It's Midnight

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

It's midnight in a  world where lies swirl around like butterflies.  Beautiful,  false words tearing trust apart, and building walls. It's midnight in a world where my five year old wakes with hysterical cries of fear of everything and an earache. It's midnight in a world where my husband is not down the street in his apartment,  but hours away getting treatment where they could find an open bed.

And the secret they say is gratitude.
Gratitude,  not attitude.  Grateful, not hateful.
I keep thinking people will play by the rules, but they don't.  Why does it bother me so much? I sit, on the outside, and wonder why ongoing gratitude is so hard. Why the fight for what is mine?  Or rather, what I think should be mine.
Why is this problem not yet overcome?

My bed is soft and cozy. Gabe has fallen back asleep,  and now is breathing heavily.  My house is warm, my window open.  I have more than enough, but like a child grabbing cookies from the cookies jar, my hands are wide, determined to get at least as much as everyone else. Some people have bigger hands.
Not fair, yells Little Jill.
When will enough be enough?


I need lightbulbs. And trashbags. And probably toilet paper. Definitely out of milk. And I have a toddler.

Words cannot describe how unbelievably frustrated I am right now. How can one be doing so well... and then have it all start up again? I hate this illness.
I hate what it does to the person I love, and I hate what it does to us. I don't understand how we kept the lid on the simmering pot for so long. An occasional bubble would slip out, but overall, it was managed. And now, the boiling rages and flares, and then slowly...simmers down, only to rage and flare.

I hate that I don't want to start over, and I hate that I depend on his money to avoid poorness. I hate that I am 44, and I hate that I like having a man enough that I don't want to be alone. But 44. With three small boys. Who in their right mind would take that on? And isn't it weak to want  a man? Aren't we supposed to be so independent?

I hate that Gabe blames me for him not being here, and I hate that I have pondered if this is all my fault. Was I too cold? Did I secretly want this? It doesn't have to make sense.
I hate that my older kids judge him so harshly.

I hate that I made these vows, and I just want released from them. I hate that I feel judged if I stay and judged if I go. I hate that I want to stay because it is just easier. I hate that pain he is in, and I hate the pain being caused to us.
I hate that I keep hoping, always hoping that everything will be okay. Where does it come from?
Evil, hope is.

But...there are things I love. I love that he keeps trying. I love that Gabe loves his daddy so, even if he doesn't understand "waiting until Daddy is stable." I love my boys, and I love the fact that I might make just enough that I don't HAVE to stay. I can choose to stay.

I love that I am s l o w l y learning that it doesn't really matter what others think. They are not dealing with this or walking with me. I have no need to please them. I guess I hate how alone I feel, and even as I share it with others, I just feel guilty and as if I am attention-seeking. Maybe I am. Maybe this is all just a woohoo, give Jill some attention. Maybe I should say nothing and hide. Would that be better? I am not asking for prayers anymore. What's the point? I think it is just to make me feel less alone, anyway. And that is selfish.

Anyway, back to my story. It is hard to go to the store with three boys. It is hard to remember to get those things on the drive home. I guess I will wait until they are in bed and then run up to the store. When Tierney and Jake move out, I will have to be more organized.

I hate how poorly written this is.

I Can Only Imagine

Monday, April 16, 2018

This is not one of my favorite songs. It is a little too countrified for my tastes, and yet-the song does as the title suggests, stir the imagination.
What will it be like to see Jesus? To stand in God's holy light and love and be totally accepted for me. Who will I be, when I am free to be me?

I have thought about this on and off, and I think...

I'll be a dancer. Like a little girl pirouetting across the floor, stumbling over her daddy's toes as her arms wave wildly over head.

I won't have to pull it together. I won't have to be grown up. I won't have to pretend.

I can just be.

And I will dance.

That Woman

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Am I her?
I am not even going into my character flaws today. They are apparent. They shout for attention from the rooftop. It frustrates me.
And yet.
It is so exciting to see them.
To see I have them and have some power. It isn't just the world that is crap. I can be crappy, too!
I am not just a victim of this unfair, cold world. I am playing a role, too. Other people are my victims. As I feel slighted by others, I realize I am slighting someone else.

I can't explain it, but there is comfort in recognizing my flaws-a comfort denied to me when I was younger.

In fact, the extent of my ugliness, astounds me. I thought I was a good person! And then I have these thoughts, when I am angry and I am like, "Woah! I am just an animal here." And it is delicious.

But destructive nonetheless, and I will continue to lasso in that inner animal, although I am not so sure about her wagging tongue. The things I say!

The boys asked to go to church today. It isn't happening. Karl has been taking them to Wednesday evening classes, but Karl was denied Sundays off at work, and I don't want to go alone. I don't want to find three outfits for three boys, try and keep two of them settled through service, and try not to die of shyness without Karl as my buffer.
But I guess I have to eventually. But it is scary. Not today.

Am I that woman. So here it is. Karl is probably going to move back in eventually. There are people who know the whole situation and are completely understanding. There are my older kids, who aren't saying anything, but probably would prefer he not move in. They understand the underlying issue, but they aren't happy still. And I get that.

Then there is my public. People who watched the roller coaster race by, up and down, with only quick glimpses into what is going on. I don't want to be that woman! I don't want people to think I am weak.

 I know what has happened and what is happening. I remember the anguish-the true, heartbreaking anguish I felt, and I am okay. I hear my cry in the dark of my car-my panicked, disbelieving gasping breaths. And my own calming words, spoken aloud to soothe my injured soul. I know.

We are so strong in the end, aren't we? Or maybe the feelings fade, replaced by numbness, and we keep marching on.

The original plan was no more Karl. But he started making the right choices, and getting healthy again. So the plan was maybe in a year. Then six months. Then it was, maybe he could move into Taryn's room when she moved out (which is around the six month plan). I do enjoy having the room to myself when I go to bed. And now, you know me, all I can think is the absurdity of paying to keep two homes, when he comes over here for several hours at night to help with the boys. Being introverted, I give all I have to be "on" at work. At night, I just want to sit quietly. Not the best parenting strategy. I need help to be my best.

So, I guess I am that woman. The one who lets him back in. I want people to think I am awesome, but I also have to do what I think is right. This IS my life. Okay, I am a little bummed at not getting to fall in love with someone new eventually, you know how amazing that feels. But that fades, and a healthy dad with his little boys is better than another man with my little boys.

So, if you must judge, then do. I sort of do. As I felt my resolve weakening, I thought, what is happening here? Who am I? What about all my brave words? But I have waited. And it isn't happening today or this week, but eventually. And I am okay with this.

A Disappointment

Saturday, April 7, 2018

So I had a disappointment today. Two people I foolishly thought were my friends let me
ramble on about about the possibilities of  something, when they already knew the outcome. Why would they do that?

Were they reveling in the having knowledge that I didn't? Do they like me looking like a fool? I already look like a fool most of the time. I rely on friendly people to gently let me know.

And I guess what hurts, is that once again, I am naive enough to think someone is my "friend," when really, they are just being having fun watching me be an idiot.

My heart hurts

Sunday, April 1, 2018

I mean, not as in heartbreak, but heart ache. I ache for something I can't get my fingers around. I had a glimpse of something which led me to wish and wonder, but ... I knew I had given too much and it was too good to be true and pulled back.

What? You ask. Oh, just some random schemer pursuing online conversations. The first two were no-gos. The third, got it right. He looked interesting, he sounded interesting, and I strongly suspect wasn't real.

I won't go into the details, this is not an internet heartbreak. This is a glimpse into those amazing feelings from thinking someone might desire you. Someone you could respect and love and ... then realizing you are being silly and they are probably either after your kids or your money. And stopping.

It wasn't him. It was the idea of him. Gonna have to block Karl from this post.

And let's be honest. I am human. I get crushes. But I watch as those crushes eye other people, and I just shrug <secretly cry> because you

And I can't afford to live without Karl. Not the way I want to. And I don't want to live alone. I like having someone to do the heavy lifting, and pull me up when I am drowning in emotion, and just...I don't know.

But I struggle with Karl. Everything has changed. I can't find it in my heart to respect him or admire the things he does, because it is words, all words. I am a person of words and good intentions, so I am not just picking at him. And he smothers me and crowds me and bends and shapes to please me, and I don't know who he is as a man. But I know the next time he is pissed, it will all come spilling out because he has given too much, and I never asked him to. Oh maybe I did. But that doesn't mean he has to do it. \

And I feel guilty because he is trying so  hard to make me happy, and maybe I am just broken. I don't think I am broken. I think I am difficult. and it is embarrassing, because I see my mistakes, and they are so childish and small.

But oh. That feeling. I guess I am past that age. Maybe I will go find a good rom-com and eat some more chocolate. Because that is what we do, right?

P.S. I think I have an idea for a nonfiction book. Just need a laptop for my bedroom, so I can do it.

Meeting Grace

Monday, March 12, 2018

Karl had to pee. That is how this story beg8ns. We turned off the motorway and drove. And drove. And then rising on our right, was a stone tower with a sign, open to visitors. We turned. Karl may have peed. We drove up the drive, kale walk8ng beside the car. I saw a sign pointing to parking,but another I thought said Park right here
 So. I stopped. Karl walked up to the approaching lady. "Can't you read?" She asked. He directed me to the designated area
 I moved the car. We walked up and a man had appeared. Grace had her nose up and went inside. The man took us on a tour of the tower, sharing the history and the work Grace had done when she rebuilt the property. Afterward, she greeted us with a paper and turned to go in. As a parting question, she asked Karl what he thought. He loved it. And suddenly, the wall came tumbling  down. She wanted to know about our heritage, what we do for a living g. While sharing the history of the area
 When she found out I was a teacher, she asked me to tell my students about the Kingdom of Ossary, and she chided us, especially me as a teacher , to avoid the words cool and awesome, and to learn some adjectives, for goodness sake. We walked to her garden, where a statue of Venus stood, and she told of the pagan backgrounds of the area. Needless to say, meeting Grace and her warm-eyed man, has been the highlight.