Birthdays

I had so much fun part of today. The part where I was swimming with my friends and taking photos and playing games. The part that felt carefree and relaxed.

And still you turned away from me. I didn't wake up with you and you rolled away when I tried to snuggle. Instead, I was awake at 6am on my birthday, alone and drunk in the dark in the pool. I watched the sunrise and thought it would help me feel hopeful about the year to come. A new day, a fresh start, a new beginning. 

Instead, my new beginning felt lonely, disjointed, cold, shaky, and disappointing.

And now I'm ending the day the same way. We fought, I cried. I'm sitting here and you're sitting over there and you don't want to touch me or be near me and I get worse. Everything gets worse. 

The loneliness increases. The feeling that I'm going through this and there is no hope it's going to get better hits and I just sob and sob and sob. 

This is what my birthday is this year.

I hate it. 

I want to feel better. I want you to love me and hold me and never stop. 

I want a lot of things. I don't think I'm going to get them. 

Countdown/Morphine

I'm counting down again and this time it's my stomach that's in knots.

I don't want to do this but I know I have to.

I'm like a morphine addict. I know this is the fun phase, the sweet phase, the kind phase. I love kind T. I want to be with kind T. I want to stay with her and hold her and live with her and have babies with her.

But kind T doesn't stay.

I have to remember that.

I need index cards for tonight:
1.This is not my fault.
2. You cannot blame me for your actions.
3. I deserve better than this.
4. I did not look outside of our relationship to make myself feel better. Only you did.
5. How could you spend three nights with your ex-girlfriend and come home expecting to still be in a relationship? How do you justify that for yourself?
6. You will do this to me again.
7. You don't respect me or my feelings. You betrayed me on the ultimate level.
8. You had an emotional, if not physical, affair. You had an affair. You had an affair.
You had a three and a half month long affair.
9. You still think that what you did was acceptable.
10. You expertly planned and executed how to lie to me on multiple occasions to continue your affair.

Put down the morphine needle. This is one drug that is fatal. This is one time you have to walk away. Love doesn't always conquer all. Not when two people don't love the same way, the same amount.

I love you, but you love yourself.

Special Days

Today was one of those special days.

The ones without any snot or tears, where your kid runs bang on into a wall and instead of melting down like she usually does, she shrugs and sits until she stops feeling queasy and then joins in again.

The ones where moms come up to me at the park and say things like:
"That's the first time I've heard a parent say 'Watch out for the person behind you,' all day. Thank you."
"Why you got like four kids on you? Either the redheads or the Mexicans aren't yours."
"Do you have Mary Poppins pockets in your dress? Where are all those water bottles coming from?"

It's the kind of day where I notice how far Mexican culture has come, because there were four little boys in colored skinny pants and converse and that never would have flown fifteen years ago. When I smile because Abuelo still uses a bandana instead of a bandaid, and little Crystal realizes I can understand her 3 year old Spanish as she begs me to push her on the swing.

It's the kind of day when "Mom," slips out more than my name and I remember that the kids fall into this charade as much as I do. When we laugh and make brownies and lick the bowl and learn to crack eggs on our foreheads. It's when a king size bed seems too big for four people because we're all piled on top of each other.

It's when she's in the bath and I come in to check on her. "Are Mom and Dad home?" she asks.

"Yes," I smile.

"Oh," her brows are furrowed and she's thinking. She doesn't seem excited or ask if she can rush to greet them. "Will you wash my hair?" she asks instead.

"Sure," I murmur and she leans forward for me and we don't discuss it further. She knows I'll stay until she's tucked in bed.

Perhaps we've all grown too dependent. Perhaps my life is too entwined with theirs. Perhaps when they hold me and refuse to let go, or read the bedtime books with my voice bound in each page when I can't be there, it is a sign we should all pull back.

But I've taught them how to ride a bike, how to make a sandwich, how to properly eat whipped cream from the can, how to do a handstand and make it across the monkeybars. The time for pulling back passed eons ago.

Gross Feelings

Premium fireworks view: armchair, footstool and music!

Gross! What are all these maternal feelings? Disneyland was a blast, of course, with my brother, his wife, and their 3 children- 12, 5, and 2.

My niece is very theatrical and loves to sing, hum, whistle, dance- you name it, she does it. It's very entertaining in line. We stood in line for a ride and an older boy (somewhere between 17-24) started to talk with her, flirt with her. She's almost as tall as me, and as it was nearing the end of the night, she had put her Minnie Mouse ears in my hair, making her look older than she seemed before, more like a teenager. He was downright creepy in his advances and it didn't stop once he learned she was 12, and finally we all stopped in line to do one thing or another and pushed her to the head of our group, effectively cutting off their communication.  The Minnie Mouse ears went back in immediately.

My older nephew is a crack up! He's in love with Princess Leia and likes to make everyone laugh because that means fun is being had. My younger nephew? He took to me like Sam took to green eggs and ham. I'm not sure if he remembered me from this past summer of if I remind him of his mom and dad, but he would not let go. My arms are sore from dancing with him and carrying him around the park. He shares my fascination for the stars and started break dancing (spinning on his head and all) at the Mad T Party at California Adventure.

I think my nephew would have more fun in a club than teenagers and 20-somethings

The 5yo. He likes to wear his hat backward :)

I work with kids constantly, and I love what I do, but I don't ever feel this tugging in the pit of my stomach. Maybe because most kids whine all the time, maybe because those kids view me in a workplace environment/relationship, maybe because my brother's kids look like little carbon copies of me- but there it was. That little knife twist as I held my five year old nephew in the last ten minutes of the hour line. As he brushed my hair out of my face so gently and said "There you go!" like he knew it had been bugging me - kissed my cheek, grinned like a devil, and then pulled it back out from both sides and over my eyes like a blindfold and yelled "Can you see me now?!" and started cracking up like I couldn't feel him in my arms.

It was there as I held him in the crowded square, with the fake snow falling around us, the last sparks of fireworks fading into the dark sky. It was there as he caught a fake flake and tapped it on my nose, in the awe of his smile, the gleam in his eye, the shared laughter between us and his sister. 

Post snow  - Merry Christmas from Disneyland!

There is a piece of my life that I may or may not ever get - watching the fireworks and laughing with my wife and child, the awe of raising such a gorgeous creature together and shaping him or her to be a playful, compassionate individual. Of course, I am twenty *mumblewumble* years old, so I have plenty of time before this ever becomes a problem, and having or not having kids is not a deal breaker for me. It was just a moment, an exquisite moment, bonding with a loving, awed boy over a shared experience, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Family/Heavy Update

I got the phone call. The one I was half-expecting to come at three am from a sobbing girl. Instead it was an afternoon text message: Can you please call me when you have free time? So innocent, so politely distant. This is how my family works. We all do this. We all downplay our feelings and refuse to take up anyone's time or emotions or ask for what we need.

I called my niece right away and she was in tears on the other end of the line. "I told my mom and she just - she thinks that if I go out with my friends for a night it's going to go away and I'm going to get better!" I let her cry while I analyzed, processed, and also because she needed to get it out. She's so worried that by asking for help she's going to break up her family, cause her parents to divorce, be branded as a screw up for the rest of her life. "-and then she said 'What, do I need to worry about you committing suicide, too?' and she just spat it at me!" my niece sobbed.

This is where being an aunt puts me in a difficult position. I am, in age, between my brother and his daughter. I am at a point in my life where I can understand both points of view, and it doesn't seem very long ago that I was dealing with my own high school/college issues. His wife, K, and I are so close, probably the closest of all my siblings, (plus or minus Ladybug) and her relationship with my niece is so reminiscent of my own with my mother.

I know that K feels like a bad parent, that she is trying to help/love/comfort her daughter, but has no idea how to handle this situation. I also know that my niece is trying to protect her mother, trying to lock away all her emotions, because she feels like by being honest she is ripping her foundation apart.

So I'm flying out to see them and I honestly couldn't be happier about it. I want to take my niece in my arms and check that she's okay with my own eyes. I want a late night conversation with my sister so she can talk to me about everything she feels overwhelmed by and can't process.

I want to walk into the doctor's office with them and assure them that it doesn't make us lesser people. I want us to walk out of there as a unit and I want my niece to go to sleep at night knowing that her family is rock solid and 100% behind keeping her well and happy, above and beyond everything else.

This is the definition of being family. I am more than happy to live up to the parameters.

Heavy

When Christmas gets heavy:

I skyped with my brother's kids late Christmas night. They're cute kids, 15 and 8, but they're a little overemotional. My nephew is funny and biting but can be sensitive, and so can his sister. My niece is a junior in high school, after she skipped a grade in middle school, and she's been dealt some heavy cards lately: her best friend died from cancer last year, and her other best friend went to jail for molesting younger boys after he himself was abused. Her life has sucked the past few years.

She wanted to talk to me about it this summer, but couldn't find the words, and being raised in a family where we don't push to communicate, I held her as she cried and told her she could come to me when she was ready. Last night's call was tense, grumpy, and awkward, and finally she kicked her little brother out of the room and broke down.

She's been anorexic for the last year. She has emotions she can't understand - feeling happy and normal one day, grumpy and depressed and introverted for no reason the next. She feels anxious, paranoid, stressed, and she doesn't want to tell her parents because she doesn't want to be a fuck up.

I'm pretty good at being calm and reasonable and compassionate when people come to me, but after the fact, when I'm writing about this, I can't help but start to cry. Should I have told her about my anorexia years ago? My depression as an early teenager? The year when I'd been lost and confused and tricked into thinking I'd fatally hurt one of my best friends? Should I be talking about these things to my other nieces and nephews who might be feeling the same way?

Luckily, her mom, K, is the sibling I talk to most, and she knows, briefly, about my struggles with anorexia. After ascertaining and making sure that my niece is not suicidal, I convinced her to talk to her mom. She's struggling, she's drowning, and she needs help and understanding. Maybe it's a conversation I will be part of, maybe I will end up flying out there to help, or maybe she'll find the courage to say something and then call me later. And I understand her hesitation, because she can be emotional and now her parents tend to brush her emotions off. But now I'm worried about her. Because this is what leads to drugs and sex and suicide.

I know there's a stigma against getting help, especially in our family - I mean, hell, I never got help or talked to my mom about any of my issues for that very reason. But I'd rather get her help than see her all over the papers. I'd rather she learn that help is okay than to lose her forever. She's my baby girl who is sarcastic and funny, who lights up at Disneyland, and wants to be a singer and has so much talent, who plays the guitar with me and can sing Katy Perry better than Katy Perry can. I refuse to see her light go out because she won't tell her parents or a doctor that something is wrong.

Tragedies

It's always hard to write about a tragedy. It's easier to keep quiet and not step on anyone's emotional toes. When last Friday hit the news, I was in shock like everyone else. I reached out to my siblings and their children, who felt hurt and confused and scared. I imagined my niece and nephew who only live a few hours away from there, in kindergarten and pre-k, so little, so funny, so ultimately helpless against violence of that force.

But my niece and nephew back east are no strangers to guns. In fact, their father collects guns and is an avid hunter. They never go grocery shopping for meat, and the littlest knows moose meat is her favorite. My whole family are no strangers to guns. We are police officers, sheriffs, military members, war vets. We know the power of a gun and the safety rules of owning one. We know that there are two safes, one for the guns and one for the clips, and the keys aren't kept together.

What we don't own are semi-automatics. What we don't need are guns that belong in war and action movies. No one needs to be able to shoot off thirty rounds at at time. These are people guns. These are massacre guns. GB has rules about what kinds of guns civilians can own. Hunting rifles are fine, but any pistol/handgun is prohibited. Anything that can shoot six bullets without reloading is prohibited. Can I stress that more? SIX bullets.

Wake up, America. We're not waiting on a zombie apocalypse. We don't need guns based off AK-47s in the hands of citizens. We don't need to buy bulk ammo at the nearest supercenter. Why can I only buy two boxes of cold medicine but can buy 400 rounds at a time? What on earth are we doing?

My mom brought up a sad point. Those parents probably already bought Christmas presents for their children. Maybe people will think me callous, but I hope those toys are donated to Toys for Tots or another organization. Those kids aren't coming home to open them, and they were never really "their toys" in the first place. I'm sure all their favorites and most played with will hold a special place, but for these unopened presents it will just be a haunting reminder. Something decent/noble can bud from this tragedy. I hope it will.

Family Love/Hate

I love my family. I write about them a lot. I have fond memories of them and enjoy spending time with them. But sometimes I just want to smack them. Some of my family is desert redneck, and that's okay. They're good people, funny, know how to have a good time with a piece of plywood, some rope, and an ATV, and can make one hell of a mudslide (the drink). But, they also say some things I just can't handle - it comes with the territory.

My mom's cousin is one of those people who says a lot of things I disagree with. She's had it rough, fighting cancer and then later her daughter was born with Cystic Fibrosis. C was pretty cool - I have a lot of her art. She was fascinated with death and dying, big on the punk scene and Tim Burton movies. But she didn't make it past 16, and that was hard on her mom - on the whole family. After C died, my mom's cousin took a trip to Israel with her other daughter.

So here's the post I saw on Facebook today: The most amazing, spiritual & emotional 10 days of my life were spent in Israel. Hanging out in Downtown old Jerusalem. Being baptized in the Jordan. Actually touching the pavement where they forced Jesus to walk with his cross. The saddest pictures are of Ron and I on the beach in tel aviv, which is now empty because of the bombing. And lastly the empty tomb. Please pray for Israel and the Jewish people, "CHRISTIANS STAND BEHIND ISRAEL"

Blah, blah, blah, (Jesus didn't walk on pavement) blah, blah - "Christians stand behind Israel."  38 likes. I'm sorry, what? I'm not Christian, but I was raised Catholic so I should have a pretty fair idea of what this means and why people are getting behind it. But aren't Christians all for brokering peace? Didn't Jesus say he who is without sin, cast the first stone? Israel is bombing the hell out of Gaza and Hamas is trying like crazy to send out rockets, but their attempts are feeble in comparison. 

So what I'm hearing is that she's all for a religious and territorial war that she has no business being a part of or cheering for. If you want to pray for something, pray for peace, pray for resolution. Pray for both sides and the lives that have been lost in the names of gods which are all ultimately the same.

If you haven't read the Gazan Youth Manifesto for Change, read it now. It's halfway down the page, marked in bold with Manifesto.

Also, if you're interested, this is a NYT article focusing on the three generations of a family living in Gaza that were killed during an Israeli airstrike, as well as the emotional climate of the area right now.

Musical Expression

I thrive on confrontation, but only with people I see often and know well. People who meet me tend to come away from our interaction thinking that I’m sweet, quiet, agreeable, and kind. I’m a shoo-in with families and old people. When I was 14, I dated a very Jewish boy whose overprotective mother didn’t want to meet me. One lunch later and she wanted us to get married and have tons of cashew babies.

I like when people like me (kill them with kindness), which is why I tend to present myself as vague and agreeable upon first meeting. It's why I don't tell people I'm gay right away. My point here? People are shocked when they find out that the sweet, quiet girl loves to listen to rock music. I like all sorts, but I stumbled onto rock a few years ago and was so struck by the “I'm going to say what I want to say and I don't care if you like it or not” attitude. Lately I've been listening to more and more rock, and maybe it's because I'm clamming up so much in daily life.

We’ll take Aranda’s Satisfied for example; this guy is talking about his bitchy ex and the main lyric is “I never wanna see you smile, and I never wanna see you satisfied. Are you satisfied?” I could never say this. I thought something like this for 30 seconds before I took it back because I know Karma would strike me down, and because generally I want people to be happy. But for a band to lay it all out there - that takes guts.

Rise Against has been stuck in my head for weeks on repeat, and if you've never heard of them, you should take a listen because they're very catchy. Savior just makes me want to dance and sing and create a mosh pit in my shower. Except that I don't really want a mosh pit in my shower and I don't want to be naked and have strangers slamming their bodies into me. I'm determined to see a strong, badass, female vocal and guitar cover of Rise Against on youtube, so I'm buckling down and learning the chord progressions.

But this one. This one just breaks my heart. Gaza and Israel's conflict is all over the news. I understand war, even if I don't like it. I come from a military family, watched my little brother enter the Marines, see the family troops band together to create, but have heard my dad's horror stories from Vietnam. Rise Against are brilliant songwriters and musicians. Listen to it all the way through, or look up the lyrics.

And then listen to this and remember that a song can make you want to dance and also have a theme and great lyrics. That sometimes music can say everything you want to say but trap inside.

Day 25 Paine

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times

Washington Crossing the Delaware

I can't read that without hearing, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," which then brings me to Thomas Paine's famous quote, "These are the times that try men's souls."  Here comes the rant.

Look, there are millions, if not billions, of people who are going through the worst of times. People on the east coast are trying to recover from Sandy, as well as the people in Haiti. Gaza and Israel are attacking each other again. Winter is setting in and freezing the far north. People around the world are homeless, people are sick, people are without clean water, without ample food.

So, I'm not going to talk about my aunt's weird emotional breakdown or my grandma facing my grandfather's birthday and the anniversary of her daughter's death all in one month, or my best friend trying to recover from surgery and feeling isolated from the world. Instead I want us to think about the world and what we're doing to help or hurt. A whole bunch of idiots are signing petitions to try and secede their states from the US. Our country is divided and we need to bridge the gap. This is not the time to rub noses in the dirt, or to withdraw and lick wounds and find a way to avoid those who "won." There was no winning or losing. There were two paths as to how the US was going to travel into the future, and the residents of our nation picked the trail we will traverse, together. Step up and find a way to make it all work. Bipartisanship.

Also from Thomas Paine's The Crisis, "America did not, nor does not want force; but she wanted a proper application of that force. Wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and it is no wonder that we should err at the first setting off."  It's been over two hundred years since those words were penned, and while our country is still in its infancy compared to the ancient nations of the world, we should have learned more than this. This is pride and humiliation sabotaging the efforts to build a greater country. Our nation made a choice. You've had your tantrums, now stand up and be productive.

Day 18 Better Me

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be

The person I wish I could be or the person I wish I would be? I wish I could be a professional volleyball player, but I'm super short, have a sports injury to one knee and didn't start playing volleyball until junior high. I also wish I could be a violinist, but I've never picked up a violin, can't afford one and I'm pretty sure you have to start before you are five.

But the person I wish I would be, that's totally different. I wish I was more passionate and pushed myself to do the things I enjoy as a career. Whether it's singing, writing, theater, driving, photography, I think life would be easier if I truly loved what I do to earn to money for myself and my family. I wish I would be a better person, a more social person, a nicer person, a more forgiving and tolerant person.

I wish I would go to school to be a racecar driver because I would be really good at that.

These are all things I can change about myself. These are all things I can push myself to be if I really want to, if I have the motivation. But when I work 14-20 hour days and I'm exhausted when I come home and tired when I wake up, I just don't have the time or energy. I guess I could stop writing, but then I would just go crazy, and nobody wants that :)

Ladybug Update

I finally got an update from Ladybug (backstory: cousin I grew up with as my little brother). He's got some time off for the Christmas holiday, but I'm not going to be able to see him because I'm working. There's family driving down, and I want to join them, so badly, but it's the most critical time of the year and I can't just take time off.

I keep thinking about the world ending on the 21st. I've never believed in it, never been huge on prophecies, but what if it does and my last choice was to choose work over family? Over seeing the person I'm closest to? That thought terrifies me. Plus, if the world is ending, I want that badass kid by my side because I know we'd make a great team and be survivors.

He's changed so much over the last few months, somehow even taller. He seems to have grown into his dress uniform, so he looks more like a true Marine than a kid playing dress up :) He's grown quite handsome and I know I'm going to have to beat people off of him and make sure whoever gets him deserves him. I wish I could post one of the pictures I've gotten, as he carries this James Dean vibe I can't describe to you unless you see it, but I'm not going to out him on my blog. Main point is, he's safe and I'm so happy for that.

He's having fun with friends, but being responsible, and enjoying the stuff he's working on. I'm glad I know what's going on with him, but I still miss him. Hopefully he can get some time off in the spring and I'll get to see him.

Visits

As you may know, I've been visiting with my best friend who is very liberal, socially progressive, tolerant - the first person who told me it was okay when I came out. And she's not voting Obama. In fact, she's not voting at all.

I already voted and I believe it's a secret ballot and I'm not going to tell you in detail what I did and didn't vote for, but it's pretty obvious I'm pro-Obama and at the very least anti-Romney and completely terrified of what will happen if he becomes the president. So, urging people to vote on the candidate of their choice has been fairly important to me. I never talked to her about it, never pushed her because she is so smart and I just assumed it was a no brainer. Of course if you're an informed citizen you would vote, right?

Apparently, wrong. It's hard for me to comprehend. Especially since so many of the people I follow on twitter are zealous about voting and knowing the issues. Social media caused me to be very well informed as I cast my ballot this year. I just can't believe that bright, informed people in demographics where rights and privileges are at stake would sit this one out.

Disasters

This post has been in my head for days, but I haven't been able to piece it together. The only reason I can do so now is because I'm a procrastinator and avoiding something else.

When something like Sandy hits on the opposite side of the country, I feel useless. And it happens every few years, like with the Aurora massacre, Japan, Hurricane Katrina, the 2004 tsunami, 9/11 and the Oklahoma City bombings and all of these horrible things that happen in other places where I'm not and can't help.

I mean, I do what I can, I donate and try to be active and informed but it never feels like enough. I'm never doing enough. I didn't go to Haiti to rebuild houses, and I wasn't in the search and rescue after the tsunami in Japan. I'm not a firefighter or an EMT and I want to do more than take five seconds to donate and then live my happy little life where I try to make kids succeed in school and bask in the sunshine as long as it lasts. I'm living the California dream and it's times like these, when my countrymen are starving, trying to rebuild, have gone without power or clean water, that my life feels so gross.

It's almost like survivor's guilt. But what else can you do when you're not supposed to donate items; when you live on the other side of the world? I can't just pack up my life every time a disaster strikes, although I'd like to.

How do you help? How can I?

Impressing/Truth Telling

Here is the point where my blog becomes difficult. It has become increasingly hard to write in this blog, now that it is connected to people I know and admire. This is the point in time where I have to resist writing fictional stories to impress the people of the interwebs who are so much more experienced than myself, in writing and in relationships.

This is the point in time where I want to write about my sexual prowess, and about how my relationships have gone so well and it turns out that my small town is full of lovely gay women whom I respect and admire.

But I would be lying. And it is so hard not to lie, but I will refrain from doing so because I want one aspect of my life to be pure, upright, and honest. I want one place where I can be me, and look back on it and see me, the real me, through the years. I want to strengthen the relationship I have with myself, and lying is a sure way to break up any relationship.

I have not been dating anyone new. My heart seems to leap beyond my reach, crossing states and countries, clinging to those in relationships, or those who identify as heterosexual. I haven't been having sex because I've never done it before, and I want to be with someone that I have a spark with; someone who will be open with me about what she likes and what she wants. I want to be with someone who isn't afraid of being clear about what she likes, and who is gentle enough to teach me without breaking me.

I have, however, been shaping up. Taking classes, seriously thinking about where I want to go to uni, and how to propel my career from that point on. Journalism, a fleeting dream, is now coming into realization. Not that I won't have a long way to go, but I feel like I am finally taking responsibility for where my life path is going.

My psychology class has been giving me a lot to think about, one being that maybe the reason that I haven't taken responsibility for anything in my life is that I honestly didn't think I would make it this far. When I was about six years old, I was sure that I couldn't live without my mother, and vice versa, so we made a pact. I told her that we would die together in a car accident, so neither of us would have to grow old alone. It seems stupid to think that this would come true, but I believed it for so long. I was sure I would never live past my high school years. Now, into my 20s, I realize that it might take me a long time to die. It could be 5, 10, 20, 30, 50 years. I have not been prepared for the option to live that long.

Now, I'm trying to adjust myself to having a longer life path. This includes a steady career, budgeting, saving up for future occasions, all things that I've never had to plan for before.

But I'm trying. As a direct quote from a psychology peer: "She says that she has always been independent and gives credit to her mother for bringing her up this way. However, [Tabitha] also says she is unable to focus on a clear path for life due to the lack of guidance she got in her upbringing. She says that now she feels lost and passionless and this really doesn’t sound like independence at all."

Well, I meant independence in more than a career fashion. As in, I emotionally lean on myself, take care of myself, all matters that have to do with me are dealt with by me. However, she does have a point. What good is being independent when I don't take up the responsibility to become a functioning adult in society?

So that's what I'm trying to become. And that's the truth.

P.S. Women's curling is on again today. America vs. my favorite girl Eve Muirhead, captain of the Great Britain team.