tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5233544200950797762024-03-19T12:05:17.139-04:00Domestic MischiefTiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.comBlogger395125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-34305381734906668132024-02-20T06:42:00.007-05:002024-02-20T06:42:53.858-05:00The grass is only greener where it’s been watered.<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">I have spent the majority of our timeline supporting you. Supporting your dreams, supporting your habits, supporting you mentally, emotionally, physically and financially.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28.4px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">As children came into our lives I shifted my focus on supporting them. I shifted funds, asked for help, drained what little retirement I had to make sure they were financially covered. It didn’t just cost me money, but also mentally. It robbed a lot of time I could have spent enjoying them and being a positive presence in their lives and instead presented them with a mom who was so stressed out and stretched thin that THAT is who they remember when they think of the time we all lived under one roof.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28.4px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The mother they have now, they weren’t allowed to have then and that breaks me. Meanwhile to them, you’ve been living your best life for nobody but yourself and as much as I want to shelter them from that, they’ve reached an age where they can see your mugshot, look you up on social media, hear second hand about your life from those you surrounded yourself by. People who weren’t them.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28.4px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">You came out of that “situation” last year looking to make amends, to be “better” for them and yourself. I sucked up my pride for the “big picture” and at times begged you to just be present. The times you did show up, you all but squealed tires leaving.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28.4px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">If you want to relocate, to go wherever the wind takes you, fine. Do it. But don’t drag them down on your way out. Don’t leave them wanting more and then dip out. They didn’t ask to be here. They didn’t put in a special request to have us as parents, but we wanted THEM. We owe it to them to support them in every way imaginable and I’ve been covering the tab for both of us this entire time. When do I get to say “enough?” Where is the line you have to cross for me to get legal involved again? Who will bail you out then?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28.4px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The amount of child support you pay for three children is the average amount for one in this state. I know because I see it first hand when mom’s come in to lease with me. I don’t hold you responsible for their healthcare. I don’t hold you accountable for the holidays or time you’re supposed to be spending with them and you find excuses to not follow through.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28.4px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">We have 18 summers with each child. 18. Why aren’t you making that a priority? Why aren’t you running towards them like the house is on fire and you’re the only able bodied adult who can save them? I often feel so sorry for you that you don’t get to experience this love, this absolute joy that is simply being with our kids as often as I get to be in their presence.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28.4px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">As a former child of an absent parent, my heart breaks more for them because I never wanted this for them and if you’d asked me 20 years ago if I felt you could ever do the same to our kids I would have fallen over dead if I knew then what I know now.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28.4px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">What would have happened if my father didn’t die right before the oldest needed oral surgery? What if the property never sold before another needed braces? Maybe I manifested the timing without knowing. What I wouldn’t give to have 10 minutes with my father to just hold him, despite our rocky relationship. I still just want my dad back. Will our children feel the same when you’re gone for good?</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-91896641438796694012023-10-09T03:30:00.001-04:002023-10-09T17:17:07.818-04:00Jeffery Lamar Greer<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 31px; font-weight: bold;">Jeffery Lamar Greer</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">6/16/1959 - 8/28/2023</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">On the evening of Monday August 28th, 2023, our Daddy, Jeffery Lamar Greer, was welcomed home by his Mama Tillie Kelley Greer, Father Billy Lamar Greer and sister Patricia Ann Greer along with many grandparents, aunts, cousins and other family members who proceeded him in death.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Jeffery was a loving Father to Tiffany Greer (VanVorst) and Jenna Greer as well as “Papa Jeff” to his four grandchildren, Logan VanVorst, Lillie VanVorst, Lukas VanVorst and Riker Jackson.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">He was born in Columbus, Georgia to Tillie Kelley Greer and Billy Lamar Greer on June 16th 1959. He spent many childhood years in the Phenix City and Alexander City areas surrounded by his expansive family. He attended Benjamin Russell High School and continued on in his late teens to join the Army. Upon leaving the Army he married Sherri Baker in June 1980 and proceeded to bring their daughters Tiffany (1982) and Jenna (1988) into the world. They settled in Fayetteville, Georgia in the mid 80’s closer to Sherri’s family.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">After his divorce from Sherri, he spent some time back in Alexander City with his Mother. There, he would spend his time with his girls playing hours of Crazy Taxi "We gon' HAVE some fun!" He would also take, specifically Jenna, on many trips around the area visiting historical and family land. Many visits included exploring his hometown. After the loss of his mother's twin, he and his mother relocated to Phenix City closer to her one surviving sister. From there, he would travel back and forth back home to his girls and grandchildren were born.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">We had almost 10 years with our father before he passed. He was able to watch his grandkids play soccer, softball, baseball and take the stage for both awards and plays. We were all lucky to have been influenced by his musical taste, faith, and endless love of history. If you knew him personally, you'd know that he spent years tracing his family back "across the pond" on via the Mayflower but also deep into the Cherokee Nation. He was very excited to find family and be able to trace their geology to find the familial connection between them and spent hours on both Ancestry.com and 23andMe.com playing a form of "Human Sudoku" confirming his years and years of old school research visiting libraries, vital records offices and graveyards.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">We, his children, will miss him dearly. In the weeks since his passing, it has been increasingly startling to realize we can't just call or text him. We will no longer hear him yearning for GOOD food, something he was robbed of more and more as his illnesses progressed and that man could make a mean cornbread that had friends and family who would fight to have him at their table at holidays.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">If you have a good memory of our father, music that reminds you of him, or of a recipe you just know he'd have loved, please comment below so we can look back on this legacy he's left behind.<br /></span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-22426604204068493232023-06-05T23:32:00.001-04:002023-10-10T13:01:00.981-04:00Checkmate.<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">For 2 and a half years you have kept me all to yourself. This started with a chance flirtation; a sudden twist of words, the corner of your mouth turned upward giving away your momentary intentions.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Words passed between us in invisible ink, disappearing hours after reading, I have nothing to fall back on… nothing to reflect upon now that it’s actually over. No souvenir of our time together aside from a mostly empty jar of massage cream. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">You once warned me of men who would want me, who I was and wasn’t allowed to play with. You took them from me, pulling your politics into my separation of church and state. We shared one kiss, one I asked for in an effort to taste me lingering on them. You would wait days, weeks between invitations into your hands and take away the moments I shared with men who wanted more than my flesh.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I told you that my bed was “Vegas, baby… what happens here stays here.” And then it suddenly wasn’t. I still hear his voice in surround sound, telling me to tell the truth, telling me he’ll call me when it’s safe, telling me he’d been demoted because of us. Us. Because of you. It wasn’t your place.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">You were selfish then. You are selfish still. I spilled everything just a few weeks back, still silly bitter that you were moving away. I spilled all my frustrations that you had this way of twisting and tying me in knots and then bring the strings holding me together so close to being untangled just to knot them back together again. How it was a jerk move and I didn’t understand your reasoning, what did you get from this? Where was your reward? Should I have been disrespectful? Should I have lured you to “Vegas?” Opened my mouth to use my big girl voice as I once told you to do the same with your big boy voice? Should I have asked about her? Made you say her name? Would this have carried on as long as it did?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I looked back on our conversations, seeking to see the grey areas between the black and white on the screen. Everything that meant anything was written in invisible ink and I see that now. I see that I’m too late to raise my voice. I’m too late to make that move. Too late to whisper “checkmate” in your ear as you have me tortured against your front door, denying my exit. You should have used your words and I shouldn’t have overstayed my welcome.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-87834947129025748862023-05-21T22:25:00.005-04:002023-05-21T22:25:32.874-04:00Fool’s Gold<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">In a world filled with so many options of “social” media, I feel so alone. I miss the days of actual friendships. I miss the friendships I thought I had.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I’m so good at being independent and alone. Too good. Alone is comforting until it’s not. When I’m overwhelmed and over stimulated, alone is a thick blanket I can pull up to my chin and wrap myself up in.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I don’t have relationships that I can just pick up the phone and bullshit with someone, there’s always a clause I overlook somehow.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I’m not ready for a partner or anything long term romantically. I want someone I can be apart from but be together when we’re able. A plus one, but only when a plus one is actually necessary. I miss the friendships I thought I had.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I have a few “friends” but the stars almost never align for us to meet anymore. There’s only one who makes my stomach feel full of butterflies. I want him, but I also know that I wouldn’t if I ever had him. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">That guy. I swoon over him in my sleep, I see him and want to wrap my hand behind his neck and pull him into me. I want to make out with him, but know that in doing so I would jeopardize the kinds of feelings I have for him and he’s completely off limits despite his ability to sweet talk me out of my pants. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Then there’s the new guy. I met him years ago when I couldn’t do anything but gawk at him and curse myself for having a separation of “church and state” or in my case “work and personal” life. Now that he no longer falls under the “forbidden” category and we’ve since matched on a dating app, it’s been brought to light that he’s also been intrigued by me. Once again, though, nothing is lining up just right to allow us to meet up,</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I’m just done with life right now, I’m done with the games leading up to the grand finale.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-61072417080169717402023-04-14T04:30:00.000-04:002023-04-14T04:30:00.191-04:00Of fathers and daughters.<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">I am sitting on my sister’s sofa in the home I grew up in. My father is struggling to exist in the recliner beside me. I have visually and conversationally observed him to see what it is I’m up against. I have had to use my mom voice on him already once in the last 30 minutes. “I’m not leaving until you’re in my car or the back of an ambulance, and I’ve got all the time in the world.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I can feel my cheeks and ears flush as I look away from him. He hasn’t whipped me in over 25 years, but I still get sick to my stomach confronting him. He says he hasn’t bathed in over a week and he’s embarrassed, I tell him to go clean himself up if he must but that we’re going regardless. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">A month or more ago he walked into a clinic and they refused to assess him as they felt he needed emergency care. Afterwords he told my sister that if he wasn’t better by Easter he’d take himself in. He doesn’t want to go on the weekends because he feels the care he’ll receive is less than what he’d get on a Monday. A handful of Mondays have come and gone… and so she messages me. Says something has to happen. I’ve briefed my children on the situation and put on my loudest trap music and rapped my way here. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">My sister is gentle, she is kind even when she shouldn’t be. I am envisioning her allowing him to die because he didn’t want to go. Bodily autonomy and whatnot. Meanwhile I’m envisioning my nephew walking in on Papa in front of his westerns succumbing to the death rattle. I look at him and tell him that I would not be able to forgive myself if I allowed him to traumatize my nephew by letting him decay in his line of sight.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">This is happening. The last time this happened I left his ass in the emergency room after he decided to leave against doctors orders. I’ll do it again too.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">You can lead a horse to water.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">He wants to talk to me about how dialysis is the only way to remove the fluids he’s got built up, but last I checked he didn’t have an MD behind his name. To my knowledge, no one with our last name has an MD behind it.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">He struggled his way out the door far enough to fall into a rocking chair to smoke a cigarette. Took a minute to catch his breath and has been groaning for a solid 10 minutes. I told him it sounds like he’s in pain and he says it’s all he can do to walk from one side of the room to another.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">He’s wanting to bargain. He wants to tell me horror stories of reviews he’s read of the hospital closest to us. He wants to tell me about the lady he bumped into at the local diner who was on a stretcher for 10. and. a. half. hours. Can you believe it? I counter with one of ten people satisfied with their care bother to review, but ten of ten dissatisfied people will review. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">And then he turned his westerns back on and leans back into his recliner.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">He’s been asleep now for an hour and a half struggling to breathe in his sleep. He moans and gasps and I think that it’s happening. It’s going to happen. I’ve reached an agreement with my sister that I’m just going to call 911 once my nephew is asleep and when the paramedics arrive tell him we weren’t able to wake him. It’s mostly true. When we’re able to wake him he’s alert for less than a minute.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I want to care but I’m so mad that it’s reached this point. My children are home alone, I have my own appointments in the morning, my children have school… I’m exhausted just thinking about it and so so angry at him for not taking care of himself; if not for himself, for his children and grandchildren.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">He never went to the hospital. Instead I stayed up till midnight to take him after he declined an ambulance ride and legend has it he is still getting ready to go, but never actually going.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-28300575767059779142023-04-13T06:30:00.001-04:002023-04-13T06:30:00.177-04:00Where is my heart?<p>My heart is a Pandora's box of names, places and comforting trinkets and talismans. My heart swells and radiates all the love it's ever received and all the love it has yet to give. It is passionate, unconditional and empathetic... and because it is truly human, it aches for all the love it has left behind or been denied.</p><p>My love is in Orange County California with a teenage fever dream of a surfer boy.</p><p>My love is on Hunter's Glen falling from my lips to the lips of my first true love in an old beat up pickup truck.</p><p>My love is the sweat on my skin as I learned the burn of passion with the boy who'd traveled the whole world before he laid eyes on me.</p><p>My love travels space and time, bouncing around from Great Falls Montana, Naples Florida to Canon City Colorado and beyond the confines of the nation.<br /></p><p>My love is in the inches between my heart and the heart of the man who would father our children; bodies pressed together daring the world to pry us apart.</p><p>My love is the sweet babies breath and intoxicating scent of new life in each of my children.</p><p>My love is the butterflies in my belly when my brain leaves the room, silly and drunk on flatteries.</p><p>My love is on the sidelines watching it all unfold, yelling at my heart to slow down and protect itself but my heart never listens. <br /></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-48514164924652762212023-04-12T06:00:00.018-04:002023-04-12T06:00:00.186-04:00A world of wonder.<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">The morning was rough. I had two appointments for two separate kids and I had convinced myself the first appointment started 30 minutes later than it actually did. We were lucky in that the orthodontist was able to still fit us in. Only 2-3 appointments left for this kid, and then the fun begins for kid #2.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The second appointment was a county over and involved a new doctor’s office we’d never been to before. We somehow arrived to that area earlier than anticipated and we were able to get breakfast at one of my favorite bagel spots. We fought traffic back to the cardiologist and the appointment was wildly uneventful. Which was GOOD.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I had half convinced myself that I earned a well deserved nap once we got home, but after setting a timer for nap time ended up somehow clearing the patio of broken pots, weeds and trash from last season’s fall prep. I rehung solar lanterns, discovered a petunia that had found the perfect conditions to come back to life, and nested my now empty pots and planters inside themselves ready for Spring planting.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">A few of my larger heavier planters still had good dirt in them but also had a thick layer of little sprouts from a nearby tree. I hand tilled tops of them and removed the top third from the pots; dense earthy soil scented the patio and sparkled against my forearms. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I think about how I’m going to need a Benadryl after sweeping clouds of pollen off the space. I think about my grandfather working his own arms into the cold frame where we grew strawberries and how I’m planning on growing my own berries this year. I think about my Mammaw rinsing beans in a big pot from her recliner, snapping the ends and preparing them for canning or the night’s dinner. I wonder if I will also grow beans some day or if I’ll be a small scale patio gardener forever. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I am excited for the potential all this sweet dirt has to bring forth, for the life that awaits on the other side of Spring.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-12693876857320280032023-04-11T01:30:00.001-04:002023-04-11T01:30:00.194-04:00Make a wish...<p>My birthday is in 25 days. If you know me, I've ALWAYS been excited about my birthday and this birthday is no exception. 41 trips around the sun. 41 sunkissed summers. 41 birthdays. Cinco de Mayo (my fantastically chosen birth date) has always been THE kickoff to summer. </p><p>As a child, it meant summer vacation was right around the corner meaning I could curl up in sunny spots of the carpet in my family's living room and read as long as I wanted, I could hop on my bike and ride the trails the neighborhood kids and I so diligently built between neighbors yards and the other neighborhood that backed up to ours, I could play HORSE with my best friend and her brother's older hotter friends in her driveway with her brother teaching me to aim within the square and how to shoot with follow through to make that "swoosh NOTHIN BUT NET baaaaaby" every. single. time. I would kick off my sneakers and tiptoe from stone to stone pretending the small creek that separated neighborhoods was a river that if we followed it long enough would lead us to the beach. Summer also meant "beach week" and as I got older, it also meant my sister would have to go to my granny and father's home in Alexander City, Alabama.</p><p>As a teen/young adult I spent summer's in friends pools soaking up the sun by day and skinny dipping at night; slipping shots of whatever was in their parent's liquor cabinet as liquid courage. Before my county enacted a strict curfew for teenagers, the teens of my generation (along with myself) would cruise the backroads, windows down, hands surfing the velvety warm Georgia breeze while cicadas threatened to deafen us from the woods lining the roads. There were bonfires, sleepovers, basement parties... my birthday was the gate opening wide to surrender me to the wild of summer.</p><p>Now as an adult with a 9-5, the transition from my birthday to summer means I no longer need to wake up at 5 am if I want to attempt getting ready for work before getting all 3 kids to the bus stop. I can sleep in till 6:30 or whenever the cats or Lou wake me for breakfast. I can work through my lunch to earn that much needed overtime whereas I have to come in early and take extra long lunches to get the 1st kid off the bus and then wait for the 2nd kid to drag their feet through the door. I can run on a much more consistent schedule after work because the structure of our evening schedules are much more relaxed. The kids can swim while I'm at work since I'm only a few dozen feet from the poolside and they can walk themselves to/from our apartment where they'll inevitably eat through all the snacks I purchased to last 2 weeks in a matter of a few days. We *might* get a beach trip in this year, but with everyone being so financially strapped (thanks inflation!) it's getting harder and harder to envision my toes being sucked under the sand as the waves roll over my feet. I want to promise my kids a beach trip, but I know better than to make promises. Especially promises that require relying on other adults. My children know I don't make promises unless I am solely responsible for the outcome. That's a trauma response for another day and we ain't got time for that today.</p><p>I don't normally make wishes on my birthday candles, but if I did...</p><p>I'd wish that this summer included a beach trip.</p><p>I'd wish that the beach trip would be back on the Georgia Coast again.</p><p>I'd wish that there was no drama amongst adults over children being allowed to enjoy the trip however they want as it's their vacation as well.</p><p>I'd wish that other parental units would step up and show up for their kids, and not just their partner's kids because they're physically in front of him at the time.</p><p>I'd wish for my kids to know just how much they are loved and cherished and how in awe I am of their imagination, talents and determination to become something greater.</p><p>I'd wish cats lived forever and that the cats I've been lucky enough to have in my life would live with me forever and ever.</p><p>I'd wish for a stable and more reasonable housing market so nobody could go without a roof over their head or stress that their roof may be taken from them.</p><p>I'd wish for contentment and peace for everyone, not just myself and those I love.</p><p>I'd wish to have the instant ability to be the best friend possible forever and always as well as the ability to make and keep friends.</p><p>I'd wish for grandparents to hang around in our hearts forever, whispering secrets and guidance when we need it most.</p><p>I'd wish for a million, thousand both practical and impractical magic wishes that always came true no matter the insanity of the wish itself.<br /></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-57790313043594361192023-04-10T05:20:00.000-04:002023-04-10T05:20:37.197-04:00Wild worry.<p>I used to joke that I was born to worry, and while I've learned to focus PAST the worry so I can plow straight ahead with my blinders on sometimes I am still caught off guard. Amy's "journal prompts" from this past week is having me stare deep into my fear center and bring them all to light like river pebbles held clenched in my fist.</p><p><i>"Write a list of everything that is causing you worry right now. List it all out. Now put on a favorite song and burn that shit over your kitchen sink. Say some words that sound like white hot spells. Imagine you will be free from worry while you write this month. Say that out loud too."</i></p><p>If you need a soundtrack playing in the background as you read, please feel free to blast "What the water gave me" by Florence and the Machine.</p><p>Money.</p><p>Money.</p><p>Money (ain't it funny... but not really)</p><p>Braces for thing 1 and thing 2.</p><p>Brakes or tires? What's more important? What can I push off till my next pay period?</p><p>Whether I should take their father back to court to hold him accountable for his portion of all past and upcoming medical costs or if it's not even worth my time.</p><p>Lo's heart valve and what it looks like, where is the counter at? How much time is left on his existing valve? </p><p>Lillie's mind. Is the new therapist going to work out or am I going to have to deep dive and find a new one again before the year is over?</p><p>Lou's sudden mental awareness that has him saying (and regretting) that he hates himself, his family, the cats and being overcome with sadness/frustration.</p><p>Money.</p><p>Working in a field that it is uncommon to remain at a property for a few months/years, let alone the almost 12 years I've been in this same location for the same property management group. Will I be able to see thing 1 and thing 2 graduate while still employed here in this community? I don't want to move again until after Lillie graduates.</p><p>Losing my mother. At over 40 years old, I don't want to lose her but I've also come to the realization that my idea of her is not who she is. I've had a lot of moments in the past 2 years that have proven that there's a lot I've overlooked and allowed BECAUSE she's my mother, but as I have recently told my children (and maybe that's why it's become so close to the forefront of my mind) is that I'm aware they did not choose to be here, they are individuals and I don't EXPECT them to be reflections of "the work" I've put into them I would hope that they take my guidance to heart and build upon it in the world they will inherit as they age.</p><p>Losing my grandfather. My grandfather is my last remaining grandparent and at almost 93, I know it's coming and I'm not ever nor will I ever be ready to live in a world without him in it. The thought of receiving that call sucks all the air out of my room and makes my ears ring. He is the sun and I've been orbiting around him for almost half his life now.</p><p>Money.</p><p>Thing 1 and 2's grades. It's been a rough year academically. I've apologized to Lillie and to Lou's teachers because I feel infinite grief that there are not enough hours in the day to council all 3 of them and follow up on their efforts every day between work, cooking, bathing myself or Lou, cleaning... I didn't sign up to do this alone and I feel this has been their biggest loss since they lost their father's presence in the home. I can only do so much, but this ONE THING makes me feel like the worst parent.</p><p>My health is getting better, but I constantly worry that one wrong move will send me spiraling back to the devastation that was the holidays. Just writing that has made my stomach upset because I now realize that this past November/December was so hard mentally and physically due to losing Ollie, my RLS, diabetes and terrible insomnia. The year before? I had strep and covid. What is it about the beginning of winter that humbles me like this??</p><p>I worry something will happen to me and I don't know what that "tomorrow" would look like for them. Where would they wake up the next day? What will they eat? Who will make sure they make it to school in time? Who will take it the hardest? Need the most help? How can I prepare them for that? I've lost 3+ people in the past few months and it feels like none of my "best efforts" will really assist them when that time comes.</p><p><br /></p><p>So that's it for today's current worries. I hope we never have to speak of them again, although I'm here if you need clarification or have answers to all of my existential crisis concerns.<br /></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-16529214357515115732023-04-09T05:51:00.000-04:002023-04-09T05:51:52.968-04:00I stopped believing.<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">I no longer believe in “the one.” I can’t. I’ve handed my heart on a silver platter to two men who felt like home, and both burned down the love that consumed me and laughed as I came apart.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Both times felt like magic, like the universe laid out a path from them to me and nothing could disrupt its plans.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I don’t believe in soulmates, twin flames, lovers from past lives… I don’t believe that any one person belongs to another.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I don’t know if love even exists or if it’s camouflaged in cheap passion, lust and rose colored hope. Every time I made out with my then partner or made love, my heart grew 10 sizes and my insides vibrated up through the top of my head and honestly it sounds more debilitating than romantic. I poured every ounce of love and admiration into them, built them up and cultivated their egos… for what? Why?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I miss the “me” that existed during those times. She was hopeful, oozed love in everything she did. I don’t miss the men attached to these time periods.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-36488148704025259802023-04-08T00:22:00.000-04:002023-04-08T00:22:20.479-04:00Do’s and Don’t’s.<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">Top 5 turn Ons/ Top 5 turn Offs</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">On:</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">1.) Eye contact, like I’m the most important person in the room.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">2.) Follow through.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">3.) Empathy and the desire to learn more about others experiences.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">4.) Can be terribly filthy minded when it’s appropriate and knows when it’s not.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">5.) Can kiss so good I forget my own name.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Off:</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">1.) Dishonesty, especially when their little white lies pile up.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">2.) Generally not concerned with taking care of themselves both in the moment and proactively.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">3.) Expects to be taken care of or for others to double down on responsibilities so they can continue to be careless.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">4.) Unruly, untamed facial hair.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">5.) Unable to read the room.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-72588337406017369322023-04-07T08:05:00.000-04:002023-04-07T08:05:56.152-04:00Touch.<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">Top ten ways you like to be touched</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">1.) fingers through my hair, thoroughly raking my scalp with gentle tugs and moderate pressure.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">2.) palms cruising down the length of my spine and curving out at my waist.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">3.) kisses behind my ear while hearing them breathe me in.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">4.) thumbs untangling the mess of muscles in my calves.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">5.) gentle tug/grabs at the nape of my neck while in a full contact hug.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">6.) warm hands on cold cheeks on brisk fall nights.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">7.) my hair being swept off my face and tucked behind my ears.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">8.) heart to heart, ribs pressed against each other.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">9.) hip/thigh rubs when I’m the little spoon.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">10.) thumb rubs against the outer edge of my seashell ears.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-42063739344290345562023-04-06T23:12:00.000-04:002023-04-06T23:12:05.072-04:00Ins and Outs <p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 31px; font-weight: bold;">Ins and outs of it.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">In:</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Passion</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Magic</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Rose colored glasses</span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Savoring each moment</span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Reading</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Art</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Loving everyone and letting them know it</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Blessing others</span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Going out</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Making friends</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Falling in love with myself</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Allowing others to love me</span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Writing more</span></li></ul><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Out:</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Monotony</span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Judgement</span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Fear</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Anxiety</span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> </span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Isolating</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Disregarding my boundaries and allowing others to disrespect them</span></li><li><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Submission </span></li></ul><p></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-63441550368198070432023-04-05T10:35:00.000-04:002023-04-05T10:35:50.816-04:00I was going to.<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">I was going to run. I was going to do yoga. I was going to vacuum, clean the other bathroom, sweep and mop. I was going to clean out the car. I was going to get everything together to make that tiktok. I was going to put clothes away and change the sheets on our beds. I was going to go for a walk. I was going to have coffee with that girl. I was going to repot and feed my plants. I was going to tell them what I want and what I would no longer settle for. I was going to finally file all the things and clear out at least one bin. I was going to organize the craft stuff and downsize my library to only books I could quote from memory. I was going to put my earbuds in and soak my bones in a hot bath. I was going to meal plan for the week. I was going to donate the basket of clothes the kids and I have outgrown or will never wear again. I was going to clean out my bedside table. I was going to hang the new artwork and rearrange the existing framed art and pictures. I was going to relocate the new litter box.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I was going to, but I didn’t.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-16141509818976057822023-04-04T03:50:00.000-04:002023-04-04T03:50:20.392-04:00The countdown.<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Today you forgot who I was. You assumed I was my daughter and proceeded to argue with me on who my father was. In a moment of clarity you recounted the adventure that was driving your old Volkswagen while on crutches after exploratory knee surgery to meet me, your first granddaughter at the hospital. You only knew that I was sick and between the knee pain and worry missed the exit to NorthSide Hospital all the while your car was backfiring the whole way. You spoke about how purple my heels were from all the blood draws and told me I was the prettiest baby he’d seen in 24 years. I don’t know what I’ll ever do without you when the world loses the greatest man I’ve ever known. You hung the moon and were the sun and nobody can tell me differently.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 3px; min-height: 44.3px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-82543714013307060952023-04-03T00:30:00.001-04:002023-04-03T00:30:00.212-04:00So close.<p>I <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">could feel you against me. We were so close. Your lips were damp and I wanted to lick me off of them.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I don’t know what you want from me. Am I being respectful? Am I only allowing myself to let you show me how far we can go? Are there cues I’m missing?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s 12 hours later and I’m still feeling the heat across my cheeks and the feeling of you radiating inside of me like the sun.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I have had to catch my breath so many times this week; jolting myself back to reality or waking myself up from the feeling of your body against mine, my lower lip between your teeth, hands around my neck.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I don’t know what you want from me.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-48132128286166217252023-02-26T21:57:00.003-05:002023-02-26T21:57:20.986-05:00Grief.<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 31px; font-weight: bold;">I woke myself up sobbing this morning. It’s been 6 years since I lost the person I thought was my best friend, the person I created three lives with. Most days I don’t even think about that part of my life. But then there are days that follow HARD nights with one of the kids and it triggers something in my subconscious, rips it open and the grief of losing what I thought I had rushes out. I’m allowed to mourn the love I thought I had. I believed him when he told me he’d never hurt me the way my ex had. I believed him when he joked about our “contact.” I never felt I had reason to doubt his faithfulness to me. I’m not completely blind to the traumas I brushed off as “normal” for situations he put us through. But there’s still part of me that remembers the good times, when I thought we were smitten with each other, when he was being such a good dad, when I thought he was doing things for my family out of love for them out of his love for me.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 31px; font-weight: bold;"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 31px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 3px; min-height: 44.3px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-weight: bold;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 31px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 3px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-weight: bold;">I’m allowed to grieve. I’m allowed to mourn the husband, father of my children, best friend and partner I thought I had. I just want to be able to trust again, to love and allow others to love me. I want that for me while also enjoying this freedom of not having to worry about being lied to our betrayed. There’s no having my cake and eating it too.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-946526901415393332022-12-01T19:29:00.001-05:002022-12-01T19:29:00.225-05:00I Hope You Know.<p>To my children,</p><p>I hope you know I have loved you with every cell in my body.</p><p>From the day I knew you were a possibility, I have known you. In the days of your early years I would look at you awe struck and it would become unfathomable that there was a time in my life you did not exit, as if you were always there somewhere tucked behind my ear like a strand of hair.</p><p>It would be devastating to think there will ever be a day you go to sleep questioning my unwavering love for YOU. You as you are, not the "you" that you think I think you should be. I have only ever wanted you to be happy, healthy, know you're loved to your core and to enjoy every moment of your childhood and hold onto those years before they slip so quickly through your fingers.</p><p>I will forever be disappointed that I couldn't give you the time I wanted to. I tried so hard to make my presence a possibility, but I know that I fell short often once our family structure fell from a 5 person household to 4. I am and have been doing everything within reason to give you all my personal time I can spare without depleting my own "stores" of personal time to rebuild myself for the next day.</p><p>You deserved more and you deserved better than what we as your parents provided. I tried so hard and felt as if each year my knuckles were more metaphorically bloody than they were the year before from scraping my way through. </p><p>I never wanted to be the parent that had to beg/borrow/steal to make ends meet.</p><p>I never wanted to be the parent to tell you "no" to new experiences and opportunities.</p><p>I never wanted to be the parent to enforce the three of you relying on one another so I could provide some sort of life for you.</p><p>At the end of the day, I feel like we've been fairly successful of being fierce advocates for one another and (most days) being complimentary to one another. If one falls down, we reach down and pick the other up.</p><p>I don't want you to ever think you must earn my affection or feel as if you are unworthy. I will ALWAYS love you, forever and ever no matter what. No mistakes, errors in judgment or failures you may have (and we will all have them at some point in our lives) can make me change my mind that you ARE worthy always.<br /></p><p>I hope you know all that and more.<br /></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-7984731654499843282022-11-17T17:57:00.004-05:002022-11-17T17:57:48.973-05:00Stuck.<p>I am stuck somewhere between "familial responsibility" and carving my own identity.</p><p>I am frozen where I stand as I think back on every guilt trip, every "dishonorable" act I've ever committed, and being called upon to serve each of my family members and the different benefits each of them received while only now realizing there was no benefit for myself other than the feel good glow of knowing I "did my part" in the family.</p><p>I try to raise my kids in such a way that they know that I know they didn't choose to be here, they didn't choose this life for themselves and that they are almost entirely reliant on my ability to provide for, shelter and nurture them into adulthood. It is an absolute BONUS if they stick around beyond their teenage years, but they don't honestly owe me anything for being born and becoming who they were always meant to be. My dreams are not their own and I am ok with that. It's nice to dream, but my dreams are not their reality.</p><p>They were born into a family of parents with divorced parents and sometimes divorced grandparents. They were born into half siblings and extended families and generations of love, heartbreak, birth, death, generational curses and stories that were so jaw dropping that a whole docu-series was made about it.</p><p>When do I let the last weekends in July of my childhood slip through my fingers entirely? Weekends I spent wide eyed and curious searching the faces of my cousins, great aunts and uncles, and my great grandmother for answers to who I was.</p><p>Visits with my paternal family were stark in comparison. Stories of Alabama royalty, plantations and the "best kept slaves" but they "weren't slaves" they were family. Stories of losing my grandfather during a custody dispute. Family reunions and gatherings didn't really happen unless someone had died. And even then it would be hush hush gossip with side glances to my sister and I with whispers of "quiet now, little pictures have big ears."</p><p>Why do their stories have to be braided into who I am? Why should they? What right do they have to my present day situation? I didn't even know most of those people and they honestly probably wouldn't want to get to know me if we passed each other on a sidewalk.</p><p>A lot of what the generations before have taught me is what not to do, heartache for what they endured and learning from their mistakes. Those I met in person I've chosen my own thoughts on and either formed relationships with or kept my distance. I wasn't "being a snob" I was protecting myself from whatever it was that felt "off" with them and a lot of times it was just me being completely overwhelmed in their presence because of their mannerisms and conversation skills. Not a snob, just neurospicy.</p><p>I want my kids to have the ability to know about their family history, but not in the way that I grew up believing that their history was why I was who I was. It has nothing to do with them. Who we are as humans has nothing to do with what boat your family crossed over in and everything to do with how we conduct ourselves in the present and future.<br /></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-52757363924729544382022-11-01T19:20:00.001-04:002022-11-01T19:20:12.126-04:00It’s Just a House <p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">It’s just a house.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">His hands touched the lumber that framed it out. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">He purposefully built rooms and corners knowing the family that came before him and after him would fill its crevices with both laughter and tears. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The doors he framed out welcomed siblings, cousins, in laws, grandchildren, great grandchildren… and unknowingly said goodbye to his wife, his sons and his brothers.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">There are jackets hung in the garage hall that have watched him, his wife, his children and grandchildren do thousands of loads of laundry and I’m sure have overheard just as many secrets passed between lips to ears across the room and across phone lines from one coiled phone cord to another.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Prayers and pleas made to a watchful God, hymns sung at the kitchen sink beneath a carefully placed window so songbirds inside and out can call to each other. He knew what he was doing when he chose this blueprint.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Hours upon hours have been spent rocking and swinging from chairs and porch swings with their own stories to tell. Babies and old men alike observing the lay of his land, watching for deer and bunnies, witnessing the passing of time as fruit trees bloom and blossoms fall.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Stairs and railing, down to the basement where the sounds of drums, high hats, cymbals threatened to deafen those who dared to sneak down the steps and listen. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Giggles from mischievous little girls haunt the basement stairwell as pranks were played upon their youngest teenaged uncle, much to his disapproval.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Stories of real, fictional and biblical snakes were told under the roof of this house he built. From snakes keeping time swaying in the windows of the basement windows to cable lines snaked through walls, scaring and scarring the biggest of grandchildren (everyone, including her, laughs about this now).</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Deep into the basement is a cellar, cool and dark lined with hundreds of dusty jars. The fruits of his labor from hours upon hours of tending to his garden. Tomatoes, pole beans, blackberries, bacon grease, peppers… all lovingly dated in her handwriting as beads of sweat from the blistering Georgia summer collected across her brow.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">His boots dutifully trudged through the red Georgia clay as he tilled and conditioned the soil every summer for well over 30 years… vines of muscadines lay thick next to whatever playground equipment he’d rescued. Beside the muscadines were rows of prickly raspberry and blackberry vines. So many summers were spent hosting granddaughters with pigtails and curls sneaking between those rows to sneak deep purple and red berries straight from their vines.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Little legs chased puppies and chickens through dirt paths in the backyard. This same backyard watched as his son took his last breath. So much life grew and perished beneath the canopy of pine and sweet gum trees.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s just a house, but it hosts memories of birth, life, death and everything in between. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s just a house, but nearly all of us have descended from it and contribute our own blood, sweat and tears. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s just a house, never mind that it echoes with love, laughter, joy and sorrow.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s just a house, but it’s now a part of all of us and one day we will have to say goodbye to it and only visit from the road as we pass.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s just a house, but it is a living testament of my grandfather and every last hope he had for his family.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-26196184430712448832022-10-27T14:30:00.004-04:002022-10-27T14:30:58.916-04:00404 Not Found<p>200+</p><p>30+ </p><p>8.</p><p>The past few days I've gone through one by one and removed any blogs I've followed that have either a.) not posted in over a year or b.) come up unknown/not found/snatched up by someone who is clearly not a blogger.</p><p>This really kind of breaks my heart/brain. What outlets are they utilizing now to release their thoughts, their stories?</p><p>I feel like blogging is my little bit of "fuck you" to everyone who's ever peeked into my journals and diaries. My way of saying, "if you want to know so bad, here, now you don't have to break the lock."</p><p>I cannot imagine being silenced. I cannot imagine having my hands held behind my back with no outlet left to scream my innermost thoughts into the void.</p><p> </p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-61689457941601953212022-10-26T13:27:00.000-04:002022-10-26T13:27:18.698-04:00Past, present and future pt. 2<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">15 years ago, I:</span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Moved into my grandparents home with my then husband.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Gave birth to my first child.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Quit flying indefinitely after 6 years of traveling the world.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Became a firefighter’s wife and stay at home mom.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Watched hours and hours of insomniac theater on VH1 with my colicky baby.</span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">10 years ago, I:</span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Was on the Rosie O’Donnel Show.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Was healing from a nervous breakdown.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Fought my anxieties and got a job leasing apartments.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Sent my oldest to Kindergarten.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Found my then very intoxicated husband trying to hang himself in our closet while pictures of his sister and her friends in their bikinis littered across his computer screen.</span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">5 years ago, I:</span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Began the transition for my youngest to start special needs pre-k through the public school system with the help of Babies Can’t Wait.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Watched my oldest find his “reason” again after years of “pause” while playing baseball.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Found messages on my laptop between the baseball team’s “team mom” and my husband.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Got divorced.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Began to rediscover who I really was now that I was no longer pouring every bit of myself into someone who could never be truly satisfied.</span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">1 year ago, I:</span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Started running again.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Abruptly stopped running after getting strep and having terrible reactions to my covid booster. Hashtag no regrets.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Realized it wasn’t “me” in the relationship with those close to me. I played my part in reaction to who THEY were.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Fell down in a hole of seasonal depression on top of the normal undercurrent of regular depression.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Sent my oldest to High School to begin his final descent into his remaining years in the school system.</span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Today, I:</span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Got all 3 kids to 3 different schools and made it to work 30 minutes early (small victories!)</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Can finally get groceries now that something’s been paid towards child support.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will do the dishes, finish this weekend’s laundry and maybe get it all put away.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Readjust my debt spreadsheet since my financial situation went to shit.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Pre plan for this weekend’s Halloween festivities and my mother’s birthday.</span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">1 year from now, I:</span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will have one kid with a driver’s license and another starting their driving journey.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Have two kids in high school and one in elementary school.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will be running at least one 5k by summer.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Be back in the swing of daily morning yoga.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">(Fingers crossed) will have a new vehicle of my own and no longer struggle financially as hard as I have this year.</span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">5 years from now, I:</span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will have a HS graduate, one senior in HS and an 8th grader.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will hopefully be a homeowner.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Plan on celebrating 15 years at this property.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will be 45. Inconceivable.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will be a non-smoker. Not maybe or hopefully, I WILL BE a non-smoker.</span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">10 years from now, I:</span></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will be 50.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Hope to be celebrating 20 years with this company if not back flying.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">My youngest will graduate High School.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will just have the youngest at home.</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Will need all the plants and cats to keep me company.</span></li></ol><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-62359600288827304092022-10-23T22:16:00.000-04:002022-10-23T22:16:05.983-04:00Core Memories in the Making<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px;">What do core memories with our children look like to you?</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">With big it was seeing him finally run right after his first birthday. It had been 12 months of frustration since his birth. Watching him put one foot in front of the other on those cabin floors in West Virginia was euphoric for all who witnessed or was part of it. It was watching him run across the field beaming with pride, brow glistening with sweat after scoring a point. It was watching his face grow nervous with glee when he was picking out flowers for his elementary school sweetheart before taking her (her mom, her sister and middle) to the movies - his first REAL date. It was watching him dance and sing during “the greatest show” in middle school after hours and hours, days and weeks of pulling teeth to get him to practice and seeing all his hard work pay off. It was the night he ran from you; blue and red lights bouncing off our faces as he told me he was never going back. I was proud of him for standing his ground and saying “no more.” It was watching the excitement and jitters grow with each second that passed leading up to seeing his girlfriend before homecoming this weekend.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s not always sunshine and roses. There are times when it’s harder than feels necessary… but I would never trade my time with them. They owe us nothing. They don’t owe us love or affection. They don’t owe us conversation, they don’t owe us. They didn’t ask for us. They didn’t choose this life. We chose it for them. WE brought them into the world. WE made the promise to THEM that we would unconditionally love and support them.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26.8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">So. How do you do it? How do you justify your silence and inability to just show up, be present? How do you sleep at night knowing they exist without your love guiding and shielding them? How do you sleep? How do you not worry yourself sick? There’s nothing I’d ever trade, nothing worth losing my kids eyes searching for me in the crowd even though they KNOW I wouldn’t miss their life, their one and only childhood for anything or anyone.</span></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-9017406349774773992022-10-17T20:00:00.001-04:002022-10-17T20:00:00.198-04:00Another one bites the dust.<p>Riding to school this morning, I made a terrible comment to my oldest about how right now we're all walking around and our bones are wet. He told me to stop it, but instead I carried on with the fact that at some point during my cremation, my meat will be perfectly cooked. He jokingly gagged and yet I carried on that I better not be buried or I'll haunt him for allowing it to happen. I didn't want someone playing with my hair and makeup to make me look like someone I never was or plugging my orifices with medical grade butt plugs to keep me from leaking out all over my coffin. I did half seriously tell him that before everyone leaves, Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" better play.</p><p>I joke with my kids like this periodically knowing they'll remember bits and pieces of my requests for my last wishes. Little may not remember, but I'm sure Middle will and Big will endure too much grief to contribute to the conversation unless one of them remembers my wishes differently than him. Seriously though, if you find out I've passed on please remind my children that I will haunt them if I'm buried somewhere. At least if I'm cremated, all three can split my cremains in thirds to carry a little bit of me wherever they end up.</p><p>Death has been a big part of our conversation as of late due to Ollie's looming expiration date. Some days, this old geriatric cat of mine will act deceptively normal. Well, normal for being 17 and on borrowed time. He still wanders the house every night if I'm not where he expects me to be and howls for me to come find him and help him as well as screaming his demands for dinner no later than 7:29 pm knowing full well he won't get fed till 8:30. Other days, the tumor behind his ear will start oozing, he'll be unsteady on his feet and rhythmically twitch his sore leg like he's keeping time to a song only he can hear. </p><p>I've made calls to local veterinarian's offices, nurses who will visit in home, and to friends and family to say their goodbyes to him. I whisper, "soon, soon... I won't let you suffer much longer." I don't want him to suffer and I do want him to die with dignity, but something deep inside of me is too selfish to let go just yet. This is my Ollie, the best friend I never knew I needed time and time again. I'm literally keeping him alive long enough to afford his euthanasia and cremation. It's over $400 to make sure he's not cremated with any other animals, which is a HUGE deal if you're Ollie and never liked anybody but your human mom... and sometimes I think he just tolerates me. When my own mama asked why I would just bury him in the backyard of my childhood home, a.) he don't know NONE of them pets buried back there nor would he like them b.) he coming with ME. Where I go, my boy will come with me. I want him to lay on/in my bedside table close to the head of my bed where he sleeps every night as it is and always has been. I don't want his old bony ass to haunt me because he's got little bits of Rover and Spot mixed in with his ashes and he's PISSED because he can't stab me in the jugular with his sharp ass little nails I could never hold him still long enough to trim.</p><p>This cat literally fell tail and back feet up in the air into my lap as I sat on the floor and surveyed my choice of kittens. He chose ME to take him home. He chose ME to tolerate for the rest of his life. He chose me even though I chose to marry the man who hurt him, he chose me even though I brought three babies home, he chose me even though I moved us from apartment, to basement, to apartment, to house, to apartment to house to his FINAL apartment... he chose me even when it was my heart that was breaking curled up under my "marital bed" mourning the death of my marriage. He chose me even when I foolishly brought a third cat into the household and even when I sent the cat back with my ex-boyfriend when we split. He still chose me even though I couldn't and can't bare the thought of life without him in it. How do you raise another being from 6 week old kitten to 17 1/2 year old screamy geriatric cat and then just say goodbye? It's a process I'm still, well, processing and I'll never honestly be ready to say goodbye.</p><p>Despite death being such a hard topic no matter what season you're in, I know for myself that I'm not afraid of death or knowing that a.) we're all going to die and b.) you can't escape that. I'm comforted by my faith that something better awaits me, but also know by science that it's physically "ashes to ashes, dust to dust." My brain can't honestly wrap itself around any other thinking, it's all very black and white in the recesses of my mind that this is just how it is. I'm not afraid of leaving life behind. I'm afraid of not LIVING and experience all MY life has to offer. I'm afraid of leaving my children before they're old enough to care for themselves or if needed, their brother. I'm afraid that now that I'm aware of how screwed up our situation was and how messed up my childhood was, that if something happens to me before they're of age they'll be thrown into every bit of what I've worked to undo.</p><p>Little asks me about death as we're somewhere between awake and sleep. "How many days do children live? Do you know when you'll die? Do you know when Pappaw will die? Why do we know when Ollie will die by not Pappaw? Does everything die?" I can read the inflections between the lines and can hear the thoughts little me would have after learning what it really meant when my mama said she'd "lost" a baby and her being so sick trying to "keep" a pregnancy broke my little pre-k brain.</p><p>I at the very least want them to be prepared and to not be afraid of death because they will know loss and have seen loss first hand at very young ages. I want them to be soft to the idea that there's no getting around it and to accept the beauty in blooming from birth just to perish and start again when our energy and ashes/dust carry on another purpose. I don't want them to be afraid of life without me, but celebrate and have joy in their voices when they speak of the memories they had of me. I want to know that THEY know how loved and cherished they were by me, that the very thought of losing them sucked the air straight from my lungs any time the possibility was there, waiting for me to loosen my grip on them.</p><p>We're all born to die, the trick is to truly love and LIVE between those two events. <br /></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-523354420095079776.post-49572948043789574702022-10-11T20:00:00.006-04:002022-10-11T20:00:00.200-04:0018 years.<p>"18 years, 18 years... she got one of your kids got you for 18 years."</p><p>Our baby is now 8, so the good news is there's only 10 years left of this.</p><p>10 years left of having to talk to you for anything involving our children.</p><p>I've offered different options for communicating to eliminate any need to actually speak to each other, but got lashed at for requesting we use it.</p><p>I can't send a text without it being misconstrued or read wrong.</p><p>I can't bring up money without hyperventilating waiting for the fall out.</p><p>We both filled out the divorce paperwork.</p><p>We both agreed to the custody agreement.</p><p>We both filled out the financial affidavits.</p><p>I took a picture of the orthodontics agreement the day I started the process for big.</p><p>As soon as big is done with their braces, middle will start their orthodontics journey.</p><p>50/50 on out of pocket medical expenses.</p><p>I already pay out of pocket each paycheck for vision/dental and I've never asked for help.</p><p>You live in a two income household, raising her two children and you have three biological children not even three miles from you. How do you sleep at night?</p><p>Nobody is keep your children from you.</p><p>Nobody has taken your rights.</p><p>I don't understand why you are so resistant to be a father to your biological children. Our children had you physically present in their lives every single day of their life until the day you walked away.</p><p>Our youngest has now known life longer without you present than all the days combined of the three years you were the "stay at home" parent.</p><p>I'm not giving you parenting lectures. I am genuinely heartbroken for our kids who you promised THEM you would be present for and support. I am baffled that you wouldn't move Hell and Earth to make the time for them or make up time with them during the week or in alternative ways on your weekends. But again, not lecturing, just outwardly observing what a piece of garbage you truly are when it comes to upholding your responsibility when it comes to doing your part.</p><p>Little may still have 10 years... but you only have 2 1/2 years with big and 5 years for middle. I don't think any of us are willing to hold our breath to see if you show up and actually play the part of "Daddy" at this point.</p><p>Hah, that actually made me trigger a memory of a quote I once saw that YOU read to me back in the days of my grandfather's basement... "Any man can become a father, but it takes something special to be a Dad."</p><p>If you want to keep your "adopted" children and wife living as comfortably as you all are at this time, you may want to find an additional source of income. Cost of living has changed across the board.<br /></p>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08762583175264212276noreply@blogger.com0