Not Alone but Lonely

Family and friends surrounded.
They smiled and laughed. I looked on as an outsider.
I am watching my life unfold behind a glass window.
I see myself move from room to kitchen to door. Exit and return.
In the night I rise. I wonder thru darkness of my home and my soul.
Uneasy and unmoving.

I am watching my life unfold behind a wall.
Realizations of love blocked by bricks constructed to protect a broken heart. Thick and unbroken.
Darkness presses down.
I wonder thru the darkness of my heart.

Brown eyes plead for love. I press up against the wall. I hammer and claw.
Never alone for more than a minute. Lists ticking off in my head.
They giggle and run.
I hide.

I try to keep up. Going too fast I cannot grasp.
I reach for love and it moves from me.
I hide behind the wall. I peer through the glass.
A damaged heart.

I am watching my life unfold in a mirror.
The mirror is broken and I see myself distorted.
Beyond repair. Can the glazer fix it?
It's not me.
I look away.
I look away.

A VICTIM - EDITED VERSION (thank you BK)

I know I always play the victim but I promise that I do try to be strong so that it doesn't come off that way, but my strength turns into something different. It turns into anger, and I turn into a monster. Here I am, and I am so sick, sick that yes I am going to get ahead financially, but I still have to go bankrupt to do so; sick that all I do when things get rough is turn ugly rather than being humble and just saying, "Well, thank God I'm just alive with a roof over my head."

But at a certain point when I have been through so many ringers, I just want something good. Is that too much to ask? I want to marry the man I love, but I can't because I don't have money and I have to wait until I have sorted out my finances and I do have money. Well, what does that tell me...that I'm not good enough.

There was only one time in my life I actually contemplated suicide and I partially went through with it. I was 14. I have only the last year thought about it over and over again because some days the pain is too much and the failure is too embarrassing. Another form of suicide is just giving up entirely, on everything, even my relationship, and running home to my mom. I picture us growing old together, my mom and me, like in GREY GARDENS, crazy and miserable, that life treated us so horribly. I picture nursing her to her death when that day comes and I end up all alone buried in cat feces because I just stopped caring.

Everything I'm feeling is because of work. The morale dropped so low here, and my spirits even further, a lot is at stake here and I cannot simply just quit. Now if I can just say that about life in general, I will be okay.

Signed,

The Victim (sorry, I am not proud to say it)

Empty

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!

Signed,
Annie Xena Princess

BTW: I plan to look like her after I institute my work out plan!

The Roommate, Part 2

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!

The Roommate

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.

King of Anything

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."
3. Empowered
4. Wish I learned to play the piano.
5. Hope that my little girls end up being strong women!

Signed,
Annie

On the Move

It has happened, we are one of those dreaded statistics out there that you hear about on NPR every morning. We are loosing our house and foreclosing because we have a dreaded ARM loan and our house is worth LESS than we owe on it. For two years we have tried to work with the bank to help us...applied for a home loan modifications, called them, researched federal programs, but the bank refuses to help. They want us to be diliquent on our loan and show financial distress. I guess that giving 70% of your income to your mortgage and draining your savings is not enough to prove that you need help. We tried to do things right and we kept paying the mortgage, yet apparently we should have just stopped. Well, that would have F'd our credit and how would we get qualified to move or buy a car (our car lease is up in March)? Now we find ourselves packing up 5 bedrooms, a 3 car garage..2,700 sq ft to move into 3 bedrooms and 2,000 sq ft. I am grateful for finding a house in a beautiful neighborhood. I am glad that it is one level and can fit my washer and dryer (many of the homes we looked at would not fit the high efficiency machines and I am quite attached to mine). I am excited about decorating with color. I am grateful to be up in civilization again...Newport/Costa Mesa. Yet, with all the positives I can't help but feel a dark could of sadness looming over me. I have started having panic attacks again. I find myself crying constantly. When one mother from school told me her son said he didn't want to go to Kindergarten next year because the twins would not be there I cried. When the twins closest little friend found out we were moving and went and sulked and stared out the window I cried. When I look around at my house...torn up and furniture gone I choke up and cry. I see the work and love we have put into this home I cry. Realizing that we will not be back on this PERFECT street, with loving and caring neighbors and friends I cry. The husband doesn't understand my "depression and mopieness" and thinks I should be excited about the new prospects of moving. That makes me cry more. Of course there are positives, as stated above, but now in these moment of transition I am mostly sad. Typing now I cry. Wiping tears away quickly so the little people won't see them. I try to be strong and happy for them. 

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,

Annie