She Get It From Her Mama

Ah Mother’s Day.

No, it’s not today. So all of you that didn’t buy flowers or a card or wish your mother a Happy Mother’s Day, don’t worry, you still have a few days.

If you read my earlier posts, you would think that this may be one of the hardest days of the year for me. I may never get a Happy Mother’s Day card, a World’s Greatest Mommy coffee mug, or a hand painted covered piece of paper that is equal to a Michelangelo masterpiece. I may never get served breakfast in bed by my little rugrats, go to Muffins with Mommy, or have a bottomless drawer filled with mementos of hand crafted presents throughout the years.  

But.

Since I was “diagnosed” with MRKH I always felt the complete opposite on Mother’s Day. For that, I have my mother, to thank.

I don’t know how to even begin to express how I feel about my mom. We always joke that if I grew up with her, we would have been best of friends because that’s what we are now. I love the music she grew up with. Her fashion sense when it came to dressing my sister and I was a little questionable, but back in the day, she could pull off some clothes that I always tell her I wish she kept. Everyone that sees her senior picture often comment on how much we look alike. I was recently looking for some of my dad’s handwriting for my next tattoo and I came across a bunch of journals my mom used to keep. I know I didn’t get my love of writing from my dad so it was cool to think maybe that’s another thing my mom and I have in common. When my grandpa was sick, everyone told me I should have been a nurse because of how I was with him. But, then I saw how my mom was with my dad, and that’s where I got my compassion from. My mom was literally my dad’s angel. Everyone could see that; he even saw that. My mom was and is literally the strongest person I know, not physically, but mentally, I don’t know how that woman does it.

I know we can’t pick who our mothers, fathers, sons, or daughters are. But I truly believe that I was blessed to have the mother I have to see life through her. I got to see what she went through with her parents when they got sick, what she went through caring for my father, and what she still continues to go through from what her three children throw at her day after day. This woman, my mother, my soulmate, my best friend, amazes me day after day by her courage, her strength, her willingness to always help no matter how she feels. She has shown me, not just by her words, but by her actions, how I hope to be one day. I have to admit, my siblings and I haven’t always been the easiest to deal with. But no matter what surprises come her way, she is there for us, with her unconditional love and support and eyebrow raises. She hasn’t always agreed with our decisions and trust me, she lets us know with her hands on her hips because she is so angry, but she also lets us find our own way and is always there for us when we need to find our way back home.

Today, Mother’s Day, and every day in between, I want you to know that I love you and I thank you for being you and allowing me to be me, even if I do crazy things and I’m not perfect. Your constant love and support have shown me it is okay to be perfectly imperfect.

Growing up

When did becoming an adult start to suck? Excuse my language, mom. But it’s true. I remember when I was younger and all I wanted to do was grow up and be an adult, have a car, my own place, be able to make my own rules and live on my terms. I would roll my eyes when my parents laughed and said “You’ll see one day,” or give me the ever so popular “Money doesn’t grow on trees” speech. I would run to my room and belly flop onto my bed and break into tears and scream that I couldn’t wait for the day that I would be on my own; all because they wouldn’t give me money to meet my friends or a ride to the mall. Man, I was such a brat, a cute one, but a brat nonetheless. What I wouldn’t give to turn back the hands of time.

In 1999, Destiny’s Child came out with a hit song, “Bills, Bills, Bills”. I was 16 at the time and I didn’t have any bills nor the responsibilities. I had a job, but worked very little so my paycheck reflected that. At that time though, I didn’t have anything to pay for besides gas and my extra activities so I was okay. I was able to do what I wanted to do when I wasn’t working and I didn’t have the responsibilities to worry about. Yet, all I wanted was to grow up and be on my own and feel like I was an adult. Now I am one and it’s not all it was cracked up to be.

Yes, being an adult is empowering because you do get to make your own choices, you get to vote, you get to decide how you want to spend your free time, and your career choice is up to you. Being a grown up at our age for many people may even mean you have a family to take care of. When we were younger and in school, we were taught how to calculate formulas like: Solve for x; y2 + (75-8x-the circumference of the sun÷34^7) + the area of the continent of North America – 274. Which, let me tell you, I use daily. I couldn’t tell you the last time I needed to know any of the symbols on the periodic table of elements unless it was a question on Trivia Crack. The things I learned in school did prepare me for some things, but they didn’t prepare me for life. They didn’t prepare me for becoming an adult. They didn’t get me ready to be on my own in the real world where I would have to make my own choices and make hard decisions; the decisions that would eventually teach me who I was and want to be and who I didn’t want to be. Should I hang out with this crowd? Should I go to that party? Try this alcohol? Smoke that joint? Would that make me fit in or make me look like a follower? Life. Life taught me all that hard stuff that an algebraic equation or dissecting a reptile couldn’t teach me. School didn’t teach us how to get over heartaches and how to mend friendships or how to be a good parent. We learn that over time and through our different personal experiences. Growing up is a responsibility much like having bills to pay and having a family to care for. Being an adult sucks and it’s scary and we can’t stop it from happening but if we can look back on all those moments that helped mold us into who we are or who we are still becoming and be thankful and humble, that is when you know you are growing, and that is just beautiful.

Honesty.

So I have a friend who has been “seeing” a guy. She is not ready to start anything because she recently got out of an unhealthy relationship. She was honest with the new guy from the beginning and his feelings developed a lot faster and stronger and eventually became too much for her. Again, she was honest and told him she wasn’t ready and needed to step back. He didn’t understand and confessed how much he cared about her, undoubtedly, pushing her further away. When she was telling me this, I couldn’t help but laugh and recall a very similar “situation” of my own. I was recently “getting to know” someone. Things were going great and we both agreed we didn’t want anything serious because we weren’t sure what we wanted but we both really enjoyed talking to each other. Long story short, it didn’t work, obviously because here I am writing about it. Anyway, unlike my friend’s situation, I was the one that didn’t understand when the guy was trying to be honest with me about where he was coming from. I remember being on the phone with him and I got very upset because he couldn’t understand what I was trying to say. When in hindsight, I was the one that couldn’t understand his honesty.

It took me having that conversation with my friend to realize that being honest with someone has become something it isn’t meant to be. Honesty is supposed to make the other person feel good and respected, not hurt and confused. But when it is something that you don’t want to hear…that is when it becomes the devil. It stings. It cracks the heart. It leaves you upset on the phone, or email, looking like a complete fool. He was nothing but honest with me, which I didn’t understand. Let me back up and clarify. I respected his decision and I absolutely respected him for being honest with me and I wasn’t trying to change his mind. I wanted an explanation. I needed one. HOWEVER, that doesn’t mean that I’m not allowed to feel hurt and confused. I was absolutely mad at him. But for what? For being honest with me? One of the top qualities I look for in a man is honesty, so how the hell can I get mad at someone for doing exactly that. Looking at it now, I was mad at the situation. I was hurt because I didn’t understand. I still don’t. But I will say, we were both honest with each other and so was my friend in her situation. So in the end, yes, the truth hurts. It may sting and it may crack the heart, but overtime, the hurt and sting will lessen and the cracks will heal and you will see that when that person decided to be honest with you, he or she respected you enough to tell you the truth. Now, you have to have respect for yourself, be grateful for the conversations you had and time spent together, and keep it moving.

And for you, I know you are reading this, thank you for being honest with me.

Single and Fabulous

“Being single used to mean that nobody wanted you. Now it means you’re pretty sexy and you’re taking you time deciding how you want your life to be and who you want to spend it with.”
Carrie Bradshaw (Sex and the City)

I can remember hearing those voice overs from Carrie while I watched the show and not fully understanding what the hell she was talking about. Carrie Bradshaw had it all; the clothes, the great apartment in NYC, the men, the job, and the shoes! I was too young to fully comprehend what she was writing on her laptop while sipping on her delicious looking Cosmopolitans at 10 o’clock in the morning because, well honestly, who doesn’t have that luxury? But, with re-runs of the show on now, I catch myself watching them, with my Cosmo in hand of course, and having those Ah-ha moments a lot more then I should.

I’m single. I don’t have a +1. I’m not a “Teri and….” on guest lists. I could check the “Single” or the “Divorced” box depending on my mood. I’m usually a third, fifth, etc…wheel. My last real date was with my nephew. I could probably go on and on but I’m thinking you get the picture. Society had me trained to think that because I am single, there must be something wrong with me. I had 2 serious relationships before I got married, I failed at my marriage, and I’m back to being single. Am I doing something wrong? Am I not good enough? Maybe there isn’t someone out there for me. Am I being too picky? Am I too guarded or am I making myself too available? Or, call me crazy, but maybe I’m just being a female and thinking way too much into this whole being single thing. Sorry to put us on blast ladies.

Perhaps it’s not just the female species that has it all wrong. Maybe it’s just society as a whole that has blinded us to what’s really important: life. Living life. Loving life. Maybe I’m not in a relationship because I just don’t want to be. So in yo face, society. Being single is a choice. Don’t get me wrong, if someone comes along that I think is amazing and that I would like to get to know better, I will put forth that effort. However, that still doesn’t mean I want a relationship RIGHT NOW. That means I would like to take things slow and get to know you. Since my divorce, I realized a lot about myself and I have some things (obviously) that I need to work on for myself before I can bring anyone else into it. I want to travel by myself, which I think is the greatest way to learn about yourself. I want to have fun with my friends and go to concerts and sit around a bonfire. I want to enjoy spending time with my family. I want to read more. I want to sleep in a van down by the river. Okay, I’m kidding about that last one. I want to go camping and sleep under the stars. I want to hear stories from people I don’t even know because I love seeing how people talk about things they are passionate about. It would be amazing if I found someone to do these things with, but I am okay doing these things myself and with my friends. Being single will not stop me from living life; loving life. I know I will find someone that is perfect for me and can handle me at my worst, my best, my outspoken times, my quiet times, my annoying times, and my ever so cute endearing times. But until then, I’m working on the relationship that really matters; the one with myself and that is just fabulous.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

For the longest time my mom would wake us up on this very day, every year, and give her best Irish accent and say “Top of the morning to ya!” I would find it hilarious because she would love it so much, although I’m not sure what she loved more; talking with the Irish accent or having an excuse to wake us up in such an obnoxious but cute manner. See, for the longest time we thought we had Irish ancestors, then we didn’t and we were Scottish. Then we were a little Irish and Scottish. So, I think that’s where we ended up. Honestly I lost track of how many times we thought we might have been Irish. But on March 17th, aren’t we all Irish? Sure, you can look at that as go out and get plastered and have a whale of time. Or you can look at it as I’m choosing to and consider yourself lucky. When it comes to lottery tickets, raffles, casinos, or even Go Fish, I definitely don’t have the luck of the Irish on my side. But when I look back on my life and where I am now, I can confidently say I hit the jackpot when it comes to my family, without having to chase a little leprechaun.

I know everyone says they have the best parents in the world and chances are they might. However, my parents….I don’t even know how to describe. They were and are the perfect combination of best friends/parents. They didn’t smother us, but yet we always knew they were there. They pushed us to do our best in everything, but were behind us if we decided it wasn’t for us. What my dad lacked in “book smarts”, my mom made sure she had it covered. What my mom didn’t know about the mean streets of Struthers, my dad let us know about. When I thought I was big and bad and packed the black plastic bags and was ready to leave home because they took my pager from me, they always let me do what I had to do, and then they always let me back. Honestly I never got more than the front door. But I was trying to make a dramatic point. But I was the one that was missing the point. They were and are always going to be there for us. My parents made sure we always had a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. I know I have said things to the both of them in my childhood days that have hurt their feelings and all I can say now is that I am sorry and thank you for loving me, for loving us, unconditionally.

When I say us, I mean myself and of course my older sister and my younger brother. Let’s be honest, who are the real lucky ones to have such an amazing sister like myself. Without them though, I don’t know where I would be. Cathy paved the way for me. Not only with my parents and in high school, but in life. While she was in high school and I was in about 8th grade there was a divide. I wasn’t allowed at parties she threw at our house when our parents were away and I wasn’t allowed to be with her and her friends basically doing anything. I remember thinking I have the meanest sister in the world, the universe. Why couldn’t I hang out with her? But, as the years went on and we grew up and grew closer, the more I learned and the more I caught on. She wasn’t telling me no because she was mean and because she didn’t love me. She told me no and kicked me out of her parties BECAUSE she loved me. She was protecting me. She was being the big sister. Now we are both grown up, even though I think she hates to admit her little sister isn’t so little. I have to make my own choices and do what is best for me, even if she doesn’t agree. We are two different people and that’s okay. She is more cautious and I’m more carefree. I’m sure we can both learn a lot from each other. Some days I just want her to relax and I’m sure there are days she wishes I would just grow up. But I will always need her, no matter the day, no matter the circumstance. Now Mark, my little brother is something else. I have never been more proud of someone then him. Growing up, he was terrible. I mean I have heard of terrible two’s but this lasted till he was about 12. He gave my parents a run for their money and many babysitters. I would have never imagined he grow up to be the man he is today. He left home for Columbus with his girlfriend at the time, now his wife, shortly after high school and has been making this family proud ever since. He is the smartest man I know, I just want to know why those genes skipped me?! He has lived in different places and taken on so many different jobs that I can’t keep up. He has never settled for less than what he deserves and he deserves the world and so much more. He is always chasing bigger and better things and I have always admired that about him. When I lived in Texas, I can say he and I got a lot closer and I learned a lot about him and the man he has become and I know I don’t tell him all the time, but I truly adore him. It is an honor to be his big sister.

So, maybe tomorrow when you aren’t getting plastered and doing numerous Irish Car Bombs, take a minute and think about the things or people in your life that you are lucky to have or had. I say tomorrow because I have gotten emotional while drinking and I don’t recommend that for anyone. I have a lot of other people that I am lucky for, but I think this was enough reading for the day.

Be lucky. Be blessed. Be careful.

My Addiction & Regret

Regret. We all have it. At some point in our lives and in some form, we all have some regret. Whether it be saying something to someone, wearing something, cutting your hair a certain way, dating someone, doing something, or even eating way too much. It comes in many shapes and in many sizes. Sometimes we learn from what we did that filed us with that regret and sometimes we are just addicted to the way it makes us feel in the moment that we don’t feel the regret till after, which makes us do it all over again. It’s a vicious cycle. Damn vicious.

In high school I had an eating disorder. It started off by me not eating or eating very little. Then I would eat more and throw it up. Things in my outside world at that point were out of control, I felt like I could control my weight. It is so cliché when people say that I know, but it’s true. I needed that control because I felt like I couldn’t handle what was going on around me. Maybe it wasn’t about the control that I needed but more about the attention looking back at it now. Either way, for a short while, I was addicted to that feeling. It was a rush, a high, knowing that I could eat whatever I wanted to because I could get rid of it. Did I regret it immediately afterwards? Absolutely. But that only made me crave it more. Everything around me was so chaotic I blended in the background so maybe I just wanted someone to notice that I was there. In no way was it anyone fault but my own. I knew what I was doing. I knew if I just spoke up the right way, things would change. But I handled it wrong because I didn’t know what to do at that time. I told my boyfriend who then either told my parents or made me tell them, I can’t remember, but I did end up going to see a doctor. I felt like I disappointed my parents which made it worse. What was I doing? My parents loved me and I was hurting myself when I had their attention all along. I stopped after one session.

My addiction to that rush, that high, was nothing. I thought I wanted control at the time but now I know I just wanted the attention and I’m mature enough to admit that. I regret going about it the way that I did because I feel like I hurt my parents in the process. The thing I learned about regret is that you can never go back in time and change what you said, what you wore, how you cut your hair, or change your actions. Instead, you can learn from it, grow from it, and become better from it.

1995.

I'm going to bring you back to a certain point in my life, although I didn’t fully comprehend what had happened then, looking back at it now, it was the first time my family, the family I thought was untouchable, broke.

My grandfather passed away on February 15th, 1995. I was young. I knew what happened & I understood what happened. I remember walking in the door from school and my mom and dad sitting at the table. Anyway, I walked in and my dad had me sit on his lap and he told me. I cried and then we went to my Nona’s. I will never forget when I went there that day. I sat on her lap and she was hugging me so tightly. I can remember feeling as if her arms were just swallowing me as she held me against her chest. She was screaming in my ear and rocking back and forth, “He’s gone, He’s gone.” See, the thing about my grandparents is that they were absolute soulmates. My Nona literally had a broken heart and on June 20th 1995, just 3 short months and 5 days after my Grandpa passed, that broken heart took her from us. Unfortunately, I was so young, I don’t remember much of my grandparents besides the stories and pictures that people share.

Did you ever see the movie “Soul Food”? When I first watched that, Big Mama reminded me of my Nona. She was the glue. She was the foundation. We would go over there all the time for dinner. Holidays were unreal. Christmas Eve & Christmas day, I couldn’t wait to go over there. Santa would come and I would get so excited when I would hear the clanking from him, or her, walking down the steps; not ever noticing that my dad, Grandpa or Grandma would take turns being Santa. My Nona is who started my addiction to chocolate milk. I can remember one time I was running in their house and I ran into the doorknob of my Grandpa’s TV room. My eye was gushing blood and my dad put me on top of their counter in the bathroom and the counter was really long and I can remember looking at my Grandpa and feeling bad for him because he was all the way at the end and couldn’t see what was going on. My Grandpa would chase my brother around with a yellow yard stick that he hid next to the refrigerator and my Nona would ALWAYS have Juicy Fruit gum to give us that she kept in a jar in the cabinet right by the door to the garage. I can remember running in their front yard because it was really big and throwing rocks in the pond that they had in the backyard. I can remember how red my Nona’s face would get when she would laugh and the hair that grew out of my Grandpa’s nose. I can’t remember their voices. I can’t remember anything they told me. I can’t remember the last time I saw their faces other than in pictures, but the memories I do have of them will hopefully last a lifetime.

Regardless if I knew them as much as I would have hoped, they helped shape who I am today. Their blood is running in my veins. I learn more and more about them each and every day. By having those family dinners, they made me understand how important family is and how lucky I am to be a part of the one I am. Some of us may fight, some of us may not agree with one another, and some of us may not talk to each other on a regular basis, but at the end of the day, we are family, and that is something my grandparents taught me that I will never forget.