Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The move is here. We've cleaned and purged, sold furniture, given away half a garage full of "stuff", and have packed up the rest. It's been rough at times, especially during Thanksgiving. I had to really dig deep within myself to find the strength to make it through this. I sit here and type and am surprised at the emotions that are still bubbling below the surface. I have taken this move much harder than I thought I would. I did it though. With the help of xanex and a few beloved friends I have made it to the end...just about to it. And with Sara Bareilles as my soundtrack.. thank you to Amy, Jmama and Sassy for recommending her album. The heart and soul of her music has pulled me through this dark time.
Even though I have cried more times than I can count or care to admit. Even though I have times of breaking down in my closet hiding from the world. Even though I am clinging to every memory of this home and this time in SC I have found hope. Just a bit of hope that on the other side I will find more hope, strength and endurance. I know that God has more for me and my family. I can find a safe haven. I can keep looking for that strength that lies deep within me...the warrior princess!
Annie Xena Princess
BTW: I plan to look like her after I institute my work out plan!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
If you read yesterday's blog you became familiar with who I deem "The Roommate". Skipping ahead of several blogs I was planning to write about the days after the accident, I just have to mention briefly here what happened last night. The irony of the situation cannot wait to be shared with you.
After writing the blog yesterday, I was not anxious to get home. It was a little like the old days (meaning the days just after the accident) because I had carpooled to work yesterday (I learned the benefits of conserving energy, especially since my ride drives a Prius). Anyway, as we pulled up to the driveway I held my breath because usually I see The Roommate's car right when I get home. Whew, I could breathe a little, he was not home yet.
I get inside and take over the areas I want before The Roommate gets home - the couch, the kitchen counter, the kitchen table. Hey, I needed to start prepping dinner (for Brad to cook), I needed to set up my laptop, and I was going to read by the fire later. I actually felt a little at home. I was happy, I was comfortable.
Then, the lock started to jiggle. I tensed. Fists clenched. I was dreading The Roommates face, his voice, the interruption of my peace. And then, to my surprise, it was the best face to appear - Brad's. NO ROOMMATE. Whew, again, now I was really breathing right.
"I thought you were [The Roommate]," I said.
"No, it's just me."
"Hey, when is [The Roommate] leaving town for Thanksgiving?"
"Today. He's gone. I told you that last night. I don't think you were paying attention."
Um, hellooooooooooo! Don't you think if I heard that, even in a faint whisper, I would have jumped for joy! This was the best news ever. Brad added that The Roommate was not scheduled to return until December 1st! WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
In that very moment, standing right there in the kitchen, I tore off my pants and danced around in my button down shirt and red underwear!!!!
When does complaining ever get you what you want! Well, it did yesterday. Here I had made myself resent The Roommate more by writing a blog about him, and instead of being punished, my dream came true of his absence! It was HOME SWEET HOME last night.
Too bad that I went upstairs after the great dinner Brad made and passed out without even changing into PJs. We had the entire place to ourselves, Brad spoiled me with a great dinner, and he even came home at a decent hour to do it, and I fell asleep before he could even come upstairs and say, "Hey, no, don't...." Maybe that is what happened the night before when he told me The Roommate was leaving, I was probably already passed out. Had Brad told me when I was awake, or even text me yesterday to remind me, I would have made a point of having the energy to have a romantic evening alone.
Oh well, there is tonight, and every night until December 1st!!! Thank you, God!!! You heard my prayers!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
In the days following the accident I was spending a lot of time at home in the evenings with my new roommate, and I do not mean the fiance.
Thanks to the accident, I had to go straight home from work most evenings because I had to follow the schedule of my carpool. My boss was out of the country so that meant I could leave work at approximately 6p, but by depending on a ride, I could not join some friends for Happy Hour, I could not go to my kickboxing classes, I could not even go grocery shopping (the very act I once loathed but even came to desire during the trial period after the accident). Basically, I had no other option than to go to my new home. You think that would be exciting, right?
No! Considering the fiancee was very busy with work, getting home early did not mean I got to spend time with him. He had just begun working a lot of late nights, which would continue in the months to come. Who I did find at home, EVERY SINGLE night was, the roommate, the guy Brad had living there before I moved in. The one and only guy who I found, to my regret, to live with Brad to help pay his mortgage. The guy who turned out to be a crazy Christian.
At first, this kid rubbed me the wrong way, and then I thought after a few conversations, "Oh, he's not that bad." But when I came home every night to find him in the living room, planted in front of the TV in the smack middle of the couch with a plate of food on his lap, it began to seriously irk me. I thought, what 21 year old college kid in Los Angeles spends every single night at home? Wasn't he dating someone? Didn't he want to be with her, or upstairs in his room talking to her on the phone? Didn't he have homework to do upstairs at his desk? That was just the beginning.
And then came the idea of decorating my new home with this extra time in the evenings. I thought I might have the chance to make the place look and feel like a home, rather than a bachelor pad. But this roommate felt he had a right to give his input. Why, because he pays rent? Who gives a rip, Brad OWNS the freakin' place, and soon I will, too, when we're married. And yet, I had to hear it from this kid that if I put the bookcase "there" it was an "eyesore". Or, how about his, "Why don't you put up pictures instead of that thing?" What was even worse was when I put my Asian screen in front of the living room window, and then came home the next night to find that the roommate folded it up and put it in the corner of the room. Or, how about when I moved the furniture around a bit and came home later to find he had put it right back where it was before. I was going to ring this kid's neck.
It gets worse.
I wanted to keep our bedroom doors closed. One evening I found the door open. The roommate explained that he likes to have the doors open so he knows when we are and are not at home. If the door is closed, it means we are home and want our privacy. Are you freaking kidding me? He is telling Brad and I the rules of the house and what we should do with our bedroom door? Maybe you're asking now, what was Brad saying about all this? Was he speaking up? Was Brad laying down the law? No, no and no. Because he wasn't around to witness any of this and he thought I was just being whiny and emotional as a result of the accident.
Let's add everything up now. I was missing out on a social life. I was spending time with Brad's roommate rather than Brad himself. Brad thought I was being dramatic about the roommate. I could not decorate or rearrange my new place. And the roommate was telling me the rules of the house that HE made.
I haven't even touched on his being a crazy Christian. Hey, who am I to judge, right? But when I started hearing things like, "Obama is a Muslim and he is feeding our country to the wolves" and that Oprah Winfrey is of the devil, I thought, who the hell is living here??!!! Why do I have to put up with this, and Brad does not? And just because I am a Christian, doesn't mean I want to discuss books of the Bible and my favorite Christian song with you, weirdo. This kid hasn't even heard of the band MUSE. God, help me!
Lastly, privacy. The kid does not know what it means. One day I found he had come into our bedroom to put our clean sheets on the bed...in like, making the bed, not just laying them on top of the bed. You may think that was a nice gesture, but I think it's very creepy. Even creepier is one time he told me that Brad is so small and he can't even fit in his shirts. I asked, "Oh, was Brad going to lend you a shirt for something?" He says, "No, it was in the dryer so I thought I would try it on." WHAT!!!??? By the way, he was IN my room at this time because he just decided to walk in as I was folding clothes. THEN, yes, there was something else, he grabs my G-STRING underwear, pinched between two fingers, and asked, "How do you fit in these things?"
The stories are endless but you get the idea. It was time to start getting creative and examine further carpool opportunities, or other ways of transportation after work. It was not yet time however to start looking for a car. I was not ready to get behind the wheel. I was not that desperate...yet.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Besides Sara Bareilles' amazing voice, I love this song and its sentiments.
What I feel when I hear this song:
1. Like a strong kick ass woman!
2. I sing loud to "All my life I've tried to make everybody happy while I just hurt and hide waiting for someone to tell me that it's my turn to decide."
4. Wish I learned to play the piano.
5. Hope that my little girls end up being strong women!
Sunday, November 7, 2010
I'm going to miss my friends here. I am going to miss the kid's friends. I am going to miss my home. The holidays are going to be off. I dumped most of the decorations. I don't have the desire to celebrate. All I want to do is crawl in a hole and sleep through the whole season. Avoid all the happy people buying shit. Instead I will suck it up and be strong for the family...this is what I do.
Trying to stay strong,
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
My accident was on a Thursday and I was back at work on Tuesday. Without a vehicle, Brad had to drive me to and from the office. After a traumatic weekend, pretty much apart, it was very interesting to be stuck in a car with him for an hour on the way to work (yes, LA traffic turns a 10 minute drive into an hour drive). We really did not have much to say to each other. He did not ask me if I was ready for work, nor did he ask me how I was generally feeling. And I was on edge because the morning commute was dramatically bringing back memories of the accident. Every move Brad would make, I was like, "Brad, don't. That's too fast. Don't break so hard. Ah, watch out. You didn't come to a complete stop..." Now it was he, who was on edge.
The first car ride of many for the next two months. It is interesting what developed of our relationship as a result.
I ended up getting a ride home that night from a girl at work.
The first car ride of many for the next two months. It is interesting what developed of our relationship as a result.
I ended up getting a ride home that night from a girl at work.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
On August 5, 2010, I did a few things I do not normally do. These last minute decisions nearly cost me my life.
At 8:15a, my stray from the normal routine began when I picked up the call from my friend, Sabrina, and said, "Let me call you back" so that I instead could call another best friend and co-blogger, Annie, about relationship troubles and concerns. Sabrina was a little put off because, after all, we talked every morning at this time and what could be more important.
Annie asked, "Well, did you end up going to the gym?" because just the night before I had blogged that I didn't feel like it and that I need the drive to go. Ah, fellow bloggers! After a few laughs, I began to share my concerns with Annie that Brad is a workaholic and could very much end up an absent father if we have kids. As I was talking, I was still capable of noticing my surroundings, admiring the mansions I drove past. I even began imagining myself being a lonely mother and wife inside one of them. I even had the thought I better call Sabrina back. Despite all of these distractions, though, I stopped at every stop sign, slowed down for the kids crossing the street, used my turn signals. And then Annie started making some really good points and while I was listening, I somehow decided to take a completely new, and unfamiliar route to work.
Honestly, though, I would not necessarily say I was distracted by the conversation, because for one year I was commuting nearly 120 miles a day on several different freeways, and was always on the phone, and texting, and emailing. This accident was not caused by being on the phone, nor being distracted.
But there were some conditions that are questionable- questions regarding my surroundings, the fog, the massive construction, and where the cop car was going when he barreled into me.
I had slowed to a near stop before I decided that I needed to make a left turn to get up on Sunset from Sepulveda Blvd. I kept checking back in my rear view mirror because there actually was not a turn lane, and I was scared that as I was coming to a stop to turn, the red car tailing closely behind would rear-end me. Ironically, in trying to avoid one accident, I was faced, quite literally, with another.
I started my left, but when I say started, I mean I barely turned the wheel when in the opposite lane, out of nowhere, fast came a vehicle, straight in my direction. If I close my eyes I can still see it like it just happened a second ago. I can see the nose of the black vehicle. I can remember thinking, I'm dead. I did not see it coming. I did not see the cop coming. I just saw the very moment we were going to smack right into each other- HEAD ON. And then there it happened. CRUNCH. BANG. SMASH. We hit so hard that my car flew backwards and ended up hitting that red car behind me, before my car then spun around and ended up in the cop's lane at least 3/4 mile up from where we collided. Annie must have heard everything, so I kept mumbling to her, "I'm in an accident. I'm in an accident". Even just mumbling hurt. Everything hurt. My head, my face, my lip, my eye, my knee, my foot, my back, my arms, my legs. The air bags saved my life, but they also banged me up pretty good, too. Luckily, I did not have my sunglasses on because I ended up getting a bruised eye and lip from the air bag hitting me in the face. A good chunk of skin came off of my knee, too, and it looked like someone took a knife and tried to carve my knee cap out. I had leggings on and they were indeed torn at the knee. I even found a bit of the cloth tangled in the bloody skin that was dangling. That part really scared me, i think, more than the accident itself...ok, maybe not.
Not realizing I HIT a cop, I saw the officer and cried out, "Officer, officer, I'm in an accident. Help". Of course he didn't come towards me because he was suffering from the shock, too. But again, I didn't realize he was who I hit. I managed to hobble out of the car and crawl to the curb. It was then I understood what happened and I began to panic and weep. The officer came over and tried to calm me down. He was ok. Not a scratch. Nothing. But you see the pictures, look at his vehicle.
Then the future flashed before my eyes. I saw my totaled car. I understood that I had this new job and I couldn't afford a car payment and insurance since this car from the accident was a loaner from my dad and under his insurance. I saw financial crisis ahead. I realized I could no longer plan a wedding. I wondered how I was going to get to and from work every day. And then I panicked that my dad was going to be mad at me. I wondered why my life had been spared in yet another accident. I wondered why God didn't let me die in this one. I was a little in hysterics.
I somehow managed to call Annie to tell her I was alive. I managed to call my dad and apologize, (he still thinks I'm crazy for even being sorry when all I had was to be thankful for being alive). I called Brad's parents who live down the street from the scene of the accident. I called work to say I wasn't coming in. I called Sabrina back, except not in the condition I thought I would be in. She said she knew something was up when I didn't even call her back, not even for a second before we both had to be into work.
The hospital released me after diagnosing that I had only bruised ribs and a sprained foot. They barely even dressed my knee because they had bigger fish to fry. I thought how lucky I was, for sure, even though when I got home I saw the bruised eye, the swollen lip, the burns on the back of my thighs (like SEVERE rug burn), the heavily bruised and swollen pelvic area, and the deep cuts on my chest. Looking in the mirror made me cry again.
For three days Brad's parents nursed me back to physical and somewhat mental health. His mom bathed me, his dad (who is a doctor) tended to my knee every day and redressed my wounds...but...Brad...where was Brad in all this...working...Brad was working and let his parents take care of me. Had I not just been saying before the accident that he is never around, and saying that after just living with him a few days. But even in the midst of this crisis, he showed up to the scene of the accident, he didn't say a word, but he made sure I got to the hospital, and then he was back at work, and came home late from work the next three nights.
My family was even around, but not Brad. My dad drove down immediately from 6 hours up north. My sister came up with her husband and my mom. Even Brad's sister and her family came to check on me. But no Brad. The one person I wanted close, was not.
And those three nights after my accident, when he did come home, he still did not say a word. I don't think he knew how to cope with the trauma. I was having nightmares, I was pretty out of it, but around him, I was tough and that toughness, he interpreted that that meant I didn't want to talk about things and that I was ok. But inside, I was so tormented. I started to think about how I had gone off the path I had always taken. How I had done the same by moving in with Brad. I started to wonder if this was punishment, or a wake up call for moving in with him. All these thoughts, all the emotion, all the trauma...spiraled into a sever depression....and I'll end it here for tonight...
Monday, November 1, 2010
Let's try this blog again.
Since my last blog, life has really changed (as if it had not changed enough this summer with the new job, the engagement, and the new living situation). Those were positive changes, at first. Now, I wonder if they were all bad decisions. I wonder if someone (God, maybe) is trying to tell me something...
I say that because immediately following my move-in with Brad, I have suffered some serious blows. I get knocked down, and just when I get up, I get knocked down again, then back up again, and so on...
Until today, I don't think I have been ready to share any of it. It's not that things are getting better, I think they are actually getting worse, which is why I'm desperate for words of encouragement. I think maybe writing about it will help. It always has in the past.
I don't want to dump everything out in this one blog. I think I will go back to where I left off and bit by bit, blog by blog, record what has happened in chronological order. It will be somewhat like therapy, I hope, to revisit the events of the recent past and face it all over again.
In summary, there has been a car accident, post traumatic stress, depression, relationship strain, fraud on my bank account, a recent robbery in my home, more relationship strain, finding out my ex is married with a newborn baby, insane job stress, and bankruptcy (which I'm not ashamed to admit).
So let's go back now in time...August 4th was my last blog, when I was trying to get up the strength and will-power to go to the gym. It is so crazy, that the very next day, the downhill slide began.The very next morning, August 5th, I called up my fellow blogger, Anne-Marie, and she asked, "Well, did you get to the gym..." I shared that indeed I got there, and that blogging about it actually helped. Then as we started to discuss some personal stuff that I probably would have blogged about that evening...the unthinkable happened...SCREECH, BANG, SMASH!!!! I was in an accident...and that's exactly what I mumbled to Anne-Marie who was on the phone and heard everything. Then the line went dead...
It's a miracle, that that's all that went dead that day, and that it wasn't me, nor the cop I smashed into. My car, the cop's car, hit nose to nose. It was a head on collision. A Dodge Charger and a Saturn. Both automobiles smashed all the way to their windshields.
I want to write more about this tomorrow, and i hate to leave you hanging now, but I want to revisit this when I can upload the photo of what my car looked like. Only then can you fully grasp what occured on August 5th, the day after my last blog.
All I wanted to say tonight is that...though I keep getting knocked down, here I am, back up again...and ready to share with you...hopefully by doing so, it will help change the course of events...