Tag Archive | broken

Part One: Life is a Journey, so Keep Moving Forward

Mr. Sexy is back at work after two months of disability leave. In October he injured himself throwing a tire into the back of our truck. Two months later the pain in his back only worsened causing sleeplessness, increased irritability and a lack of functionality in every day life. He then made the decision to work from home. But after a few weeks, as we finally started getting answers about his injury, it was suggested by his doctor he officially go on disability leave.

I do not believe in chance. Everything happens for a reason. Our pregnancy. His injury. Going on disability leave. Heading back to work. Timing can be everything. During this chain of events, timing was everything. In the moment I knew it, and looking back I see it even more clearly.

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Dear Michael

The moment I found out about you, I was filled with fear. For me, for you, for the broken ideas that I had for our lives.

January 26, 2008

January 26, 2008

Then you turned one and you started spending nights with your dad. When you were home, I would watch you sleeping in your crib. And I would sob. And pray. And trace your perfectly round face with my fingertips. Our future looked bleak at that time. I saw myself going nowhere fast. And as for your future, well, I couldn’t see that either.

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The Sister Who Never Existed

Wedding season is upon us and for a few, the mayhem begins this weekend. You can read a little bit more of my thoughts on this process in the following posts:

Open Wounds Never Healed

When Nubies Fall in Love

Last Words

I haven’t quite decided how to talk about recent events. Many might say it’s not a good idea because it’s so fresh. But my blog is where I contemplate what is going on in my life. It is never my intent to belittle anybody here as I talk about my life and share how I work through the good, the bad and the ugly. I actually think that generally, I succeed in this area – although there is always room for improvement.  I also know for a fact that a few would heartily disagree with my last statement. And if you fall in that category, then stop reading here.

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Method to My Madness

Wow. I am certainly not handling this day very well.

I have troubles with a family member who doesn’t seem to care about me or my family. I have a step-daughter who blatantly disregards the simple boundaries I give her on a daily basis. There are people on soap boxes every where I look (yup, I have one of my own).

So, today, my mind and my heart are at an unrest. I am praying. I am reaching out to friends. Now I am writing.

For today, I am going talk about that step-daughter of mine. The who has down syndrome, is going through puberty and doesn’t respect given boundaries.

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Last Words

I use our amazing technology to block life.

This is why when I take baths, Netflix is usually playing on my phone. Because we have one bathroom with one bath tub and no shower curtain, I take a bath every day. Baths take longer than showers. It’s hard to just get-in-and-get-out. Thus, my mind wanders and sometimes painful things come to mind.

My bath time show is How I Met Your Mother. It’s great because I don’t have to follow it closely to keep Last Words Blog 2tabs on what’s going on. I actually tried watching the show and doing nothing else a few times. I wound up bored and thinking about those things I try to avoid. So, for anyone who also takes baths or likes to keep their mind occupied while doing mundane chores, How I Met Your Mother is great background noise.

This morning was the episode of Marshall’s dad’s funeral. All the characters were contemplating their last words with their family members. This show isn’t all that sappy and this particular episode wasn’t either. Yet I found myself sobbing in the tub. The emotions that are a continuous threat these days were pushed to the surface.

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Open Wounds Never Healed

You cut me.

Over and over again you continue to hurt me.

Do you think I’m silly? Do you think I overreact? Do you think I should simply “get over it?”

“Get over it” is a familiar line. However there is nothing simple about it.

While it’s not your fault my open wounds continue to exist, you remain at fault for adding salt to it.

I have been completely disregarded in your eyes.

Why would that surprise me though?

Hasn’t this been happening for years? Haven’t we always been the best at hurting each other?

Time continues to pass and my wounds haven’t healed. I don’t know how to fix it.

I will seek help, though.

That is one positive thing you have shown me…

I have open wounds that grew deeper with time. I refuse to continue to react in pain, thus, adding wounds to my own children.

A Broken Gift

Disclaimer: I understand that all kids (and people, for that matter) dabble in rebellion and don’t always want to abide by the rules. That is not the point I am making here. Marie is 13 and has down syndrome. She is 13 and can’t (or won’t) follow simple instructions. Please don’t comment comparing her to all the other kids out there who are “normal.”

When you walk into my house, our computer desk is one of the first eye sores in the room. Like any used work space it quickly becomes cluttered with mismatched items who don’t seem to have a home of their own. Every once in a while I spend time de-cluttering and organizing piles of crap. This time I came across one of Marie’s Christmas gifts.

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