My mind is in turmoil.

I have wondered for years if she was still alive. Her name is Mel too. We are opposites in every sense of the word. She is tall and I am short. She is blonde and I am brunette. She is hyper and I was always laid back. She was popular and I was not. She taught me how to dress, wear makeup, how to talk to boys, introduced me to heavy metal and taught me how to bang my head. We learned how to smoke cigarettes together. We babysat as a team. We once spent a whole weekend rewinding a tape and learning all the words to Bohemian Rhapsody. We double dated. She was my sister and we were inseparable. In fact, we married each others high school sweethearts in a surreal chain of events that no one saw coming.

We lost touch after I moved away but I was able to visit her twice when our vacations bought us back to Florida. The second time we visited her, her marriage was falling apart. Then I traveled to Central Florida just after my mother’s death, just to see her. Her mother called me out of the blue after 2 or 3 years of no contact. My immediate thought was that she was gone. The last I had talked to her she was babbling and incoherent. I remember sitting silently on the phone for what seemed like an hour and listened to her ramble without making discernable sentences, but not wanting to hang up because I was comforted at least that she was alive and as long as I had her on the phone with me she wasn’t going anywhere. Then I didn’t hear from her until her mother called.

I knew that she must have been high on something the night she called, so when her mother called me, with that sad tone in her voice and important news to tell me, my first thought was that she was dead. No, her mother said, not dead, merely overdosed and now living in a rehab. She warned me that the damage done by the drug was devastating to the brain and that she was now in a state of psychosis. Even living 9 hours away, I dropped my life and came running. I didn’t care the personal or financial hardship an emergency trip would cost me. We were talking about my sister, my best friend. I had to see her, hold her and know that she was still alive. When I arrived, she did not know me. Her mother had to introduce us, then after blaming her new “foggy” brain she was overjoyed to see me and spend time with me. I spent one hour with her after driving all night to get to her. She spent the whole hour telling me that she really wasn’t that sick and that really all she needed was for her mother and ex-husband to get off of her case. For that one hour, I was anything that she needed me to be…a person to vent to, an old friend who needed to have the “true” situation explained to her, and at one point, a stranger she was introducing herself to for the first time. In my heart I wept more and more. With every word she spoke, it was obvious that the friend I had spent countless hours laughing and sharing with was forever gone. She had been destroyed by the drug. Obliterated permanently by the damage left behind. We parted with promises to keep in touch. She told me that she planned to be home in the next month and restart her life…maybe even move to where I lived to start over. I held her close and smelled her hair, not knowing really if I would ever see her alive again.

I drove back to her mother’s house silently. I pretended a headache and went to lie down. What I really did was sit on the bed and cry while my husband held me and prayed. Her mother asked me later what was really wrong with me. She wanted to know what I wasn’t telling her. She needed me to talk to her like a nurse. Knowing that she needed to hear it, I explained that this person, this altered version, is permanent. This brain damage is unchangeable. This personality shift is probably the new her…forever. In reality she had died that night. The person that we knew was gone forever. I spoke with her twice more before she left the rehab. I didn’t even know she had gone. I called one evening to check on her and they said she had checked out. I didn’t find her again for almost a year. She called me at midnight on New Year’s. We spoke for 15 minutes. She told me she was in love with a man she met at AA and that she still wanted to move near me to start her life over again. I asked her how her children were…she changed the subject.

That was 5 years ago. I was able to find her cousin on Facebook and asked tenderly if she was still alive. I was told that the cousin didn’t have contact with her, but that yes she was alive. I miss her terribly. I think about her almost everyday and utter silent prayers that don’t even have a form other than “protect her”. Last night, after entering her name in the Facebook Search box (which I am in the habit of doing every so often but always finding nothing) suddenly there she was. Older, a little more rough around the edges, but alive and staring back at me from my computer screen. She is suddenly tangible and available….and I chickened out. I looked through her page, trying desperately to glean some insight into the person that she is now. It amounted to no less than stalking. I looked at posts, pictures, looked at the page of the man she is in a relationship with now, but I didn’t send her a message. I just…I don’t know…I’m scared. But then, that’s not exactly the right word. Worried may be a better word. By all appearances she is still that “other” person, the new person that I don’t know. I am faced with a dilemma that I never saw coming. Do I get to know this new person? It would seem that after searching methodically for her for years and even asking family members about her that I would be overjoyed to find her and would not be able to stop myself from contacting her immediately, but that is totally not what happened. My heart leapt when I saw her face, but then immediately in the place of joy came fear. Fear that I would hope for a relationship that cannot be. Fear that I would not love this new person and might even hate her for taking my best friend away from me.

I could tell from her Facebook posts that we have very little in common anymore. She appears to still be working out her demons while mine were faced long ago. We apparently lead completely different lives, with different directions or even morals. Do I let this person into my life, not knowing what pain will come of it? Do I welcome her knowing that I may have to walk away from her at some point? I cannot abide letting drama into my life for the sake of a friend I do not know anymore. Honestly, I am ashamed of myself. I searched for her. My heart pined for her. I have grieved the loss of her for years and now that she is right in front of me, I am frozen in fear. How can I ever have claimed to love her and not leap for joy at the sight of her? How can I say that I truly am a friend when I became a coward the moment I saw her? How can I be someone who is in school to be a professional counselor and feel judgmental towards my oldest and dearest friend for changing after a nearly deadly addiction?

I am ashamed and I should be. I lay in bed last night and prayed. I didn’t even tell Hubby that I found her or what I was going through. I just wanted time to process. As I lay there, I thought about my boys talking at the dinner table about the Mayan Apocalypse. We were discussing how no one really knows the hour and time that God will call us home. Then I thought about my oldest and dearest friend, who I almost lost and to some extent did lose to a drug. What if …. What if something does happen to her? What if I had the chance to hear her voice one more time and I chickened out? I have lived without my mother for 6 years now. What I wouldn’t do to have one more day with her. God is handing me another chance with Mel and I am letting the fear of the enemy keep me from her. It does not matter if she is different. I am different. I am different in so many ways than I was in high school. Different even, than I was the last time I saw her face. Being close to her might be painful, as I am reminded of the differences between then and now, but at least I have the chance to be close to her at all. I am going to take that chance. It might not end well, but I do not think I will regret trying.

My Mysterious New Backbone

Just wanted to take a moment to update the situation with my oldest son, The Sweet One. Thank you all for the kind comments to my last blog about him. It really meant a lot to me, to know that others understand where I am coming from :) The situation is different now, but no less scary for me as a mom. February of this year, The Sweet One "came out" as bisexual. It was a scary time for us, especially for Hubby. I think we were well prepared for it because we had already been dealing with the bullying. At least it wasn't completely out of the blue. That would have been harder to deal with. Originally, he told us he was gay. Well...he told me that anyway. I wanted to be cautious and urged him not to label himself at this age. Like I said before, our morals dictate our behaviors no matter what our preferences are! But, he felt like he needed a label. I understand that though. I understand the need to feel confident in your actions and even in your own mind. A label, even though it has the potential to be damaging, is solid and concrete. It sometimes can be used as something to hold on to when nothing else makes sense. This is totally not related, but I have used my title of nurse as a platform to stand on, and an identity to push myself to perform in situations I knew that I could not handle. It was the foundation I needed to help myself know that yes, I could do this difficult thing as a nurse, even when as a person it was too much to handle. I'm not sure that's what he meant, but that's how I understood it. For him to be able to stand up for himself, as a bullied person, he needed a place to start from. He's almost grown. I can't make these decisions for him. I don't even think I can influence him anymore than I already have. I've done my job, I've left my mark. One of the things I have learned about and for myself is that the world is not black and white. Motherhood is muddy. I can have all the opinions I want about other people's kids, but it's not so easy when it's your own child. I'm here to tell you that right now. I would like to say that I handled it well, but the truth is that I did struggle. I struggled with my personal opinions about homosexuality (which were that it is a sin, but so is my mouth so who am I to judge?), I struggled with worrying that he was acting out the trauma of the bullying (he quickly set those fears at ease with a few stories dating back to elementary school) and I also, to be honest, struggled with my faith. I'm still struggling with my faith somewhat. No, that's not correct. I am struggling with my faith "community". I have no problems with God. I have no problem with my son. I have a *HUGE* problem with other Christians' actions towards my son. Note to them: You are not being judged by him. You are not responsible for his actions, or preferences. YOU are not his mother. I tried to keep quiet for many months about his orientation. I figured, it was his business and he will handle it as it comes to him. Mostly, that is still true. But, I find myself becoming more and more defensive as time passes. This is what I recently told a friend, I need my son to know that I love him. Period. I don't care about what others think of me for it. If I have to march in the Gay Day parade wearing a rainbow striped shirt for him to know that I love him....where's my shirt?? I don't care if my brand of faith differs from yours at all. In fact, I could honestly care less. I'm not asking anyone what they think about it, or what they would do, because in reality, unless your child is gay, you have NO idea what my family has gone through. A very sweet older couple in our church recently came forward as having a gay adult son, whom they shunned and now are trying to re-connect with. They're advice was this: Love him. Never let him feel like you don't love him. Even if you have to keep your mouth shut about his life, his choice in partners, his choice in friends, whatever, make sure that he knows you love him and that is what is more important than being right. I think that is advice that I can live by. Since his announcement, he has taken the time and given himself the permission to "learn" more about himself, which is amazing considering I still can't decide if I like red peppers. He has dated a few girls and a few guys and has decided that he likes both, for different reasons. For now, he has chosen the label Bisexual. That may change with his life and experience. I may end up with a daughter in law, or a son in law. Both are wins for me, as long as he is loved. For now, as long as he choses the label son and lets me carry the label of mother...that's all that matters to me.

I'm still a Hot Mess

I haven’t written in a really long time. A really LONG time. I miss it. I miss thinking about what I’m going to write, banging it out, reading and re-reading it, changing it all up and writing it again. It’s not that I haven’t had things to write about. Life goes on every single day…the good and the bad. I just haven’t slowed down long enough to do it. There isn’t enough of me to go around anymore.

I am sitting alone on my couch, the night before Christmas Eve, listening to the sounds of my house: dog bumping around in his crate, my youngest son’s sniffles (must get him some medicine tomorrow!), my husband snoring in the next room, etc. I am surrounded by the people I love. No matter what has happened in the day to day, good or bad, this is all that matters. Its been a year, give or take, since I wrote my last real post. A lot has changed, but then again, maybe not so much. I am almost halfway done with my degree in Psychology. I am still working at the doctor’s office but, as always, keeping my eyes peeled. In fact, I have an interview next week for a potential start up office in the next town. Keep your fingers crossed for me. It would mean more money, but less free time (as if I had any to start with) and less time for school. The largest change is in me. I see so much more than I used to see…in life, in other people, in myself. The biggest change revolves around my oldest son, The Sweet One. Two of my last posts were dedicated to my youngest children. I didn’t get around to posting about my eldest son. Before I could post about him, we had a nearly life-altering event in our household. It was brought to our attention that someone was bullying him. It turned out to be several some-ones…most of the high school really. Someone had set up a fake Facebook account in his name, proclaiming “himself” to be homosexual, having lewd conversations with other students, propositioning people. Although one person set it up, the password got passed around so that a large chunk of the high school was taking turns “being” my son, posting things on Facebook like they were coming from him, etc. Pictures that were taken on school campus were posted of him like he was posting them himself. Some of them he even posed for because someone said “Hey, get in on this picture with us!” He thought he was being included in the group…he wasn’t. 3 months after we left homeschooling for a private Christian education we were broadsided by this.

It was only brought to our attention because the principal found the website (he routinely checks up on the kids this way) and was concerned enough to call me in for a meeting. You see, he believed that it was my son’s real Facebook page, and he wanted to make me aware of his “indiscretions”. Needless to say, when I left the office he was very aware of the true situation and vowed to investigate. I did what I know was the right thing to do. I went home and I told my son what the other kids had done. Part of me wanted to hide it from him and let him go on thinking that these people were his friends, but I knew in my heart of hearts that it would be wrong, that he deserved to know what kind of “friends” he had. The next thing I did was call a friend of mine, who happens to work for law enforcement, and asked about the legality of the situation. Unfortunately, in Alabama, there are not (or were not at the time) any specific laws against cyberbullying per se. Other than them threatening him or making a profit from his name (they didn’t do either) there wasn’t anything really that could be done. I was devastated for him. I watched as the reality of his world sank in. I watched as the blood ran from his face. I watched as his whole 15 yr old life crumbled down around is ears. It may not sound like a lot for some, but for a 15 yr old boy, to have rumors of this magnitude spread about you is tantamount to social execution. Not only did these kids “friend” kids from 4 area high schools, their friends sent friend requests to their friends and so on, until more than 200 kids in our immediate area were either witnessing this behavior or were participating in it. Many didn’t know that it wasn’t really him saying these things and it wasn’t just boys participating. You probably think what I thought before this happened: boys bully boys and girls bully girls. Wrong. There were just as many girls participating as there were boys. I think that was the part that nearly killed my son. It wasn’t just that the girls might think he was gay, but they were actually participating in the rumor-mongering, posing as him, propositioning gay sex to other students. Such a blow to your sexuality would be hard for an adult, but for a young boy…well, I probably don’t even have to tell you. After I told him what I knew, we sat together for a little while. He talked and then he cried and then he talked some more. I remember thinking to myself, “This is why kids commit suicide. They really think that life is over for them because their way of life really is over. How do you come back from this?” I lay on his bed with him and just let him be angry, but mostly what we did was cry. It was like the death of something. The last of his childhood slithering away from us as the cold, hard edge of adulthood jammed itself into our lives without welcome. I wished with all my heart that I could shoulder this pain for him but I couldn’t. I asked him if he wanted to go back to school and he said no, not yet, but then he said something that made my blood run cold and stopped my heart in its tracks. He said, “I don’t even want to wake up tomorrow.” Now, I know that adolescents are full to the brim of melodrama…its their currency….but I could hear in his voice that he really felt that way and all I could envision was that mother who found her daughter hanging in her closet after being bullied on the Internet. I have never been so scared in my life. Everything in my world stopped turning right then and I knew that I had to do whatever was in my power to make sure that didn’t happen. He was so distraught and I was so scared that he would slip away from reality and harm himself during the night, that the first night I just lay in his room with him and let him cry. My poor husband slept alone…it was Valentine’s Day. I had to take several days off of work because I just didn’t trust him enough to leave him alone yet, let alone leave him in charge of his brothers while I worked. The principal agreed with me and allowed him to finish his work at home that week. Meanwhile, the group of kids who had done this was rounded up and summarily chewed out by the principal, who gave an assembly about the dangers of bullying the next day, and then this group of kids was given Saturday school where they had to scrub floors and walls and bathrooms, etc as their punishment. Don’t get me wrong, at least the school tried to do something, but it just didn’t seem fair to me that my son is barely functioning and this group of kids who maliciously destroyed his outlook on life and turned him into this fragile creature who doesn’t even want to exist…these kids are given “chores” for their crime. I was bitter…I suppose I still am.

I discretely went to my boss and told her what was happening and why I needed the time off. She hooked me up a local child psychologist and within the week he began counseling for his grief. He only went to about 6 sessions before he backed out, but I have faith that when he is ready to deal with it fully we will return. Because of this event, for a time, wasn’t sure of his sexual orientation. I think he looks at himself and asks ‘Do they see something in me that I don’t see? Am I gay? How do I know?’ Not that I was particularly ready to have these discussions, but I have had many discussions on the topic with him. I can say that before this event, I was pretty sure that I had a strong conviction about sexual orientation and how it related to my faith…now, not so much. I know what I think in my head, but I just can’t reconcile that to my son. My child, my baby whom I carried in my body and whom I would die defending…I don’t believe the same things I used to because I was able to look at it from a different perspective. I can say this…anyone who carries hatred in their hearts for people of different orientations have never faced loving one before. I can guarantee you that. I have urged my son not to label himself right now. From a mom’s point of view, it doesn’t matter right now anyway because I do not want any experimentation with anyone of any sex! We do believe in saving ourselves and that doesn’t change no matter what our preferences. It was a dark time for me and my husband, particularly my husband. No matter what, we know now that our love for our child doesn’t change. It scares me, thinking of his future now, but my love doesn’t change. I see the feminine marks on my son that the world has tried to enlarge and turn into something it may not be, but I don’t care. I don’t care that here in the South, boys are supposed to play sports and fool around with their girlfriends. I don’t care that boys in the South aren't supposed to spend all of their time reading and writing stories and painting like my son does. I don’t care that he’s not like the other boys. God didn’t create him to be like everyone else and I make sure he knows it everyday.

It has been nearly a year since the original incident. My son did return to school because he didn’t want to let them beat him. He does still occasionally face some ridicule at school but he tries not to let it bother him. The Sweet One turned 16 this past June and is looking forward to having the courage to take his driver’s test eventually. He has tried to have a few girlfriends but so far nothing very important. I think the farther and farther away the incident goes the more secure he feels in himself. That is all I care about. I worry for him that he doesn’t have friends, doesn’t have that “core group” that is so vital for teenagers, but I pray everyday that he draws what he can from our family and that one day soon he will show us all just how strong he can be. I can’t wait for that day. You'll recognize me...I'll be the one cheering the loudest :)

Hello? Is this thing on??

Show of hands...how many people thought I died??

Well, you were wrong. Both of you.
I have not died yet, although many an evening I felt dead, wished I was dead or smelled like a dead thing.

Here's the deal: School is kicking my ass. I probably shouldn't curse in my blog, but since its quarter to one in the morning and I've already had a half a glass of wine, I'm going to do what I want to do. When I registered for school, after pouring over all the materials I could find about this school, I was certain that this was exactly the way to get my education finished. Fast forward 6 months and I am not only wary of that idea, I am weary at the prospect of 3 more years like this. I am still working 2nd shift full time (four 10hr days a week). This means that most days I only see my kids long enough to get them dressed and out the door and I don't see them again until the next day. No where in all of that wonderful material I looked at before registering for school did it mention "mini-mesters". Hell, I had never even heard of them. News flash: they are the devil. Basically, you have 9 weeks to do a full semester's worth of work. The requirements for the course, the syllabus, the workload, etc. are all the same as a traditional semester only you are doing all of that in 9 weeks. Now, you would think that it might mean that you get done with school faster right? Makes sense. Alas, that would make too much sense. Full time status for a mini-mester is 2 classes instead of a regular 4 classes for a regular semester. So really all you're doing is splitting your semester in half without reducing any of the work you have to do. I am still going to end up needing 4 years for my Bachelor's Degree. All of a sudden it seems like that idea sucked. Twice the work without twice the reward?? Who's Mickey-Mouse idea was this? Oh, it was mine. I am trying my best to keep up but I don't even feel like I'm treading water anymore.I recently had a little (read: messy) meltdown about the whole situation. I feel like if I keep plugging onward it will all be OK and then the next minute I am a tearful mess about missing my kids and Hubby, not being able to keep up with the housework, feeling like I haven't slept in days (I am usually up until at least 1 or 2 AM finishing work), and missing out on all the fun events that Hubby and the boys get to do without me. I'm kind of a whiny, blubbery, bitchy mess right now. I have been obsessively looking for another job that might let me work less hours or at least be first shift so that I can see my kids in the evenings. Nothing. It's kind of exactly why I'm leaving the nursing world behind...there are no jobs anywhere for nurses right now. I take that back. There are no jobs for LPNs anywhere right now. I am noticing that there are plenty of Rn's positions. A prudent person would say "Why don't you change majors and get your RN?" Well, it's like this: I don't have the ability to NOT work. Even though I am not the main bread winner, I am the insurance carrier. I know that I couldn't work and go to nursing school. I barely survived nursing school last time and I wasn't working at all! So, I don't realistically see how I could possibly go to nursing school and work full time in order for us to keep our benefits. I am going to keep my eye out for that mythical job that allows me only to work during school hours, has benefits, no weekends or holidays and pays the bills. In the mean time, it's finals week and I'm wasting time blogging at one in the morning. Y'all pray for me....I need all the prayers I can get.

Still Alive

It has been 9 days since I've blogged.

That kinda sounded like a confession or an AA greeting.


I have nooo idea where I've been for 9 days. I only remember work, sleep, eat, repeat. I have had days off, they just fly by in such a blur it's like they didn't actually happen. Hubby and I took the boys to see Toy Story 3. That was fun. At least I remember it.

I don't really remember anything else. I have been dealing with a twisted knee and a run-on neck muscle spasm, but these are random things. I have had some majorly intense relationship moments in the last couple weeks though. I think all the women I know have lost their cotton-pickin' minds frankly. Now I remember why all my high school friends were guys and contrary to popular belief it had nothing to with my bra size. I totally get why men are so mystified by women....ya'll there is a very thin line between sane and insane and we pretty much crisscross back and forth at will.

One prior friend, one current friend, one of my sisters and my boss have been taking turns freaking out on me. The prior friend discussion is closed. The tiff with my sister: resolved. My boss is probably not over...I did learn a little something about her during all this that will be helpful in the future. CYA. To non-medical folks thats a handy little abbreviation that we like to call Cover Your Ass...because no one else is going to cover it for you and no one will notice you under that big ass bus.

The situation with my current friend is really the only one that I genuinely care about and am praying comes to a good end. Sometimes technology sucks because even if you are perfectly literate you cannot discern tone of voice or body language through the written word and sometimes you need to know those things, ya know?

My very handsome son, The Sweet One , got his driver's permit today. Yay! You should all Thank God that you don't live in our town. Oh. My. Goodness. I took him for his first driver's lesson this evening. Let's just say there was screaming and sweaty palms and white knuckles plus he was nervous too.

Hubby and I are kinda trying to plan a 4-day trip for the middle of August for my birthday and our anniversary, which are one day apart. I'm still counting down to my Girl's Cruise in September.

By the time those things come around I am definitely going to need the vacation, cause ya'll may I just say, I am one tired lady.

Ups & Downs - A Carnival Ride Called Life

So much has been happening so fast that I haven't had time to blog. That makes me sad. I started this blog so that I could write something everyday. Most days I don't feel like I have anything to write. Its not like others that I have read, who have reader intimidation, I have only a few readers, if that. I do have a couple of things rattling around in my brain that probably could be vented here. I have a close friend whose marriage is falling apart, whose husband has decided that his happiness trumps the happiness of her and their children and who is barely keeping herself contained while she has to work 60 hrs a week and pretend that she doesn't want to curl up and die. I suffer with her, albeit in silence. My estranged grandmother has decided to pop back into my life after several tense years apart, including the three since my mother's death. She, my mother's mother, has apparently decided that she should tell me NOW that she loves me. A letter arrived in the mail 2 weeks ago. I did write a return letter and effectively skirted by the issues in our past to fill her in on the present in the politest way possible. This week I received another letter to which the first sentence said,"I didn't really think you'd write back." What? What does that mean Grandma? Does that mean that you are happy to hear from me? Or does that mean that you didn't want to actually hear from me but wanted to make yourself feel better by throwing the ball into my court and point back to this moment when someone asks about me? I haven't decided what to write back to her. My sister, who I have had a treacherous relationship with in the past also, has been appearing on my doorstep several times a week since we moved into the new house. Things have been good, sister-like even, because she has started homeschooling her oldest son due to his Cerebral Palsy. I'm glad I can be so helpful to her but I can't help my suspicious nature from wondering when it will go back to treacherous. I pray, seriously, that this is the beginning of a shift for the good for her. A major step was that she actually got her husband - who doesn't get along with my husband at ALL - to come to our church 2 Sundays ago. I'm still praying. I'm struggling with homeschooling this year because of the need to work 2 days a week. I feel like I am effectively failing to be a good teacher or employee by not having my feet planted firmly on one side or the other. Oh, and 3 ex-boyfriends have looked me up in the last 60 days. What is that about?? The first one stirred up trouble by sending his phone number and a not so subtle hint at traveling to our area on business. The second one (who wasn't serious in the first place) seems to be normal...so far...and the third one was serious enough that I told him straight away not to contact me again. What is going on anyway? Hubby thinks I am being tested. Really? I don't think so, I think it probably more like Murphy's Law. On the brighter side of life (Yes, there is a brighter side) I have been able to keep to my meal plan with only $100 more dollars spent, which means I spent a total of $250 for groceries this month! May not seem like a big deal for anyone else, but its a big deal for me because I am a starter, not so much a finisher. This maybe the first idea I've had that I actually followed through on. I've also gotten the hang of bread making and haven't bought bread for almost 3 weeks! Also a big deal because I have been experimenting with bread for over a year. Minor victories. I feel like I may have just broken even emotionally this month. I continue to pray for God's unfailing grace. It turns out that I need that more than a meal plan, a restored relationship or a clean house.