I'm Baaaack...

I was told today that my poor cuz was so lost because I haven't blogged in a while...Sorry, Sunnie. This one's for you.

I know it's been a while since I showed up here, but I spent week before last so darn sick that I barely had the energy to crawl into bed each night. Then last week I was in some crazy funk that I just couldn't shake no matter what I tried.


I'm thinking it was probably just the aftermath of my wonderful, amazing, fabulous Valentine's with mi Marquito. I mean, ya spend 24 hours wrapped in the light and loving warmth of Cloud 8,422 and then  plunged into the cold reality of life, it tends to play havoc on your psyche. I'm just guessing people; I have no clue why I was in my head all week. (Not that I don't have several theories mind you.)


However, I did manage to belly crawl out by this past Sunday and MAT was very happy to hear the difference in my voice. I guess the lunch time phone calls I received Thursday and Friday were literally to check on me because he said the other night he was starting to get concerned because I was acting differently, "Not like my Jamie."


I need to pause here to tell all of you that being referred to as "my Jamie" or the newly minted "mi Jamiecita" is absolutely thrilling. He used that to start a text this afternoon and got so giddy and light headed that I got up and gave all my students in that class and piece of candy-just cause. That is what that man does to me...he just makes every moment seem like one to celebrate.


Anyway...Between gaining two pounds while being too sick to track my eating on WW the week before or the fabulous news that I have to have a "procedure" for an abnormal pap (lucky me) or the lack of sleep that comes from MJ being out of town and both kids crawling into bed with me each night, it just wasn't my week. Ok, it didn't help that I know I wasn't going to be able to see MAT that weekend either. I joked with him that I knew it was important for him to work since he spent so much money on our amazing Valentine dinner. He was busy. I was busy. It was a beautiful weekend and even though I spent the majority of it outside with the kiddies, I couldn't help but think it'd be even more fun with MAT and little D running around with us.

I am feeling better and today's flirty chats with Marquito certainly helped my day. Insert large smile and cleansing sigh here...

Admitting the Obvious

Ok, So if you are reading this you probably read yesterday's post about my lovely afternoon. Well, I ended the day by chatting with him and him telling me that although I will be in Atlanta and he will be in Florida for Christmas, he will be thinking of me. Actually, the direct quote really was, "Wherever I am I will be thinking of you," because a few different friends have invited him over for Christmas festivities. 

Now, my normal modus operandi is to simply say thank you or something lame like that because, well, because I tend to feel a snatch of fear in the face of admitting something as vulnerable as "I'll be thinking of you too." You guys must admit that my previous experience has taught me that it is a skosh dangerous to be so forthcoming about my actual feelings. That being said, I bit the bullet and did tell him that I would think of him as well. Does this mean that I'm feeling all brave and shit? Nope. In fact, I must admit to the following:

Am I pretty sure that I do like him? Yep.




Am I waiting of the other shoe to drop and him suddenly either disappear or stop liking me? Yep.

Am I in constant wonder as to why this guy seems to like me? Yep.

Am I thinking that the 3 hour difference will soon become a deal and the "motivation" may wane? Yep.

Am I trying not to think about the inevitable and just enjoy everything as it comes to me? Yep.

Am I finding it difficult? Yep.


I mean, it's not as though you guys haven't read about numerous crushes I've had over this past year that have all ended in nothing. However, I have been using The Happiness Project Toolbox to determine resolutions for this coming year and found a wonderful group resolution to take advantage of:

I hereby resolve to let go of everything that I do not wish to see in 2011. This includes old hurts, old pain, anything I have outgrown, anything no longer useful, anything limiting, any aspect of myself I am no longer interested in being, etc.


Maybe this will help me be brave and optimistic.

Guess we shall all see how this plays out...

A Friend's Happiness

I awoke to some of the best news that has absolutely does not involve me in anyway at all!  My sorority sister got engaged last night!

(Isn't she precious?!)

Now, she isn't just a sorority sister though, she and I have gone to school together since I was in first grade AND we played softball together when we were 5...I have known this girl for a minute!!

She had one of those wonderfully successful "right out of college" like I did, but she was smart enough to leave WAY before I did. She and her little man have been a two person family since he was 15 months old-now he's six.

She was the first to reach out and lift me out of my personal despair when I thought I'd never be able to survive begin a single mom. In fact, she probably would have helped me become a single mom way before I did had I been "allowed" to hang out with my Thetas more. (You just can't hide misery from the ones that know you best.)

Anyway, she was also the first to show me that a single mom could find love and happiness with someone new...that fairly tales really did happen. Until then I wasn't really certain it was possible.

However...

around, this time last year we heard all about this guy she met. Suddenly this woman who had been contentedly single was considering coupledom. Now, the road wasn't exactly easy because when you put two people who had been broken in the past there are all sorts of hurdles and repairs to be made before you become brave enough to walk that wire again, but we could all tell that those two particular broken hearts could only be healed when they were stitched together.

They just seemed to fit and be happier together then they could ever be apart.

So, last night they had a nice little night out with friends and the most wonderful thing happened...but I've told you about that already.

Congratulations to the wonderful new engaged couple. May the years be long, happy, and smooth because you both deserve it!!!!!

Unreal

Do you ever get random calls on your phone from unidentified numbers? Yea, we all do, right? Truthfully I don't think about it because I have online students from everywhere and I tell them to feel free to call and leave a message. You see, I don't answer strange numbers.


Well, the past few days I've had a new number pop up, but not a new class. I should know all the numbers that call me. I just figured that whomever it is would eventually leave a message of he/she wanted to talk to me.


Anyway, the strange number totally left a message today...And guess who it was?


Come on, you can do it.


Just a guess...


Give up?


If you guessed my ex-husband you'd be right. Give yourself a cookie. I mean, really, what the Fuck people?! What in the name of hell makes that sonofabitch think I want to talk to him? Besides his obviously delusional state, that is.


How annoying? Not only do I have to get a letter a month, nut now phone calls too?!!!? Now, if I were receiving ANY sort of monetary support, I would be willing to endure some sort of contact, but I'm not now will I ever receive any...so Fuck him.


Seriously, how do I get rid of him? I want all of it to stop. Is everything he did and put me through not enough that must also put up with this shit too? For real? Dammit!!!


Of course, I was chatting with my Aggie friend and asked him to imagine how unbearable he'd make my life if he weren't actually in jail. His reply, "Jamie, you wouldn't have left him if he hadn't gone to jail." Sigh...damn I hate being known so well.

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That's What I Said.

Because I love the rawness and hilarity of her words, Pretty All True is one of the first blogs I read in the morning. In fact, I get a notification on my toolbar when a new post is published and I instantly click on it. (Although I have learned to look for the warning labels she is kind enough to place at the top of a post in case the kids are running around.)

Today's post was, like most of her posts, honest and raw, but this one had a different twist. This one hinted at a much darker time than she normally shares. It tasted of sadness and regret and I rolled it across my tonuge until I was sure to have sucked the marrow from it. Her mother admitted to never knowing what she endured at the hands of her father and a string in my soul was plucked and stretched farther than it has been in a while.

Not in sadness, you understand. No, in complete understanding. Below you will read my comment to her post and her reply. (You will so understand why I love this woman and totally want to be her friend in the most serious and non-stalker way possible.)

Jamie: I read the words of your mother and I hear my own voice-my voice from over a year ago, before I left my ex-husband. The guilt I had for taking my children’s father from them was overwhelming and suffocating at the time and I almost caved because how could I be so selfish to put my personal happiness above that of my children’s. I’ve been where your mother was.


It wasn’t until months later when my son’s nightmares finally stopped that I realized my ex was the “bad” guy in every single nightmare he’d had since he could tell me what happened in his dreams. (My daughter had just turned a year old and my son was almost three when I left.) He still gets shy around men he doesn’t know. Sigh. Now I tend to chastise myself for not seeing the world as it was before I finally worked up the courage to leave-when I was still a coward who thought she was lower than shit. I’ve been where you mom was.


Now my children are 2 and 4 and our happiness knows no bounds, or screaming, or harsh words, or icy glares and silences. To borrow a phrase from you…we are all kinds of awesome now.


Kris: I have no adequate words for what you have shared here.

Know that I love and respect my mother.


And I am happy she is not there now.


And I am happy that you are not there now.


And that instead you are all kinds of awesome now.


I am all teary.


Love you.

Advice

One of the blogs I follow posts a brilliant question that instantly resonated with me, "What advice would you give your 15 year old self?"

Wow, Julie Musil you just totally rocked my world with that!! You say, just for fun and mention to not wear high waisted jeans or maybe not turning down Bill Gates at the prom, but I'm afraid mine may be a bit more serious than that...just maybe.

Let's see...at 15 I was a 9th grader at Colmer Jr. High. Remarkably, it was actually a good year for me and I do not remember very many things that cloud up that year for me. However, I did begin a pattern that year that would significantly infect the next 15ish years of my life...I passed on "crushes" I had out of pure fear and never took the chance, the leap of faith, to see what would happen.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't regret anything because, good or bad, I am the person I am because of my collective life experience, but I can't help but wonder what life would have been like had I ever believed I was worth the chance. I was good enough for myself and the world. Would my crushes still have been my crushes? Would my boyfriends still have been my boyfriends?  Would my choices still have been my choices?

Good question...

However, I think I might take that chance.

I'd tell that 15 year old me to look into the mirror and see that the world sees, not what I believe I see. That I am truly beautiful and worthy of love, beauty, trust, and love. That I have talents that have hardly been tapped, but I need to cultivate and promote those talents-not to hide from them or be ashamed of them. And most certainly not be so self conscious of myself that I would wait years to ever show anyone a piece of writing and still feel inept. 

Of course this begs another question...how to you ensure a 15 year old has self esteem? I ask because I know I didn't, but I hope and pray to every Deity I can possible think of that I am able to ensure Caitlin has more than her share.  (Tristan too, but it is mainly a girl issue, especially since she looks like me but acts like my sister and mother. I am just at a loss about what to do with her as she gets older.)

If anyone has tips or ideas on how to keep a healthy self image in girls as they grow up I'd love to hear them because I fear failing her every day. I fear looking to her eyes as a teenager and seeing myself radiating back so strongly that I know exactly what she will do or say next. I'm not sure how I will react to ever see the pain emanating from her the way I always felt mine did. Of course, I guessing it really didn't since no one ever noticed it.

So far, I make sure I tell her daily...

How much I love her (because I do),
How smart she is (because she is),
How pretty and beautiful she is (even though I feel a bit vain saying it since she really does look like me),
How funny she is (because she is a total goof-ball),
How talented she is (She's a dancer, for real, y'all!),
How proud I am of her when she does anything.
And how much I love her...with lots of kisses and cuddles.

Truthfully, that's all I really know to do. I'm sure I will ask for advice man more times as she grows because this issue has plagued me since the day I found out I was having a girl. (Imagine being elated and then terrified in tandem.) How can I help her become the person she is supposed to be?

Challenge

Ok, so I know I talked about the 50K in 50 days challenge a few months back. Umm, yeah, that totally didn't happen. I got about 12,000 good words in, but life, lack of motivation, fear and time got in the way.

Lame excuse?

Yep, but that can't be helped now. I still plan to finish but I'm giving myself a bit more time.

Why?

Because I think I might have found a way to kinda support myself or at least become well on my way to supporting myself with my writing.

How?

New Love Stories Magazine. That's right; you read it correctly. It's a magazine dedicated to love stories. Although it's not something that I would necessarily read, I plan to write and submit a few stories for publication. I'd only have to write a story between 2,800 to 3,750 words. I think I can certainly knock that out from idea all the way to editing in about a week.

I'll try to keep all of you guys posted on my progress this week, but for now I'm going to work on honing in on just one idea. Wish me luck....

5 Years Ago

*Disclaimer* If you think Katrina hit and destroyed New Orleans you should stop reading here because I'll know you are reading and it will just piss me off...

 My life naturally separates into two parts-Pre Katrina and Post Katrina. For years I pushed every thought, every emotion surrounding "the storm" that shattered my life, as well as so many lives, in twain.



I've denied myself the luxury of examining my feelings for five years now, so perhaps it's time for a bit of reflection-honest reflection. You see, faithful few, I had to be strong and take care of business when it happened (because my ex decided to be completely weak and useless) and a few months later I found out I was pregnant with my son. That was definitely NOT the time to become overly involved with my emotions-they were very occupied by hormones. (BTW, NO, T was not a Katrina baby. I had been off bc for over a year trying to have a baby; the timing was just ironic.) After that I was just told to get over it…now I think I just might.


August 29th marks the 5th anniversary of Katrina demolishing the Gulf Coast, namely the Mississippi Gulf Coast. You see, the eye of Ms. Katrina passed right over Bay Saint Louis, MS, damn near over the roof of my house to be exact.


Yep, I lived in a little rental house in Bay Saint Louis, south of the tracks. Now on August 30th the only thing left of that little house was a couple of walls (literally a couple), moldy wood and plaster, piles or bricks, and a yard dotted with Trivial Pursuit cards. Well, and of course all of my material possessions ruined and waterlogged throughout the house-3 days of clothing, photos, and my car are the only possessions that made it out. Oh, and the roof was perfect....I do so love irony.


I know it was perfect because I saw it on Google Earth when I was staying at TB’s house. (TB is my aunt.) I remember being SO excited that it was there. Feeling hopeful, I so completely crushed when I realized it was all a lie. That everything wasn’t going to be ok after all.


I remember driving into the town and not really understanding what I was seeing, but I still felt that it would be ok. I really did. I was really naive.


As I crested the tracks, I remember looking out and seeing the water. Again it didn't make sense. I'm not supposed to see the water. Where are all the houses? My brain was just not registering the piles of wood and bricks as the beautiful homes I had coveted and dreamed of owning one day were gone. They were just not there, just vague shells or shadows of what had been their former glory.


It was at that moment, at the top of the tracks, that I realized nothing was going to be ok. I felt my heart sink to my feet and my whole body began to shake. No.no.no.no.no.noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. This just can't be happening. Please God this just can't be happening. Don't do this to me, please.


Every sense and sensation in my body shut down as I pulled into the driveway and looked at what was left of my former home. I knew even then it was my former home; that I would and could never live there again. How could I? Destruction of that nature can't be undone. Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing.I didn't know just how right I was thinking that.


Before we'd even looked over the whole house I was ready to go. I just wanted to leave. The need crawled under my skin and spread until I could no longer feel my body. It was like I was no longer really there. I kept looking around for the camera crew and cheesy host with slicked back hair and toothy grin. Where was he? It's too much and now someone needs to tell me this is all a joke! Maybe I just need to wake up. Quick, I have to wake up or be let in on the joke before I throw up. Shit like that just doesn't happen. It just doesn't.


My chest hurt. I felt like I was drowning and I had no idea whether it was the suffocating heat and humidity or the overwhelming sense of life never being the way it was before.


By the time we stopped at St. Stanislaus and I saw that the ex would not be returning to work because there was only rubble where the band hall had been, I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to see anymore. I didn’t want to feel anymore. I just wanted to get in the car and drive until I couldn’t’ drive anymore. I wanted to be anywhere but on the Coast. Please God, if this is really not a dream and not a colossal joke, please just take me away from here. Please take me away.


I saw my (then) husband starting to unravel and knew that I had to be strong. I had to carry the weight. I had to “fix” everything. So, I plastered a timid smile on my face and asked to leave.


We drove to Pearl that night. I couldn’t face going to Pascagoula because I couldn’t trust my childhood home to be safe and I knew I couldn’t handle seeing it destroyed. (It was fine. No damage. No water. But lack of cell service prevented me from knowing that.) Unknown to me, the ex had used this to his advantage and used my dropped basket to plant a seed of hurt and doubt in my heart, claiming that family members had betrayed me in the worst way. That they were ashamed of me and would never accept me-only he would ever love, support, and understand me. Admittedly I was too addled and too damaged (and too busy trying to be a good wife) to see through his lies and allowed this to take over my heart until I could finally see him for what he really was…umm, that would be a liar.


I’m thankful for the three days I spent with Aunt Jan and Uncle Wayne in the aftermath. Uncle Wayne explained everything that was wrong with the investigations while watching CSI and Aunt Jan told me stories about her experiences after Camille. I remember allowing myself to cry in the shower that first night; so happy to have air conditioner, so happy to have hot water, so happy to not have to face the ruins of my life for a little while.


Knowing that you will never be taken care of, that you will never be allowed a moment of weakness because the person who’s job it is to help you is weak. I wasn’t 100 percent sure at that time, but I am now. That experience defined my marriage. I worked. He drank. I white knuckled myself controlling my fears and emotions to keep my world together. He allowed himself the luxuries of unraveling that I was never allowed to have. I think that was actually worse than the storm itself; knowing that everything I thought I had up to that point was worthless. Four years of empty.


Thank you God that I now can put that pain behind me and I can begin with a new slate-even if it is five years too late.

Oh I KNOW he didn't!

Let me just tell you, my ever loyal FF (faithful few), that I am about as pissed off as I can possible get about right now. In fact, I had to wait an extra hour after finding my "topic" today just so this post would be more than an example of Gangsta Rap-curse words with a bit of non curse words thrown in to almost make a complete thought. OH. MY. GOOD. GRACIOUS. BUT. I. AM. MAD!!!!

You see, I am a teacher. I've taught CCD (Catholic equivalent of Sunday school), high schoolers, adults, and my own children. I have tried to be anything other than a teacher, but have found that I am a teacher.

Why?

Well I have always seen teaching as my personal calling. (I know I usually don't get all "churchy" and choose to keep most of my religious views to myself due to growing up the lone Catholic among Baptists who thought all Catholics were going to Hell because we worship statues and aren't Christian, so hold on cause I mean business!!) No matter what I have ever tried to do in my life I have come back to teacher because I KNOW beyond a shadow that no matter how frustrated I get my frustration lies with "man" and not with the teaching itself.

Ya see, when you are truly called do DO or BE something, you will never find complete fulfillment until you answer that call. Translation, I can do any job I want, but will never find contentment in my soul until I teach.

Don't believe me? Read this...

1 Corinthians 12:28
And in the church God has appointed first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then workers of miracles, also those having gifts of healing, those able to help others, those with gifts of administration, and those speaking in different kinds of tongues. 


See? I told you!

So, now I will get to why I'm angry...
"You should have chosen a different career field."

Are you freaking kidding me?????????????????????????????????????????????????????  Seriously! Are you an idiot on purpose or does that shit just come naturally? What a schmo!!

What happened to teaching being an honorable profession that was respected?

I think it started with all of that "Those who can't...Teach" bullshit! I mean WTF people. If I could sucked at what I do then I damn sure couldn't teach it. For example, I suck at math; therefore I do not teach math. However, I am a good writer; therefore I teach writing. See what I mean?!  I do not know who concocted that little jewel of propaganda, but I'd sure like to whoop his/her ass!

I mean, damn, we are begged to become teachers and then allowed to drown in a pit of overwhelming frustration by barley being able to support ourselves (or our families) and pay our students loans and deal with parents who think we are against their children and deal with students who think we are against them and appease administrators who have no idea what we do but are under so much pressure to make numbers that they can't help but make our lives miserable. Did I mention that we are begged to become teachers by the very government that has created all of these stupid-assed state tests that absolutely have no way of assessing  what a student actually knows. How do I know that? BECAUSE I FUCKING WENT TO SCHOOL FOR 5 YEARS AND GOT A MASTER'S DEGREE IN EDUCATION THAT TELLS ME HOW TO ASSESS STUDENTS COMPREHENSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! An over-lengthy multiple choice test that lasts between 2 to 4 hours was NOT mentioned in any class I ever had as something positive. Translation: It's a stupid idea that only hurts our students...but I think I'll stop now and give this rant it's own personal post later.

Anyway, I digress so, back to my original topic...It seems that Mr. Taylor has just outlived his usefulness as a public servant. I never minded that he was a Catholic school alum. I never minded that his children all attended Catholic school. However, when MY career and MY calling (as well as that of so many others) is dismissed so completely and so thoughtlessly, I can now see that he has become part of the problem instead part of the solution.

Now, do I know how schools should be funded so teachers can finally receive the paychecks they deserve? Nope. Why? I didn't go to school to figure that out. I went to school to hone my skills as a teacher so I could spread the love of language. Why? Because I love to read and I love to write so I decided to combine my love of those things with my passion and calling for teaching and....Voila!! English teacher!

So, now I am told that I'm at fault for being poorly paid. That I should have chosen better? That I should have ignored my true calling from God and committed my life to another  occupation that would fill my pocketbook, but not my soul? That since I did, in fact, choose to be a teacher I should shut up and deal because "I should have known better"?

Well, guess what, Mr. Taylor? While I knew I would never be rich, I did think that I could support myself and while I never thought I would ever be a single mom of two that needed to live with her parents because it is all but impossible to survive. But I guess THAT'S my fault too.

I know one thing that I will happily take credit for...helping vote you out of office. Maybe they will let you teach at your Alma mater when you come back home.

Gene Taylor, a Representative that my family has voted into office for years and years and years (until now), was asked a question about why teachers were the second lowest paid college degree, but one of the most important. His reply was....