Selfless Suicide

Trapped in a coffin of flesh lined with tears
Pounding to the rhythm of a hear filled with fears
Dying inside as the air thickens about
Suffocatingly close with no way to get out
Drowning in darkness where no one can see
The place I’ve been lost in is somewhere in me


A Full House

Today, the house has been filled with kids and laundry.

We decided to do laundry early this week, there’s a lot of it.

Then I got a text from a new friend of mine asking if I could babysit her two girls (4 and 1.5 yrs) while she and her husband picked up a desk for their new roommate. Her eldest daughter and mine are “best friends”, as much as four year old attention spans allow, so I jumped at the chance. After a long day of the toddlers not really getting along they are finally napping (my youngest takes a good two hours, at least, to warm up to people outside the family).

After so many times of being “that mom”, the one who feels overwhelmed and stressed out by all the chaos, I finally feel like “that mom” again, the one who thrives on being around children and everyone’s happy and content with one another while I make new snacks off of Pinterest.

Yes, there is still unfolded laundry on our couches, but my kids have clean clothes. My guests are happy and having fun even when not playing with my kids and everyone’s having some “self space” time.

And the thought occurs to me, maybe it wouldn’t have been too difficult to have more, and then I remember my heart and how guests take different emotional energy than your own. Why that is I don’t know, but in my case at least it’s true.

It’s nice. I know it can be crazy and stressful but for right now, today, it’s been quite a beautiful time, and one that I really needed.


Ohana means family. Ohana means no one gets left behind or forgotten.

-Lilo and Stitch

Dear Daughter,

I don’t need to know you to miss you. We have never met and, given the way things have gone, we may never. I hope that one day you will come to realize how very loved you were and are by those you’ve never met. We think of you constantly, we pray for you daily, we wish you nothing but wonderful things in your life.

Your pictures hang on the wall with all our others, though we have few and they are far between. They were not given easily, but that has only made them more precious to us.

Your other older brother wonders what you’re like and if you’ll like camping in Yosemite as much as he does. Your younger sister adores you and makes up stories of the things you’ll do together one day. Your younger brother is still a toddler, but I’m sure he’ll love you just as much as your other two siblings.

Your father misses you. He misses you more than words can say, more than he can say. He hopes against hope that you are well and happy, even if it is without him. He has been turned away from you time and time again, and that is a rejection that tears down into a soul’s core and burns till all that’s left is pain and a ghostly memory, as a dream of a dream, of what might have been.

I pray for you. Your siblings, your father, and I pick out little baubles to send you in the mail. Something that is now bittersweet as your mother has made it clear she discourages you from knowing or connecting with our side of the family. Your older brother understands what that’s like, I’m afraid, as he has experienced such parental alienation while in places besides our home. I cannot understand why a parent, especially a mother, would be so cruel. Perhaps it is something you will have an innocent enough heart not to understand either… but again, that is a hope against hope.

I’ve wondered if you might show up on our door one day, out of the blue. I’ve imagined what it would be like, how you might look (though you’ve always been beautiful). I would want to hug you, without a doubt, but I would probably hesitate or hold back for fear of intimating too much too quickly. We can be an intense family in many ways.

In closing this letter that you are practically guaranteed never to see, know that you are loved; whether it is from across the continent or the world. Wherever this letter finds you, it is sent with love and I hope it is received with it as well.

Love Always,

Your Other Mother

The Damn Mute

I dreamed we were happy. Probably because I went to sleep wondering if other unhappy couples were unhappy simply because they didn’t have the e emotional bank accounts to be anything but given constant money stresses in their lives leading to constant stresses with their children. I’m sure there would be stresses with our kids, or anyone else’s regardless, but if we had the money to put them into schools I genuinely felt they’d be safe, that would be a huge relief. Soon, we’re going to have to send our daughter to kindergarten and I do not trust any of the schools around.

Hubby was amazing during the first week, week an d a half, after I had my surgery. Since then, however, he’s been… short, snappy, just kind of irritable no matter what.Yesterday took the cake. He came home from work in a foul mood and while we were discussing upcoming issues and I asked a question, an on topic question, and he gave me this “how dare you interrupt me” look and stormed off. Didn’t talk to me the rest of the night. Because I asked a flipping question. Dude, the day I stop asking question and being interested in what you have to say, you need to worry.

If I am not asking questions then you no longer interest me.

Follow Up on the Follow Up

I had what I thought was my last post-op follow up yesterday. I’ve had tubes removed and now I’ve had steroid implants that felt like it looked like one of those wire mandala toys. Super weird… Turns out I have one more follow up but I should be good. Super excited to be starting this next part of my life without constant and debilitating sinus headaches/infections! Woohoo!

In other news…

The kids are getting old enough now that I’d li,e to start looking at going back to work and or school. I can’t imagine having a job that would pay enough to cover child care and… well… that’s a really big messy tangle of yarn. The minimal freelance stuff I’ve attempted hasn’t really worked out. Looking into as many avenues as I can. I wasn’t feeling up for hardly anything physically for a long time. I knew I had acclimated to a decent level of constant pain, but something about being on really good steroids after my surgery has let me glimpse that what ever is going on with me isn’t in my head, it is treatable/manageable, and I can feel like a person again.

Another something I have been thinking about a lot lately is my stepdaughter. For whatever reason, the situation with her is weighing heavier and heavier on my heart. Perhaps it is because things with the state and my son’s father aren’t progressing at all. I don’t know. Maybe it’s all the changes we have looming in our future on so many levels.

I have been rolling the idea of setting up a “Dear Daughter” around in my noggin blog/website for her. It’d be set up with her name so that if she googled herself it would pop up. It’d be a place for our other kids to post videos for her, write letters, etcetera, so on and so forth. Maybe set up a chat widget or something on it, too. I don’t know. I tried to talk to Hubby about how he was feeling about the situation, or lack there of, with his daughter. IT’s a “tip-toe” area that he has varied reactions to… it would seem because he doesn’t know how he feels about it all or what to do about it all. His mother keeps pushing him to wash his hands of her, let her mother’s lover adopt her so he can stop paying child support. I find his reaction tot he topic of his daughter contains a great deal more anger and aggression if he’s spoken to his mother recently. Go figure.

Her mother has made it clear that she not only doesn’t bring Hubby up to her daughter but discourages any kind of attempts to form a relationship from either Hubby or his daughter. I wish we had the funds to go back to court… with both our exes. *sigh*

I don’t know. So much thinking and so many emotions…

Mombie Mode

Image Courtesy of

I recognized something interesting about my physiology today.

I entered, what I will describe with both love and loathing, as Mombie Mode. The best way I can think of to describe this physical state is that my heart beats an “irregular” heartbeat but at consistent intervals to create more of a heart cadence then a heart beat. Like the gate of a galloping horse. I’ve been on a pretty strong daily dosage of prednisone since the surgery, which always messed with my heart a lot in the past, but today was an almost verge of panic attack level of energy that would not let me stop moving despite being completely and utterly exhausted.

I am referring to this as Mombie Mode in liue of some drug related idea because my body has done this to me previously, usually when stressed as I was today, but usually on a lesser scale. Thank you, prednisone, for amping me up so I can recognize this sooner next time. I’d already taken my heart meds this morning so there wasn’t much I could really do about it but ride it out and rest afterwards. Which my amazing hubby let me do without a second glance but plenty of gentle kisses.

I’m pouring my life out here, I get that, but writing is my filter so this blog is  a big dose of my life. Yes, I am being slightly defensive about that, I know. I’m still riding down the adrenaline. I suppose it’s a good thing I have more heart tests coming up.. Bleh.

It’s nice to be coherent enough to string together a few sentences without my husband laughing at me and helping me along, which if you’d met my husband would totally make you laugh. I’m the book smart one and he’s the street smart one and, though English is his first language, he tends to speak his own dialect more than anything.


my husband has been amazing while I’ve been recovering from my sinus surgery. Still pretty loopy because of the pain and mess but getting coherent again ever so slowly for short amounts of time before passing back out. Miss seeing my kids. I’m all quarantined off with them being sick and all.