Leaving Michigan

 In what seemed like an altered reality, the time to leave Michigan had come.

Sad

  Not eager. 

The life we created there was good for me, and stressful for the husband. The kids and I loved our homeschool community. 

The apartment gave me warmth and security

  the scenery outside of my windows was calming to my troubled soul

All good things must come to an end

 and so they did. 

I prepped the apartment, sorting things according to must have, not necessary at the moment, and need upon arrival.

On the day of the packing team's arriving, reality began to set in. They were kind, they were efficient. They were accommodating. Yet, at the last minute, we decided what we were keeping needed to be slimmed down. And so we went through everything and set more aside for the Packers. 

It was not enough. 

By the time of our departure, we were down to only our minivan. Two chihuahuas, one cat, two kids, and ourselves must fit into that van. 

Just over a week before we were to roll out, the van broke down on the side of the interstate. In the early evening, with the cold weather drawing closer to where we were stranded. All looked bleak, yet we chose to be positive. Family came through. Human Kindness also came into play. Just over one thousand dollars later, the van was repaired and once again we could breathe. 

They came to load our belongings on a cold December Monday, just two days from Christmas. Once they left we were faced with reality, there was too much stuff. No matter how we packed it, there was too much. 

Christmas was just a day. We deep-cleaned that entire week. We fell into exhausted sleep at the end of each day. The night before rolling out, reality smacked us hard. We needed a rental car. The reservation was made, and we felt no relief. 

The day dawned a beautiful day, with a bright sun. We ate breakfast at a pancake house my daughter had been begging to eat at. I barely touched my plate, as it looked like a diabetic's nightmare. While sitting in this crowded restaurant the rental company calls with bad news. There were no rental cars for anyone. They canceled our reservation and told us to call another location. I immediately did this and set up a new reservation, but not a mere thirty minutes later, we were again contacted that there was no rental car. 

Stress

We were getting the last of our belongings out of the apartment, and into the garage. This included pets and kids. We were doing the final vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. All this while on hold with the last location that might have a car for us. 

The sun was streaming in bright through the blinds, reflecting on the walls and carpet. The warmth calming.

Finally, someone answered, and they were able to assist us with how to obtain a rental. It worked. By this time it is nearly 11 a.m. We have been awake and on the move since 6am. We settle kids and pets into the garage to sit on bags of blankets until we return with a rental car. Picking up the car was a smooth process. 

Back to our apartment to load the rental, and begin our journey south. 

The minivan is packed full from the back of the front seats to the hatch. My husband, daughter, and one dog will ride up front. The rental is also full, with one dog, and the cat in their carriers in the back seat. I have one little spot to see out the rear passenger door and out the back window. 

It is now just after one thirty in the afternoon. We headed to I-94 and waved to Battle Creek as we traveled east. 

Bittersweet

Our time there was over 

New adventures await us

Yet, it was the longest we had lived in one place since my husband joined the Army.  

We drove until my daughter could go no longer without eating. We had only eaten one meal that day. A quick stop for dinner and gas in the vehicles, and then back on the road. 

Once we had gotten onto I-69 South, we had rain. So much rain. 

Our decided-upon route would be I-69 South all the way to Kentucky. 

Indiana was a long, rainy stretch.

We knew that my night driving skills were far from great, but we had no choice, we needed to push on. The goal is to see my family in my hometown of Tennessee, hopefully that night. 

Indianapolis was a hell all its own. 

I could not see well

There was a lot of traffic

The GPS would not work, and this left my son and I to attempt to read road signs with poor visibility while repeatedly trying the GPS. My husband called us to ask if we knew where we were going because he also did not have GPS. We decided to wing it. 

The GPS began to work as we wound our way around Indianapolis on I-465, at which point my son messaged my husband. He replied that we should lead the way. 

Another challenge

My car was not fully loaded and could cruise at a much faster speed. I had already been struggling to stay behind him, losing him a time or two. The rain was just heavy enough that we could not see the van unless a light reflected on one of the window decals.

Somehow, we made it out of Indianapolis. My son never lost faith in me as I repeatedly asked him if the red lights on the cars ahead of us were a steady red or a blinking red like brake lights. I hysterically laughed at the situation and told him that one day he would understand just how dangerous the situation could be. 

A higher power brought us through. 

We continued to drive 

The hours ticked by 

The cat began to meow as his anxiety meds wore off.

We ate Christmas candy made by one of my Aunts. 

We jammed to all of our favorite songs, at least until a few of my son's song choices nearly made me nod off. 

Kentucky loomed ahead and we began to discuss where we should stop

Hotels in my hometown were higher than the military rate my husband was authorized to spend on a hotel per night. 

We drove some more

Rolling Through Kentucky coming in north of Clarksville and Fort Campbell. 

My husband decided that we should try the hotel on Fort Campbell, it is in our price range! The downside was that each pet would be $75 to stay the night. 

My emotions became a whirlwind as I would have to let my oldest son know that I would not make it there that night to see him. This made me feel inadequate as his mom, and that in turn made me irritable. I became overwhelmed and overstimulated. I refused to eat anything after we finally made it to the hotel. I became argumentive with my husband who was not having it. The kids were ready to fall into a mindless stupor looking at their electronic devices. Somehow, we made it through the night. 

By morning, I had worked myself up into a fit of anxiety and the perceived disappointment I had caused my oldest son. Upon calling him, I let loose a torrent of over-stressed words overwhelming him and that ended the conversation. I sat alone in the dining room eating a cinnamon roll and drinking coffee. I sat there feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. 

Somehow we muscled through the exhaustion and beyond my irritability and put on a good face in order to have a good day.

We made it to my hometown by early afternoon and spent a fun day hanging out with my dad and his girlfriend. Dinner and gift exchange with my family was full of conversation and laughs even though the food was not the best. 

It was still raining

Pouring down rain as we left the restaurant and headed out into the night

We found a decent hotel for us to crash in. The pets were staying with my dad. My daughter enjoyed the hotel pool that evening and again early the next morning. 

Breakfast with my dad and son 

Back to the hotel 

Get everyone and everything packed back into the vehicles, get gas, and then breakfast for my family, though by this time breakfast was long over. 

Then off to pick up pets, say Our see ya laters and hit the road

In the rain

Rain until just after crossing into Alabama.

Stopping for a quick snack just 2 hours north of our new town

Back into the vehicles, Cat meowing 

Day 2 with the cat, and he was quite vocal for almost the entire 3 and half hour drive

Our arrival at our new house was nothing special. 

All pets and both vehicles emptied, and off to find a hotel and food

Success on both, though I nearly had a breakdown from the sheer overwhelming last three days and the fact that the chosen restaurant was authentic tacos and no chips to munch on as we waited for our food.

Then dropping into a deep sleep and not waking up until well after breakfast in most restaurants was over. 

This was our trip, which for me started off as a shitshow, but ended up in relief that we made it. 

We made it with everyone and everything intact

January 5, 2025

Crying in the Dark

 I awoke on that Wednesday morning to the news that hope had been halted for the moment

What nightmares are made of, had come to pass much to the astonishment of many

The world appeared to darken as they awakened 

From promising blue to mourning black, wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters emerged from their illusion of a country united

Sitting in the dark, I let the emotions roll over me, this was my one moment to fully grieve before I faced the day as a wife and mother conflicted 

Fear

So much Fear

Hateful rhetoric ringing in my ears

the man I love, our children, how could this happen? 

Didn't "Loving" promise us something better? Wasn't that certificate worth anything anymore? How has it come to a question of what will come to pass? Are we safe? 

I saw and heard the shock of the news as the kids and husband arose to a dark day. Fears were expressed, and consulation was issued. Together, we will stand as a family. Together, we will face all that is thrown our way. 

Joy

We choose Joy

We choose to spread Joy 

and hope

Hope  for a brighter day,

Hope that it won't be that bad.

Talking to other women, sharing their disbelief, promising to stand united and spread the joy

Only that day would I allow myself to cry

to rage against the outcome

to grieve for what might have been

On Thursday, I rise from the ashes

On Thursday, I will carry on and share the joy

Joy and hope

Olivia J. Stuart

November 07, 2024

in response to the election outcome. 

Goddess Emerging

 Like a Goddess she moved between the memories of those she appeared to. For everyone who saw her, would see something different. Wild golden hair and a mischievous smile. A curvaceous body they longed to touch. Others would see her as a social butterfly, organized and ready to take on the PTO. A shape shifter who mastered the identities of many to please those around her. 

Deep inside of her you would see her beating heart, more often than not, described as ice cold. Yet, it beat out the tune that she gracefully danced to. To fit in was once the ultimate goal, but rule breaking was her gift. A slight shift away from what was expected making the choice her own. Her style changes, but she remains true to herself. 

Emotions rule her as they swirl in turmoil. Happy to angry, sad to forgetful, and back again. Music being her constant. For those who wish to know her mood, or the message she wants to send, listen. Listen closely to the music she plays or the songs she quotes. A playlist spanning the ages and genres. 

But there is a story to be told. One of conflicting identities and warring emotions. It begins like this......

On the brink of twenty-one a broken woman stepped forward from a shattered dream. She brought with her a deep sadness. A longing to find the why of it all. The desire to be free and to never go back into that space. She drove a teal green Ford Ranger around her small town. A flash of teal could be seen streaking down backroads, through popular hangout spots and into the darkened cemeteries. She belonged to no one, and no one could claim her. 

Lovers came and went. Her laughter, her smile, her elusiveness was all like a wild yellow rose. Briefly, one made her pause, but too soon he was taken from this world. Dark, haunting music became her solace as she moved about. 

Darkness overcame her as a new life joined hers. Anger at herself, at the betrayal, at the unknown. The darkness formed a tunnel that took her down into the depths of a personal hell. One with a child that she didn't know how to care for, a mother who was there, but not there to assist, a father full of judgement. Alone, lost, and needing the love of someone she followed an overgrown path. It would lead her to temptation, to alcohol, to a deeper loneliness. She learned how to manipulate those who were over eager. To spend their money and time on her, and never get a taste of her sweet fruit. There were others she would trick into believing she really cared, while taking only momentary pleasure. Once they slept, she would creep out into the night and never look back. One who was just a wise as she, nearly broke her. Leaving her at rock bottom, broken and shamed. 

She rose from the ashes. She came back more a vixen than before. It was during this time she claimed her spirit animal. What is this animal you ask? Why it is a male lion. The realization came after reading a popular book about the dating antics of men. She knew that her dating style was that of a man. Entice them, promise them, bring them to the point of release, and then right when they are ready to swear forever to you, drop them. Walk away and feel nothing. She knew how to properly execute a one-night stand. 

In a smoky bar room, with karaoke, or thrumming dance music, and occasionally haunting country melodies, she ruled. She showed up in a blue dress with go go boots, or blue jeans and a t-shirt, solid pink or black track suit. She danced like no one was watching. Twisting her body around so that all the men drooled. Some were disgusted and they were quick to tell her so.  She was often surrounded by older men with fat wallets and a drunken desire to have all the pretty young girls. She didn't have to provide much more than a kiss on the cheek or a dance. But on the inside, she was tired. She was lonely. She was ever so sad, and she wanted so much more. 

Her favorite lovers were mysterious, and they didn't come around much. They asked nothing from her and expected nothing in return. She could give it to them dirty, she could do a late-night booty call, and then she could walk away. It was really that simple. 

But she stepped away from the limelight. She gave herself over to God and those Godly type things. She needed to be reborn. To have her sin burned from her soul. She wanted a new identity and so with a misfortunate circumstance that opportunity was given to her. 

Enter a more chaste version of the same woman. One who has chosen to crush the once redneck girl wanna be, the fiery vixen from the bars, the girl in the green ranger. All of it packed away into a chest deep in the back of her memories. She tried to stop swearing, she gave up alcohol, she stopped trying to find love. She devoted herself to this new beginning. The creation of a good mom, a steady job, the owner of home. 

Death on her doorstep brought it all about. Lying alone in a cold hospital room with the nauseous smell from the hospital generator below her window, it all came into focus. Her recent romantic notions were beginning to bloom. An unlikely match that would turn her world upside down. 

Faith was the center in the beginning of the new romance. But when a decision she had to make would remove one of her children from her nest, she lost her mind. To say she was jaded was putting it lightly. The day word came of the pending decision, she screamed like death was at the door. She sank to the floor as tears flowed freely and violently. Her Dad, and a church friend came to sit with her as she railed against the odds and screamed and sobbed. The pain she felt numbing all thoughts but those of life away from that child. Even after analyzing, and talking to legal aid, she made the best decision she could. This is not one that she has ever forgiven herself for. There is the before and the after. 

The following months were grim. An attempt to settle into a new life, in a new place. A place so strange to her. A new life blossoming inside of her, yet the desire to care was hard to achieve. Harsh words from her husband brought her up from the bottom of the sand pit, but they did not erase the deep anger. From here on out, her faith would be hard to maintain, something she fought to keep.

When next we check in, she has lost her grandmother and not one, but two friends. A betrayal that cut to the core, furthering her loss of faith. When all was said and done, she had cleaned up her social media, cut ties with many, and started a blog. The scars from this falling out remain, though faded over time. The reason she won't give all when making friends are based in this betrayal. The undercurrent of anxiety and lack of confidence most likely stem from this very moment. 

Far too many times, she was told how she wasn't a second look girl, she didn't try hard enough to make a man want her, let alone stay with her. Accused of not wearing enough make-up, shamed because her hair was so long, told her clothes were not expensive enough. She has waded through all of these words for all of her life. To fit into the boxes, she must hide her true thoughts, her true moods, or feelings. Once her lack of diversity was obvious. Over time her understanding of those who are different blossomed. Acceptance became her mantra and she fully embraced BLM.

The part of her that held her passionate feelings was broken open. Her passion for immigration reform storming into the forefront. Her empathy and marital situation making this something she could throw all her energy behind. She will defend her family to the bitter end. Loving her multiethnic family beyond words. At odds with those who once mattered the most to her. Refusing to conceal her political views any longer. 

And as her 40's slowly passed, the inner rage became harder to conceal. The side of her that could be patient, refused to remain patient. And then an awakening when she was served with a court date for a restraining order. But ultimately, regret at unrestrained actions. But the lesson she learned was this "I will no longer be silenced!" 

Deep inside of this powerful being, one who can fit the mold of an acquiescent housewife who also happens to be a homeschool mom. The Co-Op activities her kids do which force her to rub elbows with people who drive cars covered in far-right propaganda.  The feeling of frustration as she watches them from a distance, knowing that should she shout out who she voted for, she would instantly become an outcast. Frustration that people refuse to say her Hispanic last name correctly, or even that of her children. The curt corrections and no nicknames, you must learn to say their names. 

But deeper than that the stirrings of that other identity. The one that balks at domestic duties. Fighting the urge to scream "NO, NO, NO!" The sheer mental exhaustion after a day of teaching. And in this chapter, she is the eager volunteer, the sweet military wife and mom from church, the stand-offish mom at the co-op. But to know her true feelings, you need to be the lucky ones who see her views shared on her social media. She now calls out those who say off color remarks, or racist comments, or any negative against those who are different. Choosing to stand behind a Pride Flag, a BLM Flag, and a Mexican Flag. 

And then one came along. But really that one was always there, just in the background. Their lives once strongly connected, remained parallel thought-out adulthood. Two strong women navigating the paths that life was laying before them. The conversations becoming deep and riddled with mystery. Where will this go? How will this end? 

She isn't ready to fully spread those golden wings. She isn't ready to embark on a new adventure outside of her current reality. Skirting the edges of the sea of unknown things, not even daring to get her feet wet. While deep inside she checks off the list of things she must daily do. 

Olivia J. Stuart

April 19 2022

The Loss of You

Long ago in a small-town pizza business I met you. Alone you sat enjoying the pizza you so loved and there I was with friends who were not long meant to be in my story. Embracing the mystery of you in that moment as teenage hormones were blossoming. Day in and Day out we sought each other out amidst the chaos of a small-town school that we longed to fly free from. The color black our calming flag to freely fly as others donned that awful blue, orange, and white. You saw me through the constant crushes on those too far out of my league or not worthy enough. I watched as teenage love began to flower all around you. While you were experiencing that euphoric happiness I was caught in a spider's web. One that promised all I dreamed of, only asking for my soul. I willingly handed over the best parts of me and watched as they were squashed. The self-confidence I claimed to have merely a cover for the self-loathing burning in my heart. Out into the world I went pretending to be an adult. You too began to live your life and heartache would find you, but from that you would rise. Our paths were parallel, but this spider I had to escape from. The escape came in the form of lies and deceit after sacred vows were exchanged. The ensuing darkness nearly consumed me. Alcohol becoming my saving grace. Down that bottle I jumped finding newer and more unhealthy distractions. You were there to pull me up for air. You were there to hold me when I needed to cry. Again, you found happiness in another and this time it took you to another state. The day you drove away left me broken and lost. Though I am sure I never fully relayed that to you in fear of hurting the one who had your full attention. The path forward was more of confusion. I was lost and struggling to find my identity. I wanted to be so many things, but no idea how to be any of them. Instead, I became what others longed for. Giving them each a piece of me and many times those pieces being tossed aside like garbage. When finally, I saw you, you made it perfectly clear. The truth right before my eyes. I was good at being fake. That fakeness took me through many years of vying for attention in all the wrong places and with all the wrong people. I had a child and you continued to be my support. Thankfully you talked me out of joining the military at a time when it was just a method of running away. Ever so gentle. I watched you grow into yourself. I watched you become the mastermind that you were meant to be. I stayed in my little pond; a lonely big fish too afraid to leave my tiny world. And then one day, I never left, my path had fully diverged from your path. We were separate beings leading separate lives. I am not sure if you ever thought of me. I thought of you many times. Through many big events in my life. A baby born, a wedding, a move, a baby born and so much more. The years ticked by, and I watched your social media. I saw how loved you were by so many; I saw your happiness. I was happy for you, curious about you. Yet never a word did I speak outside of the one question. "Will you go to the high school reunion?" Of course, I wouldn't be there that year. I lived too far away, I was a mom to two small children and a husband in the military. I don't know if you ever went. If it was the blast, you said it would be. Though I lived in the same state as you for a year, not once did I ever reach out. Though I lived mere minutes from your family, I never attempted to contact them. I stayed in my tiny little pond hiding from all that I once was, and all that you once meant to me. 

YOU ARE GONE

The air was knocked out of me that Tuesday evening. For the next week I walked through each day in a daze. My heart broken. My mind an evil entity telling me how terrible I was as friend. I didn't even make it back to the memorial. I now hope that wherever you are now, that you know. That somehow you know that I really did love you deeply, in a way that wasn't meant to claim you, but be beside of you. You were someone that I always thought would be there. Selfishly, I thought I could always seek you out whenever I would need to do so. If you are looking down on me, please watch over me and know I am looking forward to our paths crossing again somewhere in the universe or the sands of time. 

February 22, 2022

Dedicated to the memory of Isaac Lightburn. One of the few true friends that has ever known me for who I really am. 

Confessions of a Not So Ordinary Mom: Homeschool Beginnings Incomplete

 Here we are just four weeks into our new year of homeschooling. I have in place a much more relaxed curriculum based on each kids individual needs. It is working.....I think so anyway. We are still mostly isolated. Not sure of the world outside of our doors. 

New this time around is that we have joined a Virtual Partnership. What does this mean for us? It means that we get a variety of free classes offered to us for free. It means that we can have a small school like experience. The kids can spend time away from each other. I can work one on one with each kid. Now, I bet that you are wondering what classes they chose. 

For my son he is doing a class to Build Your Own Computer. It is a small computer and we have already completed the building portion of it. Thankfully his Dad could assist him with the assembly because I was completely lost. Then he is doing an Art Class, a Spanish Class, and of course a Bowling Class. Isn't that required for Homeschoolers? 

Now my daughter is doing an Art Class, a social studies class based on the American Girl Dolls, a swimming class, and of course Bowling. 

Week one of the virtual meetups went well. Two of my daughter's classes didn't meet this week, so it gave us a little breathing room on routine. I see where our weaknesses are are, I see how hard it will be to maintain a working routine. As for our own Science and History, I haven't been so great in this area. Here it is Hispanic Heritage Month, and I haven't shown them one video of any person yet. 

Now for the fun part. We went to a playdate to meet other kids in the Partnership. It went well. I mean we are in Michigan which is an odd place to be right now. It is like being in Tennessee, but at the same time as being in a more progressive place. So, I met some nice moms and quickly realized that us being vaccinated was going to be not the norm. I should have known this after the first Zoom meeting to ask questions about the upcoming courses and start dates. Forty-Five minutes in we had still only covered the why of the mask mandate. It apparently wasn't something many people could understand. Just for the record even though my son has the option, he will be wearing a mask. Anyway, at the playdate as I listen to a mom go on and on about her husband working in some kind of lab, I was thinking "Oh bet they are vaccinated" Nope. She explained that her entire family had Covid, not big deal at all, and therefore should be mostly immune and didn't need a vaccine. Okay. Your opinion. I quietly commented that three out of four of our family were vaccinated and that my youngest is on the waiting list for the vaccine. 

The First day of in person classes went pretty well. I met a mom. I liked said mom. I saw many kids throwing the playground pebbles to include throwing them down the slides. No moms in sight to correct this behavior. Naturally, I pulled my daughter aside to let her know that was not okay and she should not follow their example. I had wanted to do extra math work with her, but that playground was much too tempting, and I needed to make a phone call. 

The next day was a long day. My daughter had the first class bright and early in the morning. We got up way too early. I had lunches packed. I got everyone fed and out the door early.  A huge score! My daughter truly enjoyed her class, but it was during this time I realized I might be out of my league. 

Life on the waves of the sea

 Life can be so full of the crazy. Crazy can reel you in and make you believe that is your normal. 

As each day dawns you are never promised a single moment. Each moment on this earth is a gift, something to be cherished. How you handle this gift is how you will appreciate all that the gift brings into your life. 

So many moments are easy to waste. It is so easy to push it into the "in a minute" universe. Then you will show up on the shores of "Maybe tomorrow" and that will set your boat of "maybe some day out to sea." It is important to grasp the moments by the horns and to give the very best to those whom you love. 

Children like wildflowers grow at your feet. Cultivating them is the challenge. Their little voices ringing in the air like bells or some cases like screeching birds. Watching them transform from a weed into a gorgeous flower ready to grace the tables of the world. That is a moment of accomplishment. 

Often as I sit in the silence of my living room, I catch myself drifting away into a land of dreams. The sound of my kids carries throughout the house, lulling me into contentment. The warms of my little dogs comforting and bringing about lethargic notions of never moving from that spot. 

Productivity is not my strong point. It comes and goes, playing tag with procrastination and self doubt. Depression like a storm rolling across the plains often tries to swamp me. I push up from that space and surround myself with friends. Friends online as in person there are none. 

This new place is still foreign to me in so many ways. I feel the pull of all that could have been at times. I embrace all that is. Hoping that one day my warm childhood memories of the love I felt in this state, will be the same for my children. 

When my Dad came to visit, I felt fulfilled. I also felt the longing of being in Tennessee during the summer. A state I keep in my heart, but Know I most likely will never reside in again. I miss the summer storms and the quiet beside a pool with a book in hand. I miss the familiar streets and the loud neighboring cities. 

Here I see beautiful trees and lakes. City mixed with country side. I see angry drivers and grumpy shoppers. I hear my distinct southern drawl flowing forth and the odd stares received in turn. Summer heat is mixed with summer rain and not so hot days with cooler evenings. Where are the lightening bugs? 

My world has the potential for vastness but remains smaller. My anxiety is much higher here than any other place we have ever lived. Somedays being out on the roads I feel my body tensed for a collision. My eyes closed tight against the possibility. I long for the confidence of my youth. The ability to remain strong as I slowly become more afraid and anxiety strangles me. 

I am my kids first window to the world and I grasp tightly to their hands and pray mightily that I am doing a fair job. I pray that their education, which I alone have handled for nearly a year, is good. I miss my oldest son who prefers not to call. It makes me feel a huge loss and question my ability to mother him. I must have done a lot of things wrong. My husband met most of my family for the first time. Upon getting in the car and setting out for home, he asks my Dad how bad I really used to be. Everyone had told him numerous times that he was the best thing that had ever happened to me. So maybe that is  a clue in how far I have grown as an individual and a mom. 

Remember in all things to be kind. Spread kindness on the breezes of life. 

Mama, I am here

 My words to my mom since she moved to Alabama in 2007, were always "One day soon I will come visit you." While she was in Alabama and prior to my husband completing all of his Army training, I did go to Alabama every so many months. 

The visits were exhausting. They left me feeling defeated, confused, sometimes even a little angry. Always I would go with the intent to stay a week and return within 2 days. The constant television, literally 24 hours a day. The lack of a routine, my mom and grandmother would sleep all day and stay up all night. I would go first with just my oldest, but then after I remarried, I would have my infant in tow as well. I wanted to help her and my grandmother and would often be met with indifference or discouragement. The visiting pastor was a braggart, hard to deal with and clearly taking advantage of two senior citizens who really need his assistance. 

Always I wanted a relationship with my mom. Always I wanted her to love me. Always I wanted her approval. 

I knew I was never her favorite. I knew that she feared me, which I don't understand fully why, unless this stems from my wildly varying emotions. I often wondered if she just didn't like me, but tolerated me.

My insecurities to this day stem from the chaos of her verbal tirade of judgement, ridicule, and sometimes her sense of humor and laughter. 

We had good times. Oh, how I loved her laugh. It was always so fun when her mischievous side would come out. When the day was good, it was oh so good. I learned to hide my candy, and to never share it from her. I have now taught my daughter to do the same. Is this a point of pride?

She was an amazing grandmother to my oldest son. She truly loved that little boy. He adored her as well. The relationship that they had was beautiful. If it had not been for her, I most likely could not have gotten through my pregnancy and his first few years of life. The raw truth is that I wanted to die. 

I tried so hard to deny that situation. I did not want to admit to myself that I was going to have a baby. I drank heavy, I smoked heavy, I lived my crazy life hoping beyond hope that it would all magically disappear, but it did not. I cried a lot. I lamented my predicament to anyone who would listen. I could not see a blessing. I even let one of my supposed friends, who was a professed Wiccan, to "perform a ritual to end it all." Well, the reality was, it was a way to take advantage of me. To perform an act that I otherwise would not have done with him. I was in a dark place. A place where many cannot pull themselves out of. I nearly did not. 

When I was sixteen, I had made the same mistake. I was dating a guy who really didn't care about me and I didn't care about him. He wanted to do the deed all of the time. I thought that was how you kept a boyfriend, was to give up the goods. It ended in a pregnancy and his mother told me I was a slut. I guess in a way I was. My savior from that summer was my mother. I had been staying with my Dad while she was out of town with a friend. I was sick. I was depressed. I could not do anything without being sick. My first two pregnancies were like this. Sickness like waves. Sickness every time I moved. Puking, puking, and more puking. But when my mother returned, I told her the truth. It hurt. She yelled at me she called me a slut and I ran from the house to her friend's house. Her friend talked to her and to me. A decision was made and between the two of them I was ushered off to Atlanta to have an abortion at just over 10 weeks. To this day, I don't know if she ever told my Dad, I haven't. That is my shame to bear. 

There were many times when she would use it as fuel against me. She would tell other mothers that they should not let their daughters hang around me because I was a bad influence. Maybe she was ashamed of me, or maybe I had proved her prediction correct. When I was 12 and wanting to go skating with my friends, she always drove home the point that I was a slut. She kept that in the forefront of our relationship until I moved out with my first future ex husband. 

I struggle daily with my inner demons. I struggle to hold it all together. I judge myself harshly. I imagine that my mother judged herself harshly as well. All those strange diets and diet pills that eventually cause her liver to have issues. I listened to her complain because my father called her fat. And honestly, he did call her fat. His obsession with weight is another thing that has followed me through my life.  From my father I would hear things like "you can't wear black nail polish, lipstick, whatever because people will talk about you" Don't leave your truck at the bar because someone I work will see it and think it is me there" 

All my life, I have felt suppressed. I have felt like I had to fit into a box, that I have never been able to fit into. I have a part of my heart that beats wild. A part of me that likes to bend the rules and be mischievous. I want to be fun. I want to be see as fun. 

And now I am here. After being in El Paso and my mom in Alabama, where I didn't go visit her because my oldest son was in Tennessee. I know I didn't try hard enough to make her a priority. Then I am in Tennessee and she is in Michigan. I made it to Michigan one time to see her. I decided to not go the second time I was planning a trip. I felt pressure from my husband not to travel too much. I felt like my medical necessary trip for my middle son was the only trip I could make that summer. 

It took so much to call her. I had to think for days, build up my mind, that it was time to call. It took a lot to get to the point to just call her, let alone visit her. 

Yet all my life I wanted her to love me. 

Now I am in Michigan. I will live in Michigan for three years. I am not so far from where she last lived. When my husband and I drove through her tiny little town and the entire time I felt like the breath had left my body. I felt the urge to puke and to cry and to lash out at the world for a pain that won't leave me be. 

Now I walk next to the darkness that I imagine also tried to trap my mom. The darkness that tries to trap me. With suicide like a back up plan. And the irony is only one person in my entire life ever caught on to the fact that I live with suicide like a devil on my shoulder. My Junior English teacher read a poem I wrote on the back of a test about standing on the edge of a mountain  trying to decide if I should leap or not. She read that for what it was, a cry for  help. No one since that moment has ever answered my cries for help. 

When my oldest was three I was going through severe depression. I stayed inside of my truck with him. I drove around and around and around our town for hours on end. I did this because I was so deeply sad. I had put myself in a relationship with a narcist who only wanted to bring me down because I appeared too proud. And bring me down he did. It nearly destroyed me. I nearly lost everything because the pit opened and I fell into and I had no desire to crawl out. I begged my Dad to help me, and he told me I was fine. I tried to talk to my mom and she said "you only think of yourself" 

The next time I was that low, I was carrying another baby. My Dad took every opportunity to tell me how embarrassing it was that I was not married and here I am pregnant. He tried to send me away he tried to convince me to give baby away. I nearly did. And then I named baby a non family name and shit once again hit the fan. He called my son "grandson" until he was at least 5 or older. 

When my husband was on his first overseas tour, I begged and begged my Dad to drive me into Nashville to the mental hospital. I was exhausted. I was depressed. I had just lost a friend that had turned out to be a snake. I was overwhelmed with the health issues between my youngest two kids and having recently losing custody of my oldest son. I wanted to walk into that building and feel the cool air conditioning against my hot summer skin. I wanted to hear the deep silence. I wanted a place to sleep and to hide. But my Dad told me not to go. I guess he was right. It would have put my husband in a bad spot with the Army. Reality is, that someday, I should probably go to a place like that for the peace that I crave. 

And then I lost my mom. My mom is gone. The mom I wanted to please, to visit, to love, to have a relationship with. She is gone. Three years later I still feel the loss deeply. I feel like I didn't try hard enough. Three years later I am at a weird place in my life. I feel lost, but hopeful. I feel dejected. I feel like I am over whelmed. I know I am blessed to be where I am. I know I am blessed to have all that I have. But the sadness and the darkness surround me and threaten me and try to usher me out. 

I always wanted my mom to love me. And know my words "one day I will see her soon" are like a lifeline to madness.