One Single Day

The "New Years" holiday has never meant much to me.  I always see people food shopping galore, hosting elaborate parties, having themed said parties, dressing up and going out, but all the while it is nothing more to me than another night for me.  A night I usually spend in jeans and/or sweats with my daughter after watching movies and/or playing a board game or two.  Last night we did crossword puzzles together.

I get the "resolve," but it is always so trite and unrealistic.  You really think the best thing for your future is to buy a gym membership you will most likely use for 2 months and never again?  You really think that the key to success is to "be kind to others" only to be cut off in traffic and scream like a sailor and forget about it the next time you have a misfortune?  I don't set these kinds of expectations for myself. I don't presume to let one day dictate that I need to have resolve. That I need to be better for the year because I was so crappy the year before.

I try for these "resolutions" every day. Every day when I wake up I make my day's goals and decisions.  When someone says something snotty, I resolve to bite my tongue. When someone forgets to flush, I cringe and flush for them.  When I get bossed around, I stand up for myself as I always should have.  When someone cuts me off in traffic, I remind myself that I have no idea who they are or what is happening in their life.  Maybe they don't have an emergency to get to, but that's not for me to determine behind the wheel of my car. You're in a rush?  Whatever. You are one space ahead of me now - revel in it. 

Life is really hard.  Like, really hard.  And no one can fully understand hardship and heartbreak and all the other two-words-in-one experiences without having gone through them, but I firmly believe setting unrealistic goals for yourself one time a year is worthless. Why one day a year? Why not every single day?  We celebrate all kinds of holidays throughout the year; If every day is too much pick each of those calendar holidays and set a reminder.  One day a year is not enough.

So celebrate the coming of a new year. A clean slate.  I have given up on thinking "This is my year" because it is, also, unrealistic.

This is my day. I am going to make the best of ONE SINGLE DAY rather than 364 days way too far ahead of me to actually control anything.

Today is my day. My day to be all the things I want to. Or at least start to be.

Kitty Boy

Making a decision on someone else's behalf is one of the most difficult things I have encountered in my short 31 years.  The process is gut-wrenching, stressful, and down-right depressing to say the least.

Over the course of the last year and a half, my kitty, Dylan, has been sick. No one knows what is wrong with him, but, of course, everyone speculates and imagines they have the answer.  He has been to 3 different vets and each one walks away clueless and Dylan walks away worse for wear.

A year and a half of having unwilling bulemia.  He eats... he throws up.  He drinks... he throws up. All the while I am sure his heart is weakened, his esophagus has to be tore up, his teeth are probably ruined permanently, he has 60% hair loss, he is down 9 lbs (yes, he was 20 lbs; He is a massive cat), and he has random open sores from licking himself almost compulsively.

All of those reasons make me say: Put him down.
Life is not meant to be lived while having to suffer constantly.

And pets don't tell us when they hurt.
He can't say "Mommy, all I want to do is eat like a normal boy." or "I just want to stop having to hurt every day."

At first I was distraught having to go through endless rolls of paper towel and cleaning up piles of bile and hair.  Now it is second nature.  He gives the meow and I am there in a flash.  Thankfully I have almost all hard floors in my house and he manages to puke in pretty convenient places.  But still my heart is heavy for my kitty boy who has been my little buddy from the first day.

His appointment to be put down was for this past Saturday.  He has had an amazing week, too. One puke on Wednesday and nothing since. Almost as if he knew it was the end of his life was coming this weekend. Saturday came and went. I cancelled his appointment because a large part of me couldn't put down my little kitty boy who was snuggled up on my lap for the better part of 3 hours the night before when I couldn't sleep over the thought of ending his short life. When I called the shelter, the little old lady who answered wept with me as I told her I didn't know what to do.  I told her I didn't know how to make the decision for him and that I didn't know if it was even the right decision at the end of the day.  Especially when he was having a great week. A week of normalcy.

Dylan (left) and Lucy - Nov 2013

Maybe selfishly I just need more time to come to terms with ending the life of my little friend.  My companion. My buddy.  The guy who when I got him had no whiskers because he burned them all off on a candle.  The guy who would sit on my lap no matter where I was (yes, even tried to on the toilet). The kitty boy who has been a part of my family longer than any actual human guy ever has and maybe ever will.

I know, at the end of the day, that Dylan's life will be cut short and that I will have to make the long drive to the shelter to put him down, but I am not ready right now.  So many things happen in life and they always seem to happen at the same time - and I am not ready to lose him yet.  And as tears now well up in my eyes I will go snuggle up with him on the couch now, because I can.
Because he is still here... for now.

Eleven Years Ago Today...

Eleven years ago today, I lay in a hospital bed dying.

Eleven years ago today, my body decided to begin the process of shutting down.  With a high fever of 104, I was delirious and on the verge of slipping into a coma with blood pressure around 140/104.  It was the longest day of my entire life.

Eleven years ago today, I was admitted into the hospital with every hope of a routine delivery of my baby. My blood pressure had been high for a month prior, but it was closely monitored. Being induced was nothing out of the ordinary and nothing every other Obstetrician hasn't done before.  It was all new to me though. 24 hours after trying my best to deliver drug-free, came the breaking of my water.  This not only distressed my unborn daughter, but sent my body into unparalleled pain.

Eleven years ago today, I got through 29 hours of labor and my body decided it was time to push.  I was not dilated. It is physically impossible to birth a baby if your cervix is not dilated, but I had absolutely no choice in the matter; When it's time to push, it's time to push. Fail. On an epic scale. No matter how hard I tried, nothing was happening. No matter what the doctors attempted, my body was resisting. My body began to fail and my baby was dying. One of the last things I heard was "We are going to lose them both!" before slipping into delirium.

Eleven years ago today, I was prepped for an emergency cesarean section. Which is actually incredibly common nowadays... even then.  C-Sections were on the incline averaging at 70% or so I heard. They strapped down my arms and legs, because, well, that's just what they do.  After attempting to numb me from the waist down, the anesthesiologist asked "Can you feel this?" "Yes" I replied.  "Hmm... you shouldn't be able to feel anything." And the surgery commenced.  From behind my little sheet, I could feel my abdomen being sliced open with a scalpel. I screamed in absolute terror and was drugged into oblivion while my mother yelled for them to give me more drugs.

Eleven years ago today, my baby was born and I didn't get to meet her.  I was in a drug-induced high and from what I can vividly remember I told my mother "I am in outer space."  Apparently I had enough drugs. I have also learned later that redheads need 1/3 more drugs than any other hair color in order for said drugs to work effectively. If only...

Eleven years ago today, my daughter was rushed to the NICU, because she could not breathe on her own. When the doctor broke my water, she drank it, causing severe distress on her lungs. My beautiful baby girl sat alone in an incubator hood for the first 24 hours of her life - without her mother.  I was a hallway away coming out of my euphoria and not even knowing I had just had a child.

Me & my bird.

Eleven years ago today, my life was changed forever.  I learned patience, and kindness, and how to love someone else in a way only a mother would understand.

Today my little baby is a beautiful, hilarious, snarky 11-year old. She is sassy in all the right places. She has a sense of humor that makes me double-over more often than not. She is like walking out of a smokey bar and gulping down heaps of fresh air. She is the rays of sunshine on an overcast day.  She is my better half and one of the sweetest souls I have ever known.  Shes awkward, and quirky, and her long legs trip her off more often than not. She is my soul mate in this life. The reason I was put here.

Happy Birthday to the best person I have ever known. I love you bird. <3

One Way or Another

As I pulled into the Pet Supplies Plus parking lot this afternoon, I noticed a row of cages on the sidewalk and a plethora of people everywhere. I decided maybe this was not the day for me to get cat litter. Maybe I should just leave now while my mascara isn't running down my cheeks and my nose isn't stuffy and red.... nope. I parked.  And as I walked to the building I started breathing heavily knowing it was not going be easy for me to be here.

Each cage was filled with a dog or a puppy and each of those said dogs wanted nothing but my touch.  My eyes immediately welled with tears.  One puppy licked incessantly through the cage as if to tell me "It okay lady. Don't cry."  I did anyway.  I wept like a baby for these poor animals that don't have homes.  I wept for their lives in cages while their irresponsible owners proceeded with their flippant lives.  And it happens every day, and not just with dogs which is where my heartache comes in.  I could cry for a thousand hours at how bad I feel for these children, puppies, kitties, and nameless millions of other animals that people carelessly turn their shoulder to.

Or even the people that have to have a "purebred."  My mutt is cooler than your purebred could ever be. How could you even stand to spend $1000 on a dog when there are 50 of them locked up at the local kennel who need you and your love?  I can't even think about the children in orphanages otherwise you may as well put a bullet in my head.  But as an owner of rescued pets, I cannot even begin to understand some people's thought processes.  How an animal from the mall would even make sense when the Humane Society is destroying animals left and right because they don't even have the room for them.  But oooh, I need a teacup this or a miniature that.  Personally, the cat in the cage at the shelter that has one eye or 11 toes on one foot, is the cat I want most of all.

Finding your animal a new home is one thing, but getting rid of them because your priorities have changed is another - and it is thoroughly unsettling.  I have a cat who needs a new home and I can't find her one.  Have I dropped her off on the Humane Societies doorstep? No, I will wait until she finds the perfect home.  She needs it badly, but I'd rather she stayed here than in a 2x2 cage with little to no love every day - or better yet, euthanized.

Then there are hundreds of thousands of animals born each year that don't have homes and don't have any love.  They starve to death, they are beaten, they are left alone - when they require nearly nothing but love and love alone. The poor little dears. And today I got to look some of those unloved babies in the face and all I could think was how I wanted to put out a worldwide threat:
Fix your animals or allow me to have you fixed for your ignorance.

Bird

This new life I am living is incredible.

The relationship that has been built between my daughter and myself is one I could never have dreamed possible.

I used to work every day, or night, or afternoon. I used to work on birthdays, and holidays, and weekends. The last 11 years have been such a struggle working hours that are an absolute nightmare. Today, we laugh constantly, we get into spats, we sing lyrics to songs we don't even know, we never say goodbye without a kiss, and we always say I love you. She is the night to my day and the breath in my lungs.  My world turns for her and her alone.

Tomorrow my baby is off to Middle School and a whole new life is waiting for us.  A life of bullies, cliques of catty bitches, puberty, obsessions with boys, dirty jokes, teasing to no avail. A life I could have sworn I just left behind.  I am scared for her because I remember how hard junior high was.  I remember how relentless the bullies were and I remember how there were nights I cried myself to sleep. My little girl is a peach.  She is soft and sweet and bruises easily, but deep down she has that toughened core. A wall, per say. These next seven years are going to bring us a plethora of emotions and a roller coaster of memories; I need to hold on as tight as I possibly can. 

Bird & Me

My sweet little ten year old.... well for 15 more days anyway.  Eleven years is sneaking up on us and my heart is weighing heavy at the thought of how grown up she has become.  5'2", long and lean.  My little bird who used to snuggle in the crook of my arm is now just a memory; She is now just a gangly tween who rolls her eyes and gets offended all too easily.  My little bird.  I miss her already. :(

I can hear her voice coming down the hall just now,

"Momma, come watch a show before bed."

She will still want me to tuck her in, rub her back for a few minutes, and kiss her goodnight.

She still needs me - for now.

If only she understood how much I need her.  

Trouble With the Curve

Life is so funny the way it constantly throws you a curve ball or two when you least expect it.  The part that is most important is watching the first pitch go by and learning what it looks like before you attempt to swing at it.

My life has given me many different pitches: sliders, knuckle balls, breaking balls, heaters.  And while I haven't mastered hitting each pitch I know that I learn a little more every time I see one go by.  This euphemism has nothing to do with baseball really.  Nothing to do with stepping up to a plate and actually seeing pitches wiz by my head, but learning from life's experiences no matter how big or how small.

I've been through a lot in this life.  More than some would say is necessary for anyone to have to go through.  And with these experiences I have built a wall around my heart that is constructed so well not very many people can get over, around, through... nadda. I share these experiences with a lucky few in hopes that maybe I can turn someone's life around even in a minuscule way.  I didn't chose the things that happened to me, but maybe the universe knew I was strong enough to handle the bad and strong enough to move forward with a smile on my face.  Even if that smile is sometimes as fake as can be.

Over the course of the last 15 years, I have been through some things I maybe shouldn't have made it out of. Experiences that have left me shattered, broken, and even a little worse for wear.  I've faltered - hell, I am human!  But the lessons of life have deemed themselves to be invaluable.  I know that with each passing breath I am better for having been hurt. And I can raise a daughter who is just as headstrong and capable of tackling this life that is never easy.  She has already been through some things she shouldn't have had to, but life has a pitiful way of doling out crap.... and only the strong shall survive.

I've been told a thousand times and in a thousand ways "You are so strong."  A lot of times it is just a front.  A lot of times it has nothing to do with strength and everything to do with balance. I can take a punch, my eyes will fill with tears, but I am going to dust myself off and figure out the lesson in the madness.  I am not as strong as everyone says - it's not about being strong.  Its about being smart and having a never-ending desire to keep learning as much as possible.

This last ten months has been one hell of a curve ball.  So many different things have happened and there were times where I should have broken in half, but I am here. I am standing on my two feet, strong as ever - smart as ever - and ready to swing at whatever pitch comes my way... so bring it on universe. I am ready for you.

Light Years Away

October will mark the anniversary of my aloneness.  My solitariness. My individuality.  Six years of rebuilding and reinforcing my walls.

Usually this is a complete non-issue for me. Usually I can find inner-peace with having no partner to come along on this journey with me.  Everyone always has a partner.  And even if they don't for a minute, they can't stand the fact of being alone so they attach to anything -nay, anyone- and find safety and comfort in them. This isn't to say I am not okay with being alone, I am just really aware of it right now.

I have no idea how to not be alone. I know fairy tales aren't real and I know that there isn't someone who is going to make the world stop spinning when I see them; Things like that are nonsensical.  What I don't know is if something is truly broken inside me.  Will I ever find that love everyone is always searching for or has? Or is my ability to filter out my partners is just more advanced than everyone's? 

In these past six single years the main type of guy I meet is obsessed with relationships or a complete pushover. They have never been single, they are more or less the woman in the relationship, and they want never-ending affection.  For me, I have been single a long time and think it is healthy to stand on your own, I want to be the woman in the relationship, and I don't care for boatloads of affection.  Can I compromise?  Meh. If I don't want to answer your text for 4 hours, I shouldn't feel obligated to. 

My biggest attribute is my pushing people away. And its not even in relationships most of the time. I will push you if you are my friend too.  I have to. It is a defense mechanism constructed after thirty years of psychological abuse.  The thing I don't understand is why no one can take the push.  They always just let me push them away and no one ever stays.  No one ever survives the push and for me that means they are not good enough.

The last guy I had an encounter with had 4 relationships in the last year all of which he lived with the woman.  Except for in my case because I am not stupid enough for that.  I called him out on it too. 

All you want is a relationship. Someone you can cling to, move in with, and make it seem like it is okay that you are a relationship whore.  You have never been single in the entire time I have known you. You have no idea what it is like to stand on your own two feet. 

I had even told a friend (if we would have lasted) I would have made him wait til the end of the year to have the title as boyfriend. Just so he could try being alone out for size.  

Somehow I am the bad guy because I don't "care" enough.  I don't care enough for a very specific reason.  A month after we had called it quits he was living with a new chick and now she is his everything.  Sigh. I can't handle that shit. At all.

This case is not unique.  Most people I know are serial daters. I get it. I am not sure people are meant to roam this earth alone, however, I think it is okay to do so - and maybe even necessary for a little while.

I think it is time for a reevaluation... or perhaps a change. A big one.