Everything is Changing

So many things have been changing lately. I can't even really explain all the things I feel inside. I am happy and sad, angry, resentful, lonely, yet proud, and supportive. What am I talking about? Pretty much everything, I guess.

A few weeks ago, on Memorial Day weekend, C went away for the weekend with my parents, so J and I finally got to spend 4 straight days with each other. It was the first time in the entirety of our relationship that we had been apart from the moment he dropped me off on Saturday night to Friday afternoon. The first night, Friday, we went to dinner and to see the Hangover 2. It was a good time, but I felt almost like we had the awkwardness of a first date all over again. It was a totally abnormal feeling that we were eventually able to shake off by the end of the night. The next day, Saturday, J had school and picked me up when he was done so we could enjoy a night "away" together. Our "night away" was actually a "staycation" at a really nice hotel I have really fallen in love with in Long Beach called Hotel Maya. It was beautiful, the weather was fabulous, but things once again didn't feel completely right.

The Saturday night we spent out in Long Beach, ended up with us heading to a restaurant with "happy hour" and the UFC fight. While there, J and I made friends with the couple sitting next to us at the bar. Before I knew it, J was pretty tipsy and the night wasn't so fun anymore. We went back to the room, and eventually fell asleep, him on one side of the bed, and me on the other, no longer cuddling like we used to when we were able to get time alone together. The morning consisted of us getting up, getting ready and meeting his brother and nephew at the beach. Needless to say, I was very disappointed by the lack of passion and desire we once had for each other. I was very hurt and heartbroken, as I felt like he was no longer attracted to me like he once was.  As it is, J and I rarely can spend the night together, and the one night he had me, he didn't want me. It was the first time in this relationship that I wasn't confident about US and where we were headed.

The rest of our Sunday was eventful. We met up with J's brother and nephew at Bolsa Chica Beach. It was super windy so we left and headed to J's house where we laid out by the pool to continue our tans, had some dinner, and attempted to watch tv despite the burns on our legs from too much sun. On Monday, I was back at J's for a Memorial Day bbq, but I didn't quite feel like myself. I was more quiet and reserved, not the girl I usually I am. I guess I had a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions in my head and they wouldn't cease to exist, so I was better off keeping my mouth shut. I was still hurt about the lack of sex from our mini getaway, and I didn't know how to shake it off.

The following week was our 6 month "anniversary". I made him a picture book of all the cool things we have done together during the past 6 months we have been dating. I put in pictures of our first date, random text messages and museum pictures. I wrote to him about how I felt about him and how I look forward to the future. I cried when I gave it to him. It meant alot to me and I felt that by giving him that book, I gave him a physical piece of my heart.

The "anniversary" weekend was uneventful, pretty much like any other weekend, nothing different. I don't know if I was expecting it to be different, but I do know that at the end of it, I was slightly disappointed. Am I expecting too much for him to acknowledge what a milestone 6 months is? or was that only significant to me? Maybe I should've just known better than to think he would assume the importance of reaching such a milestone. He's not a mind reader, and I can't honestly expect him to know what I'm thinking, yet I feel stupid if I explain to him how I feel about these things.

Here we are, a week and a few days later. Things are getting more difficult the deeper J gets into school - for me and for him. Last week was another 6 days without each other week, and to top it off I was really sick. All I wanted was to be in his arms and to have him take care of me, and I didn't get that. I feel selfish to complain about how I feel like I am at the bottom of the totem pole. I feel like I am no longer important to him and that I am more of a distraction to him than anything. I feel that by opening my mouth and telling him that I feel lonely and sad and depressed about our relationship situation, I am failing as his girlfriend. I can't fail, I have to be strong to get him through this, even if it means putting my feelings aside. I keep asking myself if this is a test from God, to see how truly strong I am. If it is, it's not a nice one.

I really just want to be happy again. I miss the days of us rolling around in the sheets together, being in each others arms till its late and time to go home. I miss feeling like I am important to him. I miss the days of exploring new places and things together, and even going to the gym together. I am really trying my best to stay strong. I don't plan on giving up because I know what a good thing I have in him, yet I am so afraid he will give up on me for not being a good enough girlfriend. I struggle with trying to figure out how to be a "good enough girlfriend" for him. I've never been in this situation before, and I don't know how to not be selfish just a little bit.

Sigh...

I'll get through this. No, scratch that, WE'LL get through this.... With bumps, bruises, and scrapes, I don't plan on leaving his side.  I can only pray that he'll still want me there at the end of it all.

Blah

I've never had a word describe my feelings as good as "Blah" can. The constant up and down, hot and cold has been pretty awful. I hate this roller coaster, and want off of it. I just want to go back to normal, and I am hoping that once Mother's Day passes, I will be back to being the happy, positive chick I've always been.

There's been a lot of stuff brewing inside my head and sometimes, I just want to shut it all off. I so desperately wanted to stay home, under the covers this morning, but that wasn't possible. I wanted just one day of solitude, to actually cry and let the emotions out in hopes that it will make me feel better. Soooooooo much for that because I am currently writing this blog from work.

On Wednesday, J and I celebrated 5 months of dating with a nice dinner at a local resort. It was the perfect evening, allowing us to enjoy each other's company in the warmth of spring. I really make it a point to try and enjoy every moment spent together, because in all actuality, we don't have much time for each other. It was a nice moment of relaxation and indulgence of good drinks, decent food, and amazing company. I wish the whole night could've lasted longer than just a couple of hours, because being in his arms is where I always feel the safest.

I feel like this whole week, I've been having to kick myself in the butt to do things. To get work done, to act like I'm interested in things. I find that deep down, I'm slightly bitter and angry. On Wednesday night, I had a dream that I had killed some random person who broke into my house. It was the oddest dream ever, and it really bothered me to have such morbid thoughts. I researched dream meanings and read that those type of dreams indicate suppressed anger and frustrations with situations that cannot be changed. I guess, in this case, it was my subconscious, surfacing anger within me that I haven't verbally voiced. Just what is it that I am so angry about?

I think a big part of the anger I have inside of me is towards my family. I KNOW that's where a large part of my anger is directed towards. Case in point: Tomorrow is C's First Holy Communion. In my opinion, it's supposed to be a special day for him. Something for him to always remember. With alot of things going on in our extended family (news of family members being really, really sick), my parents didn't want to have anything at home. I was trying to think of things we could do that would be fun and memorable for C. I decided we'd go to one of the local pizza places that have games that he could play. C really enjoyed that idea.

Yesterday, my dad came home and said he made reservations at a Mexican restaurant for after church on Saturday. I was speechless. I am his MOTHER. Why didn't anyone consult me before doing so? What was I supposed to say now? "Cancel your reservations, I don't want to go there"? I understand that he didn't have any ill-intentions, but at the same time, I don't think he understood that he was overstepping his boundaries. J got on my case for not opening my mouth and putting my foot down, but I know my family and know that they are quick to jump on my case and address my faults when I stand up for myself and contest something they do or say, especially regarding my son. It's an awful situation to be in and I hate it. Unfortunately, though, that's the story of my life when it comes to my family.

Today, I am feeling worse off than I did yesterday. J is stuck working a 48-hour shift which means our usual Friday ritual is broken, which really sucks when I miss him so much. Also, I am overwhelmed with a long to-do list of things that need to be done for tomorrow. On top of that, I am pretty emotional, and it isn't taking much to set me off into a teary-eyed mess. I wanted to call off of work today, and J gave me a hard time about it. He has a valid point as to why, but at the same time, I felt frustrated with the fact that he wasn't in my shoes. It's not like I have a car to get to places to do what needs to get done. I don't have anyone really helping me. But such is life, and I'll figure out a way to get through it and have all the items on my list checked off by tonight.

"Tough times never last, but tough people do."  

- Robert H. Schuller

I keep telling myself that it's only a few more days ahead of me that I have to get through. I am reminding myself that tomorrow is a day of celebration of accomplishment in C's life. I have got to be strong and put a smile on my face, even if I feel "blah" on the inside, if not for myself, for C. I know I will get through it, but it's always tough when I feel alone with my thoughts and feelings. One hour at a time, I guess. I just hope I don't kill anyone between now and then.

Strength

"I know God wouldn't give me anything I can't handle; I just wish he didn't trust me so much"

I have met plenty of people throughout the past 28 years of my life. Very few of those people have any idea of what I've been through, including some of our family. Of the people who do know, the responses seem to be the same, the generic: "Wow, I'm too selfish to make that kind of sacrifice" or "Whoa, I don't know how you did it". The general consensus is that I am a strong woman, for making it through life everyday, and not giving up when the going got tough. Is that really strength? I don't feel all that strong sometimes, that's for sure.

I've come a long way from the girl I was when I was pregnant with Hope. Already a single mom of C, I couldn't even believe that there was a baby growing inside of me. Finding out that my pregnancy test came back positive was one of the worst days of my life. I was in complete shock that I was pregnant. I had a baby at home that had just turned a year and 4 months when I found out I was expecting. There was no way that something like that could happen to a girl like me. But it was happening and for the longest time, I was in denial.

I had scheduled an abortion for a few weeks after I found out I was pregnant. I couldn't handle the responsibility of another child, and there's no way I could possibly have any kind of relationship with the baby's father, because he was just a fling. Leading up to that day, I managed to alienate myself from any source of support I could possibly have. I pushed away all my friends, and there was no way I could tell my family. I was headed to the clinic on my own, praying that things would be quick and easy and no one would ever know my sins. But I never made it there. I passed the church, and something told me to stop there, and I did. It was the one day I was able to talk to God openly, and come to an agreement with him that this baby was a blessing, just not for me at that moment. It was then that it was decided that I would place the baby for adoption. But even after that moment, I was in denial that this was really occurring.

I worked retail at the time of my pregnancy, and every time a customer would ask me when I was due, I'd angrily say, "Oh, I'm not pregnant, I'm just fat", and they would walk away with their tail in between their legs. I felt that if I didn't acknowledge that I was pregnant, it wasn't really happening. I was a college student, a single mother, a daughter, a girl who grew up going to Catholic school for 8 years and was fairly educated. Stuff like that didn't happen to girls like me. But it did, and I was due to have a baby in a few months. Those were the worst months of my entire life.

There were days I would cry myself to sleep, hoping and praying that God would take me in my sleep. Every time I would get in the car to drive somewhere, I prayed to get into a bad car accident. I would hope to fall down stairs or for something bad to happen to me. I didn't want to live with the guilt and sadness I felt. I didn't want to face the disappointment on my parents faces when I told them I was pregnant. I didn't want to feel anything at all, and wished that it would just all go away. I even got no prenatal care because I was in such denial, and couldn't bear to go to a doctor to acknowledge this baby was growing inside of me. I wished that I would wake up from this bad dream and it would be gone. But that wasn't the case.

I got through the pregnancy, with the support of the few coworkers I had, and towards the end, as I was picking families, my friends came back around. I still lacked the strength to tell my parents, so I wrote them a 6 page letter, front and back, that explained everything: my mistakes, my guilt, and how my intentions were never to hurt anyone by keeping this deep, dark secret. I had hoped to give it to them weeks before the baby came into the world, but that wasn't the case. Hope came into the world at the least expected time. I had to wake up my dad and tell him. He had to call my mom who was at work and tell her. I hurt them both, badly, and its probably one of the worst things I could have done.

I went through labor and delivery. I went through the heavy pain in my heart knowing that I would have to put her in the hands of another couple and leave the hospital empty handed. I went through the never-ending questions, and seeing the heartbreak in my parents and sisters eyes for not having the preparation for something so big and personally catastrophic. It was awful.

I only remember bits and pieces of that weekend I was in the hospital. I wish I could remember all of it, but I can't. I can't remember what she was wearing the day I last held her. I can't remember what she smelled like, or looked like. I can't remember what color was her car seat. All I can remember is the stabbing pain I felt in my heart, and how I never ever want to feel that way ever again. On September 11, 2005, I said goodbye to a piece of my heart that I will never get back. She got into one car, and I got into another, and without a promise as to when we will meet again, we went our separate ways.

The past 5 1/2 years have been a journey. The relationship with my family has definitely had its ups and downs, and it has taken a lot to get through it all, because mending broken hearts and broken trust is not easy. The pain in my heart has not gone away, and I don't think it ever will. On holidays and her birthday, I'm reminded of her and wonder if she will ever want to find me. When I see families with little girls near her age at the park or the store, my heart aches as I try to think about what she's like. I dream about what her voice and laugh sounds like. I wonder about what her favorite color may be, or what's her favorite thing to do or watch on TV.

I am blessed to get pictures and letters of her. I am so lucky to know that I picked the best family I possibly could for her. I am happy knowing that she has an amazing life that I could've never been able to provide for her at that moment in my life. I made the ultimate sacrifice when I handed that piece of my heart over to another couple to give her all of their love in every way possible, but it was the best sacrifice, for her and for C. There's not a day that doesn't go by without a thought of her, wondering what she's doing or where she is going. Granted, there are days when I hurt more than others, but I get through those days, and realize that God had a so much bigger plan for me. He wouldn't have let this happen to me if he didn't think I could survive it, and I have, and am, every day of my life.

I guess people are right. I am strong after all. I guess I do have it within me to get through the tough times. I've learned to put my trust in God, and the fact that he has a bigger plan for me, C and Hope gives me the strength on the days I want to do nothing but cry and hurt because I miss her so much. I have to keep reminding myself that the best is yet to come because that little girl may grow up to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a police office, and that would have never been possible had I not given her life. I just have to remind myself that I am strong, and to keep pushing on during the dark days and never give up on this journey called life.