Monday, August 29, 2011


Sometimes I wish people could read my mind so I wouldn't have to stress over how I should tell them~

Friday, August 26, 2011

PPTSD? (Parental Post Tramatic Stress Disorder)

As the mother of a soldier who was deployed in a war zone twice, I think I suffer from a different type of PTSD.  I never saw the horrors, and my son came back to me in one piece although he would never be the same~ but I myself had changed.  The months of staring at the computer screen, searching for the tiniest bit of information and yet hating to read it for fear of the worst.  Waiting for hours for the phone not to ring~ only to stare, frozen in my seat when it did.  Running to the window every time a car drove into the cul de sac, but not wanting to look in case it was a black government vehicle.  I can no longer watch war movies, not even my favorite Green Berets. And this video brought me to tears.  Loved it by the way, but I still cried.

Thursday, August 25, 2011


So, after sitting and thinking on it for a day I realize that perhaps my last entry may have been published a little hastily and without careful consideration.  Chances are he will read it.  And so might she.  She may be flattered... or offended.  If he hasn't seen it yet, he will after that.  There will quite possibly be no more invites to cook, no more free steak dinners.
And yet the entry remains~
Probably because even if I were to delete the words, the feelings remain the same.
I don't see how they can go on acting like nothing happened to anyone but themselves.  My whole world was knocked off of it's rotation, my future plans were discarded like yesterday's trash.  I sit in a bedroom that I share with my daughter, a dog and a cat, trying to stretch an $800 paycheck into $1000 worth of bills and failing miserably.  I can't even afford my own pride~
It would be so easy to just hit [Delete] and play along like everything is okay. Wedding vows, pahhhh! They are so over-rated, merely a mindless tradition. A simple click of a button before they see it and I can prevent so much additional grief. Yet I can't. Tonight I shall enjoy our last supper of sorts because when it hits, and it will hit, it ain't gonna be pretty.
It happened. Things changed.

And the entry remains.


I've been invited to cook supper over at the future-ex's.  I don't mind~ free steak and the company is decent.  We're still friends, he and I, so it's cool.  All I wanted ever in terms of revenge (yes, I admit I want revenge!) was for him to miss me.  I think I've gotten the hint by now that he doesn't really miss 'me' with my sarcasm, flipped priorities and extreme organizational flaws, but he DOES miss my cooking and pathetic as it may seem that's good enough for me.  Do I miss him?  No.  I miss the relationship, but not him.  Can't miss what you never had.  
Agh!  I can't believe he pretended that I was HER! (pokey pins away!  STAB, STAB, STAB!)
Oops, sorry, relapse. I'm okay.
And I really am so over him! (poke!) 

Monday, August 22, 2011


At 50 years of age I wonder... is it easier to look forward or behind? Is it easier to go back and fix things or to just start anew and see where experience will take you? Can my life long mantra of "No regrets" continue to serve me now that the number of days left is undoubtedly less than days passed. Should I mend those fences and broken bridges or forge new paths as I always have without a backwards glance?  At what point should I admit that what I have artfully tried to portray as tracks of forward momentum have in fact all along been nothing more than splattering from the centrifugal force of my life, through no control of my own?
I can't believe I am losing sleep over this.  I suppose that in itself is my answer.
May as well put on the coffee.  It's going to be a long day.

Friday, August 5, 2011


Parenthood does not expire.  18 is not the magic age at which time you no longer must care about your children. It is not like a marriage.  There are no vows taken and then taken away~  It is not like having a pet that you discard once you tire of it and the responsibility.  And if you get hurt, you don't burn the bridges that you helped to create even though it may already be ablaze on the other end.  You be the wiser one, the mentor... and you give that child the space and time to grow up and learn but you keep that door open in the case they should ever need to walk through it to you again.
You be a parent.
And parenthood never expires~