Too many thoughts, too little time.

Posts tagged ‘feelings’

Point of View

point of viewI keep reading about how Facebook and social media are partially to blame for people having depression. How people only show the good stuff, and are basically “bragging” or “self-promoting”. Here are 2 links, but there are many more you can search for.

Facebook Envy

Facebook and Self Esteem

I can see how these arguments make sense. If your life is kind of sucky right now, you don’t want to see your friends vacations and you will get envious. However, I question whether Facebook is causing envy and depression because of all these people showing off. Or, if the people who are having negative effects from Facebook are more likely to be depressed and envious anyway.

I hate that positive people are seen as bragging. I’ve been working on my attitudes, and trying to become more positive. No, my life isn’t perfect, and often it is quite boring. That doesn’t mean there aren’t good things, even if they are little. That doesn’t mean there isn’t anything beautiful in the mundane. About a month ago we were involved in a car accident. Aussie had some burns and torn up skin on his arm. I had an asthma attack (powder from the air bags) and a broken foot. We had been coming home after going with Aussie for work in PA. We didn’t have to go, he could have flown. But, we did, can’t change it now. It isn’t going to stop us from driving anywhere again. I got asked “was it worth it?” Yes, it was. We saw amazing east coast scenery and forests that looked like paint had been spilled on them. We got to stay in a really nice hotel. We got to spend a couple extra days with Aussie. And,nobody was really seriously injured. Yes, I mentioned the wreck on Facebook. But, there were 5 other positive, good posts. I didn’t post a picture of the car, I posted this.

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That picture up top? The pond and the weeping willow? I see that every morning on my walk. It is maybe 2 blocks from my house. It’s pretty. I had a lot of people tell me how pretty it was, asking where it was. It is pretty. I was posting the pretty. I suppose, to be real I should have turned around and taken a picture of the houses with the metal fences. I should have zoomed out so you could see the goose poop all over the sidewalk. I should have shown you, that weeping willow is draped over the sidewalk, really, quite in the way. If you ride your bike, you will either go in the pond, hit the fence, or get slapped in the face with branches. I should have shown you, on the other side of the hill ,across the pond, is the interstate. And, under the interstate is a railroad track. You can stand and see the pretty view, and hear honking and train whistles, and one time I even heard a semi truck accident.

When we posted pics from our honeymoon, I posted one from Belize. Because we found Belize kind of scary.

I have my truck up for sale, and got a “new” car. Wow, totally something to be jealous of. I posted a picture of it. Then, Aussie got one too. Like, 2 weeks later. All I said was we got new cars. I didn’t say why, I didn’t say because we’d kind of been living right on the edge of our means, and trading to 2 G6s meant we saved about $300/month on gas, $50/month on a car payment, AND will have the one paid off in the spring, rather then 4 years from now, like with Aussie’s truck. So, we’ll save even more on a car payment. We both hated to see the Jeep go, but, this is life, we ended up with a couple nice cars that we like, so, make do and make the best of it.

Is this being inauthentic? Or is it just looking at the good? We did have a good time in PA. That spot is pretty. We do like our cars, and they were new to us.

I think everybody should start posting “bragging” photos. If people started looking for the good, they’d find it. Don’t envy your friend going to the fancy restaurant for dinner, post a picture of the perfect french toast you made for dinner. Don’t get pissy because I posted a picture of our vacation to the mountains, when you LIVE in the mountains, or within an hours drive of the ocean.  Yes, I’ve been on about 10 trips so far this year. A vast majority of them to a. either see my husband at work or b.visit family. So, don’t be envious or depressed. Post pictures of your family, who you only had to walk across the street to say hi. Post photos of your husband and kids eating dinner together on a Tuesday night. I’ll tell you, those ones make me slightly envious. Don’t put down your neighborhood, find a pretty spot and enjoy it.

Nobody’s life is perfect all the time. I promise. So, stop being envious over what you are seeing, because you don’t know the whole story. And, please try to go find some good, and some pretty in your own life. I promise it’s there. I think it is kind of hard to feel depressed and envious when you are finding good things in your life. And, if you find yourself honestly becoming depressed because of Facebook, your account can be deactivated for a time. I have had to before. Your stuff will all be there when you go back. Just get some space.

And, speaking of finding the good. Go watch the video I’ll link at the end of the post. It’s safe for work.  We see all the time on the news terrible stories. We see security footage of people being robbed, of children being abducted, of car wrecks. But, there is good security footage as well.

Positive Security Footage.

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Be Careful Who You Hate

be_careful_who_you_hate_rectangle_sticker

 

I saw this bumper sticker on a car on the way to Detroit last weekend. You can get it here.

It really hit home for me, because it applies to far more than just homosexuals.

We joke all the time that we are in big trouble when our neighbor realizes how much she hates me. She really does, she is quite gossipy, and talks a lot, about everyone. I keep my mouth shut, but sometimes I just want to be like “yeah, I’m a liberal, who celebrates Halloween, doesn’t go to church, cusses, and wore bright white for my 2nd wedding.” All things she’s been vocal about how much she hates.

If anyone in my family knew the real me, they’d hate me. Because they’ve made it very clear they hate everyone like me.

If Aussie’s mother actually knew us, she’d hate us. Because she hates everyone like us.

If someone grows up their whole life hearing how gay people are perverted, and sinners and going to hell, do you really think they will tell you they are later?

If someone hears their whole life how abortion is murder and how any woman who has an abortion should be killed, or at the very least sewn shut so she can’t ever enjoy sex again, do you really think she’ll tell anyone she had an abortion?

If someone hears their whole life how America is the best country ever and if you don’t like it, you should just leave it, permanently, do you think they are going to volunteer that they actually think America is the world’s bully?

If someone hears their whole life about how God is real and you must never, ever question it or you go to hell, do you think they are going to go to those people with questions?

And, guess what, those horrible things that have been said? Those judgmental attitudes? They don’t actually stop the acts or the thoughts, they just make the “bad” person keep it to themselves and suffer alone.

Now, excuse me, I think I need to buy a bumper sticker.

Weighty Topics

health food

 

I am currently down 22 pounds from when I got married, about 15 months ago.

A huge majority of that has been lost over the last 3 months.

You know, when I started dating Aussie, I wouldn’t let him know how much I weighed. In fact, I wouldn’t tell him until maybe a year ago. Somewhere in my head, I had decided that if he knew how much I weighed, he’d think I was fat and not be interested anymore.

We went on a road trip yesterday, and were able to talk a lot. It’s one of the reasons I love road trips with him. I read an article about how “thigh gap” is the coveted thing among teen age girls. And, how so many are not able to attain it, no matter how little they weigh. I told him, I wished I could tell all teenagers, and many adults, it takes all kinds of kinds. Whatever you look like? Odds are good there is someone out there who is attracted to that. Aussie was talking about how guys don’t feel as much pressure to be thin, they don’t keep their weight a secret, but, there is pressure to find the right body type girl. If you don’t, then there must be something wrong with you. If a guy likes a chubby girl, or if that is his type, he is ridiculed. He might date her anyway,but, makes sure to tell his friends that you know, she’s really great. Except for maybe that weight thing. I thought it was interesting. Luckily for us, we met in our late twenties and a bit of the pressure was off. He was free to date a chubby chick, I was free to date a computer geek and we are happy and our friends are happy for us.

I wish weight was not such a taboo subject. I was asked once when the baby was due. i wasn’t pregnant. I remember crying and wanting Aussie to tell me he liked me, fat and all. And, he could not do it. Because you are not allowed to ever acknowledge someone is fat. He basically kept saying I had a great personality and was beautiful, so he loved me. Like, fat girls can’t be beautiful? And, it used to drive me insane when he’d argue with me when I said I was fat/needed to lose weight. I would think to myself “I want to zip line with our son. I am too fat to do so, therefor, I need to lose weight.” and he’d insist I didn’t. We talked about that yesterday, he said that of course he said that, that is what boys are supposed to say. If you say anything else, the woman will be hurt and upset, and either starve herself or become suicidal, so, you never say that. All girls are beautiful and thin. Both of those “issues” with us have long since been resolved. He doesn’t go around going “wow, you look super fat today baby.” but, he doesn’t argue with me about it anymore either. And, I’m good with that.

I thought it was incredibly interesting back when I was dating, before Aussie. I did a lot of online dating. It was VERY common to see a man with a “no fatties” disclaimer on his page. So, I never wrote to those guys. But, quite often they wrote to me.  I reminded them, they weren’t interested in me. I was fat. And, they always said “Well, I didn’t mean you!” I had full length pictures up. I asked what they meant, and it usually was something like

  • I just didn’t want somebody really fat, like, over 200 pounds. (Which I was)
  • I just didn’t want somebody lazy, you don’t sound lazy.
  • I just wanted somebody really pretty, I didn’t care about the weight, and you are really pretty.

And, almost as often as I saw “no fatties” I saw “no girls over 130 pounds” and I think to myself now, so many women are so secretive about their weight, that I don’t even think guys know what they are looking for. Because I dated a lot of “no over 130” guys too.

I read an interesting article recently, about how women don’t know what they want. For a quick summary, almost exclusively, women say they want a tall man. Why? I’m 5’3″. I don’t need a 6′ tall man to be bigger than me.  Basically, what women really wanted, was a man with confidence, a man who would sweep them off their feet, a man who made them feel small and petite, a man who made them feel protected. Shorter men, like a 5’5″ one, who is still taller than me, but, has been told for years he isn’t “tall enough” is not going to be as confident, he isn’t going to feel as much like he is a big protector, so, he’s less likely to act like one, which in turn, turns women off, which ruins his confidence even more, and on and on it goes.

So, what is really behind this “no fat chicks” attitude men have? Oh, I’m sure many guys aren’t interested purely on looks, and that’s fine. But, the fat “stereotype” I think is the problem. Well, if you are fat, then obviously you don’t do anything except sit around and watch tv and eat. It means you are lazy, with no self control, and are just going to continue to balloon until you need rolled out of the house. And, who want that? I think, often when people say no fatties, what they mean is, I want somebody confident. I want somebody pretty. I want somebody who will hike in the woods with me. I want somebody who will swim off my boat. I want somebody I can wrestle on the sofa with over the remote. If we need one more person for the baseball game, I’d like her to join in. I don’t want to spend my weekend watching a lifetime movie marathon. I like salads! And,all those desires translate into “I only want a skinny partner.” Even though, many people don’t actually care.

I once heard a conversation, where people were arguing over fat people. One guy said it was just a lack of will-power. A woman told about her best friend, who had thyroid issues, now is super overweight, and just can’t lose the weight. He retorted with “well, it’s still will power. If she just ate a little healthier, and walked to the mailbox instead of driving, she’d still be fat, but not as fat!” Again, with the stereotypes. Unless you know somebody, you don’t know what they do, or go through. I remember weighing 260 and being yelled at and ridiculed. I now weigh 225.  I’m still fat. I do Zumba for 11 hours every week. I rarely drink soda. I count calories, and park at the end of the parking lot and get in at least 10,000 steps a day. A little here, and a little there, and a little at a time, and I’ve lost weight. But, to someone who doesn’t know me, who saw me being wheeled around the store in a wheelchair last week due to a broken foot, they might think the same thing, that if I just tried I wouldn’t be so heavy.

Like I told Aussie yesterday, I need to lose weight, because my personality doesn’t work with my size. I like adventure, I crave adrenaline rushes. I want to try the new roller coaster, and I want to zip line, and I want to drive the tiny sports car, without the seat pushed back for my tummy to fit, I want to sit next to my son, who isn’t getting any smaller, on the carnival ride, I want to know I’ll fit anywhere I want to be. I want to hike and walk and go through caves with itty bitty openings between the rocks. I fly every few months, I don’t want to wonder if the seatbelt will fit.

Yes, I am currently fat. But, it is a description, same as short, and dark haired and blue eyed and pretty. A description, not an insult. And, I’m not always going to be fat. And, since I said i wished it wasn’t always so taboo…I’ll start. I weigh 225. I’m 5’3″. Today, I cried in the dressing room because I slid on a pair of size 16 jeans for the first time in about 5 years, after working SO damn hard to lose weight.

Anger and Forgiveness

What is forgiveness to you?

I have a lot of forgiving to do. I know this. I had to work on forgiving myself for many things, many of my choices. I have had to forgive Aussie for some things. My sister spent a few years calling me names and being rude because she found condoms in my medicine cabinet. I never liked her much anyway, so, I need to forgive. I need to forgive my ex-husband.  For the cheating and the emotional/mental/physical abuse. I need to forgive my parents, for the same abuse, for the lack of education… I’m sure they would appreciate it, but, I’m really being kind of selfish about that, I think I’ll feel better. 

But, it’s a process. Maybe it isn’t supposed to be. I don’t know. Maybe some of you can wake up one morning and say “all is forgiven” and move on without another thought. But, I can’t. I actually had a class last week, where we had to watch a documentary about meth. They were talking to people trying to get off of it, and one woman said that she hadn’t quit meth, she was quitting meth. It was a process. Everyday she had to tell herself today she wasn’t doing meth. And, I oddly feel that way about forgiveness at this point. Today I forgive you for that one time. And, tomorrow, I’ll forgive you for that other time, maybe, I’ll work on it. I’m not able, at this point, to do just some big lump of forgiveness. Maybe that is a flaw in me, but, I think it’s progress.

I used to be so mad all the time. I mean, all of it. I was so mad about how life was so unfair. About how everybody was so mean. But, I’ve tried to stop that, I know that wasn’t good for me. I’ve tried to change what I could, and fix what I could. I try to count my blessing and realize that things could have turned out completely differently for me, but they didn’t, and I’m extremely happy with where I am in my life, I’m proud of me, I like me, and my husband, and our little family. So, I can accept that all the crap is what got me here, doesn’t mean I’m thrilled with it, but, I accept it. I accept I can’t change the past.

I spent years avoiding my dad, and making it very clear that was what I was doing. Part of me wanted to completely cut my family out of my life, but, I also knew I depended too much on them at that point. I played mostly nice and I avoided dad. Recently though, I’ve been trying. I really have. I don’t think we’ll ever be close, but, I thought I could stay for 10-15 minutes after he got home from work, say hi, ask about work before I left. When he wants to stop by for a visit, I make a fresh pot of coffee for him. I know it isn’t much, but, it’s what I could do today, you know? The relationship is quite superficial, but, not so angry anymore, so, it’s something. I’ve tried to do the same with my sister and my ex. I don’t think we’ll ever be friends, but, I can be kind when we have to be around each other. 

Last week, it was a bad week. I had to go to court with my ex, thing one had strep throat, ex was over medicating him, telling me the divorce decree said differently than it did, just lots of little stuff. I had to leave the boys with mom for court. I went back to get them, and for some reason she started talking about how she’s learned to be a better parents and how she feels bad about the name she called us when we were little. She asks if I remember, then tells me not to say anything. I said I did. Then she starts pestering me about what I remember. I say what i remember her calling me, and she gets upset, spends 5 minutes telling me she never said that. So, I drop it. Then, she waits and asks again, then she says it. The whole thing was just bizarre. I say yeah I remember being called that, she says something about “why didn’t you say it then?” I said “because, honestly, the things you called us was eclipsed by the things Dad said and did.” Then, she tears up “Well, I hope one day you can grow enough as a person to find it in your heart to forgive him.”

It really felt like a slap in the face, I’d been trying. But, almost every time I see him, I have new things to forgive! I was trying, and it wasn’t good enough, it wasn’t enough. She changes the subject, but i’m fighting back tears. Finally I say I’m irritated, that I’d been trying. That maybe she should just tell me what forgiveness looks like to her since I’m not doing it right. Does it mean I can’t be hurt? Does it mean it never gets brought up again? Does it mean I have to pretend everything is ok all the time? For a MONTH my ex husband treated me like dad did for 25 years, and they want him arrested, but, I just need to shut up and forgive dad? And apparently forgive means opening myself up to constant hurt and pain from him, without another word of how he’s been doing this for almost THIRTY YEARS, so he and mom can be happy.

God I was mad. I went on, “No, I don’t remember, I don’t give a shit what names you called us. I cared that you’d get dad all worked up, and you’d get him mad, and he’d start screaming and breaking things and demanding we get up and scrub the house at 3 am, and you’d just walk out. But, not usually before making fun of me for crying because i was scared. You’d just leave, leave us with him, crying and scared, with me trying to calm down the 4 yr old on my lap crying and half asleep. Then you’d come home to a clean house, and a calmed down husband, and everything was fine. I care about that. But, you’ve never asked for forgiveness or even apologized for that one. I remember him throwing Bro’s little tikes tractor through the huge glass door, then demanding the 5 yr old clean it up all the glass. And you didn’t do anything! I remember him punching a hole through the wall on Christmas Eve, then throwing our toys away at 2am, and you didn’t keep quiet that time. You didn’t walk away that time. You helped him! You told us it was all our fault. I care that you didn’t stop it, that you didn’t protect us!”

What I want to say:

“You want me to forgive faster and i’m working on it! I have 30 yrs of crap to forgive. I have a father who was always harder on me than everyone else because I wasn’t his, he only tolerated me to get you! I have a father, who i called him crying…’daddy, he’s cheating and breaking things, Help me. I got to go.’ and my ex hid in the closet, and dad went and knocked on the door, and when Joe didn’t answer, he left. I said ‘break in the door! He’s there! It’s my house! break in the door!’ and he said “no, you aren’t worth going to jail over. I have a dad who rushed out to pick up his favorite daughter from her boyfriends or church or whatever, after she’d been sick and hurting all day, but she went anyway, then couldn’t drive home, the night i had surgery. He CARRIED her in the house, but, my kids toys were on the floor, so he kicked them, came back, dumped over the entire toy box, then made me clean it all up. 4 hours after I got home from the hospital. Because sister MIGHT have gotten hurt if he tripped. I married a guy you said I had to, then when I said thats why, you told me that you didn’t mean it. I had dad hit my kid in front of me, then, when I took the boy away, he came after me to scream and berate me for how i parented and how horrible my kids were. I passed out in the driveway once, from a panic attack I had while he screamed and trashed me, and he said I faked it! You stood by as he hit us with belts, not caring if the buckle got us! When he left a handprint bruise on my leg after I cried because he broke my bike, your only words of comfort were ‘go put some ice on it, you shouldn’t have made him so mad.’ You didn’t stop him from hitting the other sister with the vacuum cord! my 25th birthday was being taken out for lunch by my brother, followed up with him screaming at me, putting me down, calling me names, telling  me I was a bad mom and my life would be perfect if only I would have done everything you ever said. When I pointed out I did marry dipshit like you told me to, it turned into, ‘we also told you not to have sex with him before you were married, so, that was your own fault.’ apparently, this plan only worked as long as I never broke a rule since birth, after that, I was all on my own. You know how that fight got started? I went out, to take myself out for ice cream that night, I had to borrow your car. I turned the key, and it didn’t start. And that was my fault. I destroy all your things, I don’t take care of anything, you guys are tired of helping me. Even though, I never even drove that car, the battery was just dead. 

I hate being part of a giant family, and I hate that you always want to pretend our last name is Walton. I think it was selfish to have that many kids, when sister 2 could have used more time and attention and support. I hate that you had 2 more kids after i had mine, because you robbed my kids of having real grandparents, you guys are basically their friend’s parents. You punish them for things your kids did, you take your kids’ side. i hate that my kids can’t stay the night at your house, because they don’t want mice crawling over them when they sleep. I hate that you don’t see that this is gross and a problem! I hate that I get lumped in with everybody else, nobody knows ME they know me as part of you all, and i’m not. I hate that you get offended that I am not close to the 2 baby brothers, and you really hoped we would be. They are 20+ yrs younger than me!

I stay in your life not because I desire any sort of relationship with you, either of you, but so i can try to protect sister 2 somewhat. Because my boys consider brother5 their friend, and I can’t or won’t take him from them. And, really, I keep hoping I can show brother 5 that there is more to life than you teach him. I’m not writing you off, because I still have 2 other siblings living at home. 

I hate that I can’t say I’m done with the drama, and I’m just going to keep to myself, because then you two make fun of me, you put me down, you roll your eyes and call me a martyr. Make snide comment about how i’m overly emotional and need to grow up. Because you guys need the drama. You pretend you don’t, but you do. How are you going to feel better than everyone if you don’t fight with them? If you don’t have drama going on constantly?

 

Such A Stressful Week

Where do I even begin?

Last week, my brother woke up to find his wife, her 3 kids, their furniture, and all their food was gone. She is leaving him because he doesn’t clean or help the kids with their homework. Ok, I’m not saying my brother is perfect, but, what do you expect when you, a 30 yr old mother of 3, marries a 19 yr old? I mean, really? He’ll grow up.

The wife talked to my aunt and it turned into this big bash Punkie thing, because I got a divorce and nobody cared, but, now she wants one and everyone is saying she shouldn’t. And, apparently the wife said “And, I know all about Punkie.”

Now, I was told about this. I assumed she meant (from other parts of the conversation) that she knew that after I caught my husband cheating, I didn’t leave, but, I quite openly had a boyfriend. Well, while i’m not proud of it, I don’t care that anybody knows, I never hid it. Maybe if I can’t be a good influence, I can at least be an example of what not to do.

My mother assumed she meant that my dad is not my biological dad. So, she calls me in a panic to tell me that now people might find out. I told her I couldn’t care less. I never understood why it was a secret anyway. Well, apparently my parents talked and decided to tell my siblings about this. And, tell all of us that my dad was married before.

Ok, I’ve always known my dad wasn’t my biological father. And, when they told me my dad had been married before I basically said “Yeah, no shit.” I’ve put together pieces over the years. That was my entire reaction.

The sister I don’t like has been throwing a huge tantrum about this, and how she is so ashamed and embarrassed, then she demanded to know my biological father’s name. No, just, no. It is none of her damn business. I’ve never even asked. Then, I have one sister my parents haven’t told yet, and the evil sister demanded to be there when the other sister was told “for moral support”. Ummm…I’ was told when I was 4 with no support at all and been fine for 20+ years. This sister just wants her nose in everyone else’s business. She doesn’t even like me, so, she can stop acting like this ruined some bond or something. Then, she got my other brother all worked up as well.

So, she has turned my brother’s divorce and my birth into being all about her.

And, that is what I am not handling well. Not at all. I feel, like, my privacy has been invaded. Like I am some how “less than”. I feel bad for my parents and her reaction. I am mad that all I hear about is how she is handling it, no one has asked how I am doing. I don’t know if this changes anything for any of them, and so, now I just wait, I guess. I don’t know, I don’t know what the right thing to do here is.

It’s bringing up huge abandonment issues that I have. My biological father disappeared after my mom told him about me.

My adopted father was abusive for years.

My ex husband left me and the kids, because I asked him to take out the trash.

Noah’s dad left as soon as I told him I was pregnant.

I have a long string of ex-boyfriends.

I’m not handling this well. I was happy burying the issue for decades.

Then, my ex calls me to ask why I let the kids be such brats. They are sarcastic, and he threatens to punish them, but, his punishments are too harsh. And you know, he can fucking suck it up for the SEVEN DAYS he has had them this year.

And, an innocent question led to the discussion of future children for Husband and I, I’ve always told him I was done, but, if he wanted more, then we’d discuss it, and I could probably be persuaded. well, he made a comment, that made me say “Never mind, that option is off the table.” which led to lots of tears for both of us.

Then, evil sister called my husband just not to tell him my dad might be having a stroke or a heart attack. And, of course evil sister is there at the hospital, because, where else would she be except in everybody else’s business? She didn’t even call me, she called my husband and had him tell me. (I left, dad is fine, they aren’t sure what happened.)

My brother’s divorce is freaking me out as well, just a reminder that it doesn’t matter what I do or don’t do, if my husband wants to leave, he just can. And, there is nothing I can do about it.

And, to top it all off, I’m 4 weeks away from graduating. School is getting more difficult, I’m taking 5 classes. This week, I have 3 papers due, 22 discussion board posts, 4 quizzes and one test. That’s for ONE WEEK.

The damn scale still isn’t moving. I did have to buy new underwear today, so, I guess that is progress, and, I ran a mile for the first time ever. But, the scale still says “fat”.

And, I think I am PMSing.

The good news is, in the past, I would have spent a lot of time drunk last week. Now, I ran. So…progress.

I can’t even explain how I am feeling. Can you be numb and stressed at the same time? I’m having a hard time even crying. I’m looking for a fight, but, I don’t trust anyone enough to fight with them except the husband, and he doesn’t ever fight. He kept telling me I could cry this weekend, and, I just couldn’t. Not really, I kept saying “i’m fine”, and, well, I’m not.

 

 

I’m back

I haven’t posted in awhile, I’m sorry. I started a new blog, and traffic there has been amazing, and I’ve neglected this one. I’ve been caught up in the excitement of the new one. Here I’ve had about 800 views in 8 months, which is better than I expected, but on my other one, I have had 500 views in 6 weeks.

Anyway, this post doesn’t fit on the other blog, so, I’m here. I am also going to be writing a catch up post after this one, so, it will be two posts in one day.

I feel bad. I really do. Aussie was happy when we met. It seemed to be an ignorance is bliss kind of thing. I felt things didn’t add up. I questioned, I asked, I talked, I say “Why?” a lot. And, he started to grow, he started to look at things differently, he started to see how unhealthy some things from his past had been, and he’s become such a better man out of it. His relationship with his father has grown closer. These are all good things, but, he doesn’t even talk to his mom anymore, or really anyone else in his family. He is hurt by this. He breaks down once in awhile, when he thinks about everything…so…have I really been good for him? Or, is ignorance really bliss. If you are taught your entire life the sky is green, if you are kept from anyone who would change your mind, if you spend your whole life with really no reason to question any of this, then have I really been helpful in coming to you with my books, and my logic and my thoughts in convincing you it’s really blue? I’m not saying he isn’t happy now, but the growth put him through a lot of pain.

And, this past weekend, I’ve done it again. I’ve made him question his faith. He says I didn’t He says I’ve helped to make his faith stronger than ever, I’ve made him question his religion. And, is that a bad thing? In my opinion, if it’s true, then there is no harm in questioning it. If it isn’t, then it needs questioned. I hold to this opinion, he says he does too, but, I have a hard time understanding how you never question it on your own in 22 years. I was raised in a church too, and I’ve questioned and asked, and researched  and left, and come back, and tried different churches, different religions. I’m not saying I’m right, I’m just saying I don’t understand never questioning.

When we met, he lied to me about what he did on Saturday mornings. He didn’t want me to know, he didn’t want my questions. He lied about going to church. And, I understood, kind of. It’s the same reason I don’t volunteer that I home school the kids, it’s too “weird”, too many misconceptions, most the time I don’t feel like explaining myself, so, I don’t say it. He felt the same way. He didn’t actually lie, he misled. When I found out he was a Seventh Day Adventist, I started researching it. A lot of the info says it’s a cult. But, he doesn’t SEEM like a cult member. (though, how does one recognize one? I don’t know) I decided to go to church with him anyway. I liked the sermons given by the main pastor, and I continued. I didn’t agree on some of the theology, but, I didn’t think it was worth making a fuss over.

Last Sat. I went with him to church again, and there was a guest speaker. He was passionate and charming, and had 99% of the church yelling “Amen” at the end of every statement. And, had me about to walk out. I was so angry. We finally got out of church and I was livid, I yelled at Aussie and I sat in the jeep shaking. I couldn’t even come up with words.

 

If you are going to use the Bible as your primary source, then FOLLOW THE BIBLE. Don’t insert your own crap. He talked so fast, and so charming. The little old lady next to me was trying to take notes, and couldn’t keep up, she just joined in the chorus of “Amen”. If you are going to preach, then you have an obligation to not lie. To not make up things. I couldn’t help but think there was a room full of people, taking what he said as truth, because he was behind the pulpit. He LIED. I was SO mad.

And, I thought I shouldn’t let one rogue preacher make me throw the baby out with the bath water, so, I began reading. I remembered those things I originally found, the things I researched before. And, I was on a mission. I found document after document that said the same things this man was saying.  I asked Aussie if he was SDA because he believed it, or because he was raised that way, and after several minutes of silence, he told me he didn’t know.  I showed him the things I found, and he assured me, that he didn’t believe THAT. But, all the  that he didn’t believe were what made SDA what they were and not, I don’t know, Baptists. He was saying he believed 1-10, but not 11-20. Well, that’s lovely, but, would you risk your life on a doctor with a record of 50% who survived surgery?

Now we are into the theological and philosophical stuff. Can I in good conscience continue to attend with him? Why would I even want to go to a church, whose core beliefs state I’m going to hell because I’ve accepted the mark of the beast? Can you create a good religion out of the lies and the delusions of one woman? Out of a prophecy with a 1% success rate? If you only believe the same things every other Christian religion believes, and you ignore the things that make you a member of the SDA denomination, why pretend to be a SDA? I’m not saying you have to agree with every word that comes out of your preacher’s mouth, but, there is a difference between allowing people some freedom to believe differently on semantics, and preaching everyone who doesn’t believe the crap that ISN’T EVEN WRITTEN, is going to hell. My church has never said I would go to hell if I only went to Wed. night church. If I married a Lutheran, etc.

So, now, I am sure this is not the place for me, and poor Aussie has had the rug pulled out from under him again. He doesn’t know which way is up. He says he needs to do his own research and I hope he does. But, for right now, I feel bad. I feel like I have ruined every core belief he’s had for over 20 yrs. And, is that ok? Or am I right to feel bad? I didn’t even mean to.

Never Forget

I know this site will be flooded with posts about this today, but I’m adding mine anyway.

Today, for school, and history with the boys, I told them about what happened on this date eleven years ago. I couldn’t get through it without crying. Just every time I opened my mouth, I cried more. It’s amazing how something like this can move you. It’s been over a decade, I didn’t know anyone involved…and still, I’m crying.

You hear how everyone remembers where they were when the planes hit. I was in the shower. I was 16 and had just gotten home from running. I got in the shower, my mom burst through the door, and said “get out, now! We’re under attack!” I remember, very clearly, thinking “What the hell?” as I tried to rinse the soap out of my hair. She said a plane had hit the WTC. I know how to fly a plane, I know things go wrong, so, I said “well, it’s tragic but, attack?  How do you know it wasn’t an accident?” She was standing at the doorway…watching tv from there, and she screamed. And yelled “yes, I’m sure, the second one just hit!” I stood in her bedroom, mesmerized, crying, in nothing but a towel, soap still running out of my hair, for the next few hours. I couldn’t move, I didn’t want to miss anything, I was scared to miss anything. I didn’t get dressed until I saw the time lapsed images of the planes leaving the sky.

Even now, I get chills watching that video.

At the time, I wanted nothing more in life than to be a military fighter pilot. But, that day took quite a bit of wind out of my sails. If this happened again, I didn’t think I could shoot down Americans. I didn’t think I could kill 300 innocent people even if it meant saving 3,000. People going to work, families on vacation…and if this sort of thing happened again, the fighter pilots are supposed to take them down. And now, thinking about it…my husband is on a plane 4+ times a week. My kids are on a plane quite often. I know I couldn’t do it now. At 16, I thought maybe I could. Now I know I couldn’t.

It’s amazing how much can change in just a few minutes. The WTC buildings left the skyline, almost 3,000 people died in moments. Hundreds of men and women who went to work for a routine day that day were honored in funerals days and weeks later as heroes. In just moments the kiss goodbye at the gate was lost and traded for a drop off at the door and dozens of instances of procedures put into place to make us feel safer, but don’t do much. And, yes, every time I step onto a plane, I think about the fact a downed radio system may get me killed by our own military, but luckily, everyone now knows my 7 yr old doesn’t have a bomb in his work boots. A few moments completely changed travel for Americans. It made terrorism a word in the everyday language, and allowed parts of the Constitution to be practically thrown away. It was a horrible, sad, and scary day, that did exactly as intended. It sparked terror in the lives of almost everyone in the United States, and even other parts of the world…and has for the last decade.

Brad asked me today when I thought 9/11 would be declared a national holiday. Honestly, I don’t think it ever will be. Pearl Harbor was about the same scope. Americans attacked on their own soil. Thousands dead. Completely unsuspecting. A national tragedy that brought the country together. And, it’s faded or fading from people’s memory. 2 yrs ago, at the college, they had a moment of silence on December 7. When it was over, a group standing next to me asked what it was for. Another time,  on September 11, the professor asked where everyone was on Sept 11. A lot of people, my age and older remembered, things like “at work” or “at school” or “the dr with my son who just broke his arm”. Then, they asked a younger kid. He said he had no idea. He was only 6 or so when it happened. He remembered his parents very upset, but he couldn’t understand why. Even at 17. They didn’t know anybody there. It sucked, but he didn’t understand the people still crying.

It occurred to me, this is just history. To my kids, it won’t hold much more significance than Pearl Harbor, that won’t hold any more significance than the Civil War or the War of 1812. Yup…that sucked. What date again? I need to know it for the test! They will never understand getting goosebumps as you walk past that crater in the ground. They don’t know they are missing anything by not being allowed to watch daddy’s plane take off. It doesn’t seem odd to them that they aren’t allowed out of the car in the one spot at the airport, by the fence, where you can watch the flights.

I don’t know that my long rambling post really has a point. I’m just talking, trying to express myself, away from the kids, who got upset, because they couldn’t understand why mommy was crying. Mommy was crying for everything that was lost that day. Things that they never even knew existed.

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