our table!) We saw friends. We hugged friends that are family. A wonderful evening and the one time a year we look forward to looking pretty and feeling good about giving to the community. The BEST part of Saturday was sitting in tree lights with all four of us home at 11pm under blankets and watch Christmas Chronicles with Kurt Russell on Netflix. It means the world to me when the teens are willing to spend time with us. I guess at 11pm on a Saturday night I can finally tie them down to hang with their momma.

Sunday that alarm went off at 515 and I looked, silenced it and was like there is NO WAY I can get up and drive 4 and a half hours right now. At 8 I decided I better get going. E and I got road trip ready in our best sweatshirts, and left for our excursion to Billings, MT to deliver a wreath and get hugs from two cute nieces. She wore a sweatshirt that has be kind embroidered on it, and my green sweatshirt screamed BE HAPPY in pink lettering. It was bound to be a fun day. We saw three bald eagles. We laughed at weird facts my mom has made her to believe. We belted our lungs out at the soundtrack to “A Star Is Born.” We enjoyed our mother daughter time very much, even when we had to call Gramma to get this scoop on the magpie almost being Montana’s state bird.

On the way back home, passing through one of the many “ghost town” like towns in Montana, Moccasin, there was this little white start lit up on an agriculture building. I thought even in this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere someone has spirit enough to put up that star. Small gestures bring happiness to my heart.

‘Shallow’ was most definitely the song of the day. Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga really sure do know how to make this woman happy. I love when songs are driving, singing at the top of my lungs, feeling like I’m really in tune and that I could be the next Voice winner worthy. They nailed it on that soundtrack if I have anything to say about it.

I thrive off of mom busyness .. but I also hurt. Today my back and hips are D.O.N.E. Tomorrow is acupuncture day! Bring on those needles, Kimberly. I’ll introduce her to you another time.

 

I don’t remember too much about my toddler days, I know what I’ve been told. The stories of living in the dorms at Western in Dillon, Montana. That I was loved so much by all of my mom’s roommates. That my mom would lay me down for a nap and then run as fast as she could across campus to get exercise in.  I suppose you do run quickly when you know your baby might be waking up. I’ve heard the stories of the pot plants growing on the table in the dorm. I’m probably not supposed to say that. I remember a guy named Mr. Walters that mom was so fond of that she took us to see him when on family vacations. I remember living in a green motel on Central Ave West when we moved to Great Falls. Other than that I don’t know too much about being a toddler.

Mom met my Dad at her college besties wedding, he is the groom’s twin. Maybe they met before that, seems possible but I really don’t know.  He must have been pretty great since she’s been married to him now for 38 years. I am 40. Now that college bestie has been my aunt all my life if that isn’t obvious.

Dad really is the best. He fell in love with a lady that had a two-year old. I somewhat remember stories about meeting Dads parents who then became Gramma Martha and Grampa Joe. I am unaware of any apprehension of their son dating someone with a little girl, it was 1980, and things were so much laid back I imagine. Not the judgmental bull crap you see these days.

Growing up was cool. I have a wonderful multitude of cousins that are the friends I know and love to this day. What do they say, “Your cousins are your first friends…” I am starting to see that they will most likely be my last friends as well. I like to think of our cousin bond as very trustworthy and genuine which is so hard to come by in people. I work in a job that you learn you really cannot trust many and since everyone is only in it for themselves you end up pretty jaded. I have lost a lot of social skills for this reason. I guess not skills, but I have gained anxiety and a pure hatred for assholes and fake people. Why we can’t all just see people with a good perspective and that they aren’t out to get us. But are they? I’m guessing this won’t be the only time I refer to these feelings.

Back to growing up. It was always Ryan family gatherings, birthdays, celebrations for no reason, backyard BBQs, laughter, smiles, hugs, stories until the end of time. There was camping at South Boulder with the Buhl side, and trips to the Flathead or Oregon with Buhl cousins. Holidays spent with as much family as possible, it truly probably couldn’t have gotten better. I am the luckiest grandchild of Gramma Jean and Grampa Bill, I got to grow up a block away until sixth grade and even then I was only a mile away. Riverview was hands down the best neighborhood to ride bikes around and play with worms in the gutters when it rained. Erin W. and I counted 114 worms on the way to school one morning and the PE Teacher Mr. Davis told us that our worm counting skills were the talk of the teacher lounge. Kimberly L. and I built so many dams in that runoff and raised lady bugs until I killed them. We also ate kosher pickles and mini Schwans pizzas like we owned stock in those products. We are truly still that cool when we get together.

I remember when the twins, Justin and Jared along with Jason and Brian F, also twins, and I think there were some other boys came over to our yard in the rain and I literally let them TRIP me over and over and over… I heard later it was because one of them “liked me” Oh to go back to liking girls by tripping them! I should note that I always gave the boys I liked dead legs at recess so I mean, life was so much more fun before social media. Those same boys liked to come over to play air hockey in our basement. I will never forget how funny it is to watch your friends that are boys jump your basement stairs, run out the door through the backyard and scale a fence covered in raspberry bushes when your parents show up. I really don’t know if there was rule about having friends over but I guess it is still scary. I get my now mom scariness from my mother, hands down. I am 40.

We played ice cream truck with an old white suburban in our driveway. Cousins of all ages would be over and we just rode bikes or skateboarded around and around and someone was the ice cream person working at the sliding window. That same suburban ran over one of our dogs, Hardy, after we sold it. I know, I saw it happen.

I thought I was the most rad girl on the block the day I won a Bubble Yum skateboard. Mom can probably tell you about the contest, I don’t remember. I remember my brother Brennan winning a boom box from the bank raffle, but I don’t know where the coolest skateboard on the planet came from. I tell you what though, you think my smile is big, the day you win a Bubble Yum skateboard and ALL of the neighborhood boys are into skateboarding you smile REALLY big! I am sure they laughed HARD about how cool I thought I was. I feel like even the outside air was different back then. I feel like the neighborhoods were caring and friendly. I don’t see that much anymore.

There is one thing I imagine that smile hid, I look back and NEVER remember being completely happy in my own skin. Just typing that frustrates the hell out of me. These are the days I recorded NKOTB off of a televised awards show onto a tape recorder. (I probably still have that tape.) These are the days of sliding down the basement stairs on bean bags and slippery sleeping bags. These are the days of stepping on clover and getting bee stings in the bottoms of my feet, never failed happened every year. These are the days of my name being called out at Wheels West, our local skating rink, for being the fastest skater out on the floor. These are the days of big bows in my hair and 80s colored clothes, and yet I think back and just know that entire life I never EVER felt beautiful. Why do we do that to ourselves?

I was thinking about some of the things we did as elementary friends, birthday parties mostly. I always gave my friends a pair of cute socks. Some friends would say they “knew I would give socks.” Thinking back I don’t remember feeling comfortable at any of those parties. I think I was just okay. I knew that if I laughed my way through uncomfortable I could get through it. I never felt like the others seemed to feel. I was just there. That feeling is something that has continued throughout my life. I am 40.

We moved to a different house when I was going into the sixth grade. I got the biggest room. It was so huge I had a couch and a huge water bed and could still cartwheel across the floor. I had it decorated in parrots and eventually it became a collage of magazine pages I tore out and memorabilia of high school. I would pay money to see the pages torn, to see what they said, or what they were about and be able to see what it truly said about my inner self. I am curious to what was important in my head.

The first day of school in sixth grade was hands down the worst school day ever. Our class was the first to go to North MIDDLE School. We lost out on being the top of the school as 6th graders at Riverview Elementary, and had to go be the babies and the new kids at the “junior high.” I cried, not just tears like RIVERS of water streamed down my face ALL day. I sat in the counselor’s office lobby ALL day, so much that they let me be the aide during my study hall that year. Just now I realize I don’t remember any of my friends wondering if I was okay. I was the ISS (In School Suspension) aide sometimes as well. I wonder what the suspended kids thought about their peer being their supervisor. I am guessing that didn’t assign me many cool points. The counselor secretary was Mrs. Wolfe. Her son was the mascot for the Phoenix Suns. He was in that gorilla suit. I remember this but I can’t find a hair tie half the time. I am 40.

As I got into the later years of high school I definitely had fun, however looking back I wish things had gone somewhat differently. I think some of those “best” friends weren’t truly my tribe. I don’t really know which classmates would have been my tribe. I was acquaintances with all but 4 of that 450 person list at graduation. I could read them and tell you a conversation I had or a class I had with them. My mom always said I was friends with everyone, however it seems more like I was just a floating soul not really sure who I should be. Eh, life goes on, I am glad to have been a decent enough person.

Of course things change, but I have words that swirl in my head when I think of certain friends. Words that cut. Words that hurt. Words that made me continue to struggle with confidence. These friends have been in my life for more than over half of my life. I would like to think it was just high school bitches but even now 25 years later they still do and say things that hurt. I am 40. I see that they might be nice to see occasionally but some of them just don’t have the time you should put in to a true friendship. Plus eventually I will get to the part of becoming a non-drinker and that changes EVERYTHING in a person’s life.

Have you ever wondered what your purpose was? Why did I go through the things I did and why did the things that happened in my life happen? Yeah I know everything happens for a reason.

I did some really stupid shit as a teenager. I also did smart stuff that luckily most of my family knows those things and not the stupid things. I took my little brother to the river and he almost drowned. I drove after drinking. One time I was puking and driving at the same time, holy heck why am I alive? I remember when Becky and I got pulled over with an 18 pack and she has these magic powers that can shove with her feet the whole 18 pack (minus like what two, Becks?) plus the box up under the dashboard on the passenger seat of my 1978 Olds Cutlass Supreme, nicely named the Ironic car. Love some Alanis up in here! Anyways, I don’t even think he gave me a ticket.

I snuck out so many times with my friend Monica, until that time when we got caught. Holy crap we were so scared we would never see each other again. Oh to go back to that day, because all of the life she went through and all of the times she had me worried so much about her it’s truly scary and shocking to think back of the events she went through and that I stood by her for, even when she and I literally fist fought after a wedding, oh man, that friendship is through thick and thin. Fo’Sho.  Reason #245 I choose not to be a drinker.

As an adult you can see a broader view of events that went down, things that go on that you do not quite understand why people would act like that but everyone adapts to their life as individuals and learns from their own mistakes. One would hope. I am a firm believer that no one truly cares much for anyone else. They will ask about you and you will talk, but in the end it just becomes gossip at the next Sunday Funday. Crappy that I feel that way. I spent a year not too long ago asking only about them in conversation. That whole fake “how are you” BS… I would just say well, Good, and then ask a whole bunch of questions about all kind of things, and people will talk about themselves and then leave that conversation feeling like you have just caught up with each other, when they not once asked you anything. I don’t put too much out there just because I realize no one cares, but I also just hate judgmental people and gossip so much that the feeling of them talking about me later eats me alive inside. Clearly I am not talking to the right members of my tribe.

The first week of June 2013 I quit drinking. I drank too much at my brother’s wedding reception and said mean things to pretty much anyone I could hurt. Why? I was miserable. I actually probably am miserable inside more than anyone would ever guess. Enter lump in my throat. Sigh.

I am not putting this in writing to get advice or have anyone feel sorry for me. I just know that I am not the only one. I have more potential than this. Where does one jump and go for things they should’ve started a long time ago. How does one get over the anxiety of other talking shit about you? Why is the world so incredibly rude? Back to my life choice of not drinking.

That night I yelled, I screamed, I cried. I was in my parent’s basement making a ridiculous scene where as a teenager I had done so much yelling, this time I should’ve know better. Yet alcohol got the best of me.

I left. I did that a lot growing up. I would flip out, leave, barefoot, winter, rain, heat, with nothing and I did it quite a bit actually. This drunken night I walked the mile to my Grandmas house. I wanted to ask her how the heck she survived marriage for so long because I was miserable. I wanted to ask her how she could be so genuine to everyone because she was. She had so many people to hug and love and she did it beautifully. This night she was in bed. It was probably somewhere between 3-4 am and my drunk ass thought it was ok to go wake her. Luckily for me I don’t think she knew I ever was there. My aunt found me though, there on that floral couch. I talked with her, I remember she told me my daughter had told her things she probably shouldn’t have and that still hurts but my child deserves to talk to others, especially since growing up I don’t think I ever did get those things off my chest. I got up off that couch after cry talking and I walked the mile back, barefoot and almost daylight straight up looking like the walk of shame back to my parents’ house. I have never been so angry at myself. I hope that my family knows I truly love them and never meant to hurt them even thought I have done it plenty of times. I was and am a mess. It has been 5 year since I have drank. I wasn’t an alcoholic but I have so much pent-up inside of this smile that alcohol really doesn’t mix with all of those emotions.

When you decide to be a non-drinker you lose so much. You don’t get invited to places that have alcohol. Because you aren’t fun anymore people forget you exist. There are so many things I miss about the occasional beer or glass of wine but it’s mostly the socializing and the laughter. I miss laughing probably the most I have missed anything in my life. Thank goodness for my kids, we get to laughing to tears and then laugh that we are laughing. I love them with my whole being for taking such good care of their mom. I never want them to know the amount of hurt I have inside of me. I am honest with my kids about 90% of our lives. I am trying my best guys, I swear.

Let’s rewind to the part I kind of forgot about really once I started writing. Somehow I am sure this topic is part of some of my life feelings. I have this other family. One morning before school around the time I was turning 18 I believe, my mom woke me up with a letter. Things fell into place when I read that letter, place isn’t really the word, but things fell. I wasn’t sure what Mom was up to, she wasn’t sleeping well, and we were waking up to baked goods before school. She was being weirder than normal.

She hands me the letter and long story short it says to me that my Dad isn’t my biological father and that Rick is. It explains who Rick is and the members of his family that I was aware of. It tells me that his family didn’t know I existed all those years and they were getting or had gotten a similar letter. Ricks parents were receiving one and if I remember right they had one to forward to Rick. So there it was, Dad wasn’t my real dad, and this guy Rick was my biological father. I went to school that morning, told my friends that would care. I made it part of the day but went home early. I think I blocked most of what really anyone talked about for a while. This meant that whole time Gramma Martha and Grampa Joe and those Buhl aunts and uncles and cousins all knew that I wasn’t truly a Buhl. For almost 18 years they talked about it or said things to each other behind my back. Not really sure how I feel or felt about it. My Buhl family never batted an eye once I did know, it’s not like they changed towards me. I feel lucky to have them as my family. I don’t love them any less, but sometimes when my mind is playing games I do feel a little weird about the whole thing. The mind is a trickster.

Ricks family was open armed about the situation. It has never been full on welcome but they do acknowledge me as one of them sometimes. His immediate family wasn’t local so that was here and there on getting to know them. I had this beautiful half-sister and the cutest half-brother, and even though there was never relationships built, being able to see pictures of them occasionally on social media does mean a lot to me. There are a lot of siblings to Rick and I see them here and there. The whole thing has just always been a weird situation. They are the nicest people out there and I did just kind of show up. They remembered me for somethings but forgot to let me know when my bio-Grandma had passed and I found out on social media. They have big family reunions and I’ve never been invited but I get it. No one wants the awkwardness to linger around a fun weekend. I don’t have any hard feelings EVER. I am happy that I got to keep in touch with Ricks parents, they are two of the most beautiful souls that ever walked on Earth, and I know I was special to them, and so were my kids. I am thankful to have the visits with them even though they were not as much as they should’ve been. My kids felt comfortable enough to just pop in to see them and would stay and help with a puzzle, if they were in the neighborhood so right there shows so much as the kind of human beings there were. I am thankful for social media to keep up with the cousins and aunts etc. I’ve always bragged about my three large families. I am the luckiest.

I had my daughter at 24. She really has always been the best thing that happened at that time of my life. I wasn’t married, engaged or even dating her father. I was in love with him for many years. I kept in touch with him and his family from the age of 17 when we met to 24 when I used my student loan money to go see him for New Year’s 2001. I adore his family and have always felt so loved and welcome by them. I am sure they had words at one time about me but in the end it has been nothing but love. I was so mean to him when he came out to Montana to be a father. Let’s be honest thought, who decides to couch surf your 8 months pregnant friend’s house and leave chew spittoons all over! I am laughing now but then I wanted to toss him in a river. He Dear John lettered me while I attended Gramma Martha’s funeral. As the years have gone by, she is almost 17 now his and my friendship is solid, and like I said I couldn’t have asked for a better family to help support Elle in all of her doings.

I drank so much before I got pregnant with her. I remember getting “the talk” from quite a few people other than my parents about my party habits. I wasn’t even the bad one of my “friends”! However to all of you that tried, I appreciated it later. I used to say I would’ve ended up in a gutter somewhere without her but I really don’t know where I would be.

I had my son 22 months later. I was engaged to his father. I really thought that was going to be my life. We had a lot of fun. Unfortunately there was an ownership of responsibilities that one of us hadn’t hit yet. We separated before Corey was two and have been co-parenting since. Corey is always going to be the protector of his mom. He doesn’t know he is and probably will deny he ever was and will forever be. I will forever wish that the spite his father has towards me would cease. I just don’t see it ever happening. It is sad now that Corey is almost 15, he has a wife and another son that he wouldn’t be able to just commit to being 100% about Corey and stop thinking that I am out to get him. I am just being a mother to his child and doing my best to make sure he doesn’t make the same mistakes in life that his father and I have made. I know he loves his son, I never have doubted that.

I have been in love with a few people. I have been hurt very bad and I am guessing I have hurt some just as much. I heard once that if you can stay friends with an ex than you were never in true love with them and I very much disagree. Well now that I write that I agree. See mind games! I am 40. I was married once. I married into a controlling, narcissistic, negative, selfish, jealous relationship. We were fake happy. I lied to so many. I smiled through bad days. I couldn’t breathe. Marriage is a lot of work but if you lose yourself in the process it is not fair to you as a human being. You cannot gain trust from someone you have never had it from in the beginning. Counseling, Meds, Talking through rough days, we tried. I kept telling him I was never giving up, but my insides were dying and eventually had to be honest with myself. After the initial blow, it became mutual. Then of course came the asshole version of a divorce. I would never wish an ugly divorce and small town gossip upon any of my enemies. He dragged my name and life through the mud and my family suffers from it. High five to the face fella! You are a real rock star.

Fast forward to my current relationship. My boyfriend Matt and I went to a retreat once. We both chose to give it a valiant effort and put in 100% even though we aren’t the most religious people. I don’t need your opinions about that, but thanks. We went for our relationship and we went for our mind games that our brains had us working overtime thinking about. We got through the morning session and made it through the weird lunch setting. We were such outsiders. He had never been to anything like that but I had. It was alright, not really a place to unwind and feel like you can just be yourself. The session got to the part where I had to pick a person to forgive. To let go of whatever they had done or whatever I may have been holding on to in regards to that person. My heart and mind flushed with so many people. Shockingly there really were a lot of people who had hurt me in some way. People I would never have expected to come to mind came to mind. At that point I tried to pick one. I couldn’t choose one person to forgive. I left. I cried in the hallway. I am not a public cry person AT ALL. I couldn’t breathe, I panicked. I went outside. I went inside. I tried to recover by sitting down and the usher came over and said I could go up to the person to talk to them. I couldn’t do it. Pardon my words but it fucked with me so hard-core I couldn’t get over it. I couldn’t even forgive my own mother. I couldn’t forgive an ex that is one of my best friends. I couldn’t forgive friends that have known me for 20 plus years. I am not even joking the list of people that have hurt me hardened my heart. You have got to be kidding me. Deep down I have that much pain inside of me that when it comes down to letting go of some of the unfortunate parts of my life that really only created who I am I couldn’t forgive anyone. I had to leave. So we left. Again lump in my throat. Sigh. I am 40.

PS: I know it will devastate my mom to read this. I am sorry mom, I know you never meant to hurt. I am okay. I promise.

We are all reading between the lines right?

I don’t have it in me to forgive myself. I work really hard at loving me. I appear to be happy. I hide from attending functions because I am just not into fake and I don’t have real people in my life these days. I don’t trust the BS. I don’t trust the next day’s gossip. Am I a total freak? Again don’t feel bad, I am sure there is some prescription I could be taking. I am not into taking pills though so I work out. I bug my kids with all kinds of inquiring questions and I find that one or two people at a kids game that have always been kind.

I frequently think how much easier life would be had it always just been my kids and I. Had I not been hurt but stayed friends with that ex would I be at this job? Had I graduated culinary school before dropping out after attending two funerals in one weekend they told me I wouldn’t graduate? I don’t know why missing two days caused that but I threw my books at them and left. I never asked questions or fought for my reasons to be there. I wouldn’t have my kids had I stayed and graduated so again everything happens for a reason. Those two are my life. This is a very confusing paragraph. I basically just rambled on about the events that lead me to where I am today. As a single mom in the insurance industry I wasn’t able to afford health insurance for my kids, I wasn’t working in an environment that would hold me upright when I was old. This job’s benefits, pay and service to my country and protection of my kids and family are why I am here. I am not happy at this job most days, however I am between a rock and a hard place. It’s been a short 10 years here already, I can just keep pushing forward. The culinary part of me dreams of opening up so many ideas, but the anxious part of me knows that most people just wish failure upon you and I don’t have it in me to deal. I really don’t like humans right now. Can you tell? Heart breaking is what it is.

Every day is a work in progress, sometimes it feels like I will never make it. Somedays I am on top of the world and love every moment of every breath I take. Somedays I can’t breathe. I am 40.

I have been pushed around, spit at, had eggs throw across the kitchen and closet doors ripped off hinges and thrown at me, I have been verbally and emotionally abused. I have had drunk exs bust into my house, shove their genitals into me after cornering me in the kitchen because they are angry I broke up with them. I have been the mistress.  I have miscarried. I have been lied to for years on end about what our relationship really was to him finding out that the entire time I wasn’t the only one. I have been walked all over. I have never felt appreciated. I have poured my soul into friendships and realized later it would never be reciprocated. I have been forgotten. I rarely feel important in my life. I just want to make a difference before I die. I want to be supported. I hear all the time you can’t pour from an empty cup. I have been doing that my entire life until I started working on my self-love so occasionally I have something in my cup.

I wonder if this will make me feel better. I am 40.

I keep reading this knowing how much I am not saying. We’ll see.