Author: Lisa Ricco

My daughter will be 12 in August. I know that’s a few months away but we’ve talked about it at times trying to figure out what she wants to do. Now that she’s getting older, she doesn’t need a big party, she would rather be with a few of her close friends. My daughter loves her birthday, she’s always excited about it, especially as it gets closer. The truth is, as soon as it’s over, she’s already talking about her next one. I think most kids are like that. They can’t wait to get older and do all of the things that they can’t do right now.

When you’re a kid your birthday is always exciting, it’s always a big deal. You rush through the years of being a single digit in order to get to the double digits, then it’s all about having the word ‘teen’ in your age. And when that happens, you can’t wait to turn 16 or 18 because you think that’s when life really starts to happen for you. Then it’s on to 21 and really feeling like an adult. And throughout all of that time your birthday is awesome. It’s something you always look forward to and for some people that doesn’t stop once you become an adult. I know plenty of adults that still look forward to their birthday and still get excited to celebrate it in some way.

I have not been one of those people for a long time. I can’t remember exactly when I stopped looking forward to my birthday but I know that it happened. I enjoyed turning 21, had a nice celebration for 30 and 40, and my 38^th will always be special because that was my first birthday as a mom. But all of the others in between lacked excitement, lacked celebration. And that’s not because of anyone else but myself. My husband takes off of work every year on my birthday and hopes that I’ll want to do something special, but most times I don’t. We go to breakfast, and later to dinner, and in between, for the past few years, I’ve taken a walk on the beach, which has become my favorite thing to do on my birthday. But that’s basically it. And I feel bad most years because I know how much he and my daughter want me to be excited for my birthday. My daughter especially because she thinks it’s the greatest thing in the world.

I’ve always looked at my birthday in a negative way. Instead of being grateful that I am alive for another year I tend to look back on the past year as wasted time. I think of the 365 days that passed between birthdays and I get so down on myself for wasting so many of them. Instead of looking back on all of the happy memories I made, the special moments I had or the things I did, I tend to focus on the things I didn’t do, and that puts me in a negative head space. And unfortunately, it’s what I’ve done for so long.

I think about family members who are no longer here and I feel like I’m disrespecting them by having this attitude. They would have given anything to have one more birthday and here I am shitting all over that. My cousin died when he was 21 years old. I think about him often and I realize that he did so much more with his life in only 21 years than I have done in my 49. And I know I shouldn’t compare my life to anyone else’s, and I normally don’t. I truly believe we are all on our own path and we have to walk it our own way in our own time. But it’s hard not to think about, knowing how much time I have wasted by not doing what I need to do to better myself and my life. I really don’t know what I’m waiting for. I wish there was a switch I could turn on in my brain to wake me the fuck up.

I was supposed to write about my birthday a few weeks ago, but, me being me, I didn’t. I wanted to write about it before I turned 49. I had all of these thoughts in my head, but if I’m being honest, most of them weren’t good. Once again, in the days leading up to my birthday, I was not looking forward to it at all. And I don’t think it’s an age thing because my age has never bothered me. I have never felt my age, although, being in perimenopause at the moment, this is probably the most I have felt my age in my life. But most of the time I don’t act my age; my husband and I still joke around like kids, I can still throw the ball around with my daughter and I’d much rather wear a t-shirt with Stitch on it then look like a proper adult. My age has never bothered me. I come from a long line of women who embrace their age and welcome it with open arms. My Grandmother looked better at 85 then she did at 55 and I think she had more energy and life in her too.

The night before my birthday I still wasn’t into it no matter how hard my husband and daughter tried to get me excited. I wanted the day to come and go and be done with it before it even started. That’s the mindset I went to bed with. But something happened while I was sleeping. I had a dream that my house phone was ringing and when I looked at the caller ID it said ‘Aunt Mare’ and in the dream I said to myself ‘she’s dead, it can’t be her’ but I picked up the phone anyway. And after a few seconds of silence there was a whisper of ‘happy birthday’. I woke up with goosebumps and a feeling I can’t describe. My Aunt Mare was always the first person to wish me a happy birthday, she was always the first call or text in the morning. And last year I felt such a deep sadness because it was the first time I didn’t have that. And this year I guess she knew I needed it.

Sometime during the morning of my birthday I made a choice. I flipped the switch. I decided that I didn’t want this birthday to be like all of the others. I decided to let go of things I was holding on to, things that were worrying me, any drama that was in my life brought on by others, and let go of anything that was stressing me. I didn’t want to worry about money I was going to spend that day or how much dinner was going to cost. I decided to just be in the present and enjoy the moment I was in at the time. I laughed with my husband, I had a great time shopping for things that I wanted and I got to the beach where we walked and talked together. And I took some time to myself to shed some tears and truly let go of things. I took some deep breaths and let the sun hit my face. And I felt so peaceful and calm. No stress, no drama, no anxiety. And I wondered why I waited so long to change my mindset. Just because I’ve been a certain way for 49 years doesn’t mean I have to live the rest of my life that way. I’ve been hiding behind that excuse for too long.

This is my last year in my forties. And if I’m being honest, that does bother me a little but not in a major way. I’ve given myself a deadline. I have until I’m 50 to get something published or come close to finishing a book that’s been in my head for a long time. I told myself that if neither of those things happen, then it might be time to put down my pen and give up the writing dream. I’m not sure that will ever actually happen, I love the pen and written word too much, but I need to give myself something to work toward. In school I had deadlines, when I was in a writing program, I always had a deadline to turn in my work and it helped me to stay focused, even if I waited until the last minute to get it done. But that can’t happen this time. I’ve already waited over two weeks to write this and these days aren’t slowing down anytime soon. So, it’s a personal deadline for myself to see if I can do it. To see if I have the talent and the determination. Not sure about either of those things but time will tell.

This birthday was the best birthday I’ve had in a very long time. And it wasn’t because I did something extravagant, or I got amazing gifts. It was simply because I chose to enjoy it instead of being miserable. A simple change in my mindset gave me a truly beautiful day. I won’t kid myself and say that every day will be like this because, let’s face it, life happens. But I will hope that more days will be like this one and the bad days will lessen. I didn’t put a candle in my ice cream that night but, before I went to sleep, I did wish that I will finally do what I need to in order to become who I want to be.

Being a female in this world is hard. We learn this truth as young girls and we spend our lives trying to overcome it. I was a tomboy growing up and I knew that I was better than most boys in my class at some sports. And yet, I had to downplay my talents in order for them to respect me, and think I was good, without thinking I was trying to overshadow them. Looking back on it now, I see how stupid it was to dim my light so that someone else could shine brighter. We’re taught that we have to work harder, be smarter and do more just to be accepted, just to have value. We have to work hard on ourselves to get as close to perfection as we can without becoming perfect. We have to both step into the light while staying in the shadows. That shit is not easy, and it’s not right.

Then maybe we become a wife. We now have a partner to share things with. And with that we might think that things will get easier, but they don’t. Because now, not only do you have yourself to take care of, but you have someone else who relies on you for so many things. And growing up, women are taught that we have to take care of our spouse. We have to do most of the work in the household. We have another person to think of, to put before ourselves. Their needs and wants have to come before our own. So really, nothing changes, it’s still hard, probably even a little harder.

But I’ve learned that you don’t really know what hard is until you become a mother. Before you have a child everyone around you makes it look so easy. It looks like it’s the best job in the world, nothing but smiles, love and laughter. And when you become a mother yourself, you realize that was bullshit. There is no harder job in the world.

My daughter is 11 and as she gets older there are so many days when I wish that we could go back to when she was a baby. That might sound crazy to some people but I feel like things were much easier then. Yes, I was tired from interrupted sleep. It was draining to have someone depend on you for every little thing. The diapers, the feedings, the laundry; it all piled up and never seemed to end. When she was a baby, I felt like I was running from one thing to the next, never having time to catch my breath. And I had my husband who was very hands on and helped me as much as he could so that everything wasn’t on me, and for that I will always be grateful. But as moms, most things still fall on us. We carried our child; we have a closeness that can’t be compared to anything else in the entire world and we feel responsible for this little person. And while we might have people who are willing to help us, we feel the need to do it all ourselves. And we never think that we’re doing enough, or that we’re doing it right, and our baby can’t tell us anything so we just have to have faith that everything is the way it should be. And as long as we keep that baby happy and healthy then we’re doing our job. Having a baby is hard, but I’d still go back to that time in a heartbeat, because for most of that time, I was just physically tired.

My daughter is 11 going on 16. That’s how it feels most days. And as she gets older, I’m not as physically tired as I used to be. Yes, we now have to get up earlier for school and the mornings can be crazy but once she leaves the house I can rest if I need to. The physical tiredness isn’t so bad. But the mental and emotional exhaustion are two of the hardest things in the world.

As babies, our children don’t have too many needs. It’s basic stuff that becomes a daily routine. There’s not much thinking involved. But as they grow up, all of that changes. They start to become their own person. They have a mind of their own with their own thoughts and feelings. And the questions are endless and they start from the moment they wake up to right before they close their eyes. My daughter will be in bed, about to go to sleep, and she’ll still yell down to me and my husband with a question or something she forgot to tell us. It never ends.

Most of the questions aren’t too hard. If she needs help with her math, I’m on top of it. Needs help in English class, I got that too; the other subjects I might not be as good at but thank God for Google. I can help her with school stuff, or help her work on a craft or fix something that is broken. Those are the easy things we get to do. As mothers, we are responsible for this human being that we brought into the world. It is our job to guide them and help them navigate this life. We have to be the best example to them because they are watching everything we do and learning from that. We have the responsibility of helping them become the best version of themselves. Fuck, that shit is hard.

Most days I feel like I’m failing, like I’m just not good enough. She has so many questions, real deep questions, and she expects me to have the answers but I don’t. Some of the things in her head, some of the questions that come out of her really catch me off guard, and I stumble to find an answer. And I worry that the answer I give her won’t be the right one. In moments like these I think of my Grandma and wonder how she did it with 11 children when I struggle so much with just one. Was she ever exhausted like this? Did she ever feel like a failure?

My daughter has big questions and big emotions and it’s my job to help her figure things out. But how am I supposed to do that when I can’t answer my own questions or figure out my own emotions? I sometimes think she deserves a better mother and I don’t say that for sympathy or pity, I say that because of how inadequate I feel most days.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to being a kid but I would not want to be a child in today’s world. They are so overloaded with information and so overstimulated by the thousands of things around them and at their fingertips on the internet. Of course they have tons of questions, I have them myself as an adult. Kids today ask questions that would never have been a thought in my head when I was their age. We talked about the election a lot in our house and I realized that, at 11, I might have known who the President was but that’s all I knew. Nothing was ever talked about when I was that young. Mainly because they didn’t need to be, it was of no concern to us. But now, everything affects the kids, both good and bad.

My daughter wants to know so many things and I’m trying to find the line between saying too much and not saying enough. And these questions have been going on for years and just when I think they can’t get any harder, here they come. When she was younger, she had an African American friend who said her Dad didn’t like white people. This was when she was 5, and when my daughter told me about it, she asked why her friend’s Dad would feel that way. And I struggled to find the right answer, so I tried to focus on something positive and I said that her friend obviously didn’t feel that way and, in our house, we love everyone and that’s all that matters. Was that the right answer? Who the hell knows, but I felt it was appropriate for a 5-year-old. Now that she’s older, she knows more about race and what it means to be racist, and she absolutely knows that we are not like that in our house and if any of her friends are being mistreated for any reason, she should say something and help them.

She wants to know why people hate, why do others not want her uncle to be treated right just because he loves his husband. Why do people hurt each other? Why do they kill each other? Why can’t everyone just be nice to each other like her and her friends? I wonder the same things and I still don’t have a valid answer so what do I say to her? I try not to hold back my feelings; I tell her the truth and I speak from my heart. And I hope that what I say is enough to ease her mind and calm her heart. And I’m not afraid to cry in front of her, or be mad about something that isn’t right, while also letting her know that she doesn’t have to feel the way I feel. She has the choice to feel however her heart is telling her to. And still, I feel that I’m not doing the best job that I can, that my answers aren’t good enough to make her feel better.

I don’t want her finding answers from other people because there’s so much misinformation in the world and people like to force their opinion on others. And I definitely don’t want her looking things up by herself. Kids today have to know things so much earlier than I had to know them. Their bodies are changing quicker and they talk about things in school earlier. She’s already had health class, girls her age have started getting their periods. So, over the summer we went through a book about her body changing. I had already talked to her about periods but the conversation led to questions about sex and how babies are made. And as tough as it was for me to have that conversation with her, I was happy she was comfortable to ask me the questions and talk about things. I always want her to know she can come to me and talk to me about anything. I don’t ever want her to be scared to ask me something. That’s not the mother I want to be.

I know that the questions will never stop and they will only get harder as she gets older. And I will continuously question whether or not I’m giving her a good enough answer and if I’m doing a good job raising her and helping her. I will always feel less than what she deserves, I think most mothers feel this way. We never see our value, we never know our worth, we always think we should be doing more and doing it better than yesterday. Life isn’t easy, and being a woman makes it so much harder. Being a mother takes life to a whole other level. It can kick your ass, it can knock you off of your feet, it can make you feel every emotion under the sun. It is the hardest thing a woman can do; but it is also the most rewarding and the most beautiful thing in the world. I haven’t done a lot in my life but when I look at my daughter, I know there will always be something good in the world, and at least I got something right.

‘The truth of it is
Nothing I do will bring you back
So I’m waiting for my ride up into the sky.

And I will meet you there
I will meet you there’ – Into the Sky by Black Tide

I miss you. It really is that simple. I just miss you more than I can adequately express with any words. There is a hole in my heart, a hole in my life that will never be filled by anything or anyone else. It is yours, and will always belong to you. Skylar misses you too. Sometimes I forget that just because she’s only 10 doesn’t mean she doesn’t have big feelings. Her feelings for you were huge and her sadness runs just as deep as mine. She’ll mention you out of the blue and she’ll tell me she misses you and I can see the sorrow in her eyes and on her face. I don’t think you realized how much you meant to her.

When you passed, she cried and said, ‘who’s going to call me beautiful?’ because she remembers you always saying that to her on the phone. And it broke my heart to see her so hurt. But I also felt it was a beautiful memory that she will always have of you. She took one of your stuffed bears and she has slept with it every night since the day that she got it. And every morning when I wake her up that bear is in her arms. I’m not sure she ever lets it go during the night. It brings her comfort and it makes her feel close to you. My daughter is so blessed to have known your love.

I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday a few weeks ago. There were a few little reasons for that but the real reason hit me a few days before my birthday. I realized I wouldn’t get a ‘Happy Birthday’ text from you and it killed me. Your text was always the first one I got in the morning and I didn’t want to accept that I wouldn’t get one this year. Something so little, so simple, shook me, and it was so hard. A lot of things seem hard without you here. It’s only now that I realize how calming your voice was to me. How it could silence the chaos in my head and bring me back to a peaceful place. I could talk to you about anything and everything. It didn’t matter what I needed to say, you were always there to listen. And I know that I have my husband, and my sister, and your daughter, who are always there for me and I love them all for that but it’s not the same. We all know that, and accept it and we do our best to move forward and get through the tough times. But you knew me in a way all your own. You understood what I wanted to say without me having to say a word. Sometimes I think you knew how I felt about something better than I did. And sometimes I struggle because I don’t have that anymore. Although I will say that when you passed a part of you definitely went into Dree. There have been many times when we’re texting that she’ll say something that I would swear came out of your mouth. And I am so grateful that a part of you is still here through her.

I hear your voice in my head all the time. Especially your ‘Hi kids’ when we’d come pick you up to take you to dinner. I try to replay that voice as much as I can because I’m so afraid that I’m going to forget it. I’m so afraid that it won’t be as clear for me to hear one day, and I pray that never happens.

There’s been so much rain since you left. Then we had an actual earthquake and a solar eclipse and it made me think that the universe is just as off balance as the rest of us since you passed. That’s how I feel. Off balanced, unfocused, unaligned. We’re all tilted trying to right ourselves. But it’s hard to stand straight when a piece of you has been taken away. But I know that you would want us to find a way and I believe that we will, it’s just going to take some time. More time than I realized it would. But I promise I will get there for you.

The sun has finally been out for a few days, and I’ve been trying to take some time in it like you taught me to do. I’ve been letting it shine on my face and embracing its warmth, letting it bring my mind and body some peace. I’m trying to take deep breaths and not sweat the small stuff. I’m trying to be positive like you. I’m trying to remember all of the things you taught me and implement those lessons into my life so I can live happier and breathe easier. I’m trying to think about how you would react to something or what you would do in a certain situation. I’m trying to be more like you because you were one of the best people in the world and one of the most important people in my life. I’m trying to accept that you’re gone. I’m trying not to miss you so much that I can’t breathe. I’m trying; but it’s hard sometimes.

Matty made your cheese bread for Easter. When I took a bite, I had to hold back the tears because it was just like yours. These kids will carry you around with them. We all will in the little Mare Mare things we do. And so, I know you’ll always be around.

‘Don’t be mad, it’s just the brand new kind of me

And it ain’t bad, I found a brand new kind of free’-Brand New Me, Alicia Keys

The new year brings the opportunity for a rebirth. A way to renew ourselves. To let go of the past year and start again. And most people make resolutions. Little things that they want to do in order to improve themselves or their lives. And I do fall prey to that. January 1^st comes and I stop drinking. I at least try to do the dry January. I’ve succeeded in the past and this January I only had two drinks all month so I take that as a win. It’s not like I’m a heavy drinker but with all of the holidays just endured I choose to abstain in order to refresh. This year January 1^st was on a Monday so everyone saw how perfect that was. New year, new month, new week. You had the opportunity to start off with a bang. And I did. I worked out that day with my daughter, I didn’t drink and I limited the snacks I had at my niece’s birthday celebration. Now we’re in February and I haven’t worked out as much as I wanted, but the other things are still on track. We’ll see how it goes.

I find that the years all look the same with resolutions. We start out strong in January. Then February and March might not go so well. Spring comes and with the sun shining we try to get back into a routine so we can be beach ready for the summer. Then the summer is full of backyard parties, barbecues and drinking. And as the sun sets on summer and rises on fall, we fall into the trap of saying ‘I’ll just start again next year’, because the cold weather starts again, the holidays come back around and life gets too busy and stressful to worry about the little things. I’m definitely guilty of this. I’ve had far too many years play out like this. Round and round we go. Maybe we change a little, maybe we change a lot, maybe we don’t change at all. Maybe we’ll never truly get rid of those last five pounds. And you know what? That’s ok. It’s really not a big deal. Reality sets in when we see that there are bigger changes that need to be made, when our eyes clearly see the bigger picture. And thankfully I’m finally at that point.

For years I feel like I’ve complained about the same things. I complain about them, I get angry, I let them bother me but the truth is I never really do anything about any of them. That stops this year. One of my main issues in life is that I get treated like shit by some people. I’ve always believed that I’m a good friend and that’s the one thing in life that I really get right. But I find that it gets taken advantage of in so many ways. I remember venting to my husband about it once and he said that I had two choices. I could learn to not let it bother me or I could change who I was so I didn’t get hurt so much. I didn’t see either of those things as an option for me so I continued on how I always was and I consistently let things bother me and eat away at my emotions. And the problem with that is I was the only one being bothered. The people hurting me and causing me to be angry didn’t think twice about it because they didn’t acknowledge what they were doing wrong. So not only am I the one to get shit on, I’m the only one who suffers through all of the emotions that brings.

In the last few months, I thought about what my husband said and I figured it out. I don’t have to change who I am; I can keep my core and be exactly who I want to be. I don’t have to care less or change the things that make me the person I am. No, I don’t have to change who I am, I just have to change who I am with them. This was a big revelation for me and something I never thought of before. I try to be the same person to everyone I love but I don’t have to be, and more importantly, I don’t have to feel bad about that. I let go of the guilt that brought me for so many years. I let go of the thought that I need certain people to feel complete. I let go of the thinking that I should feel blessed that they want me in their life and grateful that they love me. Fuck that! They should be the ones feeling that way because I am a damn good friend.

I have always made the excuse that I’ve been a certain way for x number of years and it’s hard to change. That’s some bullshit right there. I was blind to it before but my eyes are wide open. I carried a lot of weight around with me last year and I’m not talking about the pounds on a scale. I carried around sadness, anger, disappointment and a ton of other emotions. I had so many emotions in my arms that I was completely exhausted by the time December came around. Not just tired of things, utterly exhausted. Emotionally drained. I was tired of feeling certain ways, I was tired of thinking about the same things over and over and over until I felt like my brain was going to explode. I was crying all of the time. I was carrying so much anger for so many things that it was messing with every part of my life. So, I made the choice to let it all go. I dropped it all. I refused to carry that weight with me into the new year. It was dragging me down. I couldn’t move forward. It was keeping me from so many things, most of all from being happy. I had to let it go. For myself, for my family and for my sanity. And honestly, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Something just clicked one day and I told myself I could do this, I had to do this. I really think I channeled my Aunt Mare and she guided me through the process. And I feel so much lighter.

Sometimes life throws something at you that you never saw coming in a million years. It completely throws you off balance and sends your life in a new direction, into what feels like a new orbit. Life did that to my family in October. It threw something at my niece that no one expected. And while it was a direct hit on her, the ripples in our ocean that it casted had affected most of us. But I can’t sit here and say that it has been all bad. The initial impact of the situation was terrible; gut wrenching. But after that first hit and we knew my niece would be ok we accepted the situation for what it was and we made the choice to stay positive and move forward as best as we could. And my niece is amazing and has faced this battle head on and is kicking ass in her life. I never doubted that she would.

When these things happen in your life you truly get to see the people who are there for you no matter what. And you see how some people really are under the mask that they wear. You see those that do what they say, and those that don’t say anything at all. And many times, it’s the people you least expect who do the most for you. And the people you expect to be front and center in your life helping you through it all are nowhere to be found. And that is the biggest awakening my sister and I have had through all of this. We have always said that not everyone was raised like us, not everyone has the same morals and values and we understood that completely. And we never judged people too much for that, we accepted it for what it was and never gave it much thought. But when life knocks you on your ass and the people who supposedly love you most in the world, the people you’re closest to, aren’t there to help you up, you definitely notice it and it hurts. And we felt that hurt towards the end of last year. My nephew said it best though. He said we need to focus on the people who are there for us and forget about everyone else. And he is absolutely right. And that’s what we’re doing.

My sister is the best person in the world. That’s a fact. And it makes me sad to see her hurt by people she would do anything for, I want to hurt those people right back. Especially when it’s people associated with me who my sister has bent over backwards for, but I will let it go because that’s what we are doing for ourselves. Instead, I choose to focus on the hundreds of blessings that she is receiving from other people in her life. They may not be the closest people in her life, but they are showing up in ways that mean the most.

So, my sister and I have decided that we are going to change ourselves. And the biggest change that we’re making is that some people in our lives are only going to get from us what they give to us. And that one little change is going to be a rude awakening for some people. I’ve already seen the shift within us and I am damn proud of the two of us.

In all of my life I have never put myself first, ever. All of the people that I love were always placed above me and I was at the bottom of a very long list. But that’s all changing. I still won’t ever put myself first, I have a husband and a daughter that will always be before me. And right now, my niece is a strong 3^rd with my sister and nephew right behind her. So, I can say that I’m 6^th and that’s fine with me because it’s the closest to the top that I’ve ever been. See, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s ok to be selfish since everyone else has done it my whole life. It’s ok to put my needs before others. It’s ok to say no to everyone’s requests. If you can’t be there for me and my family through this time of our lives then I no longer need to be there for you. Your life is not more important than mine. I won’t drop everything to make plans with people. I won’t be the one to check in all the time the way I ALWAYS have. The texts will stop, the phone calls will stop. If you can’t take a second to ask how my niece is doing then to be honest, I don’t give a shit about what you’re going through. I’ve had enough of being tossed aside and only called upon when people finally find the time for me or they need something. If you want to be in my life, you know where to find me. I am done chasing people. I will take the blame for all of the years that I let this happen. I never corrected the bad behavior; I just suffered and forgave everything. But that time of my life has ended. I’ve finally realized, and truly believe, that I’m worth more than that and I deserve better. So, yeah, changes are happening. And I’ve never felt better about who I’m becoming.

‘Time, time, time. See what’s become of me’-Hazy Shade of Winter

I always thought there was a line in this song that said ‘time, time, time look what you’ve done to me’ and I was surprised to find that there wasn’t. Maybe it has always been in my head that way whenever I heard the song. Or maybe it should be a line. The word time is in the dictionary as a noun, but damn, do I think it should be a verb. Time does things to us; it makes us feel things like nothing else in the world. It moves us, literally and figuratively. It can attack us; it sneaks up on us. It forces us to do things in a particular moment, things that we might not be ready to do but we have to. It forces us to take a minute and look at things in a different way. And let’s face it, it can absolutely drive us crazy, or maybe that’s just me.

I titled this post ‘Time, Part Two’ because as I was gathering my thoughts some things sounded familiar in my head. So, I went through my older posts and saw that I wrote about time once before, a few years ago, and I didn’t remember doing it. I debated writing about it again but decided that there’s always something more to be said and I had some new thoughts running through my mind that won’t leave. Time is the one part of life that messes with me the most mentally. Obviously, I understand the concept of time, I know how it works, but sometimes I just don’t get it. I want it to make more sense. Explain it to me like I’m a five-year-old and maybe I’ll understand it more, because at forty-seven, I’m lost most days. For instance, how is it that some days feel like they take forever to go by and other days turn into weeks so fast it makes your head spin? Is it something that we do or is it just the way it feels sometimes? And if it’s the latter then why doesn’t it feel the same way all of the time?

We’re in the third week of 2024 and I can’t decide if January is moving fast or slow. On the one hand I can’t believe it’s the 24^th already, and on the other hand it feels like Christmas was more than a month ago. It doesn’t make sense. And I can’t even comprehend what happened to 2023. There have been plenty of years in my life that have flown by but 2023 is by far the fuzziest in my mind. I’m not even sure that I lived that year all that much. The truth is that I didn’t. I was so consumed with sadness that I shut my eyes to everything else. I can only mark that year by two terrible things that happened in my life and nothing else. Sure, I can think hard and recall other moments, but I was so numb to everything. I wished for time to stop just so I could reset myself but it never did. You either go with the tide of time or you get swept up in it. And last year I definitely drowned.

Yes, I know how time works but I need more than that. It’s like money. I know where our money goes, I can account for every dollar that we spend, but I don’t understand how we go through it so fast. It all adds up right but it still doesn’t make sense. It’s the ‘how’ that gets me every time. My daughter was born in 2013, so last year she turned 10. I see that, I know that, I can add up the years to get to ten but I don’t know how it happened so fast. I can’t grasp it. In March my Grandmother will be gone for five years and I would still swear that we just said goodbye to her not too long ago. My husband’s aunt has been gone for seven years and when I saw the date and told him we both had the same feeling that it seemed much longer than that. My Grandmother’s five years seems like one, but his aunt’s seven feels like ten or fifteen. Why does time do that to us? How are we supposed to make sense of anything?

Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense. Maybe we’re supposed to accept it for what it is and not think about it too much. Maybe we’re supposed to concentrate on so many other things that time isn’t a factor in our lives. Maybe I waste so much of it and that’s why it weighs so heavy on me. Maybe the people who are really living their lives are too busy to even give it a second thought. They’re just happy with themselves and what they’re doing that time doesn’t take up so much space in their minds. Maybe I just need to let go of the idea that certain things need to be done by a certain time otherwise I have failed. Maybe I need to remember that I can’t change the past, I can’t get that time back so I just have to move forward. Maybe I need to not let time have such a grip on me that I feel like I can’t breathe. Maybe I need to let go if it all and actually live the life that is meant for me. Maybe I need to relax and ride the wave instead of letting it take me under. Maybe.

There’s a layer of dust on my desk. It has been there for a while. I wipe it off but it always comes back. Sometimes it’s so thick that I can write my name on it. And truth be told, that would be the only form of writing I have done in a while. My desk mocks me. I can hear it laughing every time I pass by and look at it. It calls me a failure, a fraud. How can I call myself a writer if I don’t sit down and actually write? I have no answer for that. I have no excuses. The mocking is valid.

This is probably the longest time I have gone without writing something. Sure, I’ve made some notes on my phone, jotted down some thoughts, but is it really writing without the feel of the pen in my hand, without the words written in my notebook in my own illegible handwriting? I don’t know why it has been so hard for so long. I feel like that layer of dust has gone from my desk and attached itself onto me. I feel dusty. Like that old toy that sits upon a shelf, not having been played with in so long. I feel like that toy. I’ve had the desire to write, God knows I have so many thoughts in my head that I need to get out, but the willingness to do it has been lacking. And it’s so stupid really. I know how good I feel after I write, especially if I truly like the words I have written. You would think I would want to have that feeling all of the time. Motivation has always been something I have lacked my entire life. It’s no wonder I am where I am and I feel the way I feel about myself at 47.

When my Aunt Joann died last November, it shook me to my core. I was so sad for so long after she passed. I’d go in and out of a depressive state, lose myself in a funk, but I would find my way out quick enough and be ok. Then a few weeks later I would be in that funk again. I couldn’t grasp the fact that she was gone. I was in a bad mood most of the time. And during Memorial Day weekend when we had a BBQ, I lost it completely. I took my anger out on my friend, actually screamed at him over the stupidest thing and then I had an emotional breakdown and cried so hard for her. And it hit me on that day because Memorial Day weekend 2022 was the last time that I saw her. And it killed me that she wasn’t there again. I was so mad at everything. I remember screaming ‘this is so fucking stupid’, because it was just that. It’s fucking stupid that she’s gone. Stupid and unfair. And maybe that breakdown was what I needed to come out the other side. After that I think I started to heal a little. I still missed her terribly, and still do, but I was starting to accept the fact that she was gone. That was May.

And then a freight train came in August and hit me like nothing I have ever felt before. And it knocked me so far off of my feet I’m not sure I’ve completely gotten up yet. I lost my Aunt Maryann. I don’t have the words to describe the pain I feel with this loss. I honestly feel like a piece of me is missing and I don’t know how to be whole without her. She was such an important part of my life. I would talk to her about things I didn’t share with anyone else. She understood me in a way that I’m not sure anyone else does. She never judged me for anything I did or said. She loved me for me, no questions asked, nothing needed in return. That is a priceless gift and now that gift is gone and I’m left here with a hole in my heart and my life.

And the pain I feel with this loss is immeasurable. But more than that is the anger. I’m so angry that she was taken from all of us, especially her daughter and grandchildren. I’m angry that we believed in a miracle treatment that never got to happen because her body wasn’t strong enough. I’m angry that the Gods made her suffer so much in the end. That was such bullshit. If they wanted her so bad, they could have had the decency to take her quicker and more peacefully. I will never forget the way she looked the last time I saw her. I could see the pain she was in and I could see that she was already gone. But I will also remember how, just for a second, her face lit up when she saw that my daughter was there. That’s a priceless memory I get to keep with me forever.

I always knew that when the day came that I lost my Aunt Maryann that I would be devastated. But devastated doesn’t begin to describe how I’ve been feeling. And I’ve let these feelings, this pain and sadness, cover me. I’ve worn them like the layer of dust on my desk. And the more time that has passed, the heavier the layers have gotten. I’ve surrendered to the weight of them. I’ve given in to them and let these two feelings be the only things I’ve felt in a while. And I haven’t had the strength to get out from under them.

But it’s time to find a way. I can’t live like this anymore. And I know it won’t be easy and I will still feel these things for a long time but I have to let everything else back in. If I don’t, I will be disrespecting both of my aunts who wouldn’t want me to live this way. I’m wasting my days when both of them would give anything to come back for even just one hour. I need to wipe the dust from my eyes so I can see all that I have in front of me. I need to see my blessings, I need to see a better future, I need to see the changes being made within myself.

My Aunt Maryann loved the rain, she loved thunderstorms. She would sometimes sit on her porch and just watch the rain come down. I told my daughter this recently and she said, ‘Mommy, Mare Mare has probably been sending us all of this rain because she loves it so much’. I think she was right. I think my aunt was sending me the rain to wash all of my dust off. I didn’t realize it at first, but I get it now. She once told me that when I was feeling mad or sad, I should go out in the sun and just let it shine on me for ten minutes. She promised I would feel better and she recommended doing it as much as I could. The past two days have been beautiful and I have been doing that as I wait on the corner for my daughter’s bus. And I have felt better. She always had a way of making things better. It’s nice to know that won’t change even though she’s not here physically.

I got my blog’s name from her. She once told me that I was a tough cookie, but even tough cookies crumble sometimes. And I have definitely been crumbling. Thank God I learned some things from her to help me start putting myself back together.

Hope is defined as ‘a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen’. It is nothing more than a feeling we choose to have about something or a certain situation. I can hope for snow to fall on Christmas but I have no control over whether or not it does. And the outcome of this really has no bearing on my life. I won’t sit and cry if it doesn’t snow, it will be whatever it will be. I can hope my daughter does well on her math test, but again, my hoping will not change the outcome. It is up to her to study and do her best. Hope is a feeling; it is not tangible and yet we speak of it as if it is. We say we’re ‘holding onto hope’ for whatever it is we are wishing for, but we cannot touch it or hold it in our hands. Is it as futile as throwing a penny into a fountain and making a wish? Do we really expect to get what we’re wishing for just by performing that simple act? Or is it just something we do to make ourselves feel better?

My aunt started her battle with lung cancer back in May. A few weeks ago, she developed an infection and took a turn for the worse. In the beginning doctors weren’t exactly sure what was happening and answers were hard to come by so we, her family, were a little in the dark, not knowing too much. Still, some family members remained hopeful that she would recover, get better and leave the hospital. As days went by, I wasn’t one of those people. I didn’t see a happy ending when the facts were staring me in the face. She had an infection, something she couldn’t fight because the chemo treatment she was getting to fight the cancer completely destroyed her immune system, she no longer had one. And while the doctors tried to fight the infection, she couldn’t get chemo to fight the cancer so she had two things attacking her and she was left with no defense. No matter how hard she might have wanted to fight, her body just couldn’t, she had no weapons. How was I supposed to be hopeful about her situation? I didn’t know how to do that.

The facts were telling me that we would eventually lose her, much sooner than any of us had ever thought. The facts were screaming at me and hope was crouched down in a corner hiding her face. I couldn’t look over there. I had to protect my heart and go with the facts. I didn’t want to waste my time hoping for something that I didn’t believe would happen. When I think about it now, I cry. I cry because I feel that maybe I was selfish in only looking out for myself. I cry because losing hope maybe looks like I gave up on my aunt and I would never want her to think that. I struggle with it because I don’t know what to think. By losing hope did I give up on her? Or did I surrender to the situation? I have to choose the latter so I don’t live with any guilt for the rest of my life. I have to choose the latter because the odds were stacked against her so high that the strongest person in the world couldn’t overcome them. I have to selfishly choose the latter to once again protect my heart.

We pray, we have hope, we have faith. Are these three things the same or different? I guess that depends on each individual and what they believe. For me, they are all different. I hope for little things. For things that won’t really affect me if they don’t go my way. We hope for things every day, more than once a day, more than one thing. And by the next day we maybe forget what we hoped for, or it’s no longer relevant, so we hope for something new. Or maybe it’s the same thing every day. I pray when I don’t know what else to do. When I don’t want to think about things anymore, I pray that someone or something makes the decision for me. When things are out of my control, I pray that they work out, I put it into the hands of the Gods to figure it out for me. My faith is what I go to when I truly believe something is going to work out a certain way. If I know something is meant to be then I put my faith into it and I don’t give it a second thought. My faith lets me know that everything will work out as planned. My uncle recently had a very risky surgery, one that the doctors weren’t sure he would make it through. The day of his surgery I didn’t lean on hope and, honestly, I didn’t pray. I went to my faith. I refused to believe that he wouldn’t survive. I refused to believe that he was led on this path, to go through everything he went through, just to have him not make it in the end. My faith wouldn’t let me believe anything else other than that he would be ok, and he was. It could have easily gone the other way, but for me, my faith wouldn’t let me believe that.

How do you know when to have hope, when to rely on your faith or when to let it all go and just pray? I honestly have no idea. Maybe the best thing to do is have a little bit of each in every situation. There is no right or wrong way to go about this life we have been given. We each have to choose what works best for our mind, body and soul. And that will be different for every one of us. I don’t have the answers, I wish I did, but I just can’t find them most days. And I can either let that mess with my head, or I can wait for them to come find me.

My Aunt Joann passed away on November 9^th. Two weeks later I sit here still struggling. It’s too hard to think about most days. Not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought about her or cried for her. As much as I try to distract myself, she pops into my mind out of nowhere. I know this is going to take a while to get over and maybe I’ll never get over it, it’s too soon to tell what will happen down the line. When she passed, I prayed that she went peacefully. I prayed that she felt no pain. I didn’t hope for these things because I needed them to be true, I needed them to be something more than just wishful thinking. I prayed that the universe showed her some mercy. That the Gods finally made something easy for her, because her life was hard most of the time. I have faith that she knew she was loved by me because I ended every text and every phone call with the words ‘I love you’. There is no place in my heart to believe that she didn’t know how much she meant to me. My faith lets me know that she was welcomed with open arms, into a better place, by her older sister. This is something I need to believe, not something I hope for.

Is it foolish to hope for things? Is hoping for something the bare minimum we can do? I don’t know, and maybe we’re not supposed to know the answers to these questions. For me, I need something bigger than hope most times. I need something stronger to believe in. I’m not saying I give up on hope completely, but for the intensity of life I have to live with the belief that everything happens for a reason, and what is meant to be will be. The hardest part is not knowing the reason for things right away, and it’s even harder to think we may never know those reasons. And the hardest thing to do is wait for your life to work out the way it’s supposed to, to wait for what will be to actually happen. While we wait, all we can do is have faith that everything will be okay one day, and everything we go through in life will bring us closer to where we need to be.

Yesterday started out as a normal day, like most days in my life. Woke up, had breakfast, went to my husband’s and daughter’s bowling league, ran to a few stores, came home to laundry, lunches and football. Things were fine, I was in a decent enough mood, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Then, all of a sudden, in the late afternoon, my mood shifted, and I felt it happening, which always amazes me. Felt the hot flash coming as my face turned red and then the nausea kicked in, and I sat there, pissed off that this was happening again. Because it wasn’t the first time and it certainly won’t be the last time. But every time that it does it feels like a sucker punch to the gut and knocks me completely off balance mentally.

I will say that I’m pre-menopausal and I have been for almost two years. Out of ten symptoms listed I suffer from more than five. But my doctor says it’s impossible. And his reasoning is three-fold. 1)I’m too young. As if my hormones know how old I am so they hold off from attacking me. 2)My sister hasn’t gone through it and she’s older than me. 3)My mother didn’t go through menopause this young. And when I heard these answers last year at my annual exam, I wanted to scream at him, ‘I AM NOT MY SISTER OR MY MOTHER!!’, something I feel like I have been screaming internally my whole life. They are not me and I am not them. Their medical history is completely different from mine. So why do all women get lumped together like this? If it doesn’t happen the same way for all then it can’t happen for any? That’s the way it seems. I felt like my symptoms weren’t enough for a diagnosis. And I throw my hands up in surrender because I know what I’m going through and how I’m feeling. And after talking to other women my age I find that we all get the same answers from our doctor and we have to take it into our own hands.

And I haven’t found the answer to deal with what I go through at times. I found a pill that helps but some days I don’t want to take it, like yesterday. I hang on to hope that these feelings will pass quickly and I just have to ride it out and wait until it’s over. But what happens in the time I’m waiting is what really messes with my head. There are days when it’s my anxiety and days when it’s my hormones and I know the difference and I recognize which one I’m going through. When it’s my anxiety, I feel on edge. My body is on alert and I have the overwhelming feeling that something bad is going to happen, either to me or my daughter or whatever. When it’s my hormones, I’m very emotional. I could seriously cry over the littlest thing, and I have. During anxiety my mind tells me that I’m going to die or end up in the hospital. I repeat some words to myself and I can usually breathe through it until it passes. When I’m hormonal, my mind is my worst enemy. The things I hear in my head are some of the worst things you could say to someone, and the worst part is that I’m basically saying it to myself. These thoughts are hurtful, but not in a I want to cause myself physical pain way, I would never do that. They’re hurtful because I believe them when I hear them.

Yesterday I didn’t get angry, I didn’t yell. Every little thing didn’t make me crazy. I was very calm each and every time my husband or daughter asked me if I was ok. I simply replied that I was fine and I just needed to wait for it to be over so I could feel normal again. I felt zoned out, unattached to anything that was going on around me. I felt numb in a way. I felt lost. And I think that this is something that I’ve been feeling for a while. I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore or who I’m supposed to be. I am a wife and a mother and these are the only two ways I can describe myself truthfully and confidently. I don’t put writer in there because I sometimes feel like a fraud since I haven’t mastered the discipline it takes to do what I want. Or maybe I’ve just made too many excuses. Everything about myself is wrapped up in other people. Everything I am and everything I do is with everyone else in mind. I feel like I lost myself a long time ago and I don’t know how to get her back. I once told my husband that I give everything I have in me to him and my daughter and by the end of the day I have nothing left for myself. I never put myself or my needs first, mainly because we are never taught to do that. And really, are we supposed to do that? I think sometimes we are. I am the friend that will tell everyone else to think of themselves and stop making it about everyone else but I never take my own advice.

Maybe I don’t think that I’m worth it or that I deserve those things I think everyone else deserves. Maybe I feel that I should just be happy with what I’ve got and not look for anything more. I have a good husband, a beautiful daughter and a roof over my head. We are financially ok, we are not struggling for anything, so all of that should be enough for someone, shouldn’t it? Isn’t it supposed to be? And when I look at all that I have, when I know that so many people would wish for my life, I instantly feel guilty for not being completely happy. How dare I even think about wanting more? I feel unfulfilled and I know that has nothing to do with anyone else but me. It’s everything I put myself through, it’s my thoughts that haunt me, not someone else’s.

I wish that I had a switch so that I could shut my brain off, especially on days like yesterday. Sometimes the only thing I would wish for is quiet. Quiet from within. The outside noise doesn’t bother me too much, but the inside noises are deafening. And they just don’t stop no matter how hard I try to silence them, or to think about something else. And you would think that sleep would be an escape, but it’s not because in my sleep I hear voices that tell me the same things I tell myself on bad days. Sounds insane, I know. Sometimes I feel like there’s no escape, I can’t outrun my thoughts. I think I’ve carried them around with me for so long that I don’t know how to let them go. As crazy as it sounds, they’re like an old friend and I don’t know who I would be without them because they’ve been a part of me for so long. A bad part, but a part nonetheless. Maybe this is the way I punish myself for reasons I don’t understand. Maybe this is a defense mechanism so I don’t show parts of me that I want to keep hidden. I don’t hate myself, there was a time when I did, but I don’t anymore. There are things about me that I really like but something inside me won’t let me hang on to those things. Instead, I concentrate on other things that aren’t beneficial to my mind, body and soul.

I know I have a good life. I know that the way I felt yesterday is not an everyday occurrence. I know that the good days outnumber the bad days, but fuck, when those bad days happen, they take me to a place I don’t want to go. They completely mess with every part of me. There are so many things that I keep inside. Feelings and thoughts that I don’t dare say out loud because once the words are spoken, they are out in the universe and you can never take them back. So, I keep things to myself because that’s what I have always done. And I’m not saying it’s worked for me all of these years but old habits are hard to break and retraining your mind to think a different way than it has all of your life is extremely difficult. But my way is no better.

There has to be a middle ground somewhere. I’ve read books to help me change, I listen to motivational speeches, and I nod and agree with what they are saying, or I relate to what I read, and I vow to start making changes. But the hardest part is taking action to implement what you have learned to better your life. And I can be motivated and positive 25 days out of a month, but those other days, even though they are less, are so much more powerful. And I feel like I’m going round and round on a carousel and I can’t jump off. The moods pass, the hormones simmer, the anxiety fades away and I start to feel better. But I know that they’ll all be back another day. I’m just hoping I can find a better way to deal with it all and fight back and get to the point where they don’t knock me down. I just need to find myself again.

I was in 8^th grade when I first thought about suicide. At that time that’s all it was, just a thought. A wondering of what it would be like if I was no longer alive. There was no substance behind it, no thoughts of acting on it. I didn’t say anything out loud, kept all of my thoughts to myself. Went on with my day to day but somewhere in the back of my mind it was still there.

Nothing catastrophic happened to me to make me think about it. I was in junior high and I think this is when I first started to feel lost. In elementary school I had my core group of friends and I knew most of the other students in my grade. A lot of us were in the same class for years. But when junior high came that’s when you get separated more by your intelligence. And so, I was in a lower class then most of my closest friends. And for the most part I was ok with that. I made new friends but it wasn’t the same. Things had changed and nobody told me they would.

I was starting high school soon and that scared the shit out of me. Really terrified me. I knew I was different from most people, especially the girls. I was nothing like them. Didn’t give a shit about makeup or even having a boyfriend yet. The problem with that is, if you’re not like everyone else then who are you? I didn’t have an answer to that when it seemed like everyone else did. I had no idea who I was, and what I did know about myself, I didn’t like. I thought for sure I wasn’t going to make it past my freshman year. I had no desire to be there, no desire to make new friends. I had no ambition. I didn’t think anyone would want to be friends with me so why bother trying?

But life is funny sometimes and you meet the people you’re supposed to meet and some change your life for the better. At the time I don’t think I realized this because I was constantly in my head. And every so often I would think about leaving this world. If I’m being honest, I faked my way through high school. I faked a lot of laughs; I faked the smiles and I faked being ok. I wasn’t ok. I hated myself. I couldn’t stand who I was. I was a fantastic bullshitter, a liar, pretending that everything in my life was perfect. I showed people only what they wanted to see, which was never really my true self. Probably only two people in high school knew the real me and thankfully they are both still in my life today. I made up things about myself so that I would seem normal to everyone else. And I know that everyone does this at some point in their life, especially high school. You just want to fit in and not seem like such an outsider. But it made me hate who I was even more. And then it made me wonder who my friends really cared about, the parts of me I made up or the real parts I let them peek at?

Back then I’m sure no one would think that I ever had suicidal thoughts. Even now, as people read this, I’m sure some of them will be shocked. And I completely understand that. Growing up I had a good life. I had parents who loved me, a sister who was always there for me, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food on the table. I had a huge family filled with people who loved me. If you saw all that I had you would think I was crazy to want to give that up and leave it all behind. But it was never about other people. It was about my demons and the thoughts that filled my head. I think that when someone is thinking about suicide it has very little to do with anyone else and has everything to do with the battle they are fighting within themselves. Did I have people who loved me? Absolutely. Did I believe that they did? No. And that has nothing to do with anything they did or said but has everything to do with me and the toxic thoughts that were in my head. My demons. The darkness that I crawled into all of the time. And the thing about darkness is that no one ever really sees you.

I was my own worst enemy. No one had to say negative things to me, I said them to myself. I convinced myself that I was worthless, that I was nothing and that no one would care if I was gone. Being alone with your thoughts is a scary thing. And when these thoughts are on a constant loop in your brain, they are ingrained into you until you get to the point where you believe nothing else but what the voices in your head are telling you. And when you hear the same things over and over, when they drive you crazy, when you can’t make them stop, you just want to silence them. And killing yourself feels like the only answer, the only way you will find peace. I battled with this for years and no one really knew. And if someone did find out we’d talk about it, and I’d bullshit my way out of the conversation just to make it stop. And I would pretend I was ok, and maybe at times I was, but I was just finding better ways to hide myself. I was surrounded by people but felt so lonely.

The darkness can suck you in. It takes you to a place you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get out of. It consumes your every thought. No matter what good things are going on around you, you can’t see them. You know that they’re there but you can’t let go of the pain enough to enjoy them. You hurt all the time. Physically, mentally and emotionally and you don’t know why. I can’t sit here and give a reason for why I was this way, why I battled with it for years. I don’t know. Am I wired differently? Maybe. Did I not see anything in myself that I liked? Anything that was worth living for? Probably. But I still can’t give a definitive answer as to why I thought these things. It’s just who I was back then. I was lost. Inside the darkness, inside myself, inside my toxic thoughts.

I battled these thoughts, and myself, for 5 or 6 years. It wasn’t a constant thing. I’d have periods in my life when I thought I was better, when I was over these thoughts, and then something would happen to trigger them again. The reality was that I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to live this life either. And so where did that leave me? I can see myself in my room one day sitting on the floor. There’s a piece of glass in my hand, but for the life of me I don’t know why there would be glass, so maybe it was a small mirror. Whatever it was I took it and scraped it across my wrist, obviously not deep. I guess I just wanted to do the motion of it, I honestly have no idea what I was thinking. But I gave myself a scratch that bled slightly and when I saw the small dots of blood, I freaked out inside. I knew I didn’t do anything harmful but I still freaked out. That’s how I knew I didn’t want to die, but I still didn’t know how to stop the thoughts. I couldn’t shut that part of my brain off.

So, what turned it all around for me? What got me to stop thinking this way? My best friend. She saved me. It’s that simple. That is a day I will never forget. My parents were away and she slept over, which she  hardly ever did, but she did on that night because she was really worried about me. I was probably in the worst mind space I had ever been in and she was afraid of what I might do. So, she sat me down to talk to me but instead she just cried. Really cried. Deep sobs, ugly tears. I had never seen her cry like that before. And in that moment, I realized how much I was hurting her and I felt like the worst person in the world. I hadn’t realized what I was putting her through by being the way I was, but seeing her cry like that made it all hit me in the face. We talked but I couldn’t tell you what was said, until she was about to leave.

We were on my front porch and she said, ‘I don’t know what to do for you anymore. You have to want to live for yourself. But I know you can’t think like that right now. So, live for me. Promise me you won’t leave me here. Promise me you won’t do anything to yourself’. Promise me, those were the words she said. Anyone that knows me well knows that I don’t break my promises. Ever. I don’t throw the word promise around lightly. I don’t say it unless I absolutely, 1,000% mean it and know I can keep that promise. She knew what she was doing. She knew that if I made that promise then she could breathe again and know that I wouldn’t leave her. I didn’t respond right away. There was silence between us while my emotions fought with each other. After what felt like forever, I whispered, ‘I promise’. No other person, in no other moment, could have gotten me to say that. But she did, and I am beyond thankful for her every day of my life.

It wasn’t over just like that, but that was the last day I ever thought about suicide. It was also the day the fight within myself began. I had to fight my thoughts, fight my demons, fight the parts of me that still wanted to give up. I had to become a different person, which was fine with me because I hated who I was, I didn’t want that girl in my life anymore. And it wasn’t easy, but I don’t think it was supposed to be. I had to find my way out of the darkness. And it was scary, and it made me angry and sad and everything else. But I found my way. I found the light. I was lucky.

I try not to think about that time of my life too much. That girl I once was left over 25 years ago and she’s never coming back. But sometimes there are triggers in life that put you back in that place. I don’t go there in anger or to relive anything. But I do go back sometimes to see how far I have come. I had no intention of writing about this but yesterday I read about a college softball player who took her own life. I’ve seen her on tv, I watched her play. And when I heard the news I cried, just like I always do whenever I hear about someone who killed themselves. I remember last year reading about a female college lacrosse player and about a young boy who did it because he was bullied. I read an article that said 3 college athletes have committed suicide in the past 30 days. It makes me sad for so many reasons.

So, I cry for every one of them. I cry for their family; I cry for their friends. I cry for the pain I know they were in. I cry because they couldn’t see their story ending any other way. I truly believe that you can’t understand what someone is going through unless you’ve been there yourself. As a society it’s very easy for people to look down on others instead of trying to understand. It’s said they took the easy way out, they gave up, they should have gone on meds, they should have fought harder or talked more or asked for help. It’s easy to stand on the outside and say these things. But when you’re on the inside, when you live in a constant state of pain and depression, it’s not an easy thing to escape. It’s very easy to get lost within that darkness and convince yourself that the only way out is to end your life. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. The world needs to do better, to have more compassion and understanding. Check on the people in your life. Even the ones who act like everything is great. We are all battling something.

I try not to question how or why I made it to the other side of it all. I only try my best to be grateful that I did. I look at my life now and see all of the things I would have missed. All of the friends I wouldn’t have made, all of the memories I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t know how it feels to have a man love me the way my husband loves me. I would have missed out on knowing my niece and nephew, who are two of the brightest lights in my life. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have the bond I do with my niece, I wouldn’t know the genius of a boy my nephew is, I would have missed all of the laughter I get to share with the two of them. If I wasn’t here today, I wouldn’t be a mom. My daughter wouldn’t exist. I wouldn’t know her kindness, her sadness, her laughter or her smile. If I was not here, she wouldn’t be here, and that is the saddest thought to me because she is the best little girl in the world, who brings so much kindness and love to everyone she meets, which is what the world needs right now.

I wish everyone had a crystal ball. And when the despair got to be too much and we felt like giving in, we could look into that crystal ball and see just a tiny glimpse of the good we could have in the future. If everyone could just see something, one good thing, then maybe they could hold on a little longer and not give in to their pain. I didn’t see it for many years, but somewhere deep inside I had faith that it was there. My life is not perfect, I am not perfect. I still have days of sadness, depression, anger and anxiety. I don’t think that will ever go away completely, I’m not sure it’s supposed to, these things make us human. I am not completely where or who I want to be, but I know I’m so far from where and who I once was, and I will never go back there. And right now, that’s enough.

I am not the best mother in the world and I don’t pretend to be. Most days I fall very short of being a great mother. I don’t say this to get sympathy or for people to tell me that I’m wrong. I say this because it’s a fact, a fact I can admit easily. At best, I’m a good mother and some days that’s even a stretch. But every day, good or bad, I do the best that I can. I might be a better wife than I am a mother but even that’s debatable. I have my faults and there are times I wonder how my husband deals with me but nobody is perfect and we choose the people we choose, for better or for worse. Again, I do the best that I can every day, which is all I can do. I’d like to think I’m a good daughter, a good sister (not as good as my own), a good niece, cousin and aunt. But what I can absolutely say I thrive at is being a friend. Now, I’m not trying to brag, or inflate my own ego, or act like I’m the greatest, but being a good friend is the one thing I can be proud of, it’s the one thing I know I’m really good at. The problem with that is, I give so much more than I get from some people.

This is purely a venting post; I’m not going to try to hide that. I’ve felt certain ways for a long time and these things tend to resurface every now and then. Many times, I have thought about writing it down and putting it out there but I always stopped myself. Mainly because I didn’t want to say certain things or piss people off by what I did say. But I think I’ve gotten to the point where I just don’t give a shit anymore. If someone reads this and thinks it’s about them then they’re probably right. My theory has always been this. If I write the statement ‘people are assholes’ and someone thinks I’m writing about them that’s probably because they did something to me or someone else that makes them look like an asshole. That’s their own guilt eating at them for something they did or said, and that’s not on me. My statement is vague, it doesn’t call any one person out, but if the shoe fits, then wear it. Same thing goes for this post. I’m not talking about one person in my life, sadly a few people come to mind. Now, I think I know who reads my blog and who doesn’t. And the people that do will know that this isn’t about them. It’s for the people that don’t read my posts. Ironic and funny? Probably, but not in a rolling on the floor laughing kind of way. Proves a point? Absolutely.

I think some of these feelings have been bubbling in me for a long time and over the past few weeks they started boiling. And the other day I just exploded and started venting to my husband after getting another text that pissed me off. So, I got all crazy in the car and he just listened as he drove, saying the appropriate things to calm me down. But he knew that I was upset. I feel bad that he’s the one who always gets this side of me, but that’s what he signed up for 25 years ago. I feel that maybe if I channel my inner Elsa and let it go on paper it will help to shed some of this weight I carry around.

What pissed me off about the text was that someone was asking me something about a subject I know we had a conversation about recently. I am so sure about this conversation that I can sit here right now and recite it word for word, but I won’t. Now, could this person have forgotten what I said? Maybe. But instead of admitting that they blatantly said I never told them anything and that’s bullshit. Maybe they just didn’t hear me. Maybe when I talk, I feel that the other person isn’t listening. Whether I’m on the phone, or in person, whenever I start talking the other person somehow gets distracted. And it’s obvious because I just get a lot of ‘uh-huh’ responses or I catch them glancing at their phone. I’m sorry, am I fucking boring you? Are the words that I say less important than the shit that comes out of your mouth? Must be, because that’s the vibe that some people give off.

I sit there and listen to whoever I’m talking to, I really listen. I give advice when it’s needed, I give my opinion when asked, I’m really invested in what they are saying. But 80% of the time I don’t get the same respect back. Why the fuck not? Do people really think that their life is more important than mine? That their problems are worse than any that I might have? Oh wait, I forgot, I don’t have any problems. I have a husband, a daughter and a house; my life is perfect. There’s no way I could ever be depressed. There’s no reason for me to have anxiety or to not be 100% happy with my life. How dare I even think that? I have nothing to complain about and even if I did, it would be pretty ballsy of me to do so when I have so much. That’s their thinking. So, most of the time they don’t even ask about me because they assume there’s nothing to tell. And I admit that part of that is on me. I don’t open up easily, I don’t want to bother anyone with my issues. But to just assume that I don’t have any, to assume that I’m ok all of the time isn’t fair either.

I’m always the one to check up on everyone. I’m the one texting to see how someone is doing, especially if I realize that I haven’t heard from them in a while. If I randomly think of someone, I take that as a sign to check in with that person and see how they’re doing. A simple text, takes maybe a minute of my time, but sometimes means a lot to the other person. But why is it always up to me to be the better person? Why does no one feel the need to check on me? And I know how whiny that sounds and I’m not sitting here feeling ‘woe is me’, it’s actually sickening to even think that, but sometimes, just sometimes, I want to feel like I matter to people. I want to know that someone is thinking of me for a change. But it goes back to what I previously said, no one thinks I need that. No one thinks that matters to me. Relationships, any relationship, needs two people in order for it to work. And when you’re the one putting in 80% and hardly even getting the other 20% back it gets draining.

I remember everyone‘s birthday, even their kid’s birthdays, and I send texts to all on their special day. I don’t always get it back and it’s understandable if someone forgets mine. But when it’s people who have been in your life for 10, 20 or more years, and they genuinely don’t remember what day it is, then that’s a little hurtful. Especially when there are people who I’ve known for less time who remember every year. If you tell me you’re having surgery, or your parent is sick, or I find out your kid hasn’t been in school I’m definitely checking in to make sure everyone and everything is ok. Do I not deserve the same respect and consideration? Maybe I don’t, who the fuck knows anymore? When my Grandmother died a friend of mine and my sister’s texted us both on the day of the burial just to say she was thinking of us and sending us love. I have known this woman for less than 4 years. I didn’t get that love from people who are supposed to be the closest to me. I think that’s fucked up.

I know that I’m not like other people, I don’t try to be. I can only be me and I know not everyone is the same. Maybe I expect too much from others. Maybe it’s just not in their DNA to be the kind of person to me that I am to them. Maybe that’s just something I have to accept. And I try to be different, try to back off a little, take less shit from people. But then the minute I do they get pissed off. Why am I always the one who has to initiate a get together? After a certain number of tries I start to feel like a needy bitch and I hate that feeling. Why am I always expected to be available when someone needs me, or they want me to come to a party they’re having? How is it right for someone to not call/text/check in for months and then out of the blue they ask you to come for a visit and expect you to go running? And that shit is mostly from family. You don’t care how me, my husband or my daughter are doing for months but then decide you want to see us? It’s finally convenient for us to be a part of your life? Fuck no! That’s one thing I am done with. We are not here for your convenience, especially not my daughter. I have been treated like shit by many people but I will not allow the same thing to happen to my daughter. No fucking way!

I’m so tired of people telling me that they miss me, always saying that we really need to get together, but never making the plans, never taking the steps to do what they say. Without action, words are just words. Stop telling me these things and actually do something about it. Show me you miss me. Maybe I just have to accept that some people say the things they think you want to hear. Some people talk with no intention. Some people mean more to me than I mean to them. Sad, but true. I have an aunt, one of many, who I’m very close to, my sister is too. This aunt loves us and our children to no end. During Covid she would send us texts and tell us the number of days that passed since we saw each other. She would tell us how sad she was. When we finally got to see her after so many months apart, she started to cry as she got closer to our houses. She cried when she saw us and our kids. Now, we don’t let a lot of time go by between visits. As she’s walking out the door from one visit, we are planning the next. She always texts us to see how we’re doing. When my sister and her family were sick, she offered to drive an hour to put food on their doorstep. She is there for us whenever we need her for whatever we need. We know how much she loves us and our kids because, more than anything, she shows us all the time. And I am eternally grateful for her. Other people should really take a lesson from her.

I’m turning 46 soon and I think I’ve gotten to the point where I am emotionally exhausted. Keeping everything in for the sake of everyone else tires my soul. So many times I feel like I’m being taken for granted because people know that I will be there for them no matter what. So, they can toss me aside for a little while and come back to me when they need me again. And I’m aware that I let certain things happen, that it’s my fault. That I should say no more often, I shouldn’t be so available. Growing up my mother would always tell me that I gravitated to the people who needed me the most. And I gave them my all, but in the end, I was always the one who got hurt. This has happened in my life more than once. Old habits die hard, I guess.

After listening to my rant my husband told me I had two choices. I can stop letting these things bother me so much. I can learn not to care and just take things for what they are, see people for who they are and accept it all. I’m not sure I know how to do that completely. I have at least gotten better with some things. And there are things that I don’t tolerate anymore. But to stop caring completely is something I don’t think I can do. His other option was for me to stop being so available to everyone. For me to stop giving more than I get. In essence, he’s saying I should stop being me, so I should change who I am. My response was ‘why should I lower who I am for everyone else? Why can’t people just be better?’. And again, I realize that’s asking for too much.

I refuse to change this part of me, it might be the only part of me that I actually like. I like that I care about people, that I love deeply and fiercely. That the people that are closest to me know that I am there for them for whatever they need and I will always do whatever I can to help them. I want them to know that if everyone else in their life turns their back on them, I will still be here. That, if nothing else, they have at least one person who cares about them and loves them. I am not fake, anyone who knows me knows exactly what they get with me. If I don’t like you, believe me, you’ll know it. And if I love you, you will never question that. There are many things I would like to change about myself but this isn’t one of them. So, I guess my option is to not let it bother me as much, or at least to not let it consume me. I have to lower the expectations I have for some people. I have to accept that this is just how some people are and I can’t change them, they have to do that themselves.

Writing all of this has helped, it always does. I have released these little demons that have lived in my mind and heart for too long. They’re out there in the universe and I don’t regret anything I said here. Hopefully I’ll start feeling lighter. If anyone gets mad at anything I wrote, sorry but I really don’t care. Deal with your own shit and figure out which part really got you mad. I can probably guarantee it’s not me. Can I really get over certain things? Can I really let some of this shit go? It’s easy for me to say yes, I definitely can, but only time will tell if it really happens. I’ll just have to wait and see.