spill

Thoughts on an airplane

2011-07-10T05:49:00.000-07:00

There were two other planes ahead of us on the runway. I watched them, one at a time, as they started down the paved path that seemed to go on forever, picking up speed and then leaping into the air as if they weighed no more than the knock-off Louis Vuitton sunglasses I held in my hand. Airplanes had always fascinated me. Not these big commercial jets as much as the smaller personal planes, but still...

If Peter was still alive, I would have asked him to teach me to fly his 4-seater Cessna.

I stared out the inadequate rectangular window. The clouds seemed to be resting on the most flawlessly-clear sheet of glass, hundreds of miles above the earth. The sun reached in and warmed my hand.

I missed him.

I was only 14 when Peter died. 18 years ago. God. Had it really been 18 years? I didn't really understand why I missed him so much. My grandparents were gone too. I loved them just as much, but didnt miss them in the same way. It didnt really make sense to me, except that somehow I felt that Peter and I were the same. Somehow I knew that when my uncle died, I lost the one family member to whom I would have felt the most connected. I felt a little cheated that I didn't get to tell him about my life. I wanted him to know about my boys. I wanted him to keep up with my photography and my achievements.

He was a brilliant man. An engineer for Boeing. A graduate of MIT. I thought he would have been proud of me.

Peter was smart. Witty. Fun. He had a gentle heart but was so obviously strong. He refused to go to church.

He loved wine and jokes and told the best ghost stories.

He died too young. A heart attack. Alone in his car. If someone had just found him sooner... If it had just happened at home instead...

It wasn't fair. And as much as that complaint means nothing in the world of chance and injustice, it was still MY sound complaint. It just wasn't fair.

The sound of the fasten seat belt sign turned my thoughts to what was coming.

Baggage claim. Rental car. Work.

I put my memories away for another day.

The stars are right...

2010-03-16T06:38:00.000-07:00

Ive never looked into horoscopes or astrology.. I was raised to believe it was a sort of "evil" thing.. magic, "new age", witchcraft, astrology, Harry Potter.. you know.. ha...

Anyway, I'm beginning to find some of it very interesting and sort of.. oddly dead on!?...

I'm a cancer, and my dear friend and ex-boyfriend is an Aquarius. It was a very hard relationship. Similarities underneath, but so many hurdles that we both tried extremely hard to work through but could never really figure out. I looked up the compatibility between the two signs and about dropped my jaw at the accuracy. Here's just an excerpt:

"This pairing brings together people made of very different star dust. Cancer approaches life with its sensitive, emotional feelers, while Aquarius has one foot in another dimension. It's hard to make a heartfelt connection with the Waterbearer, which immediately poses problems for Cancer. The Aquarian cool glamour that intrigues others makes the Moonchild very insecure. There's some sexual electricity here, but often not enough to overcome the gulf between them. Both are compassionate, but express it in different ways. They're a formidable team if they pool their resources for the greater good. But the social Aquarius will often be mixing it up out there, when the Moonchild just wants to cuddle on the couch. And Aquarius chafes at any limits to its freedom. The issues of freedom and togetherness will have to be ironed out for this to work. This pair gets extra points for the "degree of difficulty," making relating a sublime accomplishment.."

I also looked up the compatibility between Cancer and Leo and Cancer and Scorpio. What I read was also perfectly accurate in comparison to my relationship with a Leo girlfriend and a Scorpio friend of mine. But the supposed compatibility between all three combinations are completely different. It's not like some random fortune cookie that could apply to anyone at anytime. I must say.. I'm very intrigued!!

I guess I dont see why, since the human body is so complex and connected (the spine being connected to all different parts of the body - accupuncture, chiropractic etc..) that the universe wouldnt be the same. I think it's fascinating...

Uh oh. Does that make me as evil as Harry Potter!? giggle...

Fear, anxiety, and letting it all go

2010-02-03T07:07:00.000-08:00

I have anxiety... It affects everything that I do. It's not just that I am prone to anxiety attacks or worrying a lot over things I cant control - although those are part of it - but it affects my everyday, normal, simple decisions. More specifically, I feel a slight sense of urgency all the time to make the right choice. I want things to be right, right now. I fear the process. I have no patience for letting things work themselves out, or "fall as they may". I tend to act impulsively, because I worry that if I dont take the opportunity now, it may never present itself again. That might sound okay until you realize it is EVERYTHING that I approach that way.

If I dont buy this now... If I dont make this for dinner tonight.. If I dont attack this issue today... If I dont say yes to this person now... If I dont go out this weekend...

I have anxiety about missing things. I remember in college it was so hard for me to call it a night and go to bed.. until about 2 am.. all it took was one morning of waking up and hearing about what spontaneous social event happened in my dorm after I went to sleep - and from that point on I had to be around and ready just in case something fun was going to happen that I would miss out on. Yeah... it's kind of an ass whip being this way.

I have an idea where this mentality originated. I think it's true because when I go back to this moment in my mind, it brings about that anxiety in an intense way. And it's the first memory I have of "missing something great"...

At the risk of making my craziness public and regretting it later...

I was probably in 2nd grade. My mom and I, along with my schoolmate and her mom, went garage saling. It was a regular event for us. About every other Saturday we got up early and went rummaging through the treasures available in our neighbors driveways. This particular Saturday, my girlfriend and I happened upon the find of all finds. The treasure of all treasures. To a 2nd-grade girl whose mom told her Barbie dolls were expensive, it was a little piece of heaven. We happened upon a large, white, kitchen-size trashbag full of barbie dolls and their tiny little perfect articles of clothing. My girlfriend and I looked at each other with a mixed expression of "hellz yes" and "I found it first" and raced over to rummage through the overstuffed bag of greatness. She pulled out a dress.. I pulled out a dress.. she pulled out a barbie, I put my dress back and traded it for another dress... a better, more frilly and ruffly dress.. with red polka dots.. oh decisions decisions.. it was so hard to choose! Just like at the store when my mom would tell me I could pick out one outfit for my two barbie dolls (one of which had a dented boob)... I was trying to be selective.. but it was so hard because I couldnt even see halfway down the bag to what was available!!!

Just then, an older lady came up and peeked into our bag of pure delightfulness and asked, "Are you girls buying this?"

Well for some reason, in 2nd grade, adult voices are intimidating. And such was the case here. We grabbed our dress of choice, and backed up to let the lady in... "No" we said. I remember thinking how I was going to watch to see what she pulled out.. and hope that whatever it was, it wasnt better than the dress I had found in the midst of the hundreds of outfits and dozens of dolls...

And that's when it happened... the moment that made this memory permanent in my head. The moment I believe was the origin of my anxiety and constant fear of regret...

She picked up the large, white, heavy, kitchen-sized trash bag full of barbies and took it to the nice lady sitting in the garage organizing her metal money box. "How much for this whole bag?" we heard her ask.

"Five dollars" said metal-money-box lady.

"I'll take it." She said.

Can you hear the sound of two 8-year-old girls' hearts hitting the pavement?

I hated that day. I hated the memory of walking away with my stupid little polka-dotted barbie dress that the metal-money-box lady gave my mom for FREE. I hated my mom for not standing up to that mean skanky witch lady who had the audacity to take a bag of barbies from under the noses of two 8-year-old girls who were CLEARLY going through the bag. I hated myself for not saying "Yes you skanky bitch!" to that lady myself! Because in a world where barbies were "expensive"... and a girl only had two (one with a dented boob)... and all of her friends had a dozen or more............ that moment was indescribably devastating.

Of course it's not the barbies I feel devastation over anymore. But that feeling - having something right under your nose and MISSING it. Simply because you were unaware of the possibilities, the opportunity... that feeling I live with on a daily basis that has encroached on almost every area of my life. As if in that moment, on that drive home from that life-changing, garage-saling morning, I made a pact with myself that I'd never let it happen again. I'd never miss another great opportunity again.

This morning I had this realization... that if I can change the way I view that day, that situation.. then maybe I can start to let go of that anxiety, that fear of being out of control, of missing out... That maybe if I go back to that morning in my mind, and let go of the idea that I missed out on an 8-year-olds treasure, that I will be able to accept that sometimes it's better when things play out in ways we don't see as beneficial or rewarding to us. Sometimes it's better when we ARENT in control...

I stood in the shower thinking this through. I closed my eyes, and relived that morning.. but THIS time I told the skanky mean lady that I was in fact buying the bag of dolls. She walked away. My mom asked the metal-money-box lady for the price. She paid the $5. My girlfriend and I took our new treasure to the car and began rummaging through our new toys.

My mom began the drive out of the neighborhood...

She looked in the rearview mirror with a smile on her face watching our excitement...

"Mom! Look at this one!!" I said, beaming from the back seat.

She turned around to look. None of us noticed the oncoming car... she turned back around just in time to see that our car had drifted over into the left lane... Her swerve back was too abrupt and too late...

THIS time, that morning... it played out much differently. We hit that car. We ran head-on into the oncoming car and what was left was sheer devastation.

My mom, my friends mom.. both hit the windshield... as the car skidded over to a stop on the other side of the street.. it was just me and my 8 year old girlfriend.. left alone and terrified.. our mothers killed...

...dolls and their dresses everywhere...

Maybe if I can rethink that day. Maybe if I can remember it as the day I didnt get what i THOUGHT I wanted. The day that I didnt get what I would have chosen for myself had I been in control. The day I would have lost the most important thing to me at that age, in exchange for a bag of plastic dolls. Maybe now I can start to let go of the need for control, the fear of regret, the distrust of the natural process of life. Maybe by trusting that the universe, or God, or karma or life itself isnt something I'm fighting against, but something that is on my side... I can stop worrying about every decision and every opportunity and every circumstance.

*shrug*

Or maybe I just missed out on the best garage sale find ever.

running

2010-01-16T10:37:00.000-08:00

I've decided I am determined to learn how to LOVE to run. I used to run in junior high and early high school because I was in basketball/athletics, but I hated it. Of course back then, there were no ipods. You probably werent even allowed to bring a "walkman". Sometimes the coach would put a boombox out (yes, a boombox) and play a mix tape she had for off-season running - but still - laps around the basketball courts to old school dc talk really wasnt great - but it was better than running to the sound of everyone's squeaky gym shoes.

I envy runners. I know it leans you out and it's easy to do anywhere... and I've always WANTED to LOVE running. Find the therapy in it. But I dont. I HATE it. My brain wont turn off. I think about how far I've gone. How far I still have to go. How many times I'd have to do what I've already done to finish what I said I would finish. Then when I get really tired, I tell myself I've done enough... and I quit. And then I feel guilty, and defeated, and that's the end of that. Somehow that never happens to me on the elliptical at the gym.. but running... grr....

However - I believe that I have what I need now. I have figured out what will keep me on the road from now until the heat gets unbearable and I move to the gym track. Two things.

1) A great playlist. Finally. I dont normally listen to the kind of music you'd want to run to. Brandi Carlile, Blue October and Katie Herzig dont really get you going. But I've gathered some new favorites and some lists from friends of mine who run - and I feel ready.

2) A photoshopped image of what my body COULD look like if I was a runner... I'm 5'10".. Come on.. I have potential (just based on my height and the fact that I'm a pear shape with long legs) to be really HOT! I took a picture of myself, "liquified" that sucker, perfected my legs and BAM! really? I could look like THAT?!? I am keeping that picture on my iphone. And right next to it, the picture before I edited. And if that isnt a kick in the pants...

So that's it. Those are my tools. That, and I'm going to be running the road - trying to keep my mind from analyzing the track. I'm just going to put everything I have into this.. believing that even *I* can learn to LOVE to run. So... here goes nothing.

If I could reach you by letter...

2010-01-15T11:26:00.000-08:00

I miss you so much! I feel like I might forget you are real. I don't know how much longer I can do this. The time we get together is so little... And it's gotten less and less

often as time goes by.

I know without a doubt that you love me deeply. I have to make myself remember sometimes, but I do believe even though I don't feel it often, it's still real. I think sometimes, that maybe I'd be happier if I let go, and found someone else who would be better at showing how he feels about me, or someone who was more consistently happy. But I keep believing that if I just hang on a little longer, you'll come back.. more often... and stay longer each time.

Everyone tells me to stop. I don't even like telling my friends anymore how I feel about you or that we're sorta back together. Because I know they disapprove. I look like that stupid girl who doesn't know when to quit. But they don't understand. They don't know you. I know you. And I achingly love the man that I know. Even the shadow of yourself that you leave behind when you go. I love that part too, but he is draining me. He doesn't give back, so when you leave, I keep giving, in so many ways, trying to show him what you and I have together. Hoping he'll see that it's better whwn we're together, and he'll let you come back more often.

But I don't think he gets it. Or he doesn't seem to care. He just isn't happy. I wish I could help him be more like you... So there wasn't such an obvious difference between you. But he's empty I think. Like a shell. He has nothing to pull from, no way to be filled. I can't fill him. But I keep trying. I don't know any other way.

I don't tell you all this to make you feel bad for leaving me here. But so you know why I cling to you so hard when you come back. And to tell you I am hanging on the best that I can. I had given up for a while, but I'm trying one more time to wait. Please hear me.

Yours always,
A

is it wrong to be satisfied?

2009-10-23T22:10:00.001-07:00

I guess I am surprised at how I honestly feel about my life at this point. If you asked me ten years ago where I wanted to be at age 30, I seriously doubt I would have said "divorced, dealing with a big loss in my business from an economic disaster, and living back in the same area I basically grew up in." But then again, you'd be asking a 20 year old. And WTF does she know?

I'm happy. I am where I am and it's not what I planned, but I am at peace. I am growing. I am watching myself become who I decide to be. I am learning from my mistakes. I like my personality. I am proud of my accomplishments, my ability to make a living from my hobbies, my family, my beliefs, my opportunities, my experiences and my newfound ability to be okay with these stretches of life where things are hard, painful, destructive and demanding of change. A good friend told me a few weeks ago "Wherever you are in life right now, BE there."

I used to feel the need to be in a place where others would look and say "she's on the right path. she's making the right choices. she's got it together." But you know, right now, I'm not there. I AM in a place that's good for me. But on the outside, it's anything but obvious. I am accused of making bad choices. Being selfish. Not seeking. Not growing. Disconnected from my foundation... But it's not true at all. And I'm finally okay with whatever it might look like on the outside. Because for once, I'm at peace because I know in my core that I'm learning more in this single year than possibly the past 29. It looks to my parents, my brothers, my old friends, that I've fallen apart... gone off the deep end.. whatever.. but it's actually quite the opposite.

I finally know WHO I AM, and that is an amazing feeling.

Have I made mistakes? Obviously. Do I have any regrets? Only one. My only regret in life is the pain I caused my ex-husband. I dont regret our relationship, and I wouldnt trade it for a different marriage that didnt end. But I do regret that I didnt know at 22 what I know now. His pain is the one thing I would change in my life if I had the option.

But everything else, all the mistakes, I own them and I have grown from them and I dont want to know what parts of me would be missing, different, unfamiliar if I hadnt made them.

I dont know how long this stage will last. But I'm owning it... recognizing that I'm still being transformed into whatever it is I'm supposed to be. Even if you don't see it. Because I honestly dont need YOU to see it anymore. Because really? WTF do YOU know?

big

fat

smile :)

Dirty Laundry

2009-09-03T09:23:00.000-07:00

Disorganized.

Impatient.

Inconsistent.

Insecure.

Scared.

Clingy.

Depressed.

Anxious.

Hard

2009-09-03T09:17:00.000-07:00

Why am I finding that the lessons I struggled with in college are coming back to be relearned all over again. Is that fair? I mean, really?

Is it just me? Or is it hard for everyone to retain lessons learned. Maybe I never really learned the lessons. That sucks.

One good thing about intense personal struggle, is that it really is impossible for me to come out unchanged. I refuse. I refuse to experience emotional and mental torment, and then make the same mistakes. Well, I may make the same mistakes, but they will be closer to resolved next time. They wont be quite so bad. I'll come out faster, causing and experiencing less damage.

Life is hard.

i dont know yet...

2009-08-28T07:21:00.000-07:00

this week has been a rollercoaster. emotionally. physically. mentally. i dont seem to be able to handle as much emotional turmoil as i used to be able to. i'm beginning to feel defeated in some ways.

there so many grey areas in life. they make it hard to make decisions, i think. i have a fear of regret. i want to make the best choices, so that i dont look back and think i wasted my life. there are always mistakes, but as long as i feel that the mistakes worked out for the best, then it's fine. i am at a place this week where i am having to close my eyes and trust what i know in the deepest parts of me. not what is around me. not what i see. hear. sense. feel. but emotions are so strong. sometimes stronger than physical evidence, and i've been sort of in awe at that reality this week.

i guess it would be described as faith. hanging on to something you believe to be true despite the perception of reality you may have at that moment in life. i think that's true. i think that's necessary.

from a more secular perspective, it would be simply realizing that we as humans are complex. there is so much to balance between our minds, our emotions, our wants, needs, memories, experiences, hopes, fears... we have to be able to step outside of our current situation and look at things from outside the chaos. ive had a few times this week where I had to tell myself to keep my mouth shut, and dont believe what i'm thinking bc it wasnt consistent with the other factors in my life. dont trust myself in other words. that is a hard thing. we like to think we are the center of it all so if we cant trust ourselves than who can we trust?

i do believe we are created beings. and in that case, we arent the center of it all, so for me to really trust me is probably foolish. how can i trust someone who's made so many mistakes? it doesnt make it easier to figure things out sometimes, but it does at least hlep me relax and breathe. let go and wait things out. it's a good thing to realize i dont have to have it all figured out. have it all in my own control. bc weeks like this remind me that it's just too much.

there's a word i used to dwell on - it reminded me i didnt have to figure it all out and do it all myself. REST. I think it's time for me to focus on that again. I need some rest in my life.

motherly instinct

2009-08-17T11:36:00.001-07:00

Is it a learned behavior or is it really an instinct? Is it something that is inside women to a small degree and then "activated" by motherhood and brought to it's fullness? Is it only in some of us?

I have seen stories of women on tv who have babies, but they aren't mothers. They dont give their kids a second thought.. I have friends who grew up with moms that never seemed to "get it"... so maybe it's not in all of us.. but I think for the most part it probably is an intinct. It's probably similar to animal instincts.. I mean, how do mother sloths know to take care of their babies? How do mother cats willingly lay down, exausted and sore while their litter of impatient kittens ~~beat the shit out of them~~ nurse almost all day long? It must be a real instinct... just not sure why some have it and some dont.

Anyway - this post isnt about my kids, it's actually about Chantry. Poor guy has some sort of bug. It hit him last night. He was sick all night and then today has the energy of a dead slug and aches all over. He's been in bed all day. I got him up once to eat a little of the chicken soup that I heated up from the can made from scratch today. But man... why is it that I can't get any work done while he's feeling so bad? I know all he really needs to do is sleep. But I'm coming up with all kinds of things to do to make myself feel useful. Of course none of which are useful at all. As if he were a baby that needed me to rock him to sleep.

"Do you want me to draw a bath?"

"Do you need more motrin?"

"Would you like some gatorade?"

"I can rent you a movie"

"Would you like a massage?"

"Need another blanket?"

"Is the fan too high?"

"Do you feel like coffee?"

"Want me to paint your toenails?"

Ok.. not really.. but jeez.. it really sucks seeing someone you love feeling terrible. :( Especially when there's nothing you can do to help. *sigh* But that instinct is strong. Hard to fight. I guess at least I have it. Considering I have four kids... and a Chantry. Otherwise who would do all the useless, unhelpful stuff that moms do? Like ~~annoy the shit out of you~~ be there for you when you're sick?

And yes, sloths have mothers too.

A second drawer...

2009-08-13T07:11:00.000-07:00

This morning I gave Chantry a second drawer in my 6-drawer dresser. The first drawer was significant. It was like.. "hey.. um.. I gave you a drawer... you know.. if you want one...but you dont have to.. um.." But the second drawer..oh the second drawer.. that's almost half the dresser. I think I'll stick with two drawers. I mean if I give him a third, I'll feel a little crowded. Should he ever get half the dresser? He definitely doesnt get half the closet. Half of the dresser is like.. a threat that he'll forget his place. It's MY house after all. Just because I offered to do some of your laundry today, doesnt mean I HAVE to do your laundry. Or that I always WILL do your laundry. Half of the dresser will make a man forget that all those little things you may do for him are NOT required. They are bonuses. Gifts. Sweet things. And they should be appreciated. Unexpected. Not taken for granted.

So, enjoy that second drawer.. but keep in mind, there are 4 other drawers, all of which are in use... by me. Not you. Because it's my dresser. And I'm letting you in. But dont take advantage mister. Or I'll start charging rent for those drawers.

My brothers, their wives, and the reason I wish I wasnt related...

2009-08-12T07:05:00.000-07:00

This could be an extremely long post. And maybe it would benefit me to be that thorough.. but I just dont think anyone wants to read a novel about the situation. So I'll give you the cliff's notes and hope I dont leave out anything essential.

Ah.. where to begin. I guess we have to go back to February of this year. The day I told my parents that my ex-husband and I would be splitting up. I called my brothers before I spoke to my parents, sort of just to get a little practice giving shocking news to family before sitting down in person with my parents. My ex and I had decided the best thing was to keep the details to ourselves. At least for the time being. We were still good friends at the time and wanted to salvage any part of our relationship, knowing full well that the divorce itself would be hard enough. We also felt that keeping things between us was better for our kids. As shitty as it is, we all know that sometimes family is the worst when it comes to saying hurtful things, and my ex and I didnt want family members spouting off things even 10 years from now that would be hurtful to our kids. And thirdly.. bc really, it's was none of their business. Obviously, it was between he and I, and we wanted to keep it that way.

I called my younger brother first. A couple of weeks before the day I told my parents actually. I knew no one would be happy about it, but I assumed between my parents, my older brother, and my younger brother, he'd be the most gracious about it. He'd be the one to say "I hate this for you, but you have my support as a sister." Well - I was wrong. Instead, I got,

"I knew this was coming"

Well. Wow. Would you care to explain? He went on to bring up my new jeep, my new boobs, and the fact that I sing in a band. Because you know.. when you get THAT combination going - you are definitely headed for divorce. In fact, that's exactly why my ex and I split. He preferred foreign cars, saggy boobs and jazz music. It just wasnt going to work out between us.

So after he explained his take on it - which was as far from what was really going on as possible - I kindly let myself off the phone and realized no matter what I said, even my own family was going to have their minds made up to believe what they wanted to. So, yay for that!

So then in February (sorry for the little detour), I decided it was the day to tell my parents. My ex had found a place, was moving out, and it was time. I waited until we were separating bc I knew my parents would try to intervene. My ex and I had been struggling with our decision for a year. It wasnt easy. It was extremely complicated. I didnt want my family stepping in with their "sanctimonious baptistology" thinking they could save the day in a few weeks. So I called my older brother, Jeff, that morning. The conversation went somethign like this, except drawn out for an hour and a half and much more frustrating:

"Jeff, I wanted to let you know that X and I are getting a divorce. He is moving out this week. We have been dealing with this decision for a year and have been to counseling and it's just time for us to move on."

"um.. are you serious?"

"yes"

"Amy.. what? why?"

"We are keeping the details to ourselves and ask that you respect our relationship, and our kids, and just let it be. We may be able to talk details at some point, but for now, we are going to try to honor what is left so we can stay friends and be good parents."

"That is not acceptable. You need to tell me why. How come I havent heard about this?"

"Well, Jeff, you werent one of the ones I talked to. I've never really had that relationship with you. Dont take offense."

"You didnt let your family know? We deserve to know. You can tell mom and dad what you just told me. You have to tell us why."

"um.. no. I really dont. I need you to respect our relationship, and our kids, and you need to be okay with that for now. This isnt your decision."

"Who have you been going to counseling with? Anyone who told you divorce is an option is not a good counselor. You're obviously hanging out with the wrong crowd."

"ok.. now you're starting to push me a little too hard Jeff. We went to counseling at FBC and I spoke with people I trust, including our cousin who you and I both respect. So just because I dindt come to you, doesnt mean I didnt get good counsel. And you and I dont see eye to eye anyway"

This went on for quite some time. Until finally, he said

"Well, I'm going to be there tonight when you tell mom and dad"

"No. You're not. This is between me and them. Not me and them and you."

"No. I'm going to be there."

"Jeff. If you are there when I drive up, I will just leave. You have no right to be there. You need to let this go."

"If you leave when you see me, I will tell them myself."

"Wow. I'm hanging up now."

You get the idea. He called back 30 minutes later and said I was right. And that he would only come when it was over. I said, fine, I'll text you when I'm done.

Skip forward to that evening at my parents house. I sit down wtih them, and tell them what is going on. I gave them a little more info than I gave Jeff. My dad wanted to know if there was anyone else involved, or abuse or anything like that. Of course neither were true. We talked about an hour. Got through it, and even though they were visibly shocked and distraught, I could tell that we were going to get through it together. My mom had stopped crying. My dad got up to make coffee and offered me a cup. I said I needed to get going, that we could go to lunch in a couple of weeks and keep talking -move on from here. That's when I saw movement in the backyard.. and then I heard my mom say "oh no. Amy, dont leave. Dont leave. The boys are here. Oh my god. Amy dont leave and dont be mad." She started crying and panicking. I rolled my eyes thinking about how long they had been back there. I told my parents "I'll stay for a minute to say hi, but I'm out. I gotta go home. Jeff jumped the gun anyway, I asked him not to come until I was done."

So I'm getting my shoes and coming towards the backdoor to just say hi, when I notice i'ts not just my two brothers. It's my two brothers, and their wives. Hm.. my older brother actually got a sitter so he could bring his wife. Both girls - both of whom I had not spoken with - bc I hadnt even talked to my parents yet before they left to come over. Both girls with whom I dont have the relationship at all to discuss this with yet. But here the four of them are. Like a pretty little intervention.

They come in and the room is quiet. Like it should be considering they werent invited. In order to make my aggrivation known, I said exactly this:

"Well, that's funny. Mom was fine until you guys got here."

And who do you think speaks up at this point? My dad? Nope. My brother? Nuh uh. The first one to speak up is good ol' Tiffany Smith Zumwalt. And with a look of anger and accusation on her face, she says to me "Oh no. Dont blame this on us Amy. Dont put this on us. We didnt do this!"

Now let me pause here and give you a visual of the situation. Especially important bc it has been severely altered in the retelling, as I just found out last night. I was standing on the carpeted floor of my parents living room. Just outside the doorway to the tiled kitchen. Tiffany was standing just inside the backdoor int he kitchen, about 4 steps from me. When she decided it was a good idea for her to open her mouth in this setting, I looked at her, and I said EXACTLY this:

"Well. You know. I KIND OF understand why my brothers are here. Kind of. They are my brothers. I assume they care about me. They are here for mom and dad. Fine. EVEN THOUGH I SPECIFICALLY told JEff it was not his place to come and he AGREED to wait until I texted him, I still KINDA GET why he and Danny are here." And then I pointed my finger at Tiffany - 4 steps from myself - took a step towards her iwth ONE foot. (still standing on the carpet with my right foot, my left foot now on the tile, still now 2 full steps away from her) and said "But WHY THE HELL ARE YOU TWO here?" (now including my other sister-in-law)

Now. I will grant you that my voice was raised. And I will grant you that the look on my face was full of adrenaline and anger. But I did not touch, nor COULD I TOUCH her from where I was standing. I did not say anything besides what I typed above. That was the extent of it.

At that point, my older brother Jeff jumped around from behind Tiffany, and in order to "protect her from his pointing sister" physically hit me right above my right ear, and hard. WAs his fist balled up in a punch? Not really. Was it a slap? Hell no. Somewhere in the middle. And let me tell you this. I have been in two abusive relationships in the past where I have been hit, shoved, pushed and kicked. But I had not been hit in the head, as hard as my loving older brother hit me.

It gets even better.

My younger brother did nothing. (oh.. he did pick up my glasses off the floor). My dad got between Jeff and I (bc at this point I was slapping at him as much as I could and yelling God knows what about how we were through) but never did anything as far as even reprimand my brother for his act of violence. My mom was crying and panicking of course.

I left the house, yelling about how my mom had better open the door so I didnt say something to "that bitch" that I would regret.

Since then - my brothers dont speak to me. They say that since I wont let them "speak into my life" that I have cut them out. They do however hang out with my ex in order to see my kids. My parents and I had sorta started working things out, although they still dont see anything wrong with what Jeff did. But now that I'm dating Chantry they are back to square one.

Every other guy I know has told me that their dad, their brothers, their cousins, their guy friends, would NEVER sit by and watch a girl get hit without doing something. Someone even told me their dad would come out of his grave if he did that. I think tha'ts how it should be. But not my family. The fact that my ex and I split is unforgivable. But we can hit. Bc Jesus likes that better.

So last night I was out with a friend of one of Tiffany's best friends. And she told me that the story that my family is spreading, is that I attacked Tiffany. And THAT is why my brother needed to hit me. And THAT is why they dont have anything to do with me anymore. I attacked her, lunged at her, pushed my finger into her chest and cussed her out.

You know... If I ran into her today? I would probably make that happen. Because hey. If you're gonna say thats how it went down, in order to justify your husbands behavior, then let's just make it the truth. Oh, by the way, Jeff has a history with anger management and violence issues. Tiffany, ask your brother Sergio about the time Jeff hit him at work in front of everyone. And everyone wonders why I dont want Jeff around my kids. Hmm..

So much for cliff's notes.

Slothtastic

2009-08-11T09:51:00.000-07:00

This is my new word. Sloth-tastic. When ur just being lazy and slow, or just lazy, or just slow.. and you're happy about it.. it's slothtastic. I'm usually not happy when things arent going 100 mph.. but Chantry, on the other hand, would get a lot of use out of this word. And I will from time to time.

That's all.

to spill or not to spill

2009-08-10T15:22:00.000-07:00

so ive never done a personal blog.. only one for my jewelry line and one for my cakes. work blogs are safe. safe and boring. maybe thats' why i can never keep up with them

but personal blogs kinda scare me. i love to read other peoples'... but i know me... and i know i will most likely, routinely, cross the line of "need-to-know"... but what's a personal blog if you gotta be fake? hm.. we'll just see how this goes and hopefully i'll practice some discretion.