Things that need to be said

9 07 2008
  • You are beautiful. Song cliche and all.
  • Sometimes you just don’t know when to stop do you? For someone so thoughtful, you just don’t realize when you are being insensitive do you? Do you? Maybe you do, and you don’t care.
  • If there is anything to take from all of this, know that your strength amazes me.
  • Your children do not deserve to grow up wondering why Mommy is sad all the time. This will effect them. More than anything you might do to him.
  • Do you know how much I admire you? I don’t think I tell you enough.
  • Happiness, in our lifetime, is something we need to find and hold on to. If you don’t have it, you know you don’t have it. Go find it.
  • You ARE full of grace. Please don’t let anyone take that away from you.
  • I really hate you. I wish you picked up on that. Too bad for me I’m not the type of person to make it THAT obvious.
  • If you feel a sense of dread going home, or knowing someone is coming home, then that is NOT home. That’s an open door prison. I’m speaking from experience.
  • I’m not telling you to leave him. I’m telling you to find your happy. You take the steps to get there.
  • NO ONE shits sunshine and rainbows, no matter how hard they try to make you believe it. Don’t measure your self worth to the people that try to make you believe that. I bet they have the DARKEST of secrets.
  • I wish I could walk a day in your shoes.
  • Do you know how insanely sexy you can be?
  • You were right about the music, it does say a lot.
  • You really need to knock off your shit, its already old and so many people are OVER it. Move on…
  • I love you. For you, for all of it.

If you think this applies to you, then maybe it does. Even if its not directly from me. If you see your life in any of these black bullets, I suggest you ask yourself why. Don’t bother trying to figure out who I mean. If you think too hard about it, you might figure out that I AM talking about you. Got anything to add?? Go for it. The comment section is all yours.

*Polls closed for the badge. It’s obvious that #3 won. I’ll post sizes and stuff once I get off my ass and ask MomBabe to do some tweaking for me.

Southern California

26 10 2007

As anyone who reads knows, I live in Southern California. As anyone with a TV knows, Southern California is currently going through another fire season. The air is thick with smoke and it sits heavily on top of us. I’ve been fighting off a sore throat since Monday night and it was only today that I actually connected it with the fact that I literally live in a punchbowl, and the smoke from the surrounding fires is acting as the punch.

This picture was taken on Monday the 22nd on my way home from work. The smoke was coming from the fire that was burning in San Bernardino near the University, and also from the fires in Arrowhead.
This is what was left of the hillsides near the University.

That picture was taken on Wednesday the 24th, no less than 15 miles from where SBJ goes to school and now lives. His school was evacuated Monday afternoon as a safety precaution. He just thought it was cool to ride the bus. The great thing about his school is that they are the first to leave the area in the event of a fire. His town got lucky this year, as portions of the surrounding areas burned starting Sunday, and very luckily being controlled and put out by Tuesday. He got extra lucky though because his school closed for the week, starting his vacation early. He is off track the whole month of November and today was supposed to be his last day.

Monday was the last time that we could see these mountains clearly.

Now they are completely hidden behind smoke.

The wind was so severe that fire spread within minutes. Huge trucks tipped. Trailers were literally ripped apart. Trees broken and scattered across the highways.

Now the wind is gone and the smoke has settled. Schools are still closed. People of all ages are having trouble breathing. Sports are cancelled and are being rescheduled. No soccer for SBJ tomorrow. Football stadiums, usually filled to capacity on a Friday night sit empty. When I wake up in the morning, I cant tell if its early morning fog, or smoke that blocks the sun. When it doesnt burn off by 11, I know its still smoke.

So we wait. We wait for the fearless men and women who are out there, day and night, to finish their jobs. Those fires will go out. The wind will pick up again and blow all this smoke out to the ocean. We’ll remember how it feels to breathe deeply again. And we will rebuild. If there is anything that California can do, its help each other move forward. We wont sit on our asses and feel sorry for one another. We will get out our brooms, our tools, and we will be back on our feet.

Its amazing how life continues on while our little part of the state is being ravaged by fire. I still go to work. Rura still does what he has to do. Today he had to take part in the hardest job of all. The words are hard for me even to type because I dont feel like I can do them any justice. Rialto, California lost one of its finest last week. He was doing his job and he didn’t come home to his wife and two kids. He was only 29 years old. He was working with his SWAT team, right along side the very post Rura will someday work for. Right along side one of Rura’s mentor’s. We aren’t married and he isnt a paid employee for that station, but it feels as if we have lost family. It became reality. Going with Rura to get his post’s mourning bands, which block their sheilds, was reality. Having him sleeping next to me and only knowing that today was “so sad” for him. It’s reality. It’s the life we choose. And days like today will not be our last.

Rest in Peace Officer Carrera. You will forever be one of Rialto’s finest, and will forever be in the hearts of every officer before, and after you.

And hang in there So Cal. We’ll breathe deeply together when the smoke clears.

Call it an epiphany if you will

16 10 2007

My head and my heart have been a big jumbley mess for the past few days. I’ve been feeling so down and out and to be honest, I am really ashamed of myself. I have always prided myself on being up, on being cheery, even in the face of all the things that have gone wrong in my life. The reason for this is that I realized something a long time ago: Being happy is much better than being sad. And its up to ME to make myself happy. So I should just do that.

But at a time when I was at my lowest and really struggling with making myself happy, I met someone. (That’s him, up there, next to my name at the top) Someone who changed my life. He took that burden from my shoulders. He made me happy and I didn’t have to work so hard at it.

But that’s young love and infatuation. And you know what? It wears off. Shocking I know. I have not had to work so hard at being happy for almost two years. I’m not saying that Rura has dropped the ball in anyway. It’s just that people change. They grow. We have gotten to a place in our relationship where we are not as co-dependent on each other. At least, he isn’t.

And you know what? I don’t like it. I have been struggling with the thought that he just doesn’t need me as much as I think I need him. This has created so many feelings inside of me of being inadequate, of not being good enough, of not being exactly what he needs to make it through each day. And I myself have made him those things that I need to get through the day. I stare at my phone and will it to ring. It doesn’t. I struggle with picking it up to call him because lets face it – if he doesn’t need me enough to call me, why should I force him to talk to me when he really doesn’t want to? I turn thoughts over and over in my head thinking that I must be doing something wrong, or being a person I don’t want to be, enough so in fact that he doesn’t want me.

Then it hit me. Today, out of the blue. In the midst of all these crazy thoughts. On a day when I couldn’t make it an hour or so without allowing tears to slip down my cheeks.

None of that is true. He loves me. He wants to spend his life with me. But guess what? I am not his life. And that’s OK. I am a part of his life. I am part of the moments that he remembers and smiles about. The problem I have had the most is accepting that I am not his whole life. Because when we first met, I was. When we first started seeing each other, I was. Now, he has real responsibilities. A real job. A real career that he wants to pursue.  He’s made these choices for his life. And the reality is that he has discussed all these choices with me before pursuing them because it is OUR life together that these things will effect. He respects me that much. So its time I start respecting that too.

I haven’t been. Respecting him that is. He tries so hard to put up with me and he does a fabulous job. But why should he have to “put up” with anything I do? Why can’t I accept him for who he is and what he chooses to do? I’m selfish. But I want to change. I want to be better. I want to be the person that he cares for and doesn’t put up with.

This weekend he was out of town. He was doing what he had to do to get to his chosen career path. He wants to be in law enforcement. Preparing for that means weekends away competing in the Central Coast Law Enforcement Explorer Competition. It means being able to come home proud of your accomplishments. And accomplish he did. First place in the individual agility event. Beating out 55 or so other groups of people all competing for the same thing. He did that. He was #1. He helped put his post on the map. That is the second award he has received working with his post. And that makes me so fucking proud, I don’t even know what to say. That makes me so fucking ashamed for being angry that he didn’t call me ONE night that he was up there. Why? Because him and his post were patting themselves on the back for a job well done. They earned it. And I’m THAT girlfriend that freaks about a phone call.

It’s things like this that I have been doing lately that make me ashamed to be THAT kind of person. So I’m going to stop, put myself in check and support him. Which is exactly what I should have been doing without negativity. Without making him feel guilty.

So honey,
I’m sorry. For acting like an asshole. For not being what I should have been for a while now. You have to go on a ride along? Go. I’ll be here when you are done. I’ll see you when I can. I’ll love you when I don’t. I’ll love you until it’s all said and done. And even beyond that. You cant get rid of me that easily! I’m trying my hardest. And I’ll try even harder for you.
Your SC
P.S. Thank you for this and this. You have no idea how happy both those things makes me. You are the bestest.

Not feelin’ it

15 10 2007

I dont feel much like posting today.

The weekend SUCKED. Disneyland was fun. Except the part where I realized I was fat. That was not so fun. But we can talk about that later.

As for the whole “Rura’s out of town” fiasco, lets just say this: My boyfriend deserves a fucking gold medal for putting up with me.

I should either be committed or become an alcoholic. Then I can just blame myself on a disease, rather than the fact that I am an insecure asshole.

Dear Self,

Grow a freakin pair and suck it up already!!


I’ll post about Disneyland with some pretty pictures some time this week? Hang in there… I’ll be back to normal hopefully tomorrow.

Stop the Abuse

27 09 2007

Abuse can be described in so many ways. None of them are pretty. Today I’m choosing to write about my personal experiencestop abuse with abuse. Why? Because maybe someone out there reading this is going through the same thing I did. Maybe they are in denial and think that what is happening to them isn’t abuse. Maybe they can see that they CAN get past this, that they CAN survive this. I did. This isn’t going to be pretty or pleasant to read. Abuse isn’t. But it is the facts as I remember them and it did happen to me.

From the age of around 15, I was verbally and physically abused by my boyfriend. I would eventually become his wife. The abuse that I received progressed slowly. I fell in love (well what I believed loved to be at that time) and once he knew that I was in love, he completely changed. He began with the verbal abuse, making comments here and there that I was fat, ugly, stupid, a moron, a slut, and my personal favorite: worthless. The physical abuse started a little later, when he learned that he could verbally abuse me and I wouldn’t fight back. He started with pinching the inside of my legs if we were sitting next to each other and I was saying something he didn’t like. Usually it was something that he thought I would make him look stupid over. It was always things like that. Anything that I said would usually set him off so eventually I just stopped giving out my opinion on things.

Once while I was still in high school and he was home on leave from the Navy, we kinda broke up over the phone. I had boxed up all his stuff and when he told me he was going to come get it the next morning, I left it sitting on my front porch. My parents had left for work and I was getting ready to take the bus when he showed up. He started banging on my front door and I really thought he was going to break it down so I opened it. He barged into the house and chased me upstairs. He didn’t like what I was wearing so he ripped my shirt down the middle. I remember him pressing me up against the wall with his hands wrapped around my neck. I was screaming so loud that the bus driver heard me from down the street. I managed to get to the phone and call the police but I hung up before I gave them my address. Once I hung that phone up, he let me go and sat on my bed defeated. He told me that I had ruined his Navy career and basically, ruined his life. The police came and handcuffed him and took him to the back of their cruiser. He stared at me from the back of the cop car and shook his head at me. I told them it was a mistake and they chastised me for making the call. They allowed him to drive me to school.

The only time that I was safe from this was when I was pregnant. Once my son was born, it started up again except now, I was a bad mom. I couldn’t do anything right when it came to our son. I don’t remember a lot of that time. Sleep deprivation will do that to a person. I know it didn’t get better. He had started to hit me, but he never left bruises. I would compliment on that talent during my braver moments.

Things just progressed from bad to worse. I guess as I got older, I stopped caring as much. I fought back sometimes but of course, never won. I pretended that I had been knocked out when he threw me to the ground and picked my head up and slammed it on the floor of our laundry room. He proceeded to slap me in the face a few times and eventually just dragged me outside and put my head in the dog bowl of water while he turned the hose on me to wake me up. I don’t even remember what we were arguing about. The last time that I threatened to leave and actually started to pack, he got angry and decided not to let me. He ended up stripping all my clothes off and laying on top of me for two hours until I “changed my mind”. He stripped me so that I couldn’t run away.

When it was bad, it was bad. I would literally just turn my brain off and wander away. I would think about something else, in the last year, my thoughts would go to Rura the most. I would think about something fun I did with my son. I would think about being in Rura’s arms or laughing with him about something silly. The power of his love and my love for my son is what saved my life. In my darkest of moments, I tried to figure out which would be easier: killing him, or killing myself. I planned his funeral in my head and told myself that I would never cry. There were times when he would go out at night drinking with his friends and I would pray that he wouldn’t come home and I honestly didn’t care what happened to him.

Abuse is powerful. Its hate in its purest of forms. And the worst thing is that it comes in so many different forms: animal, child, elderly, self, I could go on and on. This is why I blogged today. I didn’t do it for attention. I didn’t do it for anything other than awareness. Its not fun to remember these things. It still feels humiliating. Its embarrassing. It’s something I would never in a million years wish on anyone. But it did happen to me. And I hope that talking about it will help someone.

So that’s my story in a nutshell. If you think that you might be in this similar situation in any way shape or form, please visit the the website for The National Domestic Violence Hotline. Because guess what? YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

If you posted today about abuse, please leave me your link. I’ve read some heartbreaking and inspiring stories today.


25 09 2007

As a kid, I was very close to my dad’s parents.  I stayed with them a lot while my parents took classes at night to get their degrees. I was there every weekend for Saturday “taco nights”. I was there grandparentspractically all summer while my mom taught summer school. I loved being there because well, I was spoiled rotten. I am 1 of 7 grand-kids. My dad’s brother had the first born and I came second. All 3 of my dad’s brothers have two kids and my dad was the only one who ended up with 1 (Moi). Now that we are all grown up and both my grandparents have passed, its easily said amongst the family that I was “the favorite”. It’s true. I was. I was the only one that got a nick name. See that title up there? Doesn’t that prove it? I’m not going to lie, I was a spoiled brat growing up but I was totally cute so it makes it ok. Either way, loosing those two people there nearly killed me too. My grandpa passed when I was 9 and my grandma when I was 21. I don’t remember a lot about my grandpa but he visits once in awhile so I know he is ok and he knows that I am doing just fine too.

This weekend, while my mom’s sister was visiting from Alabama, we got to talking about our trip to Washington, where I met my Aunt Louise for the first time. It was the first time that my dad met his older sister. I wrote about the events leading up to this, but I never wrote about the trip. At the time, I was too emotional. Over a year later, I still get a lump in my throat when I think about that trip.

My Aunt L was literally cut from the mold of a mother she never knew. She is the spitting image of my grandmother. When she talks, she moves her hands in the way grandma did. When she speaks, she sounds just like her. She decorates her home the way my grandma did. They have the same laugh. When we were getting ready to take some group pictures, she got some lipstick out of her purse. I happened to be standing there talking to her when she did this. Her lipstick was the same exact shade of coral pink that my grandma used to wear. She even puckered her lips after she put it on. Before we came back to California, Aunt L pulled me to the side and handed me a ring. It has a large turquoise stone on it. She told me that it was one of her favorite pieces of jewelry and that she wanted me to have it so that I would not forget her. My grandma LOVED turquoise jewelry and when she passed, it got boxed up and I haven’t seen it since. She would have had no idea of that. She would have had no idea of any of the things that made her so much like my grandma, the mother she never knew. There were so many things like this over the course of 3 days. One example is when looking through old albums, there was a picture of Aunt L looking over her shoulder, with her back to the camera. We have the same exact picture of my grandma doing the same exact pose. They look like sisters. Another example: the day my Aunt L was adopted by the family that raised her was EXACTLY one day before my dad was born. All these coincidents still give me goosebumps.

When we were talking about all of this with my mom’s mom and sister (I’m not using grandma and aunt in the hopes that I don’t confuse anyone, even myself) they realized something themselves. Growing up, my dad’s mom and mom’s mom shared a property. Dad’s mom had the house in the back, and mom’s mom the house in the front. I had it great, I could see both grandma’s in one day. But someone didn’t like to share. My mom’s mom mentioned that whenever my grandma would go to the store or step out while she was watching me, my mom’s mom would offer to watch me. My grandma always refused. They both agreed that my grandma was VERY possessive of me.  This can only be explained that maybe, just maybe, that was her way of coping with her choices to give up her daughter. That might be why I was so favored. That might be why out of 7 kids, I was the only always sent to “you go ask grandma, she’ll always give you what you want.” It makes perfect sense. And I dont think it means she loved me less. To me, it means she loved me more. I was her “do-over”, her chance to prove to herself that she could have raised her daughter. And you know what? She would have been a great mom to my Aunt L. Because she was a wonderful grandma to me.

Me and Aunt Louise 2006. Please excuse my greasy face and unflattering shirt.
Previous picture was taken around 1989? I was making my first communion.

Fantasy vs. Reality

18 09 2007

I would love to make everyone think that me and Rura are a perfect couple. I wish I could tell you that it’s all sushine and fucking rainbows over here. I wish we could be that sick and sweet. But we aren’t. Are you shocked? Ehh… probably not. Everyone has problems right?

For us, we have blow outs. We dont fight every day. We dont critize each other and actually mean it. We bicker over stupid stuff and are constantly reminding each other to chill or forget about something stupid. But we have blow outs. Thinking  back, we seem to have one about once every month. To prove this, I can actually name the dates of our last few. June 13th. July 27th. August 24th. And now, September 17th.

Just thinking back on those dates, I feel sick to my stomach. First it was the ex, then me smothering him, then me taking up his time and making him choose what he wants to do over being with me. And now, I guess, me taking advantage of his love.

The thing is, I dont feel like I do that. In my heart, I am so grateful for him in my life. He has changed me in ways I can’t even describe. He makes me a better person. Except sometimes, I loose it. I completely loose my cool and get so angry and when I get angry, I do stupid things and say stupid things and well, just act stupid.

I want to live that fantasy. I want it so bad. I don’t want to be suspicious of him because he will not even let me touch his phone. I want us to get home and for him to set his phone next to mine and not think about it for the rest of the time we are together. Thats what I do. Why cant he? That gets me thinking that he is hiding something from me. I speak from experience because when I was with the ex, my phone was literally attached to me. I used to sleep with it in my hand and my hand under my pillow. Because I did have something to hide.

I know deep down inside that he is faithful to me. I know that. I just get so scared of loosing something that is so important to me that I act out in irrational ways. And in reality, isn’t that the quickest way to loose something?

I went to bed last night not knowing what today would bring. We hung up with him telling me that he was frustrated and did not want to talk to me anymore, that he just wanted to go to bed. I told him that if he was there with me, none of this would be happening. He said that its easier to tell me this over the phone. That frustrates ME because what can I do other than hang up? When I talked to him this morning, he didn’t mention anything other than to ask me if there was something wrong with me. I fear what I should tell him. Should I be honest and say that I woke up with a migrane and a sore jaw from clenching it in my sleep? No… some things are better left unsaid. He did ask me if I was going to yell at him. Because thats what I do. Thats what he thinks I do.

I don’t want to be that person. I did not think that I was. I dont know what to do or even how to act. I know that once I see him, it will be like none of this ever happened. I have the choice of bringing it up but at that point, I will be so grateful for him just being him again, that I wont. Next month, something else will cause the blow out. And I will again be in this place that I fear. I’m scared to breathe, to speak, not knowing if my actions will set off another reaction.

Why do I feel so responsible? HE should take some of that burden too! But I wont ask him to. I’ll carry it with me and  try to get us back to our fantasy. Because honestly, its good there. Its fucking fantastic there. Here in reality, its just gray. I hate being there. I lived there and I never want to go back.