Monday, December 15, 2014

you were Superman

Little brother, where'd you go? I remember you and your infectious cackling laughter. Your pranks. Your stunts. How did you never break a bone? I believed in you. I told you you could fly so I could see that wonder in your eyes. When did you stop flying? Did the years, the drugs, the things wrong in your brain, take away your shine? Put a changeling in your place? A bitter, angry, resentful, dull, sad, lost shell of a once vibrant person. I miss you. This Christmas. And every day.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

almost 40 isn't almost 20

holy wow, it's been a LONG time since i last blogged. guess I've been busy. with life. and battling the stuff in my head. i think I've got it now--peace. i'm quite sure i do.

i sit here with my lemon stevia water. --i really want wine, but i had a diet coke earlier and i'm paying for it. my insides have expanded and i'm in bloated pain.-- i sit here, listening to Spotify and the same songs that caused me to break down crying not so long ago now have me smiling. i am so thankful. for second chances and fresh starts. for a love that is so strong that the two people involved finally are both GETTING it and are willing to work TOGETHER for the first time ever. they are HEARING one another and HELPING each other now. because almost 40 isn't almost 20. time flies. the clock doesn't stop and wait for us to SEE THE LIGHT.

update on my PCOS. Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. I went in for thorough lab testing. to rule out all other possibilities. my thyroid is fine. triglycerides great. blood pressure is normal again! but my androgen levels were high and my insulin levels are high. i am now insulin resistant. which is not diabetes. but could easily turn into that. because my diet and exercise hasn't been enough, i went on Metformin. i saw an improvement immediately. i just FELT BETTER. so, fingers crossed, i can begin to shed some of this weight that this condition has made it impossible to lose before. i won't give up. i just want to be healthy. and look great again. thank you, j., for saying i always look beautiful though. it really means a lot to me.

feeling a little more secure financially, though far from being where I'd like to be, has eased my stress significantly. my child care business is doing pretty well. i am able to pay bills and buy things for my kids that they need/want. so, i'm getting there. it has been a slow ride, but i think back to where i was BEFORE, when i felt so desperate and alone. i have come a long way. with angels both heavenly and earthly at my side. i am grateful.

on emma, well. i feel like i should say something honestly here. sometimes, like yesterday, i have these feelings inside. i don't know what to do with them. there was a paper in her folder sent home to those kids on the Spelling Team in regards to the Spelling Bowl. i was confused. did i not know emma was on the team? what? i asked her. she said, "No." she didn't know how the paper got in there. she doesn't "like spelling really long, complicated words." her words, not mine. i said, "oh." because i know she CAN spell those words. i've got a bright girl here. an honor girl. but one who doesn't always apply herself. i know these spelling contests would be difficult for her, with her sensory issues, and social issues, etc. but still i think back to how I used to win the Spelling Bees. how hard i practiced. ... but emma is not me, now is she? and i can't expect those things of her. ...and i have to change MY attitude. MY expectations. and i have to erase any WHAT IFS that exist in my head. ...oh, please don't get me wrong. i am so proud of my girl. she is amazing. and inspiring. and surprising --like when she got her pajamas on by herself tonight, brushed her hair, and brushed her teeth. i only asked ONCE! THAT IS A BIG DEAL, my friends.

emma is having a FANTASTIC year. i am especially grateful for her understanding teacher this year and an instructional aide that has a heart of gold. geez, i'm crying. seriously, i love this year. for emma. she is growing so much emotionally. and she is on her way to being that independent young woman i've been raising her to be, with the help of many great teachers and therapists.

after noah fell asleep i kissed him one more time and covered his shoulders with his automobile blanket. the one he swears is going to go to college with him --he's never giving it up. ;-) oh my, he smelled glorious. my baby boy. i just breathed him in. i think I will never stop buying Baby Wash for them to bathe in. so they will always smell like my babies.

thank you for reading some of our lives. i'm a sharer, what can i say? ;-) thank you for riding in our crazy, sad, happy, everyday life car with us on our journey.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

a woman's worth

nikki said, "You should do it."

tell my story.

i'll tell you the best i can. what i remember some 23-24, oh, 30-some, years later.

i don't know for sure if i can say WHEN my story begins. birth? age 5? 10? 13?

i was the little girl who grew up with a mother who worked hard taking care of us, who loved us immensely. and i had an alcoholic father who was not usually home, but when he was, it was a nightmare. he never abused us kids, per se. not physically. emotionally he did. words have stingers, and the hurt doesn't heal quickly. but we saw what he did to mom. how he hurt her. physically, emotionally, verbally, financially. and how he mocked her. i learned what a woman was worth. it seemed to me, not much.

though i wanted MORE. i thought as a 5 year old, that i would grow up and i WOULD HAVE MORE than that. it is no wonder that i wrote in my Cabbage Patch Kids journal (IN FIRST GRADE) that when i grew up i desired to be an artist in Greenwich Village. i dreamt of a loft, all my own. no husband. no children. just me.

i had crushes on boys from a young age. *note* i was never sexually abused by anyone, to be clear, until i was 13.* .. i thought boys were so cute and wanted to kiss one ( a certain few) badly. madly. i chased them around the playground and passed notes. i got chubby and got a bad, short haircut in 4th grade. the boys didn't think i was cute. i was smart. the teachers singled me out. i was "the brain" and "teacher's pet." i developed low self-esteem. i hated myself. i thought i was ugly. ... so the little girl who rarely spoke in school because social situations were terrifying, began to withdraw. i stayed inside. i read books. i still had crushes... and there was that boy who only talked to me in secret, so his friends wouldn't find out he liked me.

forward to age 13. when i grew a couple inches and started to thin out and develop. my hair was longer. i suddenly felt great about myself. threw insecurity aside (oh, it was still there, underneath it all) and became a confident, sassiER teenager. it seemed the boys really liked me now. but, i had no social skills, you see. growing up, into this new person, was scary territory for me.

when i was 13 i went with my friend to the movies. we were dropped off there. her male cousin met us there. he was 12. i was molested by him in the theater, in the back row. he touched me in places i had never touched, never even thought about. but i was ashamed. i told no one. a few months later i was at her house. no parents home. she didn't tell me HE was going to be there. but he was. they stripped my shorts off. she held me down between her mother's bed and the wall while he spanked me HARD. i screamed and cried and pleaded. i still told no one. i never spoke to her again. she tries to friend me on Facebook. what a joke.

so imagine what i thought a woman's worth was by this time. just imagine.

when i was 14, someone suggested i go to Youth Group at a local church. i wasn't even religious. but i went. oh, how we are influenced when we are young. ... there was the cutest boy there! wow, i thought. i pursued him. he had to be nice, right? his family was 'churchy.' respected. we flirted. we laughed. yay! a real boyfriend! he was so nice. until we started going on dates. until phone calls. and car rides. and church events and school events and fairs. he wanted to know who i was with. best to be with HIM. where i was. where i was going. i was to be quiet and not talk back. he was big for his age. tall and strong. i was a little size 5. he would hold me down. bruising my wrists. pinned my legs. my Betty Boop watch broken. (mom gave that to me.) pantyhose torn. hair pulled. bruise on my neck and cheek another time (c'mon, i was just playing. just hickies. geez. what's the big deal? tell them that _______(a girl in youth group) accidentally hit you.) yeah. i feared movie theaters. where i was assaulted by him as well. and truck stops. and his parents' van in the church parking lot. my "first time," i remember, i was told i had to. i could not go home. he would not drive me home. he would not release me. until we did it. i was frozen. i died. over and over again i died. learned to please him. i turned off everything, tuned out. i was a zombie. a sex "slave." for a teenage boy. did what he wanted. he told me i was fat. my dreams were stupid. i would follow him to the college he wanted to go to. ...

why didn't i tell someone? you might be asking yourself. i tried to tell the youth pastor. and his wife. i did. they brushed it off. said i was being unreasonable. they did not believe me. i was beyond ashamed to tell my mother. i didn't want to crush her. i thought she would be disappointed in me. i was almost 16 when i got the courage to leave him.

all of this, of course, set me up for all my relationships thereafter. a woman's worth. i received no therapy. well, i tried to go to a psychologist in my 20s for a brief period. but she wanted to place blame on my mom and suggested i take long walks. that would help.

young women, and men, you are worth EVERYTHING. you are special. you are beautiful. you are a gift. you are intelligent. you are SOMEONE. you ARE loved. you are a loving person. when a boy (or girl) wants to control you, says demeaning things to you, makes demands, talks about or touches your body in any way that makes you uncomfortable or scared, RUN. i don't care if you don't have a car or can't get a hold of someone to come get you. GO. this is not a person who loves you. they have no idea what love is. they need to feel superior. GET THE HELL AWAY from this person. don't let your Spirit be crushed. for it will be. don't let them take what is Yours. you are BEAUTIFUL. your body is yours. your mind is yours. your SOUL is yours. love yourself. and you don't need to be ashamed. there ARE adults who will help you. who will listen. tell them. keep telling until someone helps you. you don't have to be alone in this. i know it's hard -- don't be afraid. you are strong. GET AWAY.

i know that NO MATTER what happened to me growing up. how my life was. it is NOT my fault i was abused. i did NOT ask for it. i did NOT want it.

no one ever sat down and talked with me about relationships or sex. intimacy. love. i didn't know what a good, healthy relationship could be like. i want MY children to know that. i hope i can teach them and show them all about love.

i think too that when i was younger, in those days, kids and teens were left unsupervised more than they are today. parents were rarely ever home back then.

so that is some of MY story. not all of it. not my 20s or 30s mentioned. but this is enough for now. enough for people to see that this happens. and i hope i can help stop it.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

songs from the old days

in the old days, in those happy times, there were songs. songs that you might not think would bring me to tears still today, but they do. White Zombie, Radiohead, Poison, Guns N Roses, Green Jelly-- songs by these bands make me cry and laugh, hold myself tight. I remember.

Sunday, May 18, 2014

noah said, "...

this was said by noah last week: " i wish i had Autism." i believe this is the 3rd time he has said this ever. i asked why. his reply? "so i can get more stuff." wow.

the thing is, whenever emma gets something, he always does too. there are no favorites played here. ...

i was speechless. i didn't know whether to commiserate with him, laugh, or cry. so i hugged him. reminded him that he gets a lot of things. a lot of the time. and always when emma does for sure. unless it is her birthday.

just saying.

life is a journey... yada, yada, yada.

alrighty. checking in with you, my loyal readers. you know who you are. :)

so, life is a journey, eh? that it is. my journey apparently includes a medical condition i have ignored, threw out the window, thinking it didn't really pertain to me. i was wrong.

back when i was trying to become pregnant for the first time in 2003 i was told by a specialist that i have Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. PCOS. the doctor said i would have trouble conceiving. two weeks later, i conceived without any interventions. i thought, 'so what if i have all these cysts on my ovaries?? everything seems to be working just fine...' so, pfffffttt, whatever, Doc. i totally blew that one off. then several years later, i was pregnant again, without a hitch. i never bothered to research this condition. and what it meant. i had a lot of trouble losing weight after these pregnancies. but in 2010 i worked out like a mad person. i ate well. i did it. i lost 50 pounds in about a year. then in the last couple of years, the weight came back. and THEN SOME. but i've still been working out. i run. quite a bit. i wasn't being as careful with the food though. then my new gynecologist said, "hey." yep. PCOS. a 2 hour glucose test would probably pinpoint that i am becoming insulin resistant. i don't want to be put on any pharmaceuticals if i can avoid it. so i read. and READ. and READ SOME MORE. i took inventory on the supplements i've been taking. changed THAT up. added some. took some away. thank you, j, for reading with me, doing research on your own. :) read about "eating primitive," which is basically just Clean Eating. i understand now that yeast is incredibly bad for me. dairy was always a 'duh,' but i ate it anyway. so i've stopped that. sugar, obviously, is a NO. eating all this stuff that wasn't good for my body was making it so that all my exercise wasn't making a damn difference. i haven't been able to make a dent in my weight or physical appearance like before. something wasn't working.

i look back now and i recognize all my symptoms: acne, bloating, a "thick" middle, a round bloaty face, skin tags... and so on. this SYNDROME is making it about impossible for me to look "normal." not impossible though. not really. because i'm going to beat this. i'm going to. i will. i haven't been working this hard for this long to be healthy, to just give up. i will not let myself become diabetic or have heart disease, which is what happens if you are insulin resistant for too long.

so i will keep running. keep doing hand weights. crunches. stretching. dancing. and i will eat so much better. i WILL tell this PCOS to go to hell.

Monday, April 7, 2014

my girl

this post is more of just a record for me. of things Emma wrote and said today that made me laugh and/or cry.
grandparents' day is coming up at school. Emma brought home papers she was working on-- one for my dad, "papaw art," and one for my grandma, the kids' "mamaw virginia ." one of the questions was, "If you had one wish for your Grandma/Grandpa what would it be?" she wrote on mamaw's , "I would wish she could hear better." on my dad's Emma penciled ,"I would wish for him to feel better." she told me she wished he would not hurt. Emma is such a caring person. i melted.
tonight when i was putting her to bed i was asking her things about her day at school. i had my arm around her. she put her arms around me, and she squeezed a little tighter after i would ask something. she rarely hugs. finally she asked,"if i give you a great big hug, will you stop asking me questions?!" and she smiled so big. i should have known something was up! ;-) i love how she says what she's thinking AND she's getting pretty good with her humour and sarcasm. ;-)

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Personal Haiku written by me for you. $4.00 per Haiku. Proceeds go towards dance classes, etc. for Emma.

I am offering my writing services to you in a whimsical way to help with the cost of dance lessons for Emma or any activity that might be good for her. I am not asking for charity of any sort. I will provide you with a haiku written by me, topic of your choice. Hand-signed. $4.00 per haiku. I will need your email address and mailing address please. I will email you an invoice via PayPal. Please email me at or shoot me a Personal Message on Facebook.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Once Emma wasn't a pretender, not that i could see. But i wasn't looking hard enough...

So, the kids and I were in the car this evening. Noah had his notepad and pen and was taking Emma's order-- they were at a restaurant, you see. Emma said, "My name is Faith. F-a-i-t-h. McCarra. M-c-C-a-r-r-a. It's my birthday. I'm 32. When you bring out my cake, please put pink icing on it." My heart stopped. 32!!!! What?! I said, "Lord! Where has the time gone? How'd I get so old??" I was teasing of course. But really, yes, I did think, 'Where does it go? time? please slow down.' I thought how one day we will be celebrating her thirty-second birthday. It makes me panic.

Then another thought followed the panic. One that calmed me --I breathed again. It wasn't so long ago when Emma wasn't a pretender. Has it really been almost 7 years since I got her that wooden toy kitchen? The one she ignored. Except for the plates because they were circular. Circles were her obsession when she was 3. She stacked the plates and hoarded anything else circular, ring-shaped. I had a friend (sometimes these friends don't stick around too long when they see the differences between your child and theirs) whose daughter would make a beeline for the kitchen and "cook" us food and "wash" the dishes. Emma hummed. and stacked. and removed her clothes. In those days, I would get sad. but defensive. and tried to brush off the discontinued friendships as best I could.

Now I know better. I KNOW Emma was learning in HER way. not the way the professionals and the books told me she should be learning. those shapes were important to her. she self-soothed by rocking and humming (still does) so she could bear the noise of this other little busy child around her. her clothes were restrictive, a prison binding her aching skin. oh, I know. I've never liked clothes myself. sometimes I want to scream because of how they feel on me. I know.

I have Emma's milestones in my head. The day she brought a doll out and insisted we make a place for it at the supper table. She was almost 5. We had a party that night! My face was awash with tears all evening. I laughed and cried simultaneously. ...the day Emma said, "You are sad, Mommy. When we get home I will dance like a monkey for you." She had never (seemed) to be aware of my tears before. I know now that she has always been aware of my emotions, since day one. But this was the first time she verbalized something like that to me. ... The day (this year) she said, " I felt hurt today. ________ was mean to me. I'm so sad. I don't want to go to school." She's never told me before when someone has hurt her feelings or mistreated her. It made me sad to hear that, but it was a welcome shock too to know that she could put that into words for me so maybe I could help her.

I notice all things. I celebrate all the small and gi-normous victories.

Monday, January 27, 2014

her "engine" derailed

got a note in Emma's backpack today. It was a rough day. She was a distraction to the class in the afternoon. There was yet again another two-hour delay today. Then a convocation in the afternoon. The afternoon bus ride was about fifteen minutes longer today too. She had her afternoon snack, and I let her know she could take an hour to recoup before we started homework. She didn't do well with the after school kids I care for... in their personal space, inappropriate laughter, loud vocalizations, yelling. She picked up her DS and began to take pics and edit them. This always soothes her when she's over-stimulated. I had to use this to my advantage when prompting her to start the homework. Math! Gah! Even I dread Math. ... but she is actually quite good at it is the thing. ...anyway, I suggested she take pics of her math homework while she was working on it. Great! She did. And a close-up of my boob(covered by by sweater, of course), a close- up of me making a funny face, a few pics of "her" kitten Judy. Then she put the DS down and zipped right through the 16 problems in 25 minutes. **it depend on the day-- sometimes 16- 20 problems can take us an hour and a half with several breaks.** ... I am getting off point. Or maybe not really. ... the evenin was calm and quiet from there on out. UNTIL bedtime. The high- pitched screaming resumed. The laughing and jumping and rocking. And she can't stand when Noah and I look at her when she's in this state. She says we scare her. We have monster faces staring at her. And she giggles uncontrollably and shrieks nervously. THEN THE TEARS COME. We have been camped out in the living room for a few nights because of the frigid temperatures. I have rooms closed off. An electric heater going. The thermostat turned down so low it barely makes a difference. Three weeks of winter break, extended. A week back at school but with two-hour delays. More delays this week. Not getting outside much. Bein unable to sleep in her own room. Oh, and her dad being back in town and adjusting to that. I do believe I can understand her frequent meltdowns here -- I've been on sensory overload myself lately!
I sang every sweet lullaby I know tonight. They sang along. I ran out of songs so I Googled them. Didn't care at all if I was singing them to the right tune or in the right key. I just sang until she stopped yelling and Noah stopped crying because she was being too loud and why didn't he have a cat on him Why Give him a cat Now.

Sunday, January 12, 2014

seeing things in the snow piles

all that snow started to melt. and got pushed aside into giant, nasty piles of eyesores. and right out there, out my front window. there I saw it: the dirty horse in mid-gallop, in the muck. he's still there, frozen. but melting. no one has walked by and kicked it. no diesel truck has smooshed it down. it hasn't been cremated, laid to rest in the soggy ground.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

hope, i whisper it.

depression is a bitch. i'll tell you that.

it is all my fault. all of it.

i'm being hard on myself, I know. but what is else there? I divorced. I got a job. I worked for 3 years. 3 very difficult years, until I had used up all resources (my family and friends) as babysitters. until I had listened to Emma screaming and crying for the ??what?? time because I had left her with someone who didn't understand her. who yelled at her. after i paid a sitter, i was left with so little money. I had to quit. I've been trying to stay at home. to work here. doing childcare. doing ANYTHING. I keep hoping. --
what is that HOPE quote?

-- "Hope is the most precious treasure to a person."--

I keep TRYING. I don't know how to make any more money here at home. GAWD, I am trying. I have applied to every part-time job I know. but there have been no replies. I don't know many employers who need someone there during school hours only. and it has to be during those hours. I am not leaving Emma with anyone ever again.

I am drowning.
I can't keep up.

it's too cold to run (for me.) so I get on that elliptical. and I work so hard. and I cry. cry. cry. and yell. so quietly I do.

i'm tired of crying. and don't misunderstand me please. I am no victim. ...
I just feel so "thought" out. all my ideas have trickled out. and i'm not sure I am believed in. I need to keep believing in myself.
there is no "throwing in the towel" for me. I have two children. and I just keep trying. but I am grasping. slipping. when I try to pull myself up, there is nothing there to grab onto.

hope. hope. hope.

I whisper it.
I scream it (in my head.)