I suddenly get overwhelmed by emotion and can't place why or anything. I was so dependent on him because he led me to believe that I wasn't strong enough to be without him and...now...now, I am too dependent to know how to be independent, but I don't have anyone to be dependent on. Turning to friends has made me feel like I am dragging them down, even if they proclaim I am not and they are here for me.
I am afraid to love again for the fear that I will become dependent on someone rather than on myself
so I get caught up in these people who just want sex thinking that will help, but its not the sex I miss from being in a relationship. Then, I tell myself that it's not a real relationship, but i still fall. It's the having someone there I miss. Someone to give me a big hug and tell me that it will all be okay and help me plan out what needs to get done
just....AAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH
Yet...here I sit in a hotel room, homeless, jobless, fucked up, but I'm the lucky one because I got the kids. He's got a fucking house, VA benefits, all kinds of shit, but I am the lucky one. I don't think of it as luck. I think of it as he hurt them and me, he doesn't deserve them. He should be in jail, but they are dragging ass on that as well.
GRRR
All I am asking for in this is a friend willing to be here for me at 2 am if I need it, that doesn't live over 1000 miles away or isn't deployed. I have a ton of friends that will do that for me...but none here, where I need them. None that can come over and just give me a hug, a literal shoulder to cry on.
There are so many people who say I need to keep my head up, stay strong for the kids, don't cry in front of them, let them see that you are strong and it isn't anything to get worried over
well I'm sorry if i can't do that and keep it up 24/7. I'm not perfect, I'm human. I lose control. I can't be emotionless all the fucking time. No one can. I can hide it the best I can, but I'm not very good at that. People tend to be able to see right through me.
You don't know how bad I really am fucked up right now. I am capable of hiding a lot of it, so people think I am holding it together when really its hollow inside the walls I show everyone. I know that doesn't exactly help me get through it, but it appeases those that always spout my needing to keep my chin up, press forward and never give an inch.
People know me as the one they can talk to. The one that will sympathize or empathize with them depending on the situation. The one they can vent to that will be their shoulder to cry on, their source of strength. I am so tapped out that I find myself getting strength from the wrong places, those deep dark places that will only hurt you in the end rather than give you the strength they pretend to. Right now it is so hard for me because people come to me needing help when I don't have anything to give. I don't want to let people down because that's not me. I want to be there for them, its in my blood, in my nature, who I am. At the same time, it would be nice to get that same devotion in return. But then again, i guess I have to be receptive of it. I have serious issues asking for help. Just who I am. I am shy, but I am always willing to help out a friend. I'll offer help all day long, but its hard for me to ask for it. Anyway... Now that I got that off my chest, now I get to decide who I want to actually be able to read this...
22 May 2009
16 May 2009
Brothers in Arms
Brothers in peace, brothers in battle.
Brothers in time and in the hereafter.
Walking this path, no regret or fear.
Knowing your brothers will keep you clear.
Teaching and learning together they work.
Erasing bad guys who in darkness lurk.
In times of need, these brothers will come,
Working as one to bring you home.
They don’t want recognition, and no special favors.
“It’s just a job, don’t fawn over our labors.”
The best at their job, yet incredibly humble
They do their tasks without even a mumble.
Honor. Integrity. Values they know.
Courage. Strength. Values they show.
Brothers in peace, brothers in battle.
For years they protected in secret battles.
Brothers in time and in the hereafter.
They will be missed deeply from now to forever.
Brothers in time and in the hereafter.
Walking this path, no regret or fear.
Knowing your brothers will keep you clear.
Teaching and learning together they work.
Erasing bad guys who in darkness lurk.
In times of need, these brothers will come,
Working as one to bring you home.
They don’t want recognition, and no special favors.
“It’s just a job, don’t fawn over our labors.”
The best at their job, yet incredibly humble
They do their tasks without even a mumble.
Honor. Integrity. Values they know.
Courage. Strength. Values they show.
Brothers in peace, brothers in battle.
For years they protected in secret battles.
Brothers in time and in the hereafter.
They will be missed deeply from now to forever.
07 May 2009
Demons
Demons haunt, and shadows hide
Fear lies hidden beneath these eyes
Just one look will let you in
Unless I hide what lies within
I live in a world of fear and pain.
I try to defy them, but sadly in vain.
You come along and I let you in
Laying out all that I’ve tried to hide.
I know what will happen if I let you in.
The fears inside me begin to erupt.
I try to stop it, but the blow’s too abrupt.
I freeze yet want a new life to begin.
I need the emotions within me to slow.
Before the weight of them bends me too low.
How much more of this can I take
Before it all causes me to break?
I have yet to learn to fly on my own.
So dependent on others that I’ve never grown.
Fear lies hidden beneath these eyes
Just one look will let you in
Unless I hide what lies within
I live in a world of fear and pain.
I try to defy them, but sadly in vain.
You come along and I let you in
Laying out all that I’ve tried to hide.
I know what will happen if I let you in.
The fears inside me begin to erupt.
I try to stop it, but the blow’s too abrupt.
I freeze yet want a new life to begin.
I need the emotions within me to slow.
Before the weight of them bends me too low.
How much more of this can I take
Before it all causes me to break?
I have yet to learn to fly on my own.
So dependent on others that I’ve never grown.
05 May 2009
Through the eyes of a child
In having children, I have learned how to see the world through new eyes. I have seen angels and frogs and other assorted objects in the clouds. I have learned how exactly you make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (put the peanut butter on one slice of bread, jelly on the other then squish it together til it makes a mess on the inside), as well as learning the true meaning of the phrase "I hope you have a kid just like you when you grow up".
I used to stand at the top of a flight of stairs, yell "Mom, Look!!" and right as she turns around I would jump to the bottom. Now, I have a son and a daughter that I am convinced are going to be acrobats when they grow up just because of how much they try to fly. Off the couch, onto the couch, from bed to bed, bed to chair, pretty much from any one thing to another where they should technically walk, but they don't. I have also learned that the floor randomly turns into hot lava and that is the explanation for all the jumping around. See, I would believe that, but I too once was a kid. Yes, believe it or now, I was a child. I guess is ways I still am, hence the antics I have gotten into in the military and other places. Anyway, back on track... I now know what my mom went through when I displayed my daredevil antics for her. If you have kids, you know the feeling, heart jumps into your throat threatening to come right out your mouth, stomach ties itself into a million knots for that split second they are airborne, and once it is over, you have such an adrenaline rush that you want to lock them up so they can never do that again, but then you hear the laughter. Yes, that pleasant, heart-melting laughter of the child you love so dearly that causes you to forget why you were so ready to throttle them two seconds ago. Gotta love kids.
When my son was born, I mentally prepared myself for bugs being brought in the house to show off, finding rocks and sticks and spiders and other random creepy-crawlies in pants pockets as I am doing laundry. You know, the typical little boy stuff you have to watch out for. That time for me never came. Well, never came with my son at least. He would admire the bugs and creepy-crawlies, but never really picked them up. He would grab me by the hand and drag me out to admire these bugs. Which was funny, considering how the bugs never played his game and stayed in the same spot that he left it in when he came to get me. No, it isn't my son's pockets I have to check for bugs and things while doing laundry, it is my daughter's. Yes, my baby girl who almost refuses to wear pants and is always in skirts or dresses, plays dress-up, and rocks trucks to sleep at night. I have always wondered how that worked. You prepare for what you think will happen with the kids, think about every possible outcome, issue, problem, and any other path you can conceivably come up with, and without fail the one that eluded you during all that planning and preparation is the one that happens. A parent's motto shouldn't be "Always prepared", it should follow one of the mottos the military has: "Adapt and overcome".
I used to stand at the top of a flight of stairs, yell "Mom, Look!!" and right as she turns around I would jump to the bottom. Now, I have a son and a daughter that I am convinced are going to be acrobats when they grow up just because of how much they try to fly. Off the couch, onto the couch, from bed to bed, bed to chair, pretty much from any one thing to another where they should technically walk, but they don't. I have also learned that the floor randomly turns into hot lava and that is the explanation for all the jumping around. See, I would believe that, but I too once was a kid. Yes, believe it or now, I was a child. I guess is ways I still am, hence the antics I have gotten into in the military and other places. Anyway, back on track... I now know what my mom went through when I displayed my daredevil antics for her. If you have kids, you know the feeling, heart jumps into your throat threatening to come right out your mouth, stomach ties itself into a million knots for that split second they are airborne, and once it is over, you have such an adrenaline rush that you want to lock them up so they can never do that again, but then you hear the laughter. Yes, that pleasant, heart-melting laughter of the child you love so dearly that causes you to forget why you were so ready to throttle them two seconds ago. Gotta love kids.
When my son was born, I mentally prepared myself for bugs being brought in the house to show off, finding rocks and sticks and spiders and other random creepy-crawlies in pants pockets as I am doing laundry. You know, the typical little boy stuff you have to watch out for. That time for me never came. Well, never came with my son at least. He would admire the bugs and creepy-crawlies, but never really picked them up. He would grab me by the hand and drag me out to admire these bugs. Which was funny, considering how the bugs never played his game and stayed in the same spot that he left it in when he came to get me. No, it isn't my son's pockets I have to check for bugs and things while doing laundry, it is my daughter's. Yes, my baby girl who almost refuses to wear pants and is always in skirts or dresses, plays dress-up, and rocks trucks to sleep at night. I have always wondered how that worked. You prepare for what you think will happen with the kids, think about every possible outcome, issue, problem, and any other path you can conceivably come up with, and without fail the one that eluded you during all that planning and preparation is the one that happens. A parent's motto shouldn't be "Always prepared", it should follow one of the mottos the military has: "Adapt and overcome".
04 May 2009
Armor
There are many different forms of armor. From clothes that protect from the elements to the bullet-proof vests Soldiers wear into battle to the emotional walls we put up to protect our hearts and souls from the daily emotional attacks we deal with.
Most physical forms of armor only seem to physically protect us. Keeping us safe from those things that can injure our bodies. Bullet-proof vests protect against bullets and shrapnel. Coats protect us against the winter weather.
The emotional walls we gain through life exist to protect us emotionally. Someone breaks your heart so you build a wall to keep it from happening again, or at least from hurting as bad the next time. Someone criticizes a project you worked on for hours on end and a wall is built making it so that the criticism you receive doesn't affect your ability to shake it off and continue down the path of your life.
Every once in a while, we come across a talisman, a symbol that reminds us of the strength to withstand that we have inside, an object we give power to that is really nothing more than a reminder of that emotional armor we have built up. Sometimes we can inadvertently give such an object too much power, coming to see it as the source of the armor rather than merely the reminder it is.
An example is a military uniform. Nothing more than clothes at first look, but if you see what it stands for, the different power people have put behind it, it is so much more than than just clothes. At Basic Training, Soldiers are taught about something called Military Bearing. It is this bearing that allows a Soldier to be shot at and be able to react rather than let fear take over. This bearing allows a Soldier to be yelled at regularly by Drill Sergeants and not let it get them down, or to stand in front of their Commanding Officer to answer for a mistake and keep the Soldier standing tall rather than crumpling under the pressure. It is the cement that solidifies all the different pieces that comprise a Soldier and makes him strong.
To me, the symbol of this Military Bearing is the uniform. In the almost 2 years I spent in the service of my country, the uniform I put on daily became that symbol, as well as the symbol of my personal strength to withstand. In that uniform I felt I could handle almost anything because of all that I did handle and all that others have handled in it. I made it through the stresses of Basic Training, the Drill Sergeants, gas chamber, field training exercises, confidence course, and everything else that was thrown my way while there. I was able to keep it together when i called home from Basic after not being able to for a few weeks and hearing a female voice in the background and not jump through the phone to find out what was going on. I was able to handle the night my kids were taken into Protective Custody and the interviews that followed that night without going completely insane or imploding like I felt I was going to. I did end up in a state where my mind was refusing to process anything serious for a couple months, but i made it through that as well because of the strict battle rhythm of the military. I stood tall during the house inspections, the hurry up and wait of the court system, and standing in front of my Commander as he told me that he had no choice but to separate me from the Army because I wasn't able to meet all my military and personal obligations. Again, that sent me into a state of numbness, but not as bad. I was able to accept it, understand the reasoning behind it, even if I didn't fully agree or want it.
I fought my way into the military. I wanted to join after high school, but got pregnant a few months before graduating, so i told myself that i didn't really want to go that route. I never lost the love of the military that seemingly came out of nowhere. It stayed with me. Five years after graduating high school and two kids later, I was biking the three miles to work when it hit me that if I was able to do this, then why wasn't I able to do that military which would not only pay better, but also give me the housing and medical benefits that being a part-time cashier at Wal-martcouldn't offer me. So i talked to my husband and a recruiter and didn't let anyone talk me out of it. I went through four months of strict dieting, exercise, and weekly weigh-ins to get my weight and run time down to meet the requirements. I fought my own battle to get into that uniform. I wanted it so bad that it wasn't funny. All the recruiters in that office knew me on sight and knew that I wouldn't talk about joining to anyone but SGT Ricks. he helped me in my battle. Ran with me to help with technique and speed, cheered me on and cheered me up when I got discouraged. Because of this personal battle, it felt great when I finally made it and was sworn in. i loved every second of it, any and all contact with the military I had, and formed bonds that will last a lifetime.
Then I was separated. I rebelled against it in my own way. Tried to prove that i could do it, refusing to accept that I was too late and that this was what it was. Refusing to allow myself to believe this was any more than a bad dream and I would wake up any second and go to PT just like any other morning.This is what it is. I put so much power into that uniform that it meant more to me than I realized. It was my protection from all the emotions that I felt would otherwise consume me. it held me together when all i could think to do was fall apart. I stood strong and didn't shy away from Brian when he came to pick up his stuff, violating the place I felt the safest, because I was in uniform. It was one of the hardest things emotionally that I ever had to do. I no longer wear that uniform.I am now dealing with that emotional bombardment that I knew was there all along but felt I could handle because of the support of the uniform I wore. I feel in a way like I have been thrown to the wolves with nothing more than a toothpick to protect myself. Like I am standing naked in front of a crowd. Stripped. Beaten. Sore. Wounded. Vulnerable. Weak. Lost. Small.
It's kind of funny how people try to congratulate me, assuming this is a good thing that I am getting out. I won't deploy now. I won't have to work grueling 14, sometimes 30, hour shifts any longer. I am free now, right? Free, yes, but at what cost?
The truth is that getting out of the military isn't always a good thing. It truly is one big family. They really do take care of their own.
I feel like a lost child that no one knows what to do with so they just turn their backs. I feel let down, even though I understand that it had to be done. I feel like that family-type of support only goes so far and that I reached my limit without realizing that there was one. I came to rely on that support so much that I am lost without it. The Army was the only place I have found so far that i have felt accepted, cared about, like a member of the team and not just on the sidelines watching.And now it is gone. All my armor, all my safeties that were placed strategically to keep me from falling are gone. Stripped out from under me leaving me scrambling to find replacements for them while I feel myself going down. I would give almost anything to have the military back. Anything except having no guarantee that I won't deploy leaving behind my two precious children after all they have been through already.
So my reasons still stand. I can't deploy and leave my kids without their mother after all they have been through. I have had to choose what to sacrifice. I can go on without the Army. I can find another path and make my way through this world. But I cannot--WILL not-- intentionally make my kids go any long length of time without me like they did the four months they were in Foster Care again. Not if I have the ability to choose not to. They are my world and I will make the sacrifices needed for them.
Most physical forms of armor only seem to physically protect us. Keeping us safe from those things that can injure our bodies. Bullet-proof vests protect against bullets and shrapnel. Coats protect us against the winter weather.
The emotional walls we gain through life exist to protect us emotionally. Someone breaks your heart so you build a wall to keep it from happening again, or at least from hurting as bad the next time. Someone criticizes a project you worked on for hours on end and a wall is built making it so that the criticism you receive doesn't affect your ability to shake it off and continue down the path of your life.
Every once in a while, we come across a talisman, a symbol that reminds us of the strength to withstand that we have inside, an object we give power to that is really nothing more than a reminder of that emotional armor we have built up. Sometimes we can inadvertently give such an object too much power, coming to see it as the source of the armor rather than merely the reminder it is.
An example is a military uniform. Nothing more than clothes at first look, but if you see what it stands for, the different power people have put behind it, it is so much more than than just clothes. At Basic Training, Soldiers are taught about something called Military Bearing. It is this bearing that allows a Soldier to be shot at and be able to react rather than let fear take over. This bearing allows a Soldier to be yelled at regularly by Drill Sergeants and not let it get them down, or to stand in front of their Commanding Officer to answer for a mistake and keep the Soldier standing tall rather than crumpling under the pressure. It is the cement that solidifies all the different pieces that comprise a Soldier and makes him strong.
To me, the symbol of this Military Bearing is the uniform. In the almost 2 years I spent in the service of my country, the uniform I put on daily became that symbol, as well as the symbol of my personal strength to withstand. In that uniform I felt I could handle almost anything because of all that I did handle and all that others have handled in it. I made it through the stresses of Basic Training, the Drill Sergeants, gas chamber, field training exercises, confidence course, and everything else that was thrown my way while there. I was able to keep it together when i called home from Basic after not being able to for a few weeks and hearing a female voice in the background and not jump through the phone to find out what was going on. I was able to handle the night my kids were taken into Protective Custody and the interviews that followed that night without going completely insane or imploding like I felt I was going to. I did end up in a state where my mind was refusing to process anything serious for a couple months, but i made it through that as well because of the strict battle rhythm of the military. I stood tall during the house inspections, the hurry up and wait of the court system, and standing in front of my Commander as he told me that he had no choice but to separate me from the Army because I wasn't able to meet all my military and personal obligations. Again, that sent me into a state of numbness, but not as bad. I was able to accept it, understand the reasoning behind it, even if I didn't fully agree or want it.
I fought my way into the military. I wanted to join after high school, but got pregnant a few months before graduating, so i told myself that i didn't really want to go that route. I never lost the love of the military that seemingly came out of nowhere. It stayed with me. Five years after graduating high school and two kids later, I was biking the three miles to work when it hit me that if I was able to do this, then why wasn't I able to do that military which would not only pay better, but also give me the housing and medical benefits that being a part-time cashier at Wal-martcouldn't offer me. So i talked to my husband and a recruiter and didn't let anyone talk me out of it. I went through four months of strict dieting, exercise, and weekly weigh-ins to get my weight and run time down to meet the requirements. I fought my own battle to get into that uniform. I wanted it so bad that it wasn't funny. All the recruiters in that office knew me on sight and knew that I wouldn't talk about joining to anyone but SGT Ricks. he helped me in my battle. Ran with me to help with technique and speed, cheered me on and cheered me up when I got discouraged. Because of this personal battle, it felt great when I finally made it and was sworn in. i loved every second of it, any and all contact with the military I had, and formed bonds that will last a lifetime.
Then I was separated. I rebelled against it in my own way. Tried to prove that i could do it, refusing to accept that I was too late and that this was what it was. Refusing to allow myself to believe this was any more than a bad dream and I would wake up any second and go to PT just like any other morning.This is what it is. I put so much power into that uniform that it meant more to me than I realized. It was my protection from all the emotions that I felt would otherwise consume me. it held me together when all i could think to do was fall apart. I stood strong and didn't shy away from Brian when he came to pick up his stuff, violating the place I felt the safest, because I was in uniform. It was one of the hardest things emotionally that I ever had to do. I no longer wear that uniform.I am now dealing with that emotional bombardment that I knew was there all along but felt I could handle because of the support of the uniform I wore. I feel in a way like I have been thrown to the wolves with nothing more than a toothpick to protect myself. Like I am standing naked in front of a crowd. Stripped. Beaten. Sore. Wounded. Vulnerable. Weak. Lost. Small.
It's kind of funny how people try to congratulate me, assuming this is a good thing that I am getting out. I won't deploy now. I won't have to work grueling 14, sometimes 30, hour shifts any longer. I am free now, right? Free, yes, but at what cost?
The truth is that getting out of the military isn't always a good thing. It truly is one big family. They really do take care of their own.
I feel like a lost child that no one knows what to do with so they just turn their backs. I feel let down, even though I understand that it had to be done. I feel like that family-type of support only goes so far and that I reached my limit without realizing that there was one. I came to rely on that support so much that I am lost without it. The Army was the only place I have found so far that i have felt accepted, cared about, like a member of the team and not just on the sidelines watching.And now it is gone. All my armor, all my safeties that were placed strategically to keep me from falling are gone. Stripped out from under me leaving me scrambling to find replacements for them while I feel myself going down. I would give almost anything to have the military back. Anything except having no guarantee that I won't deploy leaving behind my two precious children after all they have been through already.
So my reasons still stand. I can't deploy and leave my kids without their mother after all they have been through. I have had to choose what to sacrifice. I can go on without the Army. I can find another path and make my way through this world. But I cannot--WILL not-- intentionally make my kids go any long length of time without me like they did the four months they were in Foster Care again. Not if I have the ability to choose not to. They are my world and I will make the sacrifices needed for them.
03 May 2009
Beginnings
So, I have been told that I am a rather good writer on more than one occasion. Maybe, since the majority of those who read what I write say that, I should develop this talent I have, and see where it goes. What better place to do that than my very own blog. Okay, so maybe I just wanted something that is easily accessible from any computer I may happen across. Things happen causing us to lose our Internet access sometimes, so why not plan ahead?
Here is a little about me. I am a 25 year old female, spent close to 2 years in the US Army, have two kids, in the process of a divorce from a rather sick man, and basically doing my best to come into contact with the person I was before I lost myself in the submissiveness that snuck up on me in the 8 years I spent with him. Yes, for now he shall remain nameless. Don't get me wrong, it's not hate that spurs that decision, it's more hurt and betrayal. As this blog progresses and I delve into the insanity known as my life, I am sure that the reasons behind those feelings will come out at least in some form.
I was very in touch with my feelings, and am trying to get back in touch with them considering that is what generally spurs most of my writing. I have always loved music in almost any form, the history, performing, singing, listening, and also almost any genre. In high school there was a joke about how I spent more time in the band/choir room than I did at my own house. What can I say? By the time I hit high school, I was the only child out of 5 total left at home and my parents worked a lot, leaving me home alone after school more than I liked. There was always something going on in the band room, and, well, at that point my love of music had basically hit the status of love affair rather than just a relationship.
I have a 7 year old son, and a 5 year old daughter. They are rather entertaining, and I am sure more about them and their antics will be posted as well. Like most kids, they like to tag team their parents, but since I am a single parent, they typically drive me to the point that I feel like I would like to visit an insane asylum more for the fact that I would get peace and quiet there than anything else. Okay, so the jacket that would let me hug myself all day long and the walls I can literally bounce off of sound fun as well. More the walls than the jacket though.
I have a certain level of creativity and smartass-ness that has gotten me both into and out of trouble as well as make life interesting for all those involved.
Well, I will sign off for now. I don't want to scare anyone away this early, though I am sure that would be some sort of record.
Til next time!
Here is a little about me. I am a 25 year old female, spent close to 2 years in the US Army, have two kids, in the process of a divorce from a rather sick man, and basically doing my best to come into contact with the person I was before I lost myself in the submissiveness that snuck up on me in the 8 years I spent with him. Yes, for now he shall remain nameless. Don't get me wrong, it's not hate that spurs that decision, it's more hurt and betrayal. As this blog progresses and I delve into the insanity known as my life, I am sure that the reasons behind those feelings will come out at least in some form.
I was very in touch with my feelings, and am trying to get back in touch with them considering that is what generally spurs most of my writing. I have always loved music in almost any form, the history, performing, singing, listening, and also almost any genre. In high school there was a joke about how I spent more time in the band/choir room than I did at my own house. What can I say? By the time I hit high school, I was the only child out of 5 total left at home and my parents worked a lot, leaving me home alone after school more than I liked. There was always something going on in the band room, and, well, at that point my love of music had basically hit the status of love affair rather than just a relationship.
I have a 7 year old son, and a 5 year old daughter. They are rather entertaining, and I am sure more about them and their antics will be posted as well. Like most kids, they like to tag team their parents, but since I am a single parent, they typically drive me to the point that I feel like I would like to visit an insane asylum more for the fact that I would get peace and quiet there than anything else. Okay, so the jacket that would let me hug myself all day long and the walls I can literally bounce off of sound fun as well. More the walls than the jacket though.
I have a certain level of creativity and smartass-ness that has gotten me both into and out of trouble as well as make life interesting for all those involved.
Well, I will sign off for now. I don't want to scare anyone away this early, though I am sure that would be some sort of record.
Til next time!
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