#londoncalling FOLLOW UP

i’m a fucking idiot. but not for the reasons i last wrote about. maybe it’s being back on my home turf, maybe it’s the real food talking, or a nice hot shower after 26 hours of traveling.

it’s probably from talking to great friends and getting some feedback other than my own voices in my head bickering back and forth. SCREW THEM. I’M TAKING ALL THE CREDIT.

AND THE BLAME.

i’m a fucking twatwaffle.

jesus holy hell did i fuck the last post up.

let’s all just take a minute to enjoy this moment of clarity that comes after removing my head from my own ass, shall we?

let’s play a little game called: “BACK THE FUCK UP BITCH.”

remember that first day when new york called me? those few, brief moments between what he actually called me for and the fucking circus that i turned it into?

LET’S EXPLORE THAT. SHALL WE?

i’m a fucking idiot. _ME_ of all people should have caught on a little sooner. fuck.

let’s go back to the very first conversation: "hey, how is everything going? things are going shitty for me. just need somebody to talk to." 

marriage: over, father passed away, 7 month deployment, needed a friend to talk to.

oh jesus did i fuck this up.
 
how did i take all that and twist it into this fucking all about me story?

an old friend reached out in the middle of a horrible, HORRIBLE shit storm and i just added more shit to it.

fuck. me. running.

i’ve been there. did the marriage going to shit. done the father passing away. never had to deal with the whole being at war for 7 months thing- can’t even begin to imagine.

and i somehow twisted all that into a poor me, i spent money on lingerie that went unused pity party? holy fuck. how did i fuck that one up?
 
i have a friend going through the worst shit life can throw at a person and i want to be pissy about not going to a cafe for tea and mother fucking crumpets?

i can’t even begin to tell you how sick to my stomach i feel right now. i fucked this up royally.

add in that he's in a crazy amount of pain that even prescription medications won't take an edge off? or that the one time he did get his back to pop and it made him pass out and fall sleep for the next 10 hours...

funny thing? i just wrote a fucking magazine article about being there for soldiers that come home from war.

awesome.

i’m a fucking idiot.

worst part? hindsight is a fucking bitch. he’s been trying to tell me- talked about trying to find friends. talked about how he spent seven months sending planes off to do bomb runs- feeling that in a way he’s responsible for the deaths of hundreds, thousands of people. talking about how strange things were going to texas for his fathers services and having to deal with his step mom.

and i got mad over what?

he wanted a friend. i’ve been his friend for eight years.

THAT IS ALL THIS TRIP SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABOUT.

_I_ alone added all the other crap to it. _I_ alone fucked it all up by trying to make it something he’s not ready to deal with in any way, shape or form. _I_ fucked up royal.

SO.

i’m going to bed. i’m going to sleep. i’m going to try to figure out how to repair this fuck up and be the friend that he’s been asking for from the very beginning.

the rest may or may not come in time. THAT DOESN’T MATTER RIGHT NOW. what matters right now is that i have a friend in need. he came to me for support and i need to give that to him without all my baggage and crap attached.

honestly- switch shoes for a minute: if he had come to see me after my dad passed away and dropped on me what i just did to him- how would that have gone? and that was *JUST* a death. not the death after a deployment in the middle of a marriage issue.

perspective is a powerful thing- the picture can take on a whole different meaning when you take the time to look at it just a little different.

SO. i’ll say it again. dont get used to it- last time it will ever happen: I FUCKED UP. i made this my own twisted fairlytale bullshit. and i’m going to try like fuck to fix it.

#londoncalling

well, here it is, my last 12 hours in england.

and here i am, sitting here typing this.

so. that should about sum up how it’s gone.



i’m caught in this huge thunderstorm of emotions- between rationalization and pure emotion. i don’t know which way to let myself go. i don’t know if any of the directions are right.

i’m angry and resentful and hurt and heartbroken and hopeful and logical and tired and disappointed. not many of those are positive, i realize that. i’m trying like fuck to find some silver lining- i really am.

it hasn’t been a bad trip. lets say that up front. nothing terrible happened. flights all went smoothly over here- flight transitions were met, no sick problems, the phone change went smoothly, the flights were tolerable (but LONG). i’m hoping tomorrow headed home goes as well. it should be a little easier to sleep with the schedule and all- flying over i was running on my regular day hours and it was hard to sleep on an overnight flight that was only 5ihs in the afternoon my time. i landed, made it through customs, got the stamp in my passport, everything went smoothly.

when i made it out of the customs area, there he was waiting for me, my new york. leaning against the rails, big smile, big hug. we loaded the bags in the car and headed out of the airport. i don’t know quite what i was expecting- breakfast, a little sight seeing, a few *cough*detours*cough* on the way home- but we drove straight through to rougham- bits of scenery along the way, and we arrived at his house- an adorable townhouse. wish i had paid a bit more attention on the way here- i didn’t realize that would be the only scenery i’d see.

we did talk about sight seeing on the way up. i knew ahead of time that most of the places were a few hours drive both direction. there wasn’t anything i was really wanting to see, the weather wasn’t scheduled to be the best, the only thing i really wanted to do was get a tattoo while over here. we decided against shakespeare’s house- too far away, bad weather, not much to see. same for alice in wonderland and the castles and all that. i was just excited to be in england. be here with him. thought i’d get enough absorption through a local cafe, the pub he always talks about, maybe a dinner out, a bit of his little town.

i’ve been here since 8am (local time) on thursday and haven’t seen a damn thing. no pub, no cafe, no walk about, nothing. that was the first disappointment. i don’t really feel i’ve been anywhere. i’ve been in his house. i’ve seen his couch. it’s like i went over to a friends house down the street. nothing remarkable.

second disappointment: he injured his back a few weeks ago at work and has been in so much pain the whole time that NOTHING was possible. yes, NOTHING. he tried ibuprofen (even my rx ones from the recent ER trip), he tried icy hot, showers, stretching, nothing worked. he had HOPED it would go away by the time i got here but didn’t bother to see a doctor before hand or anything. normally this wouldn’t be so frustrating. people get hurt. it sucks. the bitch of it is i worked really damn hard to get here. i spent 7 fucking hours in an er (without insurance) to make sure i could be here in good(ish) condition. i spent a lot of time and money getting ready- all for nothing. all the lingerie i bought didn’t even come out of the suitcase. brazil? total waste. hair, nails, make up- pointless. YES, i realize how shallow it all sounds, but i was so excited to come. i wanted to look my best after 8 years. i worked really damn hard to be here. for him to be in pain the whole time because he doesn’t like doctors. it just...it hurt.

it’s not even the sex. it’s that he was in so much pain all he wanted to do was sit in his desk chair playing WOW because it was the only position he was comfortable in. there was no sight seeing, no going out. when he wasn’t at the computer, he was sleeping. he hasn’t been sleeping well recently although you’d never know it- 12 hours one night, 9 the next. then all day at the computer while i was on the couch next to him watching whatever was on tv. i bought a plane ticket, flew across an ocean, spent how many hours getting ready just to sit on a couch watching him play WOW for 4 days straight? granted, he’s not a traditional player (i think). he was able to hold kind of conversations while he played, and he would break every few hours to stretch or let the dog out. he would lean over for kisses while he played...

i feel like a fucking idiot. i flew half way across the country to watch him play computer for 4 days.

and there’s more.

we went to the grocery store one night since he had NO food in the house and we were both running on night owl hours so all restaurants and whatnot were closed most of our waking hours (most, not all but...yeah.). i couldn’t touch him while we were in the grocery store. small town. his mother in law, brother/sister in law, ex wife, friends, whatnot are all about. no telling who would see. and since no one really knows still that they’re divorcing it could cause problems.

oh yeah- by the way. they still haven’t told people they’re divorcing. did i forget to mention that? the divorce isn’t started. they still haven’t told people. she’s living with her mum , they’re separated, but that isn’t divorced. it isn’t even started being divorced. remember that idiot feeling? multiply it by a million. and my brain starts to go to that horrible dark place and i wonder if we haven’t gone to the pub because his back hurts or because he’s afraid of people seeing me. is that why we couldn’t go to coffee at 10am on sunday, a few of the daylight hours were were awake? because people in town might see? is that why he closed the living room door when the neighbors stopped by? not because the dog was barking but because he didn’t want them to see someone was here since they don’t know he and the wife have split? my mind is an evil, dark, mean place. it doesn’t help that i’ve been that girl before. i know what the signs are. i’ve been the one that wasn’t ok to be seen in public with. ive been the one that they didn’t want anyone to know about. this weekend felt all too familiar. and not in the good ways.

BUT.

i’m a stupid girl, there’s always a but. always a desperate claw at some salvation.

BUT, the whole time he’s said he’s so glad i’m here. he’s so excited to have me next to him. he’s so mad that his back is injured. he’s calling the doctor first thing on monday to get an appointment. he really hopes he gets re-stationed locally. he can’t wait to come see me this spring.

is it just bad timing? am i here too early? should i have waited a few months? should i have waited for things on his end to be “official”?

and i KNOW. i tried so fucking hard not to come over here with any expectations. i really, REALLY did. but i couldn’t help it. he wanted me to come. he asked me to come. he said he should have married me when he had the chance. he couldn’t wait for me to get here. and i knew better than to get my hopes up. i knew better than to expect the fairy tale ending no matter how desperately i wanted it. and i did. i wanted it so badly. i did have expectations coming here. i tried so hard not to, but i did. i wanted it to be this amazing trip. i wanted it to be england. i wanted it to be him. i wanted it so badly.

and here i am, my last few hours writing this while he’s at work. i’m waiting for him to get back and take me to the airport. it’s all done. it’s all gone. there no time left for any of it.

i came to england. i sat on a couch watching tv for four days. and now i’m coming home.

i still want to hope. i still think that maybe when it’s official and finalized on his end he’ll come see me in the spring and everything will be good then. maybe he’ll get stationed near me and it will work out then. maybe he really was just hurting so bad that’s why we didn’t go anywhere- nothing more, nothing less. maybe the base doctors really are that bad that going to them wouldn’t have made this weekend any better.

at least, at the end of the day i can say i did it- right? i can say that i went after the man i love (heaven help me, i do. so much it’s tearing me apart right now). i can say remember that time i flew to england? remember all the amazing things that happened to make the trip possible? even if the trip wasn’t that amazing, it’s still fucking amazing that i did it. i flew half way around the world. i got over being scared to say i wanted someone and came here (well, i haven’t said it to him, but that’s a different set of issues).

i’ve been on an adventure. not all adventures turn out perfectly. but the fact is, i still came here. i haven’t seen anything. i haven’t conquered anything- can’t quite get that tee shirt yet.

i’m still sorting. i have way too many hours flying to sort through things. maybe i’ll grow a pair and talk to him about how this all went for me on the way back to the airport. maybe i’ll lay it all on the line, even if it is too sappy, and tell him how i feel. maybe after some sleep and some real food i’ll have a different perspective. maybe...

this wasn’t the trip that i hoped for, even though i knew hoping was a bad thing and tried to prepare myself.

but, i keep reminding myself, it was a trip. it was going somewhere. taking a chance. so there’s that. i’m sure there will be more on this. i hope next time there’s a bit more positive. but there you have it. that’s how london’s been. forgive me please if i’m not ready to gush about it when i get back on my home turf. hopefully i’ll have a bit of time in the air port to at least snag a few touristy thing to at least show i’ve been here.

#londoncalling

so, what’s going on with london? well, funny you ask- it’s TWO DAYS AWAY.

(insert squee noises and happy dance here).

passport is in hand, tickets are waiting online, bags are packed (well, besides the last minute stuff), and i’m ready to leave on a jet plane.

yes, it gets more obnoxious from here.

it’s been weeks of amazing awesome, crazy stress, fear, hope, everything in between. bottom line: when something is meant to happen, it WILL happen. i really do believe there’s a time and a reason for everything, hell, i have it tattoed on my body. but never more than the last few weeks has that believe PROVED itself.

going to london didn’t just happen. it took a bit of effort. it took a few large miracles. here’s a few of the dirty details:

passport: i got my passport just a few days ago back in June of 1997. just a few days. it had long since expired, i’ve moved...oh...a *FEW* times since then. how the hell was i going to find it to renew it, and would i be able to get it in time even with the expedited?

YES and YES. literally less than 2 minutes of looking i found the old passport. it was in a basket of random crap by my bed. don’t even know. went to the post office to renew it, took a new picture (which looks surprisingly good), paid the *ouch* expedited fee, sent it off and crossed my fingers. the told me it would take 2-3 weeks- three weeks would put it ON the day i was leaving. *panic*

EIGHT DAYS. that’s it. eight days and my new passport was in the mail waiting for me. the new one came in before the old one was returned. step one: completed.

plane ticket: i don’t know about anyone else, but i’m not the girl with an extra thousand just sitting around. i SHOULD be. i get that. savings accounts are nifty. but when you’re *just* starting to get regular paychecks again and you spent all your money on a house and repairs and life...well, it’s paycheck to paycheck around my house and last time i checked the trees in the yard are only fruit trees, not money trees. still working on that. so HOW did i manage a plane ticket to london?

i had a honda element that i was driving. good car, was my dream car at one point. researched it for years before buying one. drove it. loved it. started to hate it. REALLY HATED IT. simple little things: barn doors- nifty for moving/getting things in and out. HELL in a parking lot with a kiddo in the back seat. four seats: sounds cool, there’s only 3 of us, but what if the kids want to have a friend over? or what if i want to carpool with people? or if i’m going out to dinner with a friend and their kid? SCREWED. also: why does any car newer than 2000 NOT have heated side mirrors for winter time? and why do i only have TWO cup holders? little things make a big difference. great car, not for me. i’d been thinking about trading her in/selling her for quite a while. had her listed on craigslist several times. nothing. hmmm.

there’s a car lot two blocks away from my house with one of those “cash for cars” things written on the window. uh huh. i would love to be prison raped without lube, how did they know? thought i’d check it out just to see. drove onto the lot, drove off 3 hours later with a new car and $1700 in my pocket.

yeah. that happened. traded my 2010 element in, drove off with a 2010 dodge caliber- close to the same miles, more space, better gas mileage, LOVE driving the caliber. been looking at those since i started thinking about trading the element. here’s hoping another dream car doesn’t bite me in the ass.  BUT. they paid me the difference of the trade in IN CASH. how often does that happen? seriously. no car payment, better car, cash in hand. LONDON PLANE TICKET PURCHASED. step two: complete.

so. i have my passport, i have my plane ticket- what else is there?

oh yeah- there’s ME.

i’ve been getting sick off on an for a few months. wake up at 2 in the morning, throw up a few time, sit around in pain for a few hours, go back to my life. thought i had it figured out- knew it happened after eating certain foods. just figured i was getting old. getting old sucks. then it started happening more often. with different foods. oh crap.

last monday it hit pretty bad. i finally did some research and thought i had it dialed in to my gallbladder. well. that sucks. what can you do? monday night was pretty rough. made it through. worried a little about the trip, but figured i had at least a few weeks, maybe a month before it would hit again if the pattern held (except the fact that it had already happened a few times in a few weeks...the OLD pattern...).

then it hit again friday night. BAD. well, shit. i can’t get on a plane if this is happening every few days. NOW WHAT?

i don’t have insurance. i can’t just call up, make an appointment, get checked out. i DID make an appointment with the community health clininc. for december 5th. well, shit. that’s not now. and that’s not before london. SHIT SHIT SHIT.

FUCK. FINE.

checked into an emergency room. the pain was the worst yet, it wasn’t going away, and it was twice in one week.

SEVEN, yes SEVEN hours later i checked out of the ER. bad news: it is indeed my gallbladder. as the ultrasound tech put it: you’re pretty packed full honey (stones).

GOOD NEWS: no infection. if i watch what i eat i *should* be good at least until my appointment on the 5th when i can check about financial aid to get the damn thing removed.

BETTER NEWS: i can still go to london.

THANK HEAVENS. somewhere around hour five in the ER i broke down in tears waiting for someone to see me. terrified i was going to have to cancel, have emergency surgery, all the worst case scenarios. that’s what three days of no sleep, extreme pain, and sitting in a shitty ER waiting room that long will do to you (to make matters worse: the TV was stuck on disney channel in the waiting room and BET in the exam room. why do they hate people so much?).

SO. passport: check. ticket: check. me: check (ish...i have pain meds just in case).

i started packing my bag last night. it’s getting real. less than 48 hours and i’ll be on a plane.

HOLY SHIT.

less than 48 hours.

i can’t even put into words how much i just want to SEE him. i mean texting is great, skype is fucking awesome. but to SEE him. IN PERSON. to be able to hug him. no time delay between texts, no crappy connection making skype freeze up. HIM. in front of me. after eight years. it might sound stupid, but it makes me tear up and my whole body aches. emotions this strong are a strange thing. especially for me. over a guy.

i’m trying really hard to just enjoy the fact that i’m going to london. i get to see england. 100 acre woods. alice in wonderland. beatrix potter. shakespeare. canterbury tales. all the things i studied and read about. this is where they happened. this is where they were created. i’ve always wanted to travel. and i am. and that in itself is so exciting.

i don’t want to put any expectations on anything else. i just want to go and see.

how could i say no to this adorable LuLu purse?

#londoncalling

holy. fuckballs.

it's been a week.

ONE. WEEK.

i'm going to london.

no. really. I'M GOING TO LONDON.

passport is filed, plane ticket is purchased, spawn arrangements are made.

I'M GOING TO LONDON.

i can't even begin to imagine how this has all happened in a week other than (forgive the cheese) it's meant to happen.

the universe is cooperating in this crazy amazing way and yes, there have been bumps. yes, there have been  melt downs (a few). yes, there have been issues. but it's booked. it's on.

I'M GOING TO LONDON.

if you haven't heard, there's this little trip i'm planning...

ok. so technically i'm only flying in to london. from there i'll be headed north to Bury St. Edmunds (google the shit out of it, it's really pretty). I'll be headed to USAF base territory- a bit of a travel. but still. and i'm looking at the map and seeing Canterbury, Oxford, Cambridge- my little nerd brain is freaking out. OHMYGOD- I'VE READ ABOUT THOSE PLACES. and now i'll be near them. i doubt we'll be doing much sigh seeing...i mean...let's just be honest here. BUT i'll be there. near there.

and all this happened in ONE WEEK.

i still don't know how.

here's the run down- leaving plenty of room for good karma and the universe to take full credit.

SCRATCH THAT.

i've been staring at this screen for a good 48 hours now and still haven't finished this blog.

yes. i'm going to london. passport worked out amazingly smooth, plane ticket was nothing short of a miracle- and it is booked and paid for. there's not much else to do but wait and hope to hell the passport comes in on time and my brain doesn't get the best of me.

speaking of my brain...

i think the reason i'm having such a hard time writing this blog is because i don't know what to say.

i WANT to believe it's all working out. i want to believe the universe is on my side on this one. i want to believe that it's finally my turn for something good. i want to believe that i can't screw this one up because it's meant to be. i want to believe in my own fairy tale ending.

i'm terrified as fuck though.

it's been eight years. what if i get there and i'm not the girl he remembers? what if i get there and realize i (yes, i'm using this word) love him so much and he doesn't return the feelings? what happens if...i'm driving myself insane with these questions. people say i deserve this happiness. that i deserve finally finding my match. that i deserve to go there and find out. but FUCK. why is negative so much easier to believe?

it this really possible? am i an idiot for believing in this?

and i'm' trying like hell not to sabotage things. and i'm trying like hell not to let my brain get the best of me. you can see how well that's working.

and it's little things that drive me crazy the fastest- like not hearing from him all weekend. i start to panic- is he pulling back? is he not interested? was it a fleeting moment and i misread it? i'm a few states and an ocean away- how much can you really tell from a few text messages and skype? and i get my self all worked up then i find out that he hurt himself walking the dog over the weekend and spend his two days off on pain meds and sleeping. there's a whole big world of things happening out there outside of me. and he's back at work and switching shifts and still sorting through i'm sure a ton of stuff from all the shit he's been going through.

so i need to just shut the fuck up, turn that shitty negative part of my brain off and just ENJOY this. he DOES want me to come see him. he DOES like me. he DOES contact me when he has a chance. i need to quit trying so hard to pick at the seams because i can destroy it and i really REALLY don't want to.

i don't know what will happen when my plane touches down in london. i don't know what will happen over four days with him in bury st edmunds. i don't know, and i WON'T know until it happens and so i need to quit borrowing trouble from tomorrow and just enjoy today. i need to enjoy that he came looking for me. which i still have a hard time believing even though it happened. i need to enjoy that eight years later he wants me to come see him and is excited about it. i need to enjoy that i have a chance at this. i need to enjoy and believe GOOD things can happen. fuck it's hard. it's so easy to believe the negative, i really need to work on honestly believing the positive. it's right here in front of me.

good things can happen to me.

this week showed me a LOT of good things can happen. and did happen.

i'm going to london because he wants me there.

that's all i need to know.

i'm going to london.

end of the rope

i HATE nights like tonight. all the big spawn wants to do is argue. i ask him 20 times (not exaggerating) to stop arguing and go to his room and all he does is keep yelling at me. the whole issue tonight was him being mean to his brother.

the little spawn is prone to pretty severe headaches that often make him sick to his stomach. tonight at dinner he wasn't feeling well because of a headache. big spawn called him a sissy and told him to shut up and eat his dinner.

i almost exploded.

the big spawn has been progressively meaner and more vicious as of late. the comments are quieter so i cant hear them. the hitting is when i'm not looking or when i'm not home. it's BAD.

tonight the little spawn went to bed early and didn't even eat his dinner. at a loss of what else to do, i asked the big spawn to spend the night researching autism/aspergers and suicide rates. studies show that kiddos with aspergers are extremely more prone to depression and suicide. bullying at school, bullying at home- the little spawn is getting it from all sides.

instead of actually researching and learning anything, the big spawn took this as an opportunity to try to tell me what an idiot i am. he read 10 google articles, took an online test, pulled up some "facts" from a netflix documentary he watched and informed me that the small spawn doesn't even have aspergers.

well. glad to know that he's better at diagnosis than the speech, behavior and clinical therapists the small spawn has worked with. glad he's better at figuring these things out than doctors or teachers or even me.

i'm glad he's spent years breaking patterns, getting therapy, going to doctors appointments, sitting through blood tests, working endlessly to make sure it doesn't seem like the small spawn has anything at all different.

and he sits here and argues and argues and argues with me about how wrong i am and how it doesn't even matter anyway. who cares if he insults his brother? who cares if he makes fun of him? it doesn't matter..

UMM...I DO. I CARE. and his little brother cares. he hears every word from the big brother he looks up to. he hears and remembers every. single. insult.

and it just. doesn't. stop.

i ask him to stop talking. and he keeps yelling at me. i ask him to go to his room. and he keeps yelling at me. he finally stomps up the stairs while still yelling at me and i ask him to come back down and walk up the stairs the right way and the whole time he is STILL yelling at me. and i ask him over and over to PLEASE. STOP. TALKING.

and he just. doesn't. stop.

he finally goes to his room for a few minutes then comes back down and starts all over again. why am i so mad at him? it's stupid. i'm stupid. he's just trying to have an intelligent conversation and bring another view to the table.

NO. you're being insulting and mean and i don't need to listen to it. it is NOT an intelligent conversation. as soon as you say "maybe he's just a retard like 90% of america" it has STOPPED being ANY kind of conversation i will allow in my house.

and i ask him again to PLEASE. STOP. TALKING. and he just keep on and keeps on and starts cursing at me.

and i ask him again to go to his room and instead he stomps out the back door.

now i know: pick your battles. going outside to get some air may not seem like the worst thing, but he may not blatantly disrespect and disobey me like that. especially in the middle of something where he's already disrespecting me and talking over and insulting me.

and it just escalates and escalates.

and soon he's flinging his arms at me "not hitting" me. and so i restrain him in a half nelson, still asking him to stop talking. then he elbows me in the face with his free arm. and it just gets worse. and i'm trying like FUCK to control my temper. i had to pin him down to the kitchen floor while he's kicking the appliances and trying to elbow me still. he's 14. my height. and he's trying like hell to fight me. and i hold him in a half cradle and tell him as soon as he's quiet he can get up. and he STILL. KEEPS. YELLING. AT. ME.

i don't know what to do.

i'm at the end of my rope.

what do you do with a kid who doesn't care at all about other people? he makes fun of kids at school that have lost siblings to suicide. he tears apart his little brother for simple things- spelling a word wrong or having a hard time reading. he is brutal to anyone he thinks is stupid (90% of people). he has zero empathy. my own son gay bashes in my house. he makes fun of everything from AIDS to depression.

and I KNOW. therapy. TRUST ME, I'VE TRIED. but all he hears from the other side of the fence is "we don't need therapy. we take care of our problems ourselves."

I CAN'T DO IT. i'm not equipped or trained or educated on how to deal with this. and i sure as fuck can't keep going the way it is. i refuse to be disrespected in my own home. i refuse to be called an idiot. it tears me to shreds every time i get into any kind of physical interaction with my own child. i feel sick to my stomach and it takes days to pull myself back together again. i can't keep living like this. i don't know what else to do with him. it's like a terrible cycle of abuse- he's fine for a few days then BAM it all starts again. FROM A TEENAGER. it is NOT ok. he CAN NOT treat people like this.

and i'm sure it's hurt and anger and everything else from what he's been through that's just bottled up inside and he doesn't know how to deal with it either. but it's poison. and it's killing us all. and i don't know where to go or what to do. and i'm terrified.

**additional thoughts a few hours later**

I get it. life as a teenager is hard. he's trying to do the girlfriend thing, he's trying to be the cool guy at school. it's all ego and appearance right now. he has to be the big dog on top.

and I get that he's probably sorting through a lot of strange stuff today that he doesn't know how to verbalized. hell, he just spent the weekend with his dads deceased wife's family up in the middle of no where basically by himself. his dad couldn't make it over the pass and the spawn only kinda knows these people- that had to have been a fuck hard and strange weekend. not to mention they are not at ALL like we are- they're very quiet, reserved people. a whole weekend of that on his own. I mean- I get why he was picking a fight today. but that doesn't make it right. he needs to learn to talk to me instead of being arrogant and putting on this show. he can't keep hiding behind this asshole attitude. if he's having a shitty day JUST SAY SO. hell, that's something I'm still learning though, so I guess I can't expect him to master it at 14. but holy hell. we have to work something out.

New York: the fairy tale isn't over

if you don't know about New York then this won't make any sense at all. maybe it still will. nothing makes much sense right now.

all i know is i'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face trying like FUCK to make any sense of this world.

and for once it's not in a bad way. it's in this crazy, completely unbelievable amazing way. half of me is terrified to write it because it just sounds too ridiculous, too good to be true. half of me wants to remember this forever no matter what else happens. half of me still can't believe there's more to add to the memory.

new york. my almost fairy tale.

turns out, the story isn't quite over.

out of the blue yesterday i had a facebook message pop up on my phone. the fact that it even came through is a slight miracle in itself- i was up in BFE farmland with a friend from out of town, in the rain, traipsing through a corn maze and buying pumpkin donuts.

"Hey sherry, how is every thing going? Things are going shitty for me what is your phone number? Mine is (if you think i'm letting y'all poach him youre crazy) I just need somebody to talk to."

i messaged back as soon as i could-dirty details aside: LIFE SUCKS SOMETIMES. shit hitting fan, been there, not a good place to be.

not only was it a friend in need, it was new york. my new york. the one i think about all the time. my almost ever after. he needed a friend to talk to and reached out to me. after all these years, after not seeing him in way too long to know, that connection is still there on his side too.

so he calls me, from England. and we talk. and it's like there hasn't been any time away. it's like i just talked to him yesterday. and we're talking and holy fuck it hits me like a freight train- all these emotions. how much i really have missed him and my heartache for him right now. i would give ANYTHING to be able to hug him in person.

and he wants to know why i'm not snagged up yet. i didn't even think about it. no edit button, no thought, it just blurted out:

"because i'm waiting for you. i've got the house, the kids, the dog. i'm just waiting for you. it's always been you."

if you know me, you know i'm not a particularly emotional person when it comes to guys. i've broken up with them for saying much less to me. and here i am blurting this out. laying it all on the line. to someone i haven't even talked to since january. and almost a full year before that. holy shit, where did that come from.

new york: "i should have married you years ago."

HOLY.

SHIT.

he said it to me back then. we actually fought about it back then. he told me he loved me, i told him to shut up. he said he wanted to marry me, he just had a few things to do first.

well. here we are, 8 years later, and we've both gotten our things to do out of the way.

and here we are, those emotions, still there.

we joked about me going to visit him in England. there's no way i can just GO to England. but how fitting would it be? i picked him up at the airport years ago. now it would be his turn to pick me up. any way he could get me a military flight? he could if i was his spouse. huh- i'm not opposed to that. neither is he.

and then the bastard drops this on me:

"you know, if you come visit me i could take you to Shakespeare's house."

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? does this boy know exactly how to seduce me or what?

and we talk about back then and we talk about now. and it's just there. that same connection.

he's the one that got away. he's always been in the back of my mind. just this week i drove out near the base twice. a section of town i NEVER go to. and it made me think of him. i drove past the dominos where we got pizza 8 years ago. my oldest son still remembers him coming up to visit us. he couldn't have been more than 6 at the time. and then my new york calls me.

we skyped, weve been texting. it's like going back in time 8 years in the best way possible.

i called in back up last night to talk to someone about this and i was in tears, shaking, SO MUCH EMOTION.

and last night talking with that friend i brought up going to England. was i crazy to even remotely think about it?

she posed one question to me: in 30 years, would i regret not going?

YES. period. end of sentence. YES i would regret not going. yes, i would regret not knowing if i could have my happy ever after. yes, i would regret not finding if it the one that got away could come back. yes, i would regret not taking the chance. yes, i would regret it and always wonder what if. 

YES. I WANT TO GO TO LONDON.



and so the planning begins. he can take time off. i can figure out a way to get there. we can find out what's there. or not there. or whatever. i'm applying for a passport ASAP (mine expired a few years ago). i'm looking up plane tickets. i'm scheduling things with friends.

if karma holds out just a little longer, i'll be in london november 21.

holy fuck.

am i really planning this?

it's taken about 12 hours to write this. every time i re-read it i cry. so many damn emotions. after eight damn years. how can i not be planning this? i'm going to fucking london. i'm going after my almost ever after. it's fucking crazy. i don't even know. but i'm doing it.

i do what i want

i'm single. that's a well established fact. every now and again i catch myself being...well...me...and i think: "how the fuck would this EVER work if there was a boy around?"

like right now for example: sitting smack dab in the middle of my bed, middle of the night (well, late night at least), clacking away on my laptop. what would happen if there was a boy in this scenario? would i have to type my random crap earlier so we could go to bed? would i have to learn to type somewhere besides my bed? would i have to pick a side? STOP PRESSURING ME. WE'RE BREAKING UP.

oh wait...calm down, that was hypothetical.

but it's true- i catch myself in the routines ive developed over the last 14 years of living alone and wonder how the hell i would ever be able to include someone else in our crazy. like singing (badly) and dancing in the kitchen while cleaning or making dinner- would i ever let someone else see that? or what about the way i put all the dishes away in very specific spots- could i tolerate someone else messing that up?

maybe the right person would just fit in and there wouldn't be issues. but there will always be issues- what happens when i need to shave my legs or pluck my eyebrows? do i need to wait for him to leave before i do all that? preserve some of the mystery and all that shit?

i randomly think of these things- as i'm hanging my bras over the shower curtain to dry, as i'm dropping stacks of clothes on the chair in my room instead of putting them away. as i'm bogarting the remote control once again because there isn't anyone else around. i've shared space with people on a very limited time span. a few months here and there- hell, even when i was married back in the dark ages i worked days and he worked swing shift so we were hardly ever home together besides the weekends.

but i do wonder. about the little things and the big things. besides the daily quirky stuff, how would i adjust to someone being around the kids all the time on the good days AND the bad days? could i let someone co-parent? what about my temper? i can only keep it in check so long- what's it going to be like when some poor guy has to watch an epic snapped moment?

i guess there's not point in worrying about something that quite possibly may never happen- or at least for a good while. maybe i'll get struck with lightening and become "normal" by then. stranger things have happened.

for now, i'm going to stay in the middle of my bed and be as neurotic and weird as i want. only the dog has to tolerate me for now.