looking back

Blurred Lines

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Blurred lines – a.k.a. The Fog – Part 2. Only this time ‘the fog’ was engrossed with anger instead of sadness. It was an instantaneous switch and one that overflowed into every facet of my life, one that overtook me for years to follow. I remember almost everything verbatim, and yet the days blurred together into weeks, and then months. Expressing how enraged and ultimately, consumed by the hurt I was – seems beyond words. It was hard to express the hurt because that meant I was affected by it, and I didn’t want to be made an ass of anymore then I already had been. Beyond the shock of it came the hate – that’s what drove me more then anything. I never knew the depths of sadness and depression until Josie, and I never knew the depths of hatred and anger until this. The way my blood boils just recalling the details – reminds me of how real it was.

Sarcasm became my defense mechanism, whenever I’d get nervous or he’d ‘back me in a corner’ (not literally) I’d start to laugh because I felt as if I couldn’t defend myself, and sometimes it just seemed so asinine to me that I didn’t have a comeback aside from laughing. That would only fuel the fire to another level. It was a guaranteed damned if I did, damned if I didn’t scenario, no matter what the conflict was.

When he walked down the stairs that night, the only thing I could do without cracking him was using my go-to defense mechanism by asking if she was a good fuck. Then it was defense mode, with the normal comebacks of – what was I talking about, he’s done with me, this is bullshit – blah blah. I asked a few more times with no response before I stormed out of the house, with his phone, no shoes and half dressed! lol I think I was still half in and out of my body at that time, knowing, but not knowing what I was going to do next – ready to totally loose control and yet there was a part of me that kept thinking, be careful – there’s kids involved. I flew into their house about 9:30, she must have had a warning as she was sitting at the top of the stairs – unsure of what to do. From there, we ended up outside, where I asked – well, more like demanded and yelled questions that consisted of non-stop swear words! For whatever I reason, at one point I said ‘you’re pregnant aren’t you?’ She couldn’t give a confident no, and kept saying I needed to talk to him. I told her she was crazy for thinking he’d tell me anything, he was never going to own this or her. And I was right. I knew him like the back of my hand in every aspect and I knew how he was going to play it out. As I left, I was shaking so bad I don’t even remember the drive to my parents. I just remember calling them and not being able to breath because once the tears started, they were unstoppable – until the waves of anger flowed again!

My friend, Emily, had met me at my parents, I needed smokes before the gas station closed, so we went to get some. My mom had said to her before we left ‘don’t let her do anything except get smokes, and come right back here.’ I had no intention of ‘chasing her down’ – but let’s just the say, the stars literally aligned. As we were pulling out of the gas station, she drove by. Poor Emily – I kept screaming at her to catch up to her. Once she pulled over, I went to jump in the passenger side and she started pulling ahead, I was half in and out of the car, door wide open! I vividly remember going to swing with a closed fist and right before I made contact I remember thinking ‘don’t do damage, she’ll call the cops’. It was exactly like that, as if someone said it to me. I opened my fist and started hitting, as I looked up I thought we were going to hit a parked car so I got out, still screaming of course! Emily was pregnant and I remember looking at the terror on her face, like WTF just happened, but I didn’t care, I was just impressed that’s all I did to her! The next morning consisted of me showing up and telling him he had 2 hours to pack everything he owned before a moving crew of my own showed up. Needless to say, he did a pretty good job, on short notice. 😉 I took a week off work and the fun of the legalities had begun!

I found out she was pregnant within a couple of weeks which just added to the damage that I swore couldn’t have gotten any worse, but once again did! Even though there was no denying it, he wouldn’t admit to it, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Where as she had no shame, in fact she thrived off it. The next year or 2 was full of DRAMA, oh my gawd – it never stopped! Those months consisted of assault charges, blackmail threats, another child being born, bar bound nights followed by hungover days, minimal sleep, unable to be in a functional relationship because I didn’t know how, trying to hold my own while being scared sh*tless that his empty threats might not be empty and I’d lose my daughter, nasty things said on both of our parts, anger, tension and hatred. I coped in any way possible, smoking, booze, bashing, hating, counseling, workbooks, a social calendar as full as I could pack it and ultimately running, running from the pain while simultaneously being engulfed by nothing but . The thought of another loss of any kind put me into pure fight or flight mode. The picture in my head is getting beat to a bloody pulp and just as I’d start to get back up, I’d take another blow to the gut, followed by another one to the head and back down I’d go. That’s what it felt like, I felt like I’d make progress and then more stuff would arise. It was as if catching my breath from one kick to the next was literally impossible.

Crazy was an understatement of what those 1st few years consisted of. I became obsessed by it, unable to move beyond it, because I honestly didn’t know how. It drove me insane! I can’t explain what it’s like to know someone hurt you and everyone around you so bad, but the only thing you have is hearsay. Never having any type of answers, closure, apologies or sympathy – consumed me. The racing thoughts haunted me – how it started, when it started, where it happened, how many times it happened, what was true about any of my relationship with him or friendship with her, what would this mean for the kids, what happens from here – how can this be my fucking life?! This blurred fog all over again, trying to navigate through blindly. Hearing the stories and the hearsay and to some degree, actually wanting to know it, because it kept my fire fueled with rage and hate, ensuring he’d stay away and perhaps to some degree, me being able to play the victim this time. Like there – for all the times you made me look like the bad guy, acting like you did no wrong and I ‘wrongly’ accused you – you just tied your own noose and I’m glad people, even your best friends, finally see you for what you truly are. Did it make me a better for thinking and acting like that? No. It provided temporary satisfaction that I needed in order to cope, in order to literally make it one day at a time – because I was so scared – scared of him, scared of what was to come, scared that this nightmare, on top of the last one that I barely recouped from – was never going to end – or even worse – it’d repeat itself.

This seriously sounds like a ghetto ass Jerry Springer brawl – I’m well aware that this entire situation does – in fact we joke that we missed out on making bank by not going on the show! 😉 pahaaaa

With toxicity comes more toxins – they fuel each other after awhile. There are certain points, despite if there was a ‘final deciding factor’ that you can’t turn back, sometimes the only way to free yourself and each other from a tarnished relationship is to simply let go. And realistically, it doesn’t matter how we got there, or who did what – we were there long before this and we held on long after we should have, causing damage not only to ourselves and each other, but also our daughter. Either way, it needed to end – and this was the shit show of fireworks that guaranteed that!

Siblings Tribute – Brynn & Jaime

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There isn’t anyone that doesn’t know of someone that has battled a disease at some point in their life. Whether it be cancer, mental illness, eating disorders, cardiovascular disease, Alzheimer’s, alcoholism, or addiction – to some degree, disease is disease. Some have triumphed over their struggles, while others fought the battle until the end, only to lose the war.

Although we lost our siblings to different diseases, we still watched them endure hardships while fighting against something that, in the end, was stronger then them. We, as family, were forced to sit on the sidelines, unable to make their physical, emotional or mental pain cease. From various forms of chemo, radiation or surgical treatments to different anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications- they were forced to put their mind, body and soul through some excruciating pain just to be able to add another day to the calendar.

While we all know of these people, we don’t really, truly know these people. We’ve all heard of stories pertaining to disease and death, however, it’s rare that we hear or see what happens behind the scenes. The lasting impact it has on both the patient and the family and the roller coaster of emotions that take place along the way. From the fight to the triumphs and back to defeat, from what seems like never ending decision making, just to hope it was the ‘right’ one, just to doubt it and yet be forced to trust it all at once. From the overwhelming support of those around you, only to feel so alone in the crowd of supporters. From the distress on so many levels, only to hope it’s worth every ounce of energy put forth by everyone. From the tears to the triumphs, from overwhelming sadness to finding laughter in the little moments, the heartache to the joys of the smallest things you never noticed before, from the heaviest of guilt weighing on us down to trying to see the bigger picture through the diluted veil. From watching them in pain in every realm, to one day being forced to feel much of that same pain. This is a journey that so many – too many – experience, but one that often times doesn’t get brought up in the rawness in which is truth for many. And I want to bring forth that rawness, that truth and the awareness behind it.

I feel truly honored to be able to share this ‘Siblings Tribute’ with 3 other strong, brave, compassionate and determined souls to bring forth both their siblings stories, as well as their own. Our hope is that this can offer a sense of peace for those who are struggling in any way – to know that you aren’t alone on this journey, whether you’re the one who’s in the ring for another round to fight, or the cheerleader on the sidelines – your story matters! This is Part 1 of a few entries and I am truly so grateful they agreed to do this with me! Although these entries were excruciating to write – I’m excited to share both of their stories, as well as their sisters battle against a disease we’re all well aware and hear far too much about – cancer.

*Disclaimer: a box of tissues is recommended – you’ve been warned 😉

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“Sisters from the start, friends forever from the heart.”

You and your sister (names, background, ages)- who were you both pre-diagnosis?

My name is Brynn Ashley Soderlind. I was 31 when my sister Jaime Teresa Gartner was diagnosed with breast cancer on October 14, 2011. Jaime was only 32 years old. I was 8 months pregnant with my first child as I sat in the waiting room of the doctors office. My three year old nephew, Jaime’s son Jameson, sat on my lap on a blue upholstered bench. He was such a patient child. He held my hand and we sat there mostly in silence. It seemed like years. We waited and waited and waited. Finally, three hours later, Jaime came down the dark grey hallway. Her dark brown long hair framed her beautiful face like a picture. I remember her brief eye contact with me and then her eyes quickly fixed on her son. Tears were pouring down her face as she opened her arms to meet his little body. He fell into her with relief. She looked to me and smiled as she wiped her tears quickly from her cheeks and shook her head “no”. I knew right then that the massive lump in my sisters breast wasn’t a cyst or an enlarged lymph node. My throat felt tight as I swallowed hard. My sister had cancer.

We grew up with a strong sense of self. We lived out in the country on a hobby farm with our loving parents and grandparents, some goats, chickens, pigs, dogs, rabbits and a blind cow. We had great company each day with our siblings- Ericka, Ian and Seth- and the neighborhood kids our mom babysat. We loved to hike on the land and explore the 132 acre woods that we lived on and absorb all that nature provided to us. Jaime and I loved to take our Red Ryder BB guns out and shoot targets that Ian would set up for us. Life was easy. Life was so good. We loved to go to Whitewater State Park and as teens we would spend most of our summer hiking and swimming. We also loved to travel and took several road trips together and with friends. We did almost everything together. Where there was Jaime, there was likely Brynn.

We would end up moving to Colorado together in 1999. We loved the mountains. We loved the experience but eventually we ended up back in Minnesota together.

Almost a year before her cancer diagnosis, Jaime and I were in Esthetician school together. Jaime and Jameson lived with my husband Adam and I in our condo. Jaime and I had a long history of sames. We had the same jobs, wore the same clothes, loved the same foods, had the same friends, lived in the same cities, read the same books, listened to the same music. Her and I shared a bedroom, secrets, underwear, makeup, cars, lunch money, dreams, aspirations, germs but mostly, we shared genetics. I was encouraged to have genetic testing done shortly after my 33 year old sister had a bilateral mastectomy. I knew that if my sister had breast cancer at 32 years old, I had a pretty good chance of getting it too. When I got the genetic counseling and testing, my daughter was a baby and still breastfeeding. I remember the fear surrounding a positive genetic mutation. What if I too shared the BRCA2 mutation? I knew for me, it would mean a mastectomy and possibly a hysterectomy. That meant no more children. I was ok with that as long as I had an upper hand on controlling the disease.

I had a strong feeling that I didn’t have the mutation. I soon learned that Jaime had the same feeling. Sure enough, I tested negative for the BRCA2 mutation. I cried so hard when I heard the positive news; half of me was relieved and half of me felt guilty. I know it may seem strange, but it was like we had always shared everything and now we didn’t. And I was happy and devastated all at the same time. You see that’s the tricky part about disease and being a caretaker to someone you love so much. The cancer may have taken over my sister’s body, but it also consumed me, differently, but still the same. It completely changed everything.

I thought about cancer all day long. I thought about ways to help heal. I threw myself into research and tried to educate myself as best as I could. I attended every appointment. I quit my job to care for her full time. Her cancer became my cancer. Her life sort of became my responsibility. I’d lie awake at night running through all of the “to do’s” Did she take all of her meds? Did she eat enough? Were all of her appointments scheduled? Did we write down all of our questions? I learned as much as I could about her tumors on my own time. When they told her that her tumors were ERPR positive, HER2 negative, I researched. When they told her that she needed  radioactive Theraspheres implanted into her liver, I researched. When they said there was nothing left to try, I researched. I always wanted to find a way to save my sister’s life. I wanted her dream of becoming a grandmother to come to fruition. I wanted to see her pain-free and dancing in the woods at night like we used to do when we were young. I wanted to travel again, hike, shop, sing, learn to knit and play guitar with her. She always wanted us to take knitting classes and guitar classes together, but I guess we never made the time. I wish we would have figured out how to make it work. Especially guitar lessons. We both loved singing and music so much. I imagine how therapeutic it would have been to be able to play guitar and sing together during her 4.5 year fight against cancer. We both had our own guitar and knitting needles, but never learned. Now, I am ready to take guitar lessons. I will learn to knit this winter. The thing I’ve learned is that life doesn’t wait for us. We have to take advantage of the time we have- right now- today. If there is something you want to learn or experience, go for it. Set goals! Chase dreams! Jaime’s goal was to make it to Mother’s Day. My goal is to make sure that women aren’t dismissed when they find a lump in their breast, at any age. Jaime was dismissed by 3 different doctors before the fourth ordered a mammogram. 3 different doctors! None of them thought she had cancer because she was young and because they told her cancer didn’t hurt, so her lump must have been a cyst or something. It will take me a lifetime to get over the dismissal she received from those individuals. If a 31 year old woman complains of discomfort and has a sizable lump, it should be taken seriously. Mammograms save lives. Every lump should be examined thoroughly.

What battles (disease, metastasis, how many times in remission/relapse) did she endure and for how long? Explain what impact this had on you personally and how it changed both of your lives/perspectives, good and bad.

Jaime possessed a natural ability to find the positive in situations. She never complained about her circumstances. Not one time. She never had a pity party. I’m sure on her own time alone she often struggled, but she never divulged any of those feelings. She made light of the adverse reaction she had to steroids during her radiation treatments. She would joke about how the development of Cushing’s Syndrome was the worst part of the entire cancer experience because she had a 100 pound weight gain which was painful and left her almost unrecognizable. Her skin began to split in areas from the rapid weight gain. Her body ached all over.  They learned that the steroids they were giving her for pain control caused her adrenal glands to fail and shut down. Jaime didn’t mind loosing her hair. She liked hats. She knew she could manage the mastectomy with future reconstruction surgery and prosthetics. But Jaime did not know how to be ok with the Cushing’s Syndrome and her physical immobility and intense pain. In my opinion, the most challenging piece through her cancer journey the rapid weight gain and pain that accompanied it like an orchestra.

Jaime was diagnosed in October of 2011. She started chemotherapy quickly. Her lump was so invasive and so aggressive that they feared removing it without hitting her with a cycle of chemotherapy prior to surgery. Jaime had 7 rounds of chemotherapy between October 2011 -April 2012. On May 11, 2012, Jaime underwent a bilateral mastectomy and sentinel lymph node dissection. They inserted tissue expanders inside the chest wall to reconstruct her breasts with implants. The expanders were placed behind the muscle of the chest wall. The idea was to slowly stretch the skin by filling the expanders with air overtime to accommodate an implant.

We moved into her apartment in May after her mastectomy to care for her and Jameson. She couldn’t be alone and certainly couldn’t care for her three year old son by herself. I spent my days with Jaime, Jameson and my 7 month old daughter Poppy. I took her to appointments, cared for her and the children and did all of the normal day to day tasks and errands. I had so much help from Adam at night and on the weekends.  Following her discharge from her mastectomy, Jaime’s pain continued. She had so much pain. She was so weak and tired. Her surgery sites began to show signs of infection. I called the clinic with great concern. I was reassured several times that what I was describing was “normal healing”.  When her pain became unbearable, I brought her into the ER at a different hospital. She was quickly admitted after examination. She went into surgery the next day to  have the tissue expanders removed because she was septic. I felt so angry and so frustrated. I felt like I let her down. I had called several times with concern. I was always told that it was normal. Now she had a major setback in her recovery.

After that surgery to remove the expanders, Jaime never really felt good again. Ever. It was like the infection had gotten into the core of her being. She was so unsure. Her days and nights consisted of doctors appointments and pain management. After that surgery she went six months without seeing a doctor. She moved to Waseca and rented a house. She and Jameson lived right next door to our mom and stepdad. She just never felt good. Mom and Dad expressed concern about the lack of medical care and lack of follow up. Jaime was in a deep dark depression. She seemed to feel like they did everything they could do for her and this was what she would endure. We felt that she should be closely followed with scans and check ups. Nothing was scheduled. She had no desire to go to the doctor. Then in November of 2012, Jaime came to visit us in New Hope. She was in so much pain in her hips and low back that she could hardly walk. The pain was constant and ibuprofen wasn’t even coming close to touching it. Adam encouraged her to go to the ER. After some persuasion, she agreed. The ER dr in Plymouth MN listened to her history and decided that a pain injection of Tordol  to her hip would suffice and he sent her home. No scans were ordered. Her blood work showed elevated white cells and all of her numbers were either a bit high or low in almost every category. They knew she had cancer earlier that year. Why wouldn’t they have investigated her complaints and concerns more thoroughly? She was a 33 year old single mother with a history of breast cancer. I will never understand the lack of care. Fast forward a month later, she has similar complaints of low back pain and hip pain. Adam takes her into the ER again, and she gets the exact same diagnosis and treatment. They say it’s likely menses pain and they encourage a hot bath and ibuprofen. That was in December 2012. A moth later, on January 21, 2013, she fell in the bathroom in the middle of the night while visiting us in Duluth at our new temporary home. Jaime managed to crawl into the living room where she was able to wake us with screams like I have never heard before. After helping her up, Adam got her into our SUV and drove to the ER at St Lukes. At 3am on January 22, Adam texted me that he and Jaime were meeting with a neurosurgeon and likely she needed spinal surgery to fix her broken lumbar. He also mentioned that they were quite confused how she managed to break her lumbar by falling in the bathroom since the lumbar is the strongest part of the spine. After laying flat for 4 days in a body brace, the biopsies revealed that Jaimes entire skeleton had been infiltrated with breast cancer. I remember the look on her face when they told her that her breast cancer was a stage 4 and terminal. She looked relieved. She looked frightened. She looked so young and so lovely. I was engulfed with sickness and anger. Terminal breast cancer?!! How did this happen?

After she broke her back, she realized that St Lukes hospital in Duluth Minnesota was where she was meant to be. She began her care and treatments of weeks of radiation, many surgeries, continuous chemotherapy, injections in her neck and back and pain management. The nurses and doctors were incredible at St Lukes. She felt cared for and loved and validated. Her pain was finally explained! She could finally trust medical staff. She became so close to her oncologist, Dr. Based Goueli and her nurse Terri. They gave her the greatest care and love. She trusted them. I trusted them. We were able to navigate through all of the bad news together and even in her final days, she felt comfort and trust when she talked to Dr Goueli or Terri specifically.

During her battle, she also had to have a hysterectomy. Pathology of her ovaries detected breast cancer. From there, Jaime’s cancer spread into to the liver. Her care team kept up on her treatments of chemotherapy and she was able to fight for another year and a half. Jaime ended up passing away on a beautiful sunny Thursday morning in the arms of me and our older sister and our parents. Jaime had been in hospice care at St. Luke’s hospital for less than a week. Jaime died from liver failure caused by metastatic breast cancer to bones and liver. She had so much trouble breathing in her final hours. I remember feeling like she was drowning and I couldn’t pull her up or give her air. She fought until the last breath. April 14, 2016 was the hardest day of my existence. I lost a big part of myself when she passed. She had been unable to communicate the last day, but moments before she died, she opened her eyes and made brief eye contact with me and began to cry. She quickly shifted her eyes to our sister Ericka as tears fell down her face. Her eyes fixed towards my parents with her last breath.

I remember my mom placed her delicate hand on Jaime’s sweet face as she gently ran her palm down over her eyes to assist them to close. I remember the sound of my dad pulling a bandaid off of Jaime’s arm and throwing it across the room as he wept. I continue to replay these moments over and over- just like the the day she was diagnosed. The connections. The similarities. The tears. The beauty and the tragedy of it all. The brief eye contact that cut like a knife, the tears that poured from our eyes like wine, and the fear and yet the calming sense of peace that embodied all of it.

What did this consist of for you personally – to recall being a cheerleader on the sidelines, observing, but being unable to save them? (Ultimately the trauma of being the survivor).

I am forever grateful that I was able to care for my sister during her fight with cancer. I was able to support her and fight right along side her. I made sure she knew that she wasn’t alone. It’s been a month since she passed. The sorrow and pain really does come in waves. Everyday I wonder if there was anything more or anything else I could have done to help her have more time. I guess there will always be a part of me that will lament over the possibilities of treatments and cures. She ultimately decided that she would fight until the very end and she did. She fought so hard. Now I sit with my sword down and my shield up. I am still at war but all of the enemies are gone. I am less now. I am forever less without her here beside me. I will never understand why my sister had to fight so hard and ultimately die fighting breast cancer.

How has this changed you and your life course? 

Jaimes diagnosis absolutely changed me. I changed because I had to. I quit my job to care for her, we cancelled a move across the country to care for her, and I directed my focus and energy towards her health and healing.

Jaime and I were somewhat different from one another. Physically we were basically opposite. Our personalities, although different, meshed as we complemented each other well. We understood each others sense of humor. We had so many common threads and so much interest in one another. We had our own language and the ability to read one another with little effort. Sometimes we even felt one another’s pain or discomfort when apart. Jaime was 20 months older than me. We were only a grade apart in school. She always joked that I was the “big sister” and she was the “little sister”. I was taller, so that was ok with me. I will remember Jaime as an intelligent, loving, generous, carefree, slightly unpredictable, esthetically well maintained, stylish woman. She always had a big beautiful bright smile and she was always late for everything.

Since her passing, I have had a strong pull towards becoming more carefree and less concerned about details that don’t matter. I’m trying to learn to live in the moments that we are given each day.

I am contemplating my next steps and trying to discover what is best for me and what is next for me now that she is gone.

Do you feel you’re meant to do something differently with your life because of her death? And if so, what is your hope/goal? How do you want her to live on?

Jaime left me with three quotes:

“Be a rainbow in the cloud”  

“Something will grow from all you are going through, and it will be you.”  

 “Don’t worry, No one likes a know-it-all”

I am doing a lot of soul searching and digging deep to find my balance and my purpose in life. I believe that Jaime’s spirit will help to guide me down the best path.

I do feel that I have great compassion and empathy and love and concern for others. Jaime has always encouraged me to become a nurse… but she also wanted me to pursue an acting career and become a professional photographer so I’m a bit confused about her impression of my actual talents or calling. I guess I may be confused as well? I feel like I need to find a vessel that allows me to help advocate for people struggling to find the medical care that they need and deserve. I don’t want one more woman with a lump in her breast to have to go to four doctors just to get a mammogram. I want to bring awareness to breast cancer affecting young women. Breast cancer isn’t only killing post-menopausal women. Breast cancer doesn’t discriminate. Men, women, young and old are all candidates for breast cancer. Screening is key! Early detection saves lives. Genetic counseling helps us to make informed preventative decisions  about our health. Who knows, maybe my sister would still be here today if the first doctor who saw Jaime would have ordered a simple mammogram.

Jaime will live on in the masterpiece she created. Her strong loving intelligent boy Jameson carries her beauty, strength and perseverance. He has her personality and her heart of gold. Jameson is the greatest legacy and a beautiful reminder that my sister still remains.

**If this resonated with you, feel free to share on Social Media to not only raise awareness, but bring hope to any that may be struggling**

D-Day

/ Revolution.07 / Leave a comment

blog-storm

I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus the past few weeks for a few reasons, but as I’ve tried to move forward with this subject in a few drafts, I couldn’t get it to piece together! It came to me that the reason being was because I was trying to modify it. I wanted to sugar coat it, I wanted the portrayal of it to be in a ‘decent’ format and a ‘mature’ demeanor. Or, perhaps just skip over the facts leading up to ‘it’, I preferred to just to skip to the aftermath of ‘it’. But the thing is, that wasn’t the truth of the matter – that wasn’t real life then – while it was actually happening. I was wanting to block the rawness and pain that followed it, I wanted to edit the story and downplay the events and emotions. I didn’t want to have to see how clearly the signs were there and ask myself (as I’m sure many others will be thinking while reading it) “what in the f**k were you thinking – it was so obvious?!” But that wouldn’t be the true story and it wouldn’t be my story or perception. So, as nervous as I am to see how this may come from my hands, I see now that it needs too – in the rawness and realness in which it was felt then, despite what it ‘looks or seems’ like. I guess that’s part of writing – the vulnerability of it all, things are always clear from the outside – but this was my truth, from my perception – it’s a part of my story – and maybe I need to allow whatever comes with it, the anger, hatred and blame to be felt as it was then.

I always knew when things were off, I could feel it, his distant demeanor and coldness spoke volumes. He was far easier to read then he realized – it started with the blaming and knit picking of anything he could think of, then drinking more and talking less. He was more irritable, and then the threats would start pouring out, like “what would I do if I didn’t have him, I’d never be able to make it on my own. Or how I’d have to move back in with my parents and he’d take our daughter – he’d start playing things out, trying to plant a seed in my mind that I would be screwed when things went south – knowing the end was in sight. It didn’t take long for me to start asking who it was, which only led to more fights about how I was turning it around on him because I wouldn’t take responsibility for the fact that I was wrong. I would try and leave it be, knowing damn well I’d either break and kick him out or it’d surface – and I’d still kick him out. Either way, he’d never be the one to leave, he always knew he could push me to my breaking point – it worked out well to play the victim – that his girlfriend kicked him out –  but also gave him the free reins he was hoping for. After a month or 2, that got old and security sounded again. So, back he’d come. I’d hold my own for awhile, keeping him at a distance – but he’d find the damnest ways to wiggle himself back in. And, I’d allow it, never fully letting it go though, it just added to my own insecurities, bitterness and unhappiness. “Forgaven but never forgetten” was what I’d always say – but that wasn’t the truth – it couldn’t be – there was too much damage done.

In hindsight, to say I was surprised by the actions and events that followed was assanign – given the people involved, there was nothing surprising at all actually! But, still, I allowed myself to be shell shocked. The straw that broke the camels back, the spade of spades – the ultimate finale was 6 weeks after we were married, when I found out he had been having a 5 month affair with my uncle’s wife. 6 weeks that were anything close to a “honeymoon” status!  That’s right people – a new meaning to ‘Hollywood marriage’ being that we managed to beat Kim Kardashian – we didn’t even make it 75 days! ha 😉

I would be lying if I said she was ‘welcomed’ in the family from the get go. For as young as she was, we knew very well what her past consisted of. The way that her and my uncle met, wasn’t exactly ‘stable’ by any means and everyone was all around nervous to see how this would shake out. Josie hated her, she didn’t hate very many people – but she wasn’t budging on this one! She had done some things to Josie that were far from nice – but we told her she needed to get over it and maybe she’s changed – besides, he’s happy and oh yeah – she was pregnant! So, we all decided we were happy for him – that he had found such happiness and decided to give her a chance. She blended fairly well into the family – but there was still something about her that people always had their guard up. She was a good mom – they both seemed happy together, they were clean and she seemed to do less pathological lying! lol

The spring of ’09 consisted of spending alot of time with her, my uncle and their 2 boys, it worked out great considering they lived a half a mile away and the kids could play! Her and I would go for walks and she’d show up quite frequently just to say ‘hi’ with homemade goodies or suppers. Always calling to ask if we wanted to go have supper somewhere – he’d  generally say no and I’d talk him into it – just like she knew I would. We all had a ton of fun together, having fires, taking the kids on rides, fishing, grill outs – you name it. When they say ‘keep your friends close, your enemies closer’ – she did that perfectly! The more involved they became, the closer we got. I remember him coming home shaking that May, saying that my uncle went after him – saying that ‘he better not come near his wife again’. I was so floored and confused, why would he say that – what was he doing that he’d make that accusation? I remember watching him pace outside, scared shitless – he knew his days were limited. I remember thinking as I looked out the window, “is there something more to this, this is so weird.” When he came back in he said how my uncle was trashed and probably messed up on something again. They planted that seed well to avoid any eyes on them and whether or not that was the case, still didn’t excuse what they were doing. When I asked her about that situation – she said how bad it had been and that she needed to leave, that he was in so deep with booze and probably more that she can’t take it anymore – he’s lost his mind. Then there were things that started matching up, like I’d see him with a beer or people would comment that they seen him out and I’d think ‘oh shit, maybe she isn’t lying’.   I remember having a fleeting thought of ‘did you get him back into it, knowing this was his downfall and you could blame him and bolt?’ I was so embarrassed I even had that thought and dismissed it. She would have him take their kids home to bed and she’d stay and wouldn’t leave, finally I’d be tired and go to bed, again, like they knew I would. The interesting part was, I knew something was off with him – but she was good that I didn’t suspect her until right before things went south. I had a random fleeting thought, but once again dismissed it, because she never wavered – it was quite impressive actually! Blind as a bat I was at first. It came to the point that I made several comments that I wish I had included her in the wedding as I had gotten very close to her. Puke.

About a week or 2 before the wedding we were laying in bed and I said “do you even want to do this – I feel like something is going on and I don’t like it” he hesitated and said “I have something to tell you” – but it wasn’t that. It was something else he knew I’d hate and was hoping that’d be his way out. I said – OK, we can deal with this – I’m not happy about it, but I guess I still feel like you’re not here or into this. From there it went from we can’t back out because people have already done so much for us and there’s so much money invested to he’s just nervous. I gave him the option a few times to back out, I didn’t care what was invested – there’s no point in following through if there’s something more – but he couldn’t bring himself to say it and I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger either. I didn’t want to make an ass out of myself if it was just nerves and besides, I had already postponed the wedding a year, because I was nonfunctional after Josie. So, he reassured me it was just fine.  I had told her I got him Metallica tickets for a wedding gift and was so excited to give them to him because it was his favorite band! When he opened it at rehearsal dinner that Thursday, he barely reacted, I was like “hellooo – it’s fricken Metallica – we’re going to see Metallica!!!” He said – “I know – cool – thanks!” Again – I was thinking what the fuck – that’s it!? Later to realize she had told him. He sat in the bar the night before, I had no idea where he was until my parents said they were both down there. She brought him home late and trashed and I was so pissed!

We got married on D-Day (which I just realized last year HA!) It was blacker then hell with torrential rains from beginning to end that day. Beautiful the day before and the day after – but that day was terrible! She sat in the 1st few rows at the wedding, I can still picture her, I remember the look on her face when she walked in and thinking, that’s an odd reaction. It was one of disbelief and almost like she could vomit – like he’s going through with it, now what. My uncle stayed sober and drove us home that night, we were trashed and she kept saying they should stay for after bar. The rest of us said no, we were shot and her not being happy about it. Unreal what you observe, think and ultimately know without ‘facts’ and yet finding yourself needing something concrete in order to justify it, isn’t it?

Things calmed down for a week or 2 and seemed to be possibly mending. He started pulling back when she would call and ask and I was getting irritated because I wanted to go do stuff, but he kept blaming it on my uncle, how messsed up he was and wasn’t going to forgive him for making that accusation. I began to realize how much I was sleeping days away again and feeling just plain shitty, so without telling him – I went in and got my meds switched, hoping perhaps if I was feeling better, we’d start doing better.

On July 14th, I decided last minute to chop my hair without telling anyone, hoping I’d feel better and he’d like it. When I walked in and said “surprise!” he asked what the fuck I did that for. That’s when I knew there was more, of all the shitty things he had done, he never downgraded me (in an obvious way) for all the weight I put on, he never commented, he never told me I looked like shit, that I should or shouldn’t eat this or that, or that I should be going to the gym with him etc. And for someone that thrived off of his looks and body image – it was kind of surprising he didn’t! But this was on a different level and one of the few lines he had never crossed. I knew he was doing everything in his power to have an out and I wanted to know why. That night, as he put our daughter to bed, I went through his phone. The only thing I saw from her was “when do I get to see you again?” This was my own ‘D-Day’ – one that not only affected me on so many levels and in so many aspects of my life for years to come – but also my entire family as it was more then just me involved. For myself, my uncle, the 3 kids directly involved, my grandparents, my parents, my dad’s business (since he worked for my dad and was one of his lead guys), aside from that, they were very close, the ripple effect it had was beyond one household. After reading that, I felt like I was having the 1st of a few out of body experiences as the anger and emotions started to overcome me. It was a whirlwind, not knowing how I was going to approach this. So, I waited until he came down the stairs and from there shit hit the fan – and it didn’t stop hitting for the fan for a very, very long time!

Dreaming Another Nightmare

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Isn’t it funny how when you’re younger, your future plays out in a certain format? Your dreams follow this ‘ideal’ timeline of pure perfection! Life was going to be damn near perfect in every manner, there really wasn’t much I hadn’t dreamed up in my fantasy world – except that part where the train derails and I end up in bumfuck Egypt in the middle of my own shit storm that I really thought couldn’t get worse, but oh wait – IT JUST DID!
Let’s just rewind to the fairytale for a minute. Back to the dream land of getting a collage degree in Education, followed by being married by the age of 23, 1st child no later then the age of 25 (I didn’t want to be an old parent!) Then 2, maybe 3 more kids every 2-3 years to follow, I wanted them spaced just perfectly in age! I would have a nanny so my kids didn’t have to go to a daycare with other bratty kids! They’d be in a private elementary school in a larger community when they were younger so they learned diversity and the importance of it, but by middle school, we’d transfer to a smaller school system, so they could learn and appreciate the importance of a smaller community, I wanted to know the parents of my kids’ friends, and them to know everyone they graduated with,  like I was fortunate to have growing up. I’d be happily married for years, we’d travel a lot and my kids would have a lot of great experiences and memories, hopefully building the basis of their future by being curious of the huge world out there! We’d eventually move to the country overlooking the mountains to retire and enjoy the peace and quiet. Uh, life was going to be so great – god I couldn’t wait!

And then – one day – I woke up to a very different reality – back in Egypt. I was standing in the middle of a very different dream, more like nightmare, not knowing exactly how I managed to end up there!

Instead it went something along the lines of being 18, having a blast partying and working, going to the local college that I knew in my gut wasn’t going to pan out, but I played along with the role and ‘tried’ it. By trying it I mean I passed 2 of the 4 classes the 1st semester, the only 2 I was interested in to begin with, which was English and Psych. Instead I focused more on how damn good it felt to be living on my own, with 4 other good friends of mine, hanging with my new, good looking and older boyfriend, being free of rules, demands and chores and just plain loving life! This older boyfriend was eight and a half years older, which, at 18, is a big deal! Age is just a number on many levels, but at certain times in our lives, age does matter (I know mom – finally I got it! Better late then never 😉 ) I was with someone who was in a relationship, although I understood it at that time that it had ended (by ended, I believe he had moved out a few days prior), and I was also recently out of a relationship, for about a week (yeah – I know – total saints  – for sure). So, even though I more then knew better, he seemed very interested and I wanted it to be what I knew it wasn’t – but I still really wanted it to be what he made it appear to be!

As if age alone wasn’t a factor, the fact that he worked for my dad and was very close to him, was an obstacle in itself. But, rebellion was still running thick in my blood – so I ran with it, secretly hesitant, but outwardly, I’m sure I appeared cocky. I will never forget sitting in my parents kitchen, explaining to my less then impressed, quite frankly – my pissed off mother, that it was going to be just fine! The only thing I remember out of that entire ass chewing was her saying ‘you are nothing but a rebound to him and he is nothing but an infatuation to you.” Ouch. That stung. That stung alot – but what stung even more was when I had to call her bawling at 5 a.m. four months later – after my friend and I showed up at his exes house, banging on the door at midnight wondering why he was with her and didn’t have the balls to come to the door! (I’ve had prouder moments – yes).

I remember that sick heavy brick that festered in the pit of my gut for weeks after that night. I remember the replays, waiting for the next phone call, the begging, more lies, more apologies and finally, after making him ‘prove’ himself – me giving in. The ‘proving himself’ part consisted of him having to go explain himself to my mom, since she was the one that had to deal with 5 a.m. phone calls after months of seeing it for face value, I figured he could start there (not thinking he actually would!) This was the beginning of many more years worth of anger, manipulation, game playing and drama that I learned to play along with. Giving into something I knew wasn’t true, but again, I wanted it to be. Besides, he had spent years with her, of course he was going to go back, he still loved her on some level, how couldn’t he, maybe if I were thinner, older, more stable, more wise it wouldn’t have happened. Note for this next time around I guess, right? Welcome to my thought process!

I think more then my hate for him was the hate for myself, the way I held out for so long, just to give back in at the last minute. The hate for believing it, wanting it to be different then it what it was, but not knowing what that meant. Hating myself for not being what he wanted, for feeling the need to compete against other women, the bottle – anything. Hating myself for giving into the drama and nonsense, thinking every other ‘next time’ was going to be different then the previous last times. Hating myself for allowing the lies to flow so easily, for getting bogged down by it all, to the point of no longer caring, for giving into it, when I fought so hard not too, for so long. Hating myself for seeing it before it happened and yet waiting – almost wanting in some sick way – for it to happen again so I had a reason to bail again. I became reliant on the next fuck up, it kept us both fueled with anger, hate and drama – just to need some sick reason to make it all ‘better’ again – for a little bit anyways. And when it really came down to it, what I hated more then him – was myself – that I gave up me for him – that I changed my life, goals, dreams, morals and beliefs to fit something that was never in alignment with me to begin with. I hated myself for giving into the fear every time – the fear that he’d change for the next one and that I may miss being truly happy with him, fear that my daughter might not have the chance of knowing her parents to have a good, stable and loving relationship, fear that I might be alone forever, and that maybe I should be thankful he’s with me at all. That I thought I could change or ‘fix’ him – when it wasn’t about that – it was about 2 people that became miserable together on account of their own insecurities that were never resolved, caught in this vicious cycle that became routine, one that subconsciously we both thrived on. It was about 2 people that simply didn’t belong together, that again, tried to force pieces of the puzzle to fit, that were never meant to fit. It wasn’t about ‘training’ him ‘my’ way, with ‘better’ morals or expectations of him wanting the same family life I did, it wasn’t about ‘owning’ him or forcing him into things that quite obviously he wasn’t interested in, as his actions always showed it. He did fight for me on many levels, perhaps more then he had in previous relationships and perhaps in some ways- we could’ve been more – but not at that point in our lives. It had become so toxic, so full of mind games, when one was ready to party, the other didn’t want to leave the house, when one wanted to be saving money for a house, the other couldn’t blow it fast enough, when one was ready for marriage, the other wouldn’t even utter the word. We were rarely on the same page and when we were, it felt like we were on top of the world, that one week you would’ve sworn lasted 2 years without a single fight! ha Those short intervals were what I began to cling too, because that’s all I had – and they became fewer and farther between. And when push comes to shove – timing is always everything. After Josie, any speck of interest I had left, any excitement about moving forward in our lives, anything to do with him at all – was lost on every level within 24 hours after she died. As if the animosity wasn’t already there before – it intensified after that – he was to blame on every level for anything and everything I never did or didn’t do with her. And that was the beginning of the grand finale to follow – the one that trumped all other trumps. But then again, I guess that’s what happens when you choose to live in a fantasy world, talking each other, and ultimately yourselves into truths that weren’t ours.

 

Rear view mirror

/ Revolution.07 / 1 Comment

rearviewmirror

That rear view mirror, I’m realizing – is where I’ve spent a majority of my life. Always staring back at another door closed. Whether it was slammed shut, nicely closed, left half open for torment (by no ones fault but my own) or I was forced through it…that mirror is where I’ve spent the last few years of my life. Trying to figure how to edit the picture because I’ve hated so many details of it.

I’d become resentful of the good just as much as the bad. The good was a reminder of where I wasn’t anymore. And a constant threat that I may never achieve “it” again. I hated how intense the bad parts were, and the overflow effects of them. Every part of my life suffered in some degree from the lack of control over the deeply ingrained sadness and anger. Every picture triggered a memory. A memory of when Josie was still here, what my weight was, what my dreams and aspirations at that time consisted of, a reminder of what I had lost. After my daughter was born was one of the few times I remember feeling fully content in every aspect of my life. But as different aspects of my life began to unravel that faded as well.

To look back at that blurred picture of my past there were 2 massive gashes that split my world in 2. The first driven by sadness and guilt, it’s as if they’re chapters labeled ‘pre-Josie and post-Josie’ and the second driven by anger and shame, or the ‘pre and post-divorce.’ It’s as if they were historic “Eras” in my life that set the stage for what was to come. From then on almost everything was replayed on a daily basis, constantly wondering where I went wrong in both places, both with her, and with him. Hating myself even more for not being able to help her and not being able to keep him. For never measuring up, for feeling lost, for being broken, for being everything I never thought it was possible to become, especially in such a short amount of time.

Stage 5 is Acceptance. 8 years later, I’m finding I’m still learning to ‘accept’ little aspects that perhaps I haven’t put to rest. Maybe acceptance is realizing that that mirror needs to be shattered. Because no matter how many times I go back and replay it, try to figure out exactly at which point I went wrong, was it how I said it or was it that I didn’t say it? Was it that I didn’t love hard enough, or too much? Was it the tone in which I said it or the manner in which I did it that sent off the wrong message? Or, was it that I did all of them, I just did the wrong ones with the wrong person? Maybe it was that I should’ve loved her more and him less, I should’ve said more to her instead of giving into the argument with him. 

You know what I’m learning to say to that – it’s all fucking bullshiiiiiiiiiiiit!! Every word of it. The truth is, it doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do, how I said it, or if I said it, how I looked, how I felt, what I thought – the point is – this is where I am now. There is no such thing as a ‘filter’, a ‘crop’ or an ‘edit’ button on life and there’s certainly no such thing as rewind! I’m sick of beating myself up for it, I’m sick of reliving it, I’m sick of wanting it to look and be different, I’m sick of the emotions that arise when I do relive it, I’m sick of the energy and time I put into things that will never make the outcome any different then what they are.

There are many days that I hate that this is my life and my story, because I feel like it could’ve and should’ve been different. But, what if, we could hit the rewind button and we did it according to the ‘textbook’ way and it still ended? Maybe with a different ending, but the same result nonetheless? What if she had been killed in a car accident instead of overdosing? What if he was honest and asked for a separation instead of lying and cheating? What if I would’ve just listened to my gut every time? Would it have made it a little less painful in some ways? Perhaps. But would it have changed the end result? Less then likely. Because sometimes it shakes out a certain way because it has too, because maybe that’s the only way that we’ll wake up and see things in a different light. Or, maybe that’s the only way we’ll finally walk away for good and know that going back is no longer an option. Maybe I put up with it for so long and just kept signing myself up for one more round in the ring after the other until I finally had to have the door slammed in my face so I’d get it…like for real! Maybe I wanted control of something I never had control of to begin with, maybe I wanted to fix something that wasn’t meant to be fixed, maybe I was being told and shown that I needed to be done trying to make something out of nothing. Maybe I have been far more lost and broken because of all of it. Maybe…hopefully…I’ll come out stronger and farther ahead because of it.

Whatever the case may be, however it plays it, peace out to the rear view mirror. Adios to the replays. And a good square kick in the ass to the self hate, blame and shame I’ve allowed myself to feel and endure since those ‘gashes’. What’s done is done, if I don’t want to relive it then I need to make sure I heal from it and move forward, leaving the shattered pieces where they may have fallen. I can’t keep trying to put things together that were meant to stay broken, I can’t keep trying to fix people and things that aren’t meant to be fixed, nor do I want to be. A majority of it will remain shattered and tainted, and that’s ok, it’s part of my story and what makes it mine. I don’t want it to own me, to hold me captive, or to be my only story. I want to be able to look ahead with appreciation and enthusiasm, I want the rest of the story to consist of more then that shitty, smeared and broken, ugly and torn past. And the only one that’s sitting in the drivers seat is me. I’ve spent the better part of 8 years with the loaded gun in one hand and the keys in the other. Am I going to pull the trigger over and over or am I going to break the chains that bind me and set myself free?

Continue reading Apples to oranges

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Out with the old, in with the new!

/ Revolution.07 / Leave a comment

lakesunset

I don’t know about anyone else – but I’m more then happy to send 2015 off with a square kick in the a**! Man, this year has been intense! I walked into 2015 being advised that my actions needed to start meeting my words. That while I knew I wanted a change in my life, I was reminded that me, perched on a bar stool with a vodka water in hand, isn’t exactly the fastest way to get there! (Who knew?! 😉

What a whirlwind of a year…exhausting, painful and liberating all at once. It reminded me of my pregnancy, the days long, but the months short once I made it through and she arrived. I felt like I wasn’t making any progress, and when I did, I’d back step, stumble and trip myself 10 steps backwards, only to later be launched forward! Did I say whirlwind?

We, as a collective, have endured alot this past year! Things have amped up tremendously and it’s been intense and a bit scary to think of the direction that we could be headed. From ISIS to politics to Ferguson to climate change it seems things are in disarray every way we turn. It’s hard to feel like we have any type of control over our lives, let alone believing the things we do attempt to do will have any impact!

It was a year of change for me personally, on a very different scale. The advice given to me that stung the most, but also stuck with me was “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.” I thought I had done so much healing over the past few years, I had worked so hard to overcome obstacles and let go of anger and grief, only to feel as though I had barely touched the surface. The layers feel never ending and each time I thought I could finally close another door, something more would show up with even more intensity, reminding me that this is an ever changing process. Things are always evolving, as are our thought process and feelings around events, people and places as time passes.

It’s been a big year of letting go of SO many things outside of me. I quit coffee and smoking, and significantly decreased my drinking. These have been my physical go-to’s for well over 10 years, so they were big (and hard) accomplishments in themselves! I’ve had to let go of control and be OK with taking leaps on account of blind faith. I let go of people, important people, that although were comfort and routine, weren’t helping me evolve. I learned the importance of boundaries within relationships as well and was forced to speak up about them….all of them, with all relationships. I’ve learned to let go of old and toxic thought patterns, especially about myself. I’ve learned to start questioning more things, both in my life (unconscious behavior and beliefs) and the world at large, seeing things from a different vantage point. Learning to quiet my mind and mouth, and instead being a student of life, with more appreciation then complaining. Letting go of anger and grief, on a deeper level and from a different perspective. Letting go of the ‘norm’ that society seems to impose on us.  Letting go of the need for outside approval and learning to trust myself. There’s been alot more ‘bucking of the system’ (which, let’s be real – I’ve always been a natural at 😉 but trying to do it without fear and guilt, anger and rage. It’s been hard to become more aware of myself and my tendencies, falling back into ‘default mode’ and then not beating myself up for it, instead, course correcting when needed.

As much of a pain in the ass this year has been, I feel like it’s been the ground work for what’s to come! I hope it’s one of resolutions that are larger then just the same old ‘I’m going to loose 20 pounds’. I hope it’s one of true, authentic intention, a better outlining of where we really want to see change in our lives, and more importantly – within ourselves, not just outside of us. I hope it’s one of goals on a larger scale and seeing that it really does begin within us. One that is geared more towards giving and self assessing and less towards blaming. More towards healing our own inner demons and coping in a new way. Focusing more on our passions instead of getting lost in the victim mentality. Remembering that we’re here to move forward, not stay stuck. That we aren’t bound to anything or anyone unless we tell ourselves that’s our only option. Reminding ourselves that we are worth more then we give ourselves credit for, that our past doesn’t own us and it’s up to us to resolve and let go of any anger, guilt or fear that may be surrounding it. I hope it’s one of less social media and more of being present with those standing in front of us. I hope it involves more quiet time for us to think and reflect, with an abundance of gratitude. And although I still have a long road ahead of me, trying to implement this in all areas of my life, I’m really hoping 2016 is just plain BIGGER and BETTER!

I’d also like to give a BIG thanks to all of you who have taken the time to follow me and give me the positive feedback to keep me moving forward on this new endeavor! And a deserved shout out to Aimee, who gave me this advice last January which better put things into motion for me. For planting the seeds (and it actually resonating this time;) that in order to see the change, I have to be the change. Your help through the years has been a base of something that is finally coming into fruition – thank you for that 🙂 (check out her fantastic services at http://www.intuitiveaim.com/ )

SO, a big, fat PEACE OUT to 2015 – thanks for the lessons, but I’m ready for a more peaceful 2016, please and thank you! 😉