Happy Birthday to....

I can't believe its been a year since we celebrated my 30th birthday.  I can't believe its been 7 months since I've seen my best friend.  I can't believe that I have made so many amazing friends in the last 7 months that we will be celebrating 31 trying to forget 30 every happened. Or at least I will.  I think they have this great idea that they will make it better than last year and I won't miss him.. but there is no possible way its going to be better than last year.  I think its possible to be just as good because of all the wonderful people that are in my life now that weren't then.. but the only possible way that it can be better than last year is if he were to show up too.. I had a dream about that... Somehow he wanted to be there, to wish me happy birthday.. even if he came just to tell me that he wanted nothing to do with me and that I would never see him again.. he'd be there. I don't know if I'm supposed to cry or feel nothing.. we were never really ever real.  I was a project. Just like with everyone and everything else in my life I was a project. He wanted to make me ok.  He did.. oh he did.. but have yet to figure out how to do that without him.  I just hope and pray that I do not spend my entire birthday thinking of him.. I have today for that. I miss you. I love you still..because you showed me how to love me.

I love you, always forever

I wonder if I will ever find my true love.  I've found a few that make it a little easier to love me.. I understand that.  I accept each "failure" for what it was and what I learned from it.  Maybe I found someone who I was able to love completelt and wholeheartedly.  More than I loved myself.. maybe once... But even then it doesn't matter because they didn't return that.  Maybe I didn't let them, maybe it wasn't meant to be.. either way I haven't found that true love.  I see it in movies and on the television and every now and then even in life, from a distance.  Would I know it if I came across it? have I already passed it up because I didn't know what it was? Am I just so completely ruined and broken that I am the one person on planet that doesn't have a perfect match? Is he out there?? Is anyone even listening..

You wouldn't even recognize me anymore

Is it sad that I only share this page with the anonymous people who read it.. and the people who probably never wanted to get to know my in the first place?  Is it odd that the people who think they really know me don't have the link to my deepest thoughts? I guess I just figure its safe..

You, you, you oughta know

I miss my best friend.  The saddest part is that I'm starting to feel like maybe I never really was a friend to him.  Not like he was to me.  I was so focused on the way I thought things should be that I didn't even fully enjoy the best year of my life.  He let me be myself.. and I didn't listen to who he was. I was selfish. I continually told him what was best for him even when he told me that whether I was right or wrong, it wasn't what he wanted.  I was pushy and irritating. I'm surprised he didn't run from me sooner.  I believed him when he said he never would.. but that was no reason to try so hard to push him to do that very thing.  If I had been more accepting and understanding maybe he wouldn't have felt the need to disappear.  Maybe I would know if he was ok.. if he was happy.  I don't think it would have kept him here either way.. I understand what he did.  I used to think that I understood even better than he did.. but how could I.. I like to believe it wasn't an easy choice for him and that he had to come to terms with everything I have in order to do it. But maybe that is more selfishly wishful thinking.  I feel like I'm at the most desperate point in my life that I have ever been in.. and once again its my fault.  I took something real.. something beautiful and wasn't satisfied. I only wanted to make it better. Now I've lost the best parts of it.  Even the good memories.. the amazing memories are colored by the way that things ended. By the way I made them end.  One of the last things he said to me was that I saved him.. I guess after that he had to save himself from me...

So you had a bad day..

Just when I thought that everything was starting to make sense.. I have had some bad days lately.  Everything has a way of reminding me of you somehow.  And I guess I've regressed because thinking of you makes me happy again.  I don't have hope that you'll be back someday.  I used to believe I would hear from you again.. maybe in 2 weeks, 2 months, 2 years.  But I know that you would never let me be right.  After that final conversation.. you'd never let me be right.
I've been focusing on a lot of the lessons you taught me.  While it broke my heart that you weren't there for me when my Mammaw passed.. you taught me something I needed to know to get over it.  I can't worry about what I should have done, things I should have changed.. how I could have made it better or how she may have felt differently if I had been different.. because she's gone. She doesn't think anything of me anymore. The memories are all I have..
I guess thats how I should feel about you.  It doesn't matter if I love you.  It doesn't matter if I can't picture myself with anyone besides you.  It doesn't matter that every time I hear that song I wish you were calling.  That I just want to be able to say good bye.  That  just want you to know I'll always be there. That I just want to know that you're happy. That you don't regret your choices.. that you didn't get sad and depressed and fat... It doesn't matter because you're gone.  You don't feel anything anymore.  At least not in this context.
I know it sounds really sad and depressing. It would be easy to feel sorry for me the way I seem.  But really, I'm ok.  I'm slowly learning to accept things the way they are.  To accept myself with who I am.  To accept the people in my life who do love and haven't run away.  To resolve the fact that while I do truly believe you loved me.. you did run away.  To know that I already have the most amazing little man in my life and I don't need any others.  That I have found the love of my life, eventhough its not what it sounds and is completely unconventional.  I can make it.  I'm proud of the resolutions I've made and the determination I've found.  I'm proud that I've found a way to work towards being that version of me.. only without you.  I have made it so far.. but that doesn't mean I can't have a bad day..

I heard, that you've settled down.

I hear about you now and then.  People who have seen you in passing. People who have heard from other people.  People ask me about you all the time.  I'm not sure what hurts more:  That I have to tell them that I haven't heard from you since April, or the look of pity I get after I tell them.  I hear you have a  new plan for your life.  One that takes you in a completely different direction.  At least I hear you're doing well.  That you're happy.  Even if I am told your eyes betray your words.  You always did tell me to look deeper and never trust your words.  I would take a minute to be sad, but then I may never get back out of it.  See, I spent three months like that.  Sad that you left me.  Sad that you wanted to leave me behind.  Sad that you were running from me.  But, truth be told,  I never had you.  You didn't have enough emotion towards me to be concerned if I'm left behind.  You didn't care enough about me to run. I'm inconsequential.  Always was.  I can't take anymore time to mourn something that was never real.  Theres nothing more to figure out.  You're gone.  And while to me you're someone that I used to know, To you.. I'm no one at all. 

The rest is stll unwritten

For some reason I've been really focused on unwritten stories lately.. The ones that you hold in your hear and you wish for, but they never come to fruition.
I watch all these shows where all of these really messed up people have these really messed up relationships but they always bounce back.  They bounce back because its written that way.  What if I could rewrite the story.
If I could rewrite the story and bring you back.. would it even be worth taking you back under the circumstances?  Are you even the same person?  See there was this guy I fell in love with, and I miss him.  To this day my heart is waiting for the rest of that story to be written. I can't accept that all of these blank pages will always be blank.
I miss you.   I miss the way that every hair was always in place.  And that even if I braided it or twister it into little knots you would just run your fingers through it and it would be perfect again.  I miss you fingers... they were so mishapen and to me they looked like alien fingers.. I miss you smile and teasing you about bleaching your teeth.  I miss the way you would wrinkle your nose when you said somethng funny and you were waiting for me to laugh.  I miss the way you would poke at me until I laughed if I didn't in the first place.  I miss the way you would randomly burst into song.  You couldn't carry a tune but the song was always beautiful to me.  I miss the way you were constantly looking at yourself in the mirror but refused to have your picture taken.  I have so many pictures of those alien fingers in front of your face.  Yes I miss the way you made me feel when we were together. And  I miss the person I wasn when you were here, but mostly, I miss you. 
If I could write the story I like to think you never would have left.. but then again I wouldn't know how much I really loved you.  I spent out entire friendship wishing it was more. Wishing I could make it what I wanted it to be. I've spent the 6 months since you left realizing how great everything was, just the way it was.  I wish and pray every night that I could just pick up a pen and writing a different ending.. write a story without an ending.  But every day I also have to have the Earth shattering revelation that this too is a story that will always remain unwritten..

My chains are gone, I've been set free

A note to my baby sister.

You're right.  I don't know what its like to live in someone's shadow. I don't know what its like to have to live up to the standard that she set before you.  I don't know what it feels like to have her be prettier and smarter and more well liked.  I don't know what its like to have her take away from you everything you ever wanted or have it first so that it doesn't matter anymore.  But I do know what those things feel like from the inside.  I know what its like to never live up to the standard I set for myself.  I know what its like to feel that everyone around me is prettier and smarter and better equipped to handle life.  I do know what its like to wish for things I will never get and to self sabotage the things I do.  And I'm sure that the feelings can't be all that different. 
I also know what it feels like for the feelings we both have to be my fault.  I'm the one who ruined their lives.  Maybe not by choice, but it was still me.  I know that I took the lives of two promising people and tied them to each other to live an unhappy life for 28 years.  I know that as a product of those unhappy lives that the both of you have had to suffer as well.  I know that if it wasn't for me none of us would hurt, because none of us would be.  Which is better?


Update:
You have taught me so very much in the past 6 months.  Together you and me, we can rule the world. And of course we can't forget the adopted one.. it wouldn't be the same without her.

And with a broken wing, she still sings

She stood on the edge looking down. No wind. No sun. No emotion. She believed she would fly while hoping she would fall. Why get it right this time? That would be typical.

Only yesterday was the time of our lives...

I didn't drive down the street on purpose. I was in a hurry on the way to work, I had to make a quick trip and I ended up on the street without even realizing it.  I never would have turned there if I would have known what I was doing.  I was already running 32 minutes late and I just wanted to get to work before I was any later.  I just wanted to have a good day. I needed to have a good day.. but then I ended up on that street.  I didn't even realize it until I came up on the house.  I willed myself to look away, to just keep going like it wasn' there. There was no point in looking over there because it didn't matter what I saw. It wouldn't change anything.  It wouldn't provide clues or closure or comfort. It would only foreshadow the day. The "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."
 I know more than I wanted to.  I'm sure that you've fallen into a patter now, a routine that suits your needs better than I ever did.  A new life where I don't exist. A new life where we were never anything, so easy for you. But I do hope you're happy. After everything, I still hope you're happy.  Maybe I should hope youre miserable.. you always said you wanted to be miserable..

Somebody That I Used To Know

These are the things I know..

I'm sad.
The last person I loved quit his job so that he would be able to disappear from my life.  I would have done anything for him. Sadly I still would. 
The one before that had to drink himself into obliteration every night just to handle being with me.  He told me he only stayed as long as he did because if I raised my son on my own he would be an asshole.
My son's father, the one man who thought I hung the moon, the one who wanted me to be his princess, I I believe I never truly loved.  Not like I should have.
The fist person I would have ever called my best friend told me that I was broken.  The only reason people are ever attracted to me is because they want to fix me and that whenever they realize that I can't be fixed, they will move on. As quickly as they can. 
The only other best friend I ever had showed me daily how important and special I was.  How much I meant to him and how valuable we were to each others lives.  I couldn't let that be enough and I pushed him.. making her right. 
I was created as being to express and receive love.  Although I can't seem to do the first correctly or deserve the second. 
The harder I strive to be better, the farther I come from the path of sanity.  Of understanding.
I know everything I need to do.  I know that I have to forget the past to move into the future. That I have to love myself in order to love or be loved.  That I have to be good enough for myself to be good enough for anyone else.  That I will only be the mother, sister, daughter and friend I am supposed to be if I first become the version of myself I am meant to be.

These things I do know.

This is what I don't know.. Who I am.  If I take anything from the things I do know on the path to figure out this answer, if I were to make an educated guess, I'm no one worth knowing.  So why try any harder?  I'm stuck and I don't know how to move.  So many people need me.  They depend on me, they rely on me.. and I don't even know who I am..

People lately have tried to tell me who I am to alleviate the confusion. 

They say:

I'm attractive.  But in all honesty I'm 50 pounds overweight and still have the complextion of a teenager.

I'm caring and compassionate.  But in all honestly, I'm selfish and fake.  I only care about most in the capacity that they lend to my own personal success.  If its not relevant to me, its not relevant.

I'm strong and independant.  But in all honestly I'm terrified and have only ever defined myself by those who need me in their lives.  My only real friendships have existed our of mutual need, when the need is over, so is the friendship.

Don't get me wrong, I believe my greatest character flaw is in fact being caring and compassionate.  When I do find someone to let into my life that I can open up to and love, I go over board. I probably care and love too much, too fast.  I push them away too.

Last night someone finally said something valid. Something that rings of truth.  If I don't like who I am or the circumstances I make for my life, I should change them.  But where to start, if I don't know who I am in the first place..

What a Beautiful Mess

I may not be the prettiest or the thinnest.  I can’t, I can’t dance.  I’m not an artist or a writer.  I have no super powers.  But right or wrong, I can only be who I am.  I’ve struggled with that a lot in the last 5 years.  At 25 I realized I was becoming the worst parts of my parents.  Ok, I didn’t realize, it was pointed out to me, and not in the kindest of ways.  I did, however, know immediately it was something I was going to change.  I figure by 25 most people are already self defined.  I went from one extreme to another extreme.  I let someone else define me.  I tried to be exactly who I was told to be and not to venture too far from that comfort zone because it was easier.  I think for a long time I had myself convinced that this was the better person inside of me and I just needed help finding it.  It wasn’t until the Awaken Retreat that I realized I hadn’t really been me since I was about 20 years old.  That’s 10 years of an identity crisis that I didn’t even know I had.

                So here I sit at 30 just now figuring out who I am. Or trying to anyways.  I know I’m a good mom, sister, daughter and friend.  But none of those things are just me.  I have built my life around who I need to be for other people and never taken the time to figure out who I need to be for me.  And now its almost uncomfortable to think about.  Its like I’ve told myself that if I do something or take time for myself I am taking away from those people that are the most important in my life and I can’t bear the thought of that.  I’ve let those relationships and those people become the source of my happiness and I can’t keep allowing that.  My best friend asked me the other day if I depended on him for my happiness and I told him no.  But maybe what I should have said is not just you.  I’ve never really taken the time to just be happy being me instead of being me in the roles that I feel.

                I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately and dedicated time to figuring out who it is that I want to be.  I haven’t ultimately decided that yet but I think I’ve taken a lot of steps to justify for myself why its necessary.  And to understand why its not necessary to justify taking care of myself.  I can’t truly be the person I need to be for the people in my life if I’m not first taking care of me.  So… I’m a work in progress.  But I have ultimately decided that while I’m a mess, I sure am a beautiful mess.  But I also believe as I go through this process I will reduce the chaos more and more. Lets focus on the beautiful. 

i think its cool you do what you do and don't try to save me

For fifteen years I wanted a little brother.  I told my parents for every birthday and every Christmas that I wanted a little brother. His name was going to be Thomas Caleb Etzel, horrible name, long story but I waited so patiently for him.  My family went through a lot in those fifteen years.  There were medical issues and losses and tears and frustration.  One night right after one of thoses losses I was at church with my parents for a revival.  Now we went to one of those churches that revival, meant revival.  It wasn’t just an extra service every night for a week where you went and sat quietly to look like you were making the right choices in your life.  We went and we got loud and we sang and danced and fell on the ground and let everyone know that we were in fact sinners but that by God’s grace we were saved! This was one particularly long revival and I had fallen asleep in my dad’s lap in the first pew.  They woke me up about 10:15 that night because the pastor wanted to speak over my family.  He told us that we had recently experienced loss of a devastating nature but that God had plans for our family and that we would receive this back two fold according to God’s grace and will.

Four months before I turned sixteen my sister was born.  Eighteen months after that my baby sister was born.  It still amazes me to this day to remember that feeling sitting in that church and having no doubt that what this man was saying was true.  I can’t say I’ve always looked at those two little girls as blessings, and I never got my brother, but I would change them for the world. 

We couldn’t be more different.  I was always the smart one that had the emotions of my momma and the aggressiveness of my daddy.  I realized this at about age 25 and have spent the last five years trying to combat those very statements.  I already said most of what I felt like saying about myself in the first post.  I’m tall, I guess, decently proportioned, green eyes and new blond hair.  I refuse to go to work without makeup on and my hair done and I refuse to go to the grocery store with my make up on and my hair done.  I’m simple, although anyone you ask would say I’m rather high maintenance.  (Especially my daddy) I will fight tooth and nail when I know I’m right, but I’m learning to bow down graciously when I’m wrong.  Keep in mind if you become a “follower” or whatnot, I said I’m learning, as in this is a new development.  I’ve struggled a lot in my life with wondering if I have been the cause of every problem that has left any form of negativity in my life.  I blame myself for my parents getting married, therefore I blame myself for their divorce.  I have endured one failed marriage and one almost marriage that was a failure on an even larger scale.  I fear that I am never going to be successful at the one thing God created me to do.  I believe that I do not know how to love and therefore can not be fully loved.  Yeah, I know, depressing right? But I am applauding myself for being aware of these things and am always willing to find ways to change it.  Hence I started this blog.. But the real reason I go into so much detail is to be able to show you how different the three of us really are. 

Cheyenne is the one that Morgan and I refer to as the adopted one.  She’s short, dark hair, dark eyes, quiet and completely non confrontational.  Really if you sit down and think about it she’s the pretty one.  Chey is girly and always wants to have her hair done in the newest trend and follows all the current fashions.  She likes pink and shiny things.  She’s the girly one, that’s for sure.  Its kind of interesting that I have already come up with three different labels for her because the fourth one is the end all be all, the greatest thing that stands out making her different.  Cheyenne is the loved one.  Our entire family waited almost sixteen years for her to show up and we have been in awe of her ever since.  Every curl that popped up on that little head was loved by the world.  She was such an odd looking baby and an even stranger looking child(while she did grow up to be beautiful) and none of us ever noticed because we loved her more than we ever thought that we could love anything.  She was everyone’s angel.  My Chey Baby.  I think waited for her more than anyone.  I think I wished for her on every star and ever y 11:11 of my entire life.  I remember being there in the room when she was born and knowing that my heart was going to explode from the love I felt when I saw that tiny face, and I wasn’t the only one.  Cheyenne has never in her life doubted that she was loved or wanted.  I mean how could she when she’s being told on a daily or even hourly basis for almost sixteen years now that everyone waited for her and everyone prayed for her and everyone just couldn’t wait for her to be here.  And I don’t say any of this to be negative, I mean I’m a bigger Cheyenne fan than almost anyone on the planet, seriously.  I simply say that as much doubt I may have had in this area in my life she has had reassurance ten fold.  I hope she spends the rest of her life feeling this way. I hope she never ever has to feel like that love has left her.  She means the world to me and I think she knows that.

                I guess you can saw right after I turned sixteen I finally got my little brother, in the form of my baby sister.  This kid would play with bugs an climb trees and was willing to get far more dirty than Cheyenne or I could ever tolerate.  Morgan is more like me than I care to admit, but we are still completely different people.  You see, I was a good kid.. Morgan.. well.. They say that you pay for your raising with the behavior of your children, my parents must have thought they got out easy, until Morgan came along. Morgan is the sporty one.  She has never played a sport that she wasn’t good at.  She got all the coordination, most of the athletic ability and all the boobs.  I know that’s an odd thing to say of a fourteen year old child but I guess you could say I’m a little bitter about that one.  Morgan is also tall and blond with greenish eyes.  Morgan is also loud and aggressive, however Morgan has a complete understanding of the phrase reckless abandon. She feels everything with passion and dedication and you can definitely tell when she speaks. From the simplest of things to the deepest thoughts she handles them all with a fire that tends to get her into trouble.  Hence, this is where my parents pay for  their raising.  Morgan has always felt like she is in the shadow of the perfect child.  Morgan knows we love her and she knows that people care and that she is of the utmost importance. My Pudding Pie.  I know this is true because when she was little if someone asked her what her name was she said Morgan Faith Puddin, that shows that she knows how important she was and always will be to me, but she struggles with not feeling good enough, like she can’t live up to those of us who have come before her.  If only she could see at this age that she doesn’t only have our accomplishments to live up to but she also has our failures to learn from and our understanding to get her through the tough times.  Morgan is a boots and jeans kind of girl and you just can’t change this kids mind once she decides something. Right or wrong she will fight to the death. Morgan is so much like me that its scary.  I always tell her that she has the other half of my soul.  I don’t think I feel things like everyone else in the world. I don’t think most people can understand the thoughts that go through my mind, but Morgan does.  I worry for her that she will to through the life that I have, and that I can’t stop that from happening.   But I wouldn’t change a thing about her. 

                  The most beautiful thing about the three of us is that despite all our differences we are terrifyingly the same.  We need each other.  You’d never know if to hear us talk to each other.  We call each other names and fight and argue, like sisters do. But let someone else try and mess with one and you have all three to deal with.  And with the diversity we provide, we’re bound to stump anyone or anything that comes against us somehow.  I think that we really learned how much we truly mean to each other in the last 18 months.  My parents divorce wasn’t easy on any of us.  There were a lot of changes in life and in personalities but all in all the only thing that never changed was the bond we had with each other.  Over the course of this time we have become like one person with three separate components.  I’m not sure I could get through a single day without those girls.  We talk almost every day, we think of each other every day and undoubtedly we pray for each other every day.  It would be weird for anyone to think that with this far between us in age and this big of a difference in personality we would be as cohesive as we are.  The only love I have never doubted is the love of my sisters.  I have had to adjust to a lot of things lately but I have never once felt alone.  They may not always have the most life experience or the best insight, but they know me better than anyone in this world.  They understand me in ways that no one else ever will.  And for that I am eternally grateful.  So here’s the point of all of this.. Throughout it all we have never tried to save each other.. we’ve simply depended on each other to survive.  And I need to make sure they know that. 

the words of the prophets were written on the subway walls

I remember the first defining moment in my life.  I was in the 5^th grade.  I had sat there for weeks watching her across the lunch room. Sometimes she had a simple sandwich, just bread and cheese. Some days she had a 99 cent bag of chips from the gas station and most days she had nothing at all. I looked around my table.  Kayla, Megan, Katherine, Robin.  All with the most fashionable Lisa Frank lunchboxes filled with food that would mostly end up in the trash can.  I sat there and tried to figure out what made me better than her.  What made us more deserving of the things we had, more worthy of sitting at our table.  I realized somewhere in all of that thinking that I was more like her than I was like them.   So Friday, I sat at her table.  I didn’t even think Katherine would notice I was missing until I looked up and saw her staring at me with everyone else in tow behind her, Lisa Frank still in hand.  She told me that I could either get up and go back to my seat at the table where I belonged or I would never be welcome at that table again.  I spent every day for the next 3 years at lunch with Typhany.  I will always consider her the first true friend I ever had and I will never regret the decision I made that day.  I still speak to Typhany on a regular basis and when things happen in my life I know I can always count on her.  I have no idea where the rest of those girls are.  They remained the popular crowd all the way through high school.  Funny thing is, once you leave high school, none of that matters.  No one knows who the smart kids were, or who the popular kids were. No one knows the loners, the nerds or the band geeks.  We all work so hard to find out place in that hierarchy and when those four years are over all we have left to show are some badges on a letter jacket and the necessity to once again find out where we belong in the world.  I think I made a great first step that day. Even sitting here now thinking about it my heart swells with pride.  I wish I could saw I was proud of all of my choices.  That I had such clarity in my teen years, or even in my young adult years to make such a strong decision and have no doubt that it was the right one.  Truth be told, I’m not sure I ever made another good choice without first making the wrong one.  I’ve managed to disappoint my parents, my friends and myself in the last 30 years on a rather consistent basis.  But I would still say I turned out alright. Well enough to give advice that I may not always be willing to take on my own.  Well enough to have a clear mind in tragic moments, or at least the tragic moments of those around me.  Well enough to think that maybe someone wants to read what I have to say. That maybe it can turn someone else onto one of those defining moments they can be proud of.  Or in the very least, it can help me to focus on me, who I am and how I got here instead of where I’m going to go next.