My horoscope for today...

Saturday, Feb 5th, 2011 -- You may have thought that you would be ready for change no matter what happens, but you grow more contemplative as the day wears on. You know that you should be thankful for certain aspects of your life, yet you also are too aware of those things that still need improvement. Nevertheless, don't focus on what's wrong; concentrate on all the little things that you could do to continue your personal growth.

I know these things are written in general terms that can apply to just about anyone's life. And that they are meant for pure entertainment. However, I am often struck at how spot on they are for me. It's a little eerie to be honest with you. And today's was no different.

I really believed, for the longest time, that I was ready for the upcoming changes in my life. I've spent the better part of the last year convincing myself that I really do want a divorce. The truth is... I don't. I want my life back. I want to stop feeling like everything is crumbling around me.

I want to stop crying at the slightest provocation. Some stupid commercial comes on and I find myself sobbing. I come across some memento and I'm sniffling and reaching for the tissues. I've stopped listening to music all together. Including my beloved Kenny Chesney. Especially him. Because just about every one of his songs has some meaning for me and I'm a puddle of tears before the first chorus. So I drive in silence and my iPod sits unused in my lap top bag.

I know on a logical level that my marriage is over. Too many things have been said and done for us to turn back now. It would take years for either of us to trust the other again if that were even possible. It would take endless strength to look past the things that we've both done to hurt one another in the last year. Yes, I'm as guilty as he is. And though most of the things I said and did were in retaliation for things he said and did it doesn't change the fact that they happened. Nor does that make me blameless.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss him. That I didn't miss "us".

People tell me "You'll find someone again someday." And that's possible but whoever that person may be they're going to have one tough customer on their hands. I have completely lost the ability to trust. Something I never was really good at in the first place. But now? Now I see all men as the enemy. None of them is worthy of my trust or love. I know, logically, that's the pain talking. But I've been burned and I've been burned bad. So, at the moment, the idea of becoming the old lady who lives alone with a million cats and terrorizes the neighborhood kids is more than just a little appealing.

The very idea of getting myself involved with a man again terrifies me.

When will these moments stop??

While on the hunt for the USB cable for my camera I came across an old anniversary card from him. I should have tossed it aside and kept looking for the damn cord. But instead, because apparently I'm a glutton for punishment, I opened it.

It's a simple card. One of those musical ones. On the front it says, "You're my dream come true..." and inside, "Always have been, always will.." He wrote "Here's to another 15! Love You, Skip". The song it plays is called "You" by two guys I've never heard of.

Now I'm a puddle. Red eyes, nose running, my face wet with tears. I thought I was past all of this. Obviously I'm not.

Yeah, here's to another fifteen. My ass. From what he's saying now and has said over the past year he wasn't "in love" with me back then either.

I'm torn between saving the card, because maybe someday I'll be able to look at it with fondness, and tossing it into the garbage. It IS garbage as is the sentiment so cavalierly written inside of it.

So how come every time I start towards the trash can do I start crying?

Logan

This kid is going to be the death of me. I am convinced that he is bound and determined to drive me straight into a padded cell at the local insane asylum.

Every school morning since Kindergarten we have "the episodes". Before the child's eyes are even open he starts wailing that he doesn't want to go to school. EVERY morning. Not just some mornings. EVERY morning. His reasons range from "It's boring." to "It's too long." Mind you he used that excuse when he was in Kindergarten and his school day wasn't even three hours long.

I have been in constant contact with his teachers, school counselor and all of the other members of his IEP team. We have all brainstormed and tried various techniques to end the tirade of gloom every morning. Nothing works. So I've learned to ignore it. I don't react at all. Ok, so sometimes, when I've successfully ignored it for weeks on end I may get a little frustrated and say something like, "LOGAN!! You HAVE to go to school EVERY day and you HAVE to go to school EVERY day for the next eleven years so GET OVER IT!!!" Which is met with increased wailing and I end up feeling like a rotten mother with an intense urge to bang my head against a wall repeatedly.

Now, I should point out that the wailing stops the second I pull up to the school to drop the kids off each morning. It's as if a switch flips in him. And all of his teachers have told me he is perfectly fine in school. He socializes, laughs and has a grand old time with his classmates. AND at the end of the day he'll tell me he's had a great day. The next morning? The wailing starts all over again.

This morning we had a two hour delay due to the snow we were hit with overnight. So I was able to let Logan wake up on his own. He came downstairs, smiling and chipper, no doubt thinking we must have a snow day. I made him breakfast and then informed him of the two hour delay. He looked at me thoughtful for a few seconds then announced, "I still don't want to go to school." Hey, at least he wasn't wailing at me. Yet. I told him he had to go to school. And guess what? He started wailing. "Awwwwwwwwwwwww!!! I don't wanna go to schoooooooool!!!"

REALLY?? Seriously??? Come on!!! I mean in three years, THREE, I have NEVER responded to his wailing with a cheerful, "Well OK sweetheart! If you don't want to go to school you don't have too." NEVER. Those words have NEVER passed my lips in response to his wails. Does he REALLY think that if he keeps it up, ad nauseam, that I am suddenly going to cave into his demands??? Because I'm not. And he HAS to know that by now.

Oh dear God. Give me strength. He is now wailing that he doesn't want to be driven to school. He wants to walk. Which I occasionally allow (with his older sister and brother) WHEN IT'S NOT 28 DEGREES OUTSIDE WITH SNOW ON THE GROUND!!!

Someone shoot me now.

More Riley-isms..

We watched Disney's The Princess and the Frog tonite with the kids.

During the scene where the firefly dies Riley, in all of his nine year old wisdom, says, "Oh how dramatic... it starts to rain just as he dies.", with a rolling his eyes kind of voice. This kid is a pip!

Then towards the end when Tiana and the Prince are finally turned back into humans he pipes up, "Now WHY didn't they think of getting married from the very beginning???" LOL!! I explained that they hadn't fallen in love yet. He just gave me his "Oh puhlease..", look.

God I love this kid!

Ugh...

In just under twelve hours I'll be sitting next to my attorney at the first of what I expect will be a long line of hearings. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a nervous wreck. My stomach is in knots and I feel like there's a boulder resting on my chest.

It still feels so surreal. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think I'd be facing divorce and life as a single mother. I look at him sometimes and I wonder, "When did it all start to go wrong? How did I get here???"

I've accepted it's over. I accepted that months ago. I'm ready for the next chapter in my life. I'm terrified. But I'm ready. Though I wish I could simply fast forward through the next few months and have this all be behind me. I feel like I've been in this state of agonizing limbo for far too long.

I smile and get through each day. But inside I'm a mess. My heart hurts. If I could I'd curl up in the fetal position and just sleep. Sleep has become my only escape. I can't concentrate on books, TV shows or movies long enough to comprehend them. I can read the same page of a book ten times and still have absolutely no idea what it said. I put a movie or a favorite show on but after a few minutes I'm no longer paying attention because I'm so lost in thought. I think I've seen the first ten minutes of this week's episode of NCIS:LA fifteen times and have yet to get to the end. Yesterday I folded the same shirt four times before I realized what I was doing.

I wonder where I'll be a year from now. Five years from now. Ten years from now. I worry about my kids and how they'll handle all of this. I worry about how I'll do it all alone. I know I can. I know with my love and support my children will be ok. I know that I am strong and capable. However, that doesn't stop me from being afraid of the unknown.

I need a favor of all of you. At 1:30 PM (EST) today say a little prayer for me. Please.

Oh yay...

Isn't going to the doctor supposed to lead to feeling better??? Yeah... no. Not when said doctor prescribes Albuterol four times daily via a nebulizer. Oh... my... GOD!! This crap makes me feel WORSE.

So now in addition to my entire body aching, fevers, chills, my head and ears so clogged I can't hear a darn thing and a harsh cough, I have the shakes, nausea, a racing heart and this permeating sense of anxiety that makes me want to climb the walls. Difficulty sleeping is yet another side effect. Faaaabulous. (insert eye roll) I already have enough trouble sleeping.

Oh and just for giggles? The antibiotic she prescribed, Zithromax? Tears up my stomach causing sharp cramping on top of the nausea. Thank GOD I only have to take that once a day.

Have I mentioned I hate being sick????? Blah!

Ya' know what else bugs me???

I want to start by saying that 99.9% of all of you have been PHENOMENAL with your kind words of support. And I am IMMENSELY grateful for them. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I would not have gotten through this past year without all of you.

With that said...

There are some people who I REALLY thought were going to be there for me, to support me, to let me lean on them blah, blah, blah. People who adamantly insisted they "had my back". People who were so passionate in telling me this that I was sure they'd be one of those special people who would be there at 3 AM when I was sobbing uncontrollably and simply needed to know someone was out there. But nope.. no where to be found.

Look.. I know everyone has problems and mine are no more dire than anyone elses. I know we all have lives and responsibilities. But honestly.. in this age of modern doodads and gadgets, how freakin' hard is it to spend thirty seconds, maybe a minute, responding to a text or sending someone a quick e-mail to say, "Hey.. I'm thinking of you." or "How are you holding up??" Or hell! Even finding a few minutes to make a quick phone call. Ya'll remember those right?? Ya' dialed a number and actually SPOKE to someone. So they could hear your voice and you could hear theirs. Novel idea huh?

My closest and dearest friends, and even some of my on line pals, know that I can be found at any hour of the day. If you need me I'll spend hours chatting with you on line or on the phone. If it's physically possible I will drop everything I'm doing and be at your side as fast as my Mom mobile can get me there.

Now before anyone accuses me of being whiny and unreasonable I certainly do NOT expect anyone to come to my rescue every single time I come crying to them. I understand that sometimes it just isn't possible to do that. I myself have had to tell a loved one, "Listen, I'm the middle of something I can't stop right now but as soon as I can I will call/text/e-mail you." And then I DO JUST THAT. Because I gave them my word. And that means something to me.

I'm also not implying that these people are insensitive. I think some of them simply have their priorities skewed. They just don't think about the impact their actions (or in this case inactions) have on someone. Again, I'm not proclaiming to be the perfect friend who is there every, single, solitary time one of my friends calls on me. I've allowed myself to get so caught up in my own problems and pain that I sometimes forget others have their own battles to fight. Sometimes I realize I'm doing it without anyone pointing it out to me. Other times I need a little nudge in the right direction.

The older I get the more I realize that life really IS too short. And we never know what each new day will bring. In October of 2005 my Grandmother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It had spread to her lungs and her liver. It was, in essence, a death sentence. She was eighty-two years old, with eighty-three close on the horizon. The doctor's told us she probably had only around six months, give or take a month.

We got three. And I thank God those three months happened to be during the holidays. Christmas 2005 will always be one of my favorite Christmas's. Though bitter sweet, we had Me Mom with us one last time.

On January 19th, 2006 she passed away. I was thirty-three years old and I'd always known losing her was an inevitability that I could not escape. Even so, losing her as quickly we did was a shock. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her and miss her. She was my biggest fan and loudest cheerleader. I always knew she loved me completely and unconditionally. My children adored her. Particularly my oldest son Cody. As a toddler we lived with my Grandmother and my parents for several months. So Cody and "Me Mom" spend a lot of time together. They watched baseball and Disney movies together. They had lunch together every single day. They were best buds.

Her loss was hard on all of us. But especially Cody and I. I would give anything for even just one more hour with her. I was there the day she left this world. By her side, her hand in mine. She'd been in a coma for two or three days by then. And hadn't opened her eyes once. But that morning she did and I saw her look off into the corner of the room, seeing something none of the rest of us could. And she smiled. I knew at that moment that someone had come to take her home. Her Mother and Father, maybe her sisters and brothers, her husband.. whomever. There was someone there in that room with us. I felt it in the almost palpable silence of the moment. No one will ever be able to convince me differently.

She closed her eyes then, took one final breath and was gone. As gut wrenching as it was to say good-bye to her I would not trade that moment for anything. I found it as comforting as I did sad.