I did it again, huh? I mean to write, but the days just drift by aimlessly, like tufts of dandelion fluff in the breeze. I have been exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. Going to bed at 8:30 most nights. Idling on AIM, forgetting I even had the computer on. Still feeling tired in the morning. Antisocial. Escape-oriented. I don’t like when I start feeling this way. It usually means the beginning of a sharp downward spiral. I am not in any shape to fight one of those right now.
In any case, not too much has been going on. The kids already went trick-or-treating. Strange thing about this particular small town, they have arrangements to trick-or-treat on Sunday night from 5-7, usually before Halloween. It actually works out quite well for me this year though, since I have my parenting class on Thursday nights, and I am actually enjoying it, so I would have hated to miss it.
Donovan was Bob the Builder. Too darn cute. Gregory was something he found called the “Iron Man,” basically just a black robe and a mask that appeared to be made out of stone. Quite original amid all the endless Scream masks. It was chilly out on Sunday, but not unbearably so. There was a sense of community as we strolled down the street. Most people were outside on their porches or steps, awaiting the children. Donovan was SO excited, he kept strutting along, his bucket gradually dangling lower and lower beneath the mother lode of candy, yelling “Weet! Weet!” (Trick-or-treat, of course!) At one point, we passed a kid of about 6 or so, wearing a Michael Myers mask. Oh, man, that totally freaked poor Donovan out. He was shaking, and the whole time after that he would say, “Mask?” “No more mask, Donovan. It’s all gone.” “No mo mask?” “No, baby, it’s all gone.” “OK, all gone. Whew!” LoL….so funny what kids pick to be frightened of, because I KNOW he has never seen any of those movies before. But it WAS a pretty freakishly realistic-looking mask.
I also applied for school last Friday. Probably the singular most frightening thing I have done so far in my life. Even more scary than leaving my ex, I think. It’s not really the point of thinking I can get in, or being able to do the work if I DO get in. It’s more the financial aspect of it. I have some loans in default, where they have been for many years. I have been in denial about them, running away from dealing with them, terrified of them. And of course, they have been blocking all my efforts to better myself, so I avoid them even harder. Silly, I know, but it is so hard to overcome a defense mechanism that has been a lifetime in the making. I run away from everything. Relationships. Communication. Friends. Debt. So…trying again is costing me. And it might not even work out. I have been making tentative inquiries at the loan agencies, figuring out where my loans are now being held, that sort of thing. I really DO want to pay. But I am SO not good at double-talk, fast-talk, and all those other tricks debt collectors like to play. I am too honest. Too easily intimidated. Too willing to give up. Give in. Cave. I hate that about myself. Among other things.
Don’t know what my point is, other than I have been rather stupidly attempting to spare all of you, and myself as well, all of my negative emotions and the foul spillage of bitter words that drip out of my keyboard like acid tears. But the more I keep them inside, the more they burn my soul, the more they clamour to be let out in less savory ways, with caustic words and days full of irate feelings. Sometimes I feel like the feelings have no outlet, that they will just burn me from the inside out, until there is nothing left. And sometimes I want them to.

Penned by: Tricia | 5 Comments »

Have you ever been in love
Been in love so bad
You’d do anything
To make them understand
Have you ever had someone
Steal your heart away
And you’d give anything
To make them feel the same
Have you ever searched for words
To get you in their heart
But you don’t know what to say
And you don’t know where to start
Have you ever found someone
You dreamt of all your life
You’d do just about anything
To look into their eyes
Have you finally found the one
You’ve given your heart to
Only to find that one
Won’t give their heart to you
Have you ever closed your eyes
And dreamt that they were there
And all you can do is wait
For the day when they will care
Have you ever loved somebody
Have you ever loved somebody so much
It makes you cry
Have you ever needed something so bad
You can’t sleep at night
Have you ever tried to find the words
But they don’t come out right
Have you ever, have you ever
~Brandy
No. That’s not about my ex. It’s a whole other story. Maybe one day I’ll be able to tell it.
This morning when I woke up, I looked out my window and my jaw must have dropped clear to the ground. It was snowing. Not just light, delicate flakes like faeries dancing on the edge of forever, but heavy, sticky flakes, blanketing the land and weighing down the branches of trees so that they bent under the strain. And even as I admire the beauty and grace of the falling splendor, I am faced with the prospect of travelling down the road to the school with not only Gregory, but Donovan, too. Let me tell you, this winter will NOT be a fun one for me. Almost a mile in falling snow, worrying every step of the way if the baby is covered enough with the blanket, making sure his hands are warm enough because he doesn’t have gloves yet, wondering if Gregory has warm enough clothes on, fretting because neither one of them have winter boots yet, and I can’t afford them right now. By the time I got home, there was well over an inch of snow on the ground. In OCTOBER.
OK, so maybe I am a worry-wart, but these kids are all I have, all that gets me out of bed every morning, and even the slightest prospect of something happening to them, even an illness, fills me with such dread that my mind shies away from the thoughts. I couldn’t bear it.
And walking with those kids this morning, even though it sounds weird, just kind of brought home to me how truly ALONE I am now. No one to leave the baby with so I can take Gregory to school when the weather is bad. No one to snuggle with under the covers while the snow works its magic outside the frosty glass.
And being alone always brings thoughts of that other, the one that has never been able to be replaced, no matter how hard I try. The one that I love so much it makes me cry, and have loved for so long it’s as if he has always been a part of my heart. And I wonder what HE is doing. And I wish things could be different. Again. And sometimes I hate the fact that I can call him up anytime I want to and talk to him, knowing that he cares about me, but not the way I wish. And I hate myself for wishing for what cannot be, and hope against hope that my heart would just LISTEN to me and cease the madness, so that I can enjoy what we DO have. Have you ever felt that way?
Oh, and pick a button, any button.

Penned by: Tricia | 6 Comments »

I keep telling myself I need to make more of an effort to write here. The days fade away, the words strain against the wall of my mind, then abruptly give up and retreat. The kids get put to bed, darkness and quiet envelop me in their peaceful embrace, sleep beckons, and the last few valiantly struggling words disappear into a field of fluffy placid sheep.
Then as I lie there in bed, the words return, ramming up against my psyche like cars in a traffic jam during major construction. I guess that’s what I view myself as lately – “under construction.” The bricks of my self-esteem have been broken and carted away under cover of darkness, and I am embarking on a long and arduous journey across the world of dreams to find them and bring them home, where I can lovingly spread the new mortar upon them for protection, and piece them together carefully, so that all the chinks are filled.
As I prepare for my journey, I contemplate what will be needed along the way. Courage for sustenance. A cloak of strength. Boots full of assertiveness. Clarity upon my head like a crown. A strong tea of love, to warm me when the nights get cold. Peace in my bag that I can take out and revel in, contemplate. And I need all of you on my journey as well. For companionship, friendship, encouragement, fortitude, joy.
The journey will be long, the map nonexistant. Over seemingly insurmountable mountains deep within banks of dark gloomy clouds, where the wind whispers of things best left forgotten. Through thick intertwined jungle vines, rife with thorns. Over dark waters churned up by some unimaginable creature. The supplies will seem to diminish to the point of endangering the survival of the party. When I first heard about this journey, I refused to go. I thought, surely this is impossible. No one could emerge unscathed. Now…I am beginning to feel that, no matter how long the journey will take, even thought it will probably take the rest of my life, the rewards are infinite, the risk more than worth it, the self-esteem and self-worth to be gained unequalled. And so, if you will, come along, and wish me luck.
Well. I don’t really know what the heck that all was. :LOL: Maybe another way for me to look at this journey I call my life. A different way to view it, a little more hopeful, rather than having myself play the evil monster that has to be vanquished every time. Maybe…I can be the heroine for once.
I’m still feeling a bit out of sorts, stressed. I went to a parenting class last night, mostly for the contact with others, the networking, but also to reinforce what I already know about how I should be handling things, but right now those skills seem to be drowning under the waves of depression and fear and stress, so that I become a screaming lunatic far more often that I feel comfortable with. It seems like a pretty nice class, there are a few ladies in similar situations to myself, and other ones completely different, but al in all we were an extremely chatty group. The amazing thing was, Donovan actually STAYED with the caregivers downstairs for an hour and a half, and didn’t scream once! He DID run to Gregory in the next room one time, but only for a few minutes, then he went back to play. This bodes pretty well, I think, for when I start calling around to see if there are any daycare or Headstart programs with openings.
As for my “donation jar,” in case anyone was wondering, I have recieved $100 so far, and I cried like a baby in gratitude. Kari was kind enough to make me a button, so if you wish to take it and put it on your site, please feel free. I think there are a few more colors that she made, but she hasn’t sent them to me yet. :whatever:

Oh, and one last thing. I finally added a new skin!

I hadn’t felt much like designing lately, plus with my computer laboring the way it has been, designing the way I WANT to has been difficult. But I managed a small creation that I think came out well. Try it! I hope you like it.

Penned by: Tricia | 10 Comments »

They say that everything in life has a price. And I’m not talking about a monetary price. I am talking about an emotional price. For every bit of growth we achieve, we pay a price in return. Painful memories. Hurt feelings. Lost friendships. Shame. Guilt. Anger. Fear. A broken heart. For the most part, the growth that comes with the pain overrides it, makes it worthwhile. And I guess that’s why we continue to grow. If it wasn’t worth it to us, we would still be the same people we were a year ago, 10 years ago, even a week ago. And how many of us can truly say that?
But sometimes, the growth gets stunted by the pain. Either from a bad experience, or many of them, or from an inordinate fear of failure or rejection. And sometimes that part of us that gets stunted becomes impervious to growth, stuck in a comfortable, SAFE rut that, over time, seems nearly impossible to climb back out of, and hardly worth the effort, since, so far, it has WORKED.
I have such a growth problem. It surrounds the issue of asking for help. I hate to do it. For ANY reason. My insides bunch up, my palms sweat, my heart races, and the certainty of rejection and ridicule and disdain pecks at my brain like the crow of a dark omen. I didn’t become this way overnight. Many, many incidents have contributed to the fear and anxiety and “underhanded” way I have developed to ask for help without feeling like I am really asking.
When I was being sexually abused as a child, I asked for help. I was called a liar. By the perpetrator, by the psychiatrist, by my own mother. When my mother changed her mind and believed me several years later, it helped me some. Until I found out it was all a selfish plot on her part to get money, not a genuine love for me that prompted her change of heart. I asked for help with homework, and got called stupid. I had a brief problem with shoplifting as a young teenager, and I asked for help. I got called a loser. I can still remember the very last time I asked for help with the feeling of confidence that I would be. I was 17 years old, only a few weeks away from leaving home for college. I happened to be at my boyfriend’s house, and had too much to drink. I called my mother, told her there was no way I would be able to drive home, and could she either pick me up, or I would just sleep it off there. She seemed ok with me sleeping it off. I knew she was angry, and I never thought she wouldn’t be, and never imagined I wouldn’t be punished, but I never thought she would be cruel. I thought calling and staying safe was the right thing to do. See, my boyfriend was black. Well, ALL of my boyfriends have been. And she didn’t like that much. When I woke up the next day, I found out that she had reported my car stolen. A report was in the newspaper. I went home to talk to her, and she was waiting for me. Told me to give her the keys, because she had already sold my car. I really couldn’t even believe it. I thought sure she was joking. She wasn’t. I started walking towards my room. She basically tackled me, pulling my hair, and grabbed the keys. There went my car. I had to call my job and tell them I quit because I had no way to get there. A few days later, my mother was stil not talking to me. It was only about a week and a half before it was time for me to leave for college. I started feeling really sick. The next day, I could barely even get up out of bed. My back hurt, and my head felt like it was on fire. Unfortunately, there was no medicine in the house at the time other than Tylenol, which didn’t do much. That night, my fever rose, I really don’t know how high, but I do know I was hallucinating a bit off and on, and my teeth were chattering out of control, despite having three blankets on. I guess my teeth must have been chattering really loudly, because all the sudden my mother burst into my room. “Shut up, I can’t even sleep through all your noise,” she said. I told her I was really sick, could she please help me, I needed medicine, and I couldn’t get it myself without a car. She told me to get it myself, and shut up in the meantime, cause she didn’t care anymore about my stupid lies. I called a friend the next day who was nice enough to bring me some medicine, and the symptoms subsided. Turns out what I had had was an acute kidney infection, because just a few weeks later it flared up again, and I was afraid to go to the doctor, and my roomates found me and literally had to drag me down to the clinic. By that time, it took two doses of antibiotic to get rid of it, and it very nearly became a chronic issue for me.
Since that day, it has been nearly impossible for me to ask for help without feeling hesitant, ashamed, mortified, weak. There have been other things that have happened since then that have only cemented my feelings. Although some of them were probably caused in part by my “new” defensive way of asking for help. Of using subtlety and talking around the subject, making the person guess at what it is I want instead of just asking directly and risk rejection, ridicule, or worse. That’s part of the reason it took me so long to leave my abusive situation, is that I didn’t feel like I deserved the help, and if I asked I would just be rejected and have to stay anyway. In fact, one of the staff at the shelter basically did tell me she didn’t think I should be there. Luckily for me, for the most part I got a much better reception, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here today, safe and moving upward bit by bit.
OK, um, the few of you who have been brave enough to read through all that are probably now wondering what the HECK the point of all this is. I think I have worked my way up to it now. OK. I need help. (OK, that was a bit difficult, but not devastating.)
This month, my computer is six years old. I wonder every day whether it will make it much longer. The only upgrades I have ever really been able to afford to do on it have been getting a bit more memory (have 48 megs now instead of 16) and I had to buy an external modem when the internal one went kaput. Before I left my boyfriend, I had nearly $1,000 saved up towards a new one from all the daycare I was doing. One of the hardest things for me being in the shelter was watching that money dwindle away. It was $200 a month just to keep my stuff in storage (this was the only unit they had available, even though I didn’t really need one that big). The baby had no winter clothes to speak of, so towards the end of the summer I had to start getting him things, and I had to buy Gregory some things for school, since although I planned to leave, I didn’t plan on being in a different state far away from all of his winter clothing that I had stored away. So here I am, all my hard-earned money gone, and my computer just barely cranking out enough speed to keep up with my typing. Before I left I was also beginning to try my hand at freelance web design as an additional source of income, although I used my boyfriend’s computer a lot for that, because it was much better than mine. I am also trying to get into the community college here for web design. So here is my dilemma. What I REALLY wanted to do was pay for a new computer on my own, but although my credit has improved to the point where they didn’t turn me down flat for the loan this time, I would need a cosigner. Unfortunately for me, while I am blessed with some of the best friends a person could ever want, and all of them were more than willing, they were not able to help me in this manner, although, for the record, they HAVE been wonderful enough to help with the free hosting of this site, and for the time being, with internet access so that I can be here with everyone. I am on a VERY fixed income of about $429 a month right now, so without this help it would be virtually impossible for me to be online. So, my friends suggested I try setting up a Paypal account and asking people to donate. Oh, how I agonized over this. I would NEVER want people to say I am taking advantage, or just out there trying to get money from people. I am NOT like that, and this is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, I think. But, as one of my dearest friends once said, pride, one of those pesky deadly sins, has no place here.
If you feel moved to donate something that might help, I would be grateful from the bottom of my heart. If not, I would still be grateful that you even took the time out of your day to read about this. Besides, without you guys reading me, I am basically just a looney, lonely lady typing to myself. And I appreciate ALL of you so much. I guess I need to make my own button for this soon, but for now, if you DO want to help out, here’s the link.

Penned by: Tricia | 17 Comments »

I don’t know why I haven’t been blogging these past several days. Maybe I hit a block like Anitra. Maybe I just really haven’t had anything to say. I can’t even tell you. I do know that I have hit a bit of a slump, mood-wise, this past week. The sheer pleasure of FINALLY being by myself, without a bazillion people all around me in every room, and almost as many staff people peering over my shoulder, watching me, has begun to wear off, I think. The shock of once again being on my own, sleeping by myself, being able to feel comfortable in my own space, has begun to be replaced with loneliness, doubt, fear, and some more things that I can’t quite put a name too, yet.
Maybe I shouldn’t be feeling this way? Maybe I should just be happy I get a new chance at life? Of course I AM those things, but I can’t stop those other feelings from creeping in. All my life it seems, people have been telling me I won’t amount to anything. And I have been doing nothing but proving them right. How does one go about turning around an entire life’s projected course? Yeah, I don’t know either.
Sorry to be so morose. Hopefully it’s a passing thing. Anyway, on the GOOD side, the kids seem to be adjusting a bit better. Gregory wants to join the chess club. He is so dang smart. *beams* He also might start doing Cub Scouts. I’m not so sure, though, I don’t want him to be stretched too thin, but at the same time I know it’s good for him to stay busy, to get things back to normal. Donovan is now very much into coloring (“MY crayon-marker!” – yes, he does call every writing instrument a ‘crayon-marker’), playing outside (“MY stick! MY swing! MY coat!!”), Playhouse Disney (“Wiggles, Mama, look! Do da nooda-dance! Wiggles on? MY Wiggles!”) and cleaning (“MY mop, MY weep(sweep)! MY ponge(sponge)! Help, Mama?”) Yeah…every day is an adventure. :LOL: One thing I am very happy about is that I am beginning to be able to ENJOY the adventure again…slowly, but it is happening.

Penned by: Tricia | 6 Comments »

I have finally lost my freaking mind! :LOL:

Penned by: Tricia | 6 Comments »

I am So sorry if you think I am shrugging you off. I NEVER meant things to come across in that way.
[*Rest of post deleted 10-3-02*]
[Edit]
And now I feel like even more of a dork for the bit of misunderstanding. It was never my intention to make people mad at this person, or for them to e-mail her telling her what a bad person she is. I’m not nor have I ever been angry at her, in fact, I love her so much that I felt hurt thinking that I had hurt HER feelings. And that’s all. I thank everyone for their support of me, but I never meant to make a federal case of this at ALL, I just wanted to get my feelings out here. And I have, and the case is now closed, and my Phira-girl is still one of my dearest friends, and everyone go visit her and tell her what a wonderful person she is for still wanting to be MY friend. [/Edit]

Penned by: Tricia | 2 Comments »