Wide awake

Its 4am here and I cant sleep.

I made the mistake of taking a nap earlier in the day, thinking the kids would wake me up after an hour when they hit the door after school. No such luck. I had forgotten that they both had after school activities. My husband picked up Diva and when they got home and he saw I was asleep, he pulled the bedroom door shut and let me continue to sleep.

On top of that, I had this terrible dream in which everyone and everything in my past with long shadows that still reach me today made an appearance. I was being chased, tortured and succumbing to pain so great, I felt it physically. I even tried waking myself. I was able to tell myself it was a dream, but it was as if I was drugged. I was crawling and couldn’t keep my eyes open, grasping desperately for anything and anyone who could guide me to consciousness.

My guess is that much of that has to do with reading back and cleaning up my blog because many of the things imported, did not come through as Id hoped. I know there’s a lot there, but looking back from here with new eyes, has ripped open old wounds. I can see the signs now before the rest of the story unfolds. It’s so striking sometimes that I push away from the desk and start pacing, racking my brain: How did I miss that? How could I be so stupid? Had I not always approached this with painstaking honesty, I could convince myself that I knew and just left things better unsaid.

Im also kicking myself for not only letting someone who has nothing deserving of being let back in, but also making my vulnerable enough to that person to let them hurt me again. I didn’t remember the “I never loved you” until after I had come to that suspicion on my own and then read it. I know this doesn’t make me the asshole. Im no saint, I just don’t want to live that way. I resent that I allowed myself to be strapped back into the blinders. It makes me feel bad about myself that Im wanting them to redeem them self. That Im waiting for an absolution that may very well never come.

Im supposed to be working on my “brand”, making it presentable and flow. The brand, however, is me and this life Im living and whenever I shine a light on everything around me it’s always going to be messy and complicated. That’s me, but I think I like that about myself. It makes me, me but, its also made me wonder if I’d be better off setting it all ablaze and starting over.

Is that really even possible?

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My Teenage Self

I’ve been thinking a lot this week about who I was as a teenager. I dont know if it’s because Jedi’s 13th year ends Sunday and so much of my teenage self started at 14…

When I was first inspired to write about my teenage self, I thought it would be fun. I dug up old pictures and listened to old music. It soon left me in tears and trying to wrap my head around it all mostly because my teenage self was a fucking mess.

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Just before turning 14, something happened that changed me forever. It turned everything I knew to be true to that point about love and family into a completely, useless shitstorm. It left me raw with emotion and not wanting to think. I was love sick. Desperate to know that something I had once known. I was silly and fun like what I imagine most teenage were like all while being sullen, pained and full of angst at the same time. Not your normal teenage angst, but one that still affects me now. It wasn’t that I never felt joy, but as a teenager, I felt happy through other people. If I could make someone happy, I was happy. People pleasing was my drug of choice.

I was also full of raging sexual curiosity. This wasn’t new to me. I can remember thinking and desiring sex at a very young age. I’ve written about that before. It was just that as a teenager, I was hell bound and determined to have it which was much to the dismay of the angel on my shoulder. Believe me, she was a real thorn in my exploration. Such is the life of a teenager who has grown up in an ultra religious home. I made a bargain of sorts with her. I reasoned that if I was in a committed relationship while having sex, it was ok because I wasn’t a whore.

No relationship + sex = bad, no-no. Relationship + sex = A-OK.

That’s how I became a serial monogamist. Having explained this…I feel the only real way I can tell the story of my teenage self is through relationships.

The first relationship, was a non-relationship.

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Kevin was the first, heart-aching crush I ever had. I was thirteen. I would walk nearly a mile out of my way to 7-11, knowing that he would be outside playing basketball with his friends. Just to walk by. I would never acknowledge him first. I’d pretend to be to involved with my Walkman even though it wasn’t even on. I mean, if he said something, how else would I hear him? On my way TO 7-11, he would always go on playing basketball and as far as I knew, didn’t do anything more than give me that slight, upward thrust of his jaw to acknowledge me. Then on my way BACK he eventually started tossing the ball to a buddy and would hussle over, all sweaty and stinky. I didn’t care. His buddies would complain. I loved it. He had a nerdy girlfriend who I did not concern myself with. He obviously like me better anyway because he broke up with her after I let him feel me up at a school dance. He put his letter jacket around me when it was cold and kissed me with his this annoying, turtle tongue, but I was certain that’s what love felt like. It wasn’t long before I found out that it wasn’t. This is just what he did with all the girls. So besides dressing pretty skanky and making him walk over to my house to get his stupid jacket, just to give him enough of a look at me as I threw it at him before slamming the door in his face, that was that. I was certain this is what women in charge of relationships did. Even though it wasn’t one.

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Jason, was the first guy who pursued me. I was certain this meant true love had found me and since it was true love, I was certain this meant we would be together forever and I would lose my virginity to him. Only one of those turned out to be true. Sex with Jason was not inspiring but we were in sweet, sappy love for almost a year before his best friend cheated on my cousin and he *tried* to do the same to me.
Pffft. I was devastated, but wanting to remain on top of  the spin control so I brought Chris into the picture.

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Chris was trying to make his recent ex-girlfriend jealous and this seemed like a splendid idea to me. Aside from using one another he introduced me to rock music for which I will always be thankful. He was a couple years older, in a band, hot as hell in his navy uniform and if it weren’t for that stupid angel on my shoulder and if our couple, hot and heavy make out sessions were any indication, that boy would’ve had his way with me and I would have loved every two minutes of it. No such luck though as I had made my deal with the bitch and I would stick to it. We were not in a relationship which meant no sex for us, but it was all for the best since he served his purpose and Jason and I kissed and made up.
IMG_5697 Compared to Chris though, he was pretty goofy. I loved him as much as any fifteen year old loves their first true love, but was pretty bored. I remedied this by creating drama and making him feel guilty. I have about 100 handwritten notes from him to prove it. I guess he was bored too because he suddenly decided to be a “gangsta” and started selling weed. My angel shoulder and I were having none of that so I broke up with him certain this would motivate him to do better.

I turned to my long time guy friend and neighbor growing up, Darryl. He was always the guy who I talked to in depth about everything and vice versa. We vented about parents, school, whoever we were dating at the time and I found it endearing that he walked me between classes just because. He picked on me as much as he playfully flirted with me during our basketball one-on-ones.

That guy always had a basketball. To this day, if I hear a basketball ball bouncing, my first thought is him.

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Because it wasn’t about THAT with us and I was well aware he was a player, we had a very reality based, platonic relationship. But as fate would have it, right around the time a girl tried to pin a fake pregnancy on Darryl, Jason and I’s relationship met it’s final demise. Jason had started playing nice again and I was sure he had seen the error of his ways even though Darryl was not and minced no words in telling me so. But before I had made up my mind about making it official again, one of my friends spotted Jason at another girl’s house. They were in her pool together and being much more than friendly. I hung up the phone and walked out the door just in time to seeing Darryl pulling up from work. I walked up and got in the car asking him to take me to my friend’s house to see for myself exactly what the hell was going on. On the way there, every emotion I had ever felt boiled. I shook uncontrollably while Darryl assured me everything would be ok. When we pulled up to the house Jason was at, I walked straight into the backyard. He was so involved in making out with this ugly, heffer in her pool that neither of them noticed me until I was walking back out. When Darryl saw the look on my face, he unlocked his trunk and grabbed a baseball bat and started towards me. I ran into Darryl arms, crying. All it took was him wrapping his arms around me and pointing that bat at Jason, saying only the word “No” to make Jason turn around and retreat. We just stood there in the middle of the street, me crying and Darryl rocking and SHHing me.

That was what I remembered of love. Pure and undiluted. This is what I wanted … and it scared the shit out of me.

I avoided him for a couple days afterwards, not knowing what I could ever say to him again.

A week later, I grabbed the mail from the box at the end of the drive when I got home from school, as I always did, but found only a single rose and a hand written note that read: If you’re going to avoid me, I had to find another way to make you smile. Darryl.  I looked up to see him sitting on his porch with a basketball wedged between his legs. So, I walked over and sat on his porch. I couldn’t look at him, but I was trying to find words when he stopped me. He said he knew everything had changed between us and while he didn’t ever want to lose me as a friend, he couldn’t have this as a “what if”. I told him I knew too much. I knew all about the girls upon girls, I couldn’t trust him that way and then he promised me he would never do that to me. He told me I wasn’t other girls.

It was everything my little girl heart had ever longed to hear and I gave in. Darryl treated me like a queen. He was the first guy who ever taught me how I should be treated as a woman.
IMG_5708 I felt like I had just walked on the set of rom-com where two friends who grew up together finally realize they’re in love. In fact, we shared a lot of movie-worthy moments that I’ll always hold close to my heart.

But everything outside of us was so complicated. My Dad hated our relationship even though he treated me better than anyone ever had. He almost had him arrested when he found out we were having sex. His friends, who were once our mutual friends, began to hate the seriousness I brought about in him and all the time we were spending together before he left for Air Force basic training. He wrote me everyday. He started to talk about getting married when he finished tech school and got his first orders. I traded in my extra credit to graduate early so I could be with him. Then, I went to see him when he graduated from boot camp just after I started my senior classes. He was different … suspicious. Asking me about Jason of all people. I couldn’t understand how he could think I could even find a place for another boy in my life, much less why I would want to when his brother had classes with me, his family lived on one side of me and his best friend was on the other. Yet the thought of him doing anything had never crossed my mind until I heard his own accusatory tone. After all, where the hell was all of this coming from?

I left on good terms, but full of doubt. I didn’t sleep for days on end. I didn’t eat. I went through the motions at school and work while my mind wondered. Then I became full of resolve to be completely selfish. Start doing me. Bought all new clothes. Sporty Spice was a thing of the past. Hello Sexy Spice, all day, everyday. Fuck being good. Bye shoulder angel.

It got me the attention I needed while Darryl did whatever he was doing in the background. In fact, every time I looked up in English, this guy across the aisle, which faced me, would meet eyes with me and then try to look away. His name was James. I started to toy with him little by little. He started to dote and spoil me. But while he was lavish with gifts, he was stingy with vulnerability, something that I never could seem to get past.  So things between us were very sexual. It was good and I was in charge. I got sexual with him in ways I never had before. I didn’t think any teenage guy would dislike the arrangement , but before I saw it coming, he was in my heart.

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I could act unattached and not bothered by the lack of intimacy, but once I was alone, behind the wheel of my car, I would cry. All the way home and then crying myself to sleep. I had been foolish for ever trying to convince myself my feelings weren’t on the table. I now knew no matter what I did, I was going to hurt someone. Darryl, James or even myself.

About a month after graduation, while James and I were driving back from a Hootie and the Blowfish concert, with my head on his shoulder, his fingers playing with my hair and Mariah Carey on the radio, it hit me hard. I was IN love and I wanted James. Everything was about to change and just like I wanted, I would call the shots. Except this meant for the first time, I was actually ending a relationship.

It was two weeks before I was supposed to fly out to see Darryl again and I was freaking out. I asked James to give me space, but since he was just as freaked out as I was about the whole thing, he couldn’t do it. So I ran. I used my graduation money to buy a ticket to Louisville to be around my extended family and stay at my Nana’s. If I was going to do this, I had to get distance from James and figure myself out. After two weeks, I decided that it was more than possible that James was holding back because of Darryl and that Darryl and I were better off as friends. So I flew from Louisville to San Antonio to see Darryl and say our goodbyes, with love, as friends.

James and I ended up being together for over two years and were even engaged, but my teenage years ended with me starting a relationship with a man who was awful. Even after meeting my first husband, I hung to hope with James. It didn’t help that we couldn’t stop coming back for more sex. But I learned in a very harsh way that it was just sex, not hope and I married the horrible man because I fell in love with his son, Pickle, perhaps as my way of punishing myself for my own transgressions.

I don’t know. I guess that’s just a lot of water underneath bridges I have burned.

The only happy ending that came of all these teenage dreams is that I still remain friends with Jason, Darryl and James to this today.

Now, I wonder what teenage me would think of me. I mostly wish I could let her know that for all the struggle we thought was in vain and mistakes that were made, it did get better. Id like to tell her that it’s ok to be immature and make mistakes. It doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person and unworthy of respect and love. It’s a part of growing up. Even as a grown woman, you’ll still have that little girl heart that wants to be kept safe and treasured. Being vulnerable isn’t something you grow out of, it’s something you must learn to lean into. I’d tell her that we found out who we really were all along, good and bad, and we made a life worth living. This life now, this love, these children were our collective dream. Its not what we thought it would look like, it’s better.

I hope she’d be damn proud.

🎶 Dream reader, I believe you can get me through the ni-ight🎶

Reader, you have no idea how many dark nights you’ve seen me through. You help me have new “perspectacles” that find the silver lining on every stupid, black, little rain cloud that follows me. I’ll be the first to admit that can be annoying as hell. Sometimes my positive repositioning makes me roll my own eyes. Sorta like when you have a booger plaguing your nose and you have no choice but to stick a finger in to dislodge it. Disgusting, yes, but also immensely satisfying.

The struggle is real.

Now that you’re here, I just want to thank you for daring greatly to be so vulnerable in exposing your flaws. It allowed me to immediately recognize them as my own and erase all doubt and shame. I laugh about it now. I see the beauty in my own disastrous exsistence. Like taxidermy.

For that, I am forever grateful.

Keep doing you, boo.

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Nightmare

I had a dream last night that I was pregnant. Very pregnant.

(Save your sentiment. It’s not a good dream)

EX was killing me. In my dream he was continually kicking me or hitting me in the head with something and I was slowly losing consciousness.

He wrapped me up in something and was dragging me down stairs. I could vaguely feel my body hitting each step. It was as if, I was dying, but I wasn’t quite dead yet.

Sometimes when you’re pregnant you can see the baby’s hand or foot inside your womb and in this dream as I was bunched in…whatever it was I was rolled up in, I was slumped over my body, so that my face was just above my belly and it looked as if the baby was trying to reach out to my face with its hand. So, I my hand in the baby’s hand. The baby in my womb. And then I died.

Or woke up.

Midsummer night dreams

I have been having some weird nocturnal events as of late.

I’m really looking for some feedback on this one, cause it’s really starting to get eerie.

For the last week and a half, or so I have been waking up every night between 3-4am in the morning.

Now, when I wake up, I shoot straight up to a sitting position and I feel completely panicked. I feel like something is really wrong, I feel like something bad is happening right then, but nothing is happening, everyone is sleeping, everything is quiet. But it takes me a good hour or two to shake this feeling, calm myself and get back to sleep.

The bad dreams haven’t happened every night. They only started a couple days ago. The dreams are all different in the way that they happen, but they have the same end results … someone dies. Namely, the ex-husband.

The first one, was the most vivid one. In fact, it was so real, as I was crying in my dream, I woke up crying for real. In the dream, I am awaken from a deep sleep and I sit up in my bed and realize something bad has happened. I can’t shake it, so I go downstairs and grab a blanket, throw it around my shoulder and I’m sitting with the phone in my hand on the couch, waiting for it to ring because I’m waiting for the bad news. I hear a car pull up outside and hear the doors slam closed. I get up out of the chair and I walk to the door and open it and see two state patrolmen walking to the door. I look at the clock, it’s 3am. I go out on the porch with the blanket it around me and the first patrolman says, “Are you Mrs. EX?” before they say anything else I say to them, “It’s EX, isn’t it?” The one patrolmen shakes his head and the other begins telling me, he was drinking and driving, he was in his Jeep, there was an accident, he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, he was ejected from the vehicle. And I blurt out.. “He’s gone, isn’t he?” He nods his head and says he’s sorry. I crumble on the porch with my head in my hands, sobbing. He tells me they need me to go sign the papers to have his body released from the morgue. I explain to them that I can’t, because I’m not his wife. They tell me this was the address listed on his driver’s license. I start crying and I tell them, this was his home. I can feel the patrolman’s hand over the blanket on my shoulder as he tried to console me.

I wake up, shoot up in the bed, crying. It’s 3am. I’m still clinging to my shoulders as if the blanket that was wrapped around my shoulders is still there and it’s as if I can still feel that touch on my shoulder.

The next night, I dreamt that EX had killed himself. He called me and was crying. He told me he was sorry for everything. He told me to tell the kids everyday how much he loved them. That even if he hadn’t done a good job in life in watching out for us, he would be now and always. He told me good-bye. He told me he loved me and then I heard a gunshot. I dropped the phone and put my hands to my mouth and started shaking and crying. It then skips to his funeral. I can see him in his casket. But his family won’t let me in. They tell me this is all my fault and literally push me out the door, so hard that I fall. As I turn to leave, they actually throw stones at me. I can actually feel them hitting my skin.

Again, I wake up, it’s just after 3am and I immediately reach back and am rubbing the spots on my back where I felt the stones hitting me.

This thing about waking at 3am and the feelings I have, really get under my skin though, because I’ve heard on more than one occasion that 3am is considered to be the “witching hour” in which we are more spiritually attuned and closest to the supernatural. There used to be a old wives’ tale floating around that claimed this was why 3am was the hour in which most people died or “crossed over”.

Anyways, the last dream, wasn’t present time, but it wasn’t far into the future either. He was dying of cancer. I got a phone call from a woman. She told me that if I had a decent bone in my body I’d bring the kids up to the hospital to tell their father good-bye. He didn’t have much time left. I knew in my dream that the kids hadn’t seen him in awhile and I didn’t want this to be their last memory of him. So I went alone. At first, I thought the woman who called me was his now girlfriend, but the lady at the hospital had dark, mangy hair. She actually looked like a stereo-typical witch. This woman, whoever she was, started yelling and screaming at me, that I wasn’t going in there. That she only called me to bring the kids to her. A friend of mine (who is a nurse in real life) was there and she told this woman, that either she calmed down and let me see him without incident or she would call security and have both of us removed and he would no doubt, die, alone. I go in and sit in a chair next to his bed, and take his hand in mine. He barely opens his eyes at me and says my name. He grasp my hand in desperation but he seems to still have this anger in his eyes. I tell him “Just stop. Enough. We both know the truth. All this stuff you created between us has all been lies. I don’t care. And the only reason I came here, was to tell you I forgive you and that I love you. I always have. I know who you are and I loved that person, good and bad. You didn’t have to hide all that stuff and lie about it. I just wanted to help you make it better. I just wanted you to love you. I didn’t want you to hurt anymore. I want you to put the guilt down.” He starts to cry. I get up and take his face in my hands and kiss him on the lips. I get up to walk out of the room and I turn back and look at him, I smile and I say, “Bye” and he says, “Bye, Babe.

I wake up. It’s 4am. Wide awake, but this time I’m calm. I still feel like something is wrong, but I feel like I can face it. I’m not scared, even though I know, whatever this bad thing is, is still there.

Now my Mom, is kinda my spiritual guru. She reads a lot about this stuff and about different religious beliefs and ideas. Of course after weeks of this, I went to her about this. She told me that in the Jewish faith, 4am is considered be the time when God can most hear our prayers and that if you are ever woken from sleep at this time, that you should consider your spirit awakened and start to pray those things most laid upon your heart.

So when I woke up this morning at 4am, again … I immediately got out of bed and starting praying over my situation, for my children, for my family members, for healing, I prayed for my friends and their families. I prayed feverhently for a good 30 minutes. And all of a sudden I just had this peace come over me. This calm. This very unreal … serenity. I got back in bed and fell right back to sleep… peacefully.

Today – there were answers to prayer. Undoubtedly.

But I still have to wonder – what about these dreams?

shining light in the dark

I had one of the ugliest experiences I’ve had with my ex since…. well I guess the night he grabbed me by the throat. I left his house in a hurry without taking the kids inside and cooing and coddling them before I left. Why? Because after waiting for him in his driveway for over a half-hour because he was running late from work, again, my car was about to run out of gas and I was trying to make it to the gas station. Then he has the audacity to act like I’m this horrible parent right in front of the kids, after I waited FOR HIM!?!? He asked me why I didn’t go get gas while I was waiting? Wtf? Cause I was WAITING on you. The kids would’ve flipped if I had left with them after already being at his house. I swear to God, I can’t win.

But, it lead to one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.

Instead of being frustrated by my emotions and letting in complicate things between us, I let Jer be there for me. He actually took me in his arms and told me that he wanted me to know I had a safe place to go with all my tears and he wanted me to let it go. He must’ve held me for a good hour, while I sobbed. He even went as far as apologizing for all the hurt my ex had caused me. He said he wanted me to feel validated. He said I didn’t deserve it. He told me he could see it in my eyes and he didn’t want to see it anymore, so he wanted to help me put the burden down.
And I did.

Despite knowing my ex will always cause drama, because he thrives on it, I know I can deal without falling back into the bitterness and resentment of it all.
I’m gonna be ok.
Everything is gonna be ok.
And you know what else?
I have nothing to hide. I have nothing to be ashamed of.
I’m not gonna lie for him or hide for him anymore. That’s over. I did it way to long.

When you’re in the throes of a divorce, it’s way too easy to sit down and cry, and frankly, I’d like to be done and over with crying and being angry. That’s why I started this site. I’ve kept this blog of everything I’ve been through because I find it therapeutic for me to write about my failures and fears and let them go when I hit the submit button. I get it out and put it down and get to walk away with a clean slate to move forward with my hopes and dreams. That’s what this has always been about. I still read my blog entries now and then because they help me keep perspective, it helps me not take things for granted. Censoring this would be censoring my healing process, and I’m not gonna do it anymore.
This is about moving forward.
That’s what I’m gonna do.

Unsettling dream

I had one of those dreams last night that just really shook me to my core. As I sit here typing about it, I have tears welling up in my eyes.

I dreamt that I had decided to go to church with my Mom for Mother’s Day. The church was way out in the country and I felt as if I were in a different state, I’m not sure if it was Virginia, not the over populated DC suburb where I grew up, but more out into the country, but it’s a church I had never been to. It was a white church with a red door and there were wildflowers blooming everywhere. The church’s lot was sectioned off by tall rows of sunflowers, so tall that aside from the church that sat dead center to their blooms, there was no other landscape to be seen over them. I was almost skipping in a juvenile way to the door and suddenly felt weighted down, slowed, like I couldn’t move any faster than slow motion. When I got to the door, I couldn’t open it and started to panic. I continued in slow motion around the back of the church and  saw one of those little basement windows open. So, I attempted to crawl though it and the glass shattered, slicing me everywhere. I had blood on my hands and legs and it was covering the white dress I had worn. I ran to find a bathroom and as I turned on the faucet and tried to rinse my hands, I realized that the more water I applied, the more I bleed. I started to hear someone sobbing, at first I thought it was a voice I recognized but, as I opened the bathroom door I realized it was a child with a blood curdling cry. I started to run through the basement of the church, which wound around like a maze, crying out, “I’m coming, I’m going to find you, I’m going to help you”. I thought I heard the cries coming from a dark room. No lights were on. It was so dark in this place that I could only feel my way around and somehow in the midst of all of this, I realized I was in Matilda’s apartment. The screams were still coming from someplace inside this room. I opened the door to her bedroom and there were a bunch of guys sitting around, smoking and drinking. It’s still incredibly dark so I can only see their outlines. I start asking them if they hear the screams and why they aren’t doing anything. I start to cry, feeling helpless. I feel my way down the hallway and into the kitchen, where the floor has disappeared, it’s like a huge abyss. I have to cling to the walls in order not to fall in. Deep in the darkness of this abyss I can barely make out a figure. It’s Matilda. She’s sobbing and begging for my hand, for my help. I lay flat on the floor and reach out to her, screaming to her “not to give up”. All around my hand there is light leaving my fingers, but it’s like it is coming against a solid wall of darkness that it can’t penetrate and that I can’t reach through. I hear a voice behind me telling me that it’s hopeless, that she’s helpless, that she’s lost and there’s nothing we can do about it. So I stand up and jump in and just fall, endlessly, still hearing the cries, still hearing her voice. I cry out form the depths…”GOD, HELP ME, HELP US, PLEASE!” and suddenly I’m standing in front of the church with the red door again. My dress is white again, my hands are healed as if nothing ever happened…but I still remember Ruthie. I run into the church yelling at everyone to go help her. Everyone that I have seen around her or that I have seen in her pictures in real life are all in the church and they can’t hear me. I’m sobbing and all I can hear is her screams, but nobody else can.

And then I woke up.

I really can’t explain how much this dream upset me. I can’t even really explain why. It just did. I probably already understand the underlying meaning of this dream more than I care to admit, because it just makes me angry. It makes me angry to care about someone so much, who longs to be cared for, only to have them disregard you. I take that back… the problem with being some what intelligent is that you understand that anger is a secondary emotion…with the primary being either pain … or fear. I am hurt. I just don’t know what other choice I have but to carry on with my life. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, or doesn’t even realize, or can’t admit maybe, that they need help. You can’t be there, when they don’t want you around.

The one thing I’v learned about people in my lifetime is that we are prideful and I now understand why pride is greatest sin in the kingdom of heaven. Pride will destroy you and eat you alive. If you think you know it all, if you must always be right and can’t hear others …. that’s all you’ll ever have. It will keep you from true glory in your life, in love, in your relationships and in your spirit.

I can’t be sure anymore what I’m talking about or where I’m going with this because my thoughts and emotions are all over the place on the subject of Ruthie but at least I can admit it. That’s something I suppose.

Strange dreams

I had a dream last night that my cousin had a little boy and named him Peter. Then I check her Xanga and she’s talking about whether if she has a boy if she should name him Peter, after her husband’s father. I don’t know if I knew his Dad’s name was Peter or not, but it’s still a little eerie

And it reminded me of another dream I had about a baby that ended up being somewhat prophetic. I don’t know if I’ve ever told this story before, but I thought I would now.

When I was pregnant with my daughter my due date was Easter….April, 20, 2003. And since this was my third child and she was due on Easter, I picked her name which means “blessed three” I ended up going into preterm labor at six and a half months. I had to be admitted to the hospital to stop labor, got all pumped up with magnesium – which makes you feel like your entire body has sunburn on the inside of your skin, and basically….they got me to stop dilating but not contracting. So I contracted for next three months. Having to go to the hospital several more times. And it was pretty much known that I was never going to make it to my due date….but the question was when would I have this baby?

Anyways, the whole time I was pregnant I kept having dreams about giving birth, but I was always a teenager in my dreams, my dear friend Darryl was always the father, although I referred to him by my husband‘s name and I was always going into labor in the house I grew up in Northern Virginia. In my dreams we always had to call for an ambulance and Darryl/husband  would always ask what the address was and I would scream, “4 – 7 – 0 – 3 Kenny Court!!!” They were pretty funny habitual dreams that I shared with my Mom and husband.

One of the times I had to go back to the hospital…was March 3, 2003. My Mom kept saying while I was there that it would be most appropriate if I had her on 3-03-03 and then oddly enough I started dilating again on 03-30-03, but they stopped labor again. It ended up that I had an ultrasound done that showed my daughter had pretty wide shoulders and so after all my dilating and contracting, I was scheduled for a C-section on Monday, April 7, 2003.

When they brought me back from surgery and I got to hold my her for the first time, my Mom was filling out my daughters, Social Security form and she gasped and says…..

“Stephanie, Remember how  you kept having those dreams about Kenny Court. The birthdate is 4-7-03.”