Happy Halloween

Today was a great family day with Evelyn. We made spooky pancakes for breakfast, watched Halloween cartoons, spent some time playing in a pumpkin patch and went trick-or-treating.

 

AARGGG!!! I'm after my booty!

Evie loved every minute of it. With each giggle I'd watch her face light up as she would point at the pumpkins, or stare with her head tilted to the side at the cartoons. She would sing and clap her hands as I would flip the pancakes in the air. And she dragged me through the cold night, from door to door to door, opening her bag for each person and smiling sweetly. She would wave to the children and their parents as they passed us on the street. I half expected her to start kissing babies. She's such a future politician.

But as I watched how lovingly Zach and Kasey took care of Camden as they took him from door to door together, and the countless other families who were trick or treating together and I began to feel that hint of sadness. Maybe Evelyn isn't old enough to realize the absence of her father yet, the sheer brokenness of what a traditional family and childhood is suppose to be like compared to what she experiences on a day to day basis but it is not lost on me.

How do I balance what I know and what I want? I want the things for her I never had, which include her father being more than just a passing figure in her life. I never wanted a part time dad for my children. But on the other hand, I know no matter how much Rick and I may care about each other it's just not good for either of us to be involved. He's already moved on and is creating a new world and family for himself where as I have found myself with a strong foothold on knowing what I want in life and the balls to demand it without settling. I may have a lot of love for him, but a life with him is settling for me.

Now does that make me selfish. Are we, as parents, selfish? Because he wants to pursue this relationship with another mother and her children and enjoy his freedom to come and go as he pleases because he doesn't have anyone or anything to answer to. Because I want a partner who adores not only my daughter, but me as well and has the ability to cherish and challenge me at the same time. Should we be putting those things aside, and making it work regardless of the things we have to sacrifice to give her the family she should have.

I don't know which way is up? I feel so twisted right now

Lingering Along a Broken Path That Leads to a Distorted Past...

I've been reading some of my old blog lately. Call me a glutton for punishment, or perhaps just call me intrigued with the difference between my writing. You could also just call me curious, and desperately seeking inspiration.

I don't really care what you call me.

I had a blog titled Fading Phoenix. I didn't write in it for very long, but some of the entries just kill me to read.

This one specifically:

It is a well expressed belief that we find who we really are in college. Rather it be through classes, activities or the people around us the short period of exploration, and growth develop us into the personalities that will feed into the type of adults we are. It parallels in our friendships, relationships, career paths. It mirrors the type of parents and partners we will be.

Part of me, I'll admit, always believed in this belief.

I longed for college for this reason.

I now sit behind the keyboard and realize that college was not a time of self discovery for me personally, but a time of absence. I went into College knowing exactly who I was, what type of character I held, my morals, my standards, my dreams and passions and talents. By the time I walked across the stage in the Maydell on that May morning almost three years ago I had lost almost every piece of her.

And as I lingered in broken relationships, and career paths that made me want to slit my wrists, who I was became buried deeper within my sub conscious.

It is only now as I sit on the cusp of parenthood that I have been able to examine who I was compared to who I am... and how I've changed. It's difficult not to dwell on such thoughts. How am I suppose to teach my daughter to be proud, be strong and independent, that there is no limit to her abilities when I myself have silenced so much of what makes me me.

I have lost inspiration. I have lost my creativity. These being the very things that gave me reason to breath. Afraid of my confessional nature, I have spent years hiding from my muse. She chases me down dark alleys and side streets, relentless in her pursuit calling after me. I sometime lose her at a red light, but she always seems to catch up to me... to be two steps behind my heels shrieking lyrics and prose through the fog toward me. The desperation in her voice pierces my lungs as they burn for air, but I never stop.

This is me stopping. I'm turning to her, as if she is an old friend and not a menace I have tried to elude for years. I will embrace her, engulf her moth eaten scent and let the tenderness and fear and passion rush over me like a soft Spring Rain.

It is in her embrace where I will cry, soft tears of blue ink. It's too soon to slit my wrists so that the page may feed on my blood like a Vampire.

It is all one step at a time. 


Then of course there was my blog, Sophisticated Chaos. That blog held a lot more pain then I realized, but with small glimmers of hope. I remember writing:

But I don’t know. Maybe none of this matters. Soon Winter is going to turn to Spring with it’s sunny flowers and soft scent of honey. The Winter is always brutal, but it never lasts too long.

Going through this blog was both heart-wrenching, and entertaining. Entries like, A Mothers Legacy or Sophisticated Chaos, haunt me in a way that I can't explain. A Word By Any Other is a blog that is just very true to my normal thought process. And it's nice to be reminded of when Evelyn was younger, like the blog Student of Parenthood. I'm lucky to have all of these memories documented. Or this one, from mother to daughter to daughter, it's a gem I'm glad I haven't lost.

In short, I've been enjoying my emotional, and entertaining trip down memory row. Hope you do too.

Cool Night Air

Driving home from work tonight I left the windows down. There had been a light mist of rain throughout the evening so the air smelt damp, and had a crisp chill that circled my bare shoulders and grazed my ears. This place has always been home. I know the roads like the lines in my grandmothers hands. I have memorized faces, can recognize voices like dreams from my childhood. This place is my comfort, and it's been my sanity for as long as I can remember.

I am beginning to feel like the arms that once rocked me, and kept me safe are now the arms that are strangling the life out of me. I find it hard to breathe here, I find it hard to grow.

I want new roads, new voices, new faces, new landscape.

I really want to start over somewhere. I feel like I need a new beginning. I need a new start. The past gripes my arms like vines, controlling every move I make, all meticulously picked words in every carefully selected phrase. I can dream of buying an old jeep, and moving where the air is dry and cactus's thrive in the heat. Or dream of owning a little used bookstore on a boardwalk where my soundtrack is seagulls and you can taste salt in the air. I can picture me freckled from the sun, hair damp and curly. Evelyn dancing in the sand and gawking at the starfish.

I need an escape. I just can't keep spinning my wheels here. The longer I stay, the harder it is for me to get out.

Epiphany...

I'm going to try to write this all down, but between my general exhaustion and the emotional exhaustion I am now consumed by I am not entirely sure if I can.

The last 24 hours have been very, enlightening to me. I realized I'm not ready to be dating. Charles was a very nice guy, and I really enjoyed dinner and the conversation but I'm just not ready. It's not that I'm not over Rick, I'm not over the relationship and I'm not over the hurt. I've spent the last eight years of my life in emotionally tense, exhausting, difficult relationships that had me turning myself inside out and twisting the pieces. I'm so burnt out on relationships that even the thought of  getting involved with someone makes me nauseous. I'm not guarded, I'm locked down and I don't see anyone changing that any time soon. So what's the point? I'm just washing my hands of men, I'm washing my hands of dating. I'm just done.


In other news, Rick and I sat down tonight and talked. We "cleared the air" so to speak, agreeing that the anger, fighting and jabs back and forth needed to stop. We've lost focus on what's important, which is consistency and stability for Evelyn. The conversation was a lot calmer than I believe either of us thought it would be. We were both apprehensive. And a lot of things got settled. Things still feel awkward, and things will never be as easy between us as they were... but it's a start. Like Rick said, we are now on the same page, and we will just keep trying when it comes to everything else till we get it right.

But as he drove away I sat in my car in my driveway and cried. I don't know exactly what came over me. If it was letting go of all of that hate, or feeling shame in the way we've been behaving, sadness to see him go... I don't know. But it felt good to cry. I feel like it was something I had been bottling in and needed to let out.

Perhaps I can finally get some sleep. Or better yet, write some more.

I'd had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over...

I am loving Adele's new CD, 21 this morning. It has kept a permanent spot in my CD player for months, and it just gets better every time I listen to it.

So, I have a date Saturday night. And I'm really considering canceling it. I have been on exactly three dates since Rick and I split over a year ago. Three, and only one of those was with someone I didn't know. The other two were people I had known for years. Three... and all of those first dates. One hung out once or twice after, the other two not so much. Regardless, I can't seem to get past date two with anyone. I just don't seem to have it in me. They either have some small feature that I loving refer to as a "Scottonism", meaning some aspect of their personality reminds me of Rick rather it be good or bad and that leaves me feeling sick to my stomach or I just can't make the time.Actually, the more I think about it... they ALL had Scottonisms. :-/

And it's not that I'm not ready. I've been over the whole separation/divorce thing for awhile. I'm just nervous. I'm ten times more guarded then I was three years ago when I met Rick. I'm not as open to the possibility, or hope of good things. I don't know if I even really know how to let a guy be nice to me. I still don't feel like myself.

My best friend Kat asks why I want to date then, if I'm so anxious and nervous and nauseous over the idea. It's really simple. It's not that I want a relationship, or to replace Rick, or find Evelyn a "new daddy" as some people joke about. I would just really love to meet some new people. Being a single mom, and working two jobs I really have no time for me, and so the thought of sitting down for a nice dinner and adult conversation with someone I'm trying to get to know excites me. And he does seem like a very sweet guy who I would get along with really well.

I just wish I wasn't so burnt out on the idea of being involved with someone. I wish it didn't feel so pointless.

Milestones.

So today is the day. A big day. Who would have known that July 21 would feel so significant to me. It looks like any other day. The air is muggy due to the humidity. Lincoln County desperately needs the rain that we have been promised all week.

So what makes today so significant?

Well for one thing Evelyn turned 16 months old at 4:20 a.m. this morning.

Today also marks the 1 year anniversary of the day Rick moved out. I should feel relieved I suppose, the year of drama and anxiety and stress and exhaustion and harsh words and hard times and pure brokenness is almost over. We can officially file for our divorce, and hopefully with our conversation scheduled for Sunday night clear the air between us so we can move past our mutual animosity towards one another and get our focus back on what is important... Evelyn.

Regardless, I think I will allow myself to indulge in a little sadness today. And reflect. It's been a hard year. One of the most challenging I've had since 2007 when Gene passed away.

But I survived. Hell, I've prevailed.

Independence

3 years.
1,095 days.
1,576,800 minutes.

Today I breath a very calm sigh of relief. The freedom makes my head a little dizzy realizing and remembering. And I will allow myself one moment of sadness. I will close my eyes, and count 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... and embrace the sorrow and the pain and the harsh reality, and once I reach five I will exhale and release all of it. And I will take my daughter to the parade and surround myself with her cackle. I will watch in awe as fireworks light up the clear night sky. I will embrace the possibilities of tomorrow. And I will be happy.

It is my independence day.

Divorce, the Devil and a dying idea.

I've been thinking a lot lately about marriage, and commitment. Perhaps it is because of the number of broken relationships I see around me. Friends who are stuck in loveless marriages, friends who are on the verge of separation, friends who have found out their spouses have been having long standing affairs. A once solid, and eternal idea is now becoming temporary.

And this makes me wonder, why? If people lie, and cheat, and break hearts what is the purpose of entering into something permanent like a marriage? Why enter into a relationship with someone, and willing stay in the relationship with them if it's not where you want to be? Married or not. I see it in my friends who are just dating. The same idea, I can't leave... I can't move on... it was good once it can be good again.

I understand the importance of stability. I hear a lot, "I can't leave because of the kids," but don't you think that watching your parents indulge in affairs, and fight, and harbor resentment and disdain for each other is equally detrimental to their development as growing up in a broken home.

I was thrilled when my parents divorced, not because I didn't want them together but because for the first time in years my parents were happy. My mother met and entered into a relationship with the man who she still calls the love of her life, 4 years after his death.

I guess my point is I don't understand why it's so hard to just be happy? If a relationship isn't working... then it's not working. As cliched as it may be, it's called a break up because it's broken. It's a cheesy self-help book, but the title is accurate.



And I realize I might get some backlash for this. Marriage is a sanctity. Marriage is suppose to be forever. Divorce is the Devil. Yeah, it is. I would completely agree with that. But too many people enter into relationships, and marriages lightly. To many times people get married for the wrong reasons (trust me, I could write a book on the subject). Why stay in it if it's broken. Life is too short to be anything less than happy.


So be happy. It really is just.that.simple.

Clarity

The date is fast approaching. I found a piggy bank, painted it red white and blue and named him Clarity. Once he reaches $300 I'll officially file for my divorce against Rick. The ghost of the past relationship has been left behind to linger in the floor boards of other homes. My heart has let go. My heart has moved on. I realized I was completely over it the day I finally got rid of my engagement ring. That was my stepping stone, that moment of no return. And I must say, I'm happy.

I love living on my own, just Evelyn and me. I love watching her grow and learn. How she cackles and runs and plays. The child is so goofy. It's hard to not be completely mesmerized by her. And that is all that I am left with when it comes to Rick. Sadness that he is choosing to miss out on her. His loss. Pity because he's never going to be more than he is, because he chooses not to be. I've fought my way here... and he won't take that from me.

He refused me my one request. The truth. Closure. So I got the facts, and I saw him for the kind of man he really is, I set him straight, and I stole my own closure. And now I'm done. And that is one of the most refreshing feelings in the world.

And not a moment to late. Because I know what I want. Because I know what I deserve. And I've already seen the possibilities that lay before me...

Needless to say. I'm a happy girl. I'm a whole girl. And all the things he told me: he'd break me, he'd make me hate him, he'd make me regret everything that ever happened between us: he was wrong.

I'm not that kind of girl, who clings to the past and braces it to myself like a shield, an excuse to avoid the good things in life. I'm not the kind of person to hold grudges.

And so, I make this my official last Rick Scotton related entry. Maybe more so for his benefit than mine (since he cyber stalks my blog). I don't wish bad on him, I don't wish anything at all.

Like the song goes, "I'm not sorry I met you, I'm not sorry it's over, I'm not sorry there's nothing to say."

Broken

In the 10 years I've dated, and the countless relationships I've had I've never once experience what it feels like to be broken. I've been hurt... but I've never been broken. The notion always amused me... broken as if I were some kind of an expensive china doll.

That lousy SOB broke me.

Why has it taken me a year to realize this?

Scotton vrs. Rice... The Great Debate of 2011

While at work last night one of the hosts accidentally called me Amanda. "Sorry Kirby." She laughed. Leia, the other host standing at the front chuckled and said, "I'm just going to start calling her Scotton," and she proceeded to continue to say Scotton over and over again with a bad Scottish accent.

I chuckled and said, "yeah... don't do that. That's my ex's last name."

"Oh." She apologized. "You should probably change that."

For a few months now I've had friends asking me whether I'm going to keep the last name Scotton, or change it back to Rice, my maiden name, once the divorce is finale between Rick and me. All of my friends have their own opinions, circling mostly around me changing it and even going to as extreme measures as changing Evelyn's.

I have no intentions of changing her last name. But I don't know which I am more uncomfortable with:

having a last name that is different than my daughter's

or

continuing to keep the last name of a man I am no longer attached to. The name I no longer belong too.

I'm sure Rick has his own opinions on it. I can picture both an indifferent reaction and an appalled reaction at the thought of me keeping it. The Scotton family is such a strong and exclusive family. They take their name extremely serious. I don't know how any of them would feel about me changing it back, or keeping it. I could see how both would seem offensive.

So in a moment like this I need to remind myself I need to stop thinking about everyone else. I need to decide based on what I want. I need to make the decision based on what I am going to be the most comfortable with. No one is going to look out for my best interest in any of this other than me.

And I know I have time to decide. There are still 9 weeks before I can formally file for divorce. I  will just have to make up my mind by then.

Liar Liar, Marriage out the Door

As most know, I transferred to a new restaurant about a month ago. It was a great move for me personally and financially. This past Monday I also began working a new, second, part-time job with my local News-Paper. I love working both of my jobs and the recent changes have allowed me some separation from my past.

But in this separation from the recent I have found myself almost lying about the past. Not big lies, not deep and detrimental ones but almost as if I am responding to people's curiosities and questions with the lies we tell ourselves.

"Are you married?"
"Seperated." --- (Truth)
"Oh, I'm sorry." 
"Don't be... it's a very civil divorce." --- (Kind of true.)
"It was a mutual thing." --- (Lie)
"We tried to make it work, and it just didn't work so it was best to end it before things got worse." ---(Depends on who you ask. )
""It's not that big of a deal." ---(LIE LIE LIE.)


Maybe it's just me trying to save face, to not be viewed as the sad, abandoned divorcee. I've obviously proven I'm anything but incapable. My bills are paid. My daughter is happy and healthy. I'm advancing myself in a field I think I can be really great in. I work hard. I have an amazing central circle of friends. I live on my own.

I'm doing well. (true)  I'm doing better than well, I'm doing great. (kind of true)

So then why does this all feel like I'm simply surviving. It's not as if I've had some terminal illness. Rick wasn't a cancer that needed to be removed from my body. (depends on who you ask) Is a failed relationship, a failed marriage really something you can "survive"?

I don't know to be honest. But there are so many things in life that I am uncertain of 24 hours a day.

I just have to get up every morning, make the coffee, brush my teeth and remind myself to breathe. It's a new day. (truth). It's always a new day.

Pandoras Box

In the top of my closet is a box. It's one of those firesafe lock boxes. I keep it there like any responsible parent would, full of papers and birth certificates and insurance cards. Just in case.

That's not all I keep in there though. I keep the remains of a point in my life when I was happy. I keep things that would kill me to lose.

Things like my engagement ring and wedding band. Things like my favorite picture of Rick and I taken at freedom park. Things like every letter he wrote to me while in basic.

Needless to say,  I avoid opening this box.

Today I received a phone call from the doctor needing some of the information off of Evelyn's insurance card. I quickly pulled down the black box, removing items so I could find the card. Once I hung up with the doctors office I began putting them back, piece by piece, like a puzzle of a life I was suppose to have.

The box of letters fell, opening and releasing sweet words. I only glanced over the three that fell out, all three ones that were never sent but placed in my hand upon Rick's return once he had decided to come home instead of staying in the Army.

Letters of fear and nervousness. Letters of love and adoration. Letters of excitement and eager anticipation for the future. Letters promising strength during the hard times, and loyalty. 

My heart broke. Not for the tender words from a man who loved me more than anything. Not for the pain of every broken promise. My heart broke with the realization that not only is that time gone, but so is the man who wrote them and the young girl who would run at the sound of the mail everyday.

And my heart is still breaking.

Sunday is mothers day. Last year Rick and I spent the day with our families and then he took me to dinner. This year I know I won't feel any love or appreciation on his part. However, I feel as if I should.

But when I get off work I know Evie will smile and squeal and wrap her tiny arms around me as if to say "Mommy, I love you. "

And that is what will ease the aching. That is what will ease the regret and disappointment. Because she was the point of all of this and she is more than worth every moment of it.

Not the best idea ever...

I shouldn't be writing this. I should be locked in my bedroom with an empty notebook and fresh pen bleeding into the page until my hand cramps. That hand cramp is almost like running, when your lungs burn and side aches for relief but you just push through the pain. This is my way of pushing through the pain, alleviating the hand cramp so that I can get to the end. I'm getting to the end...

I'm coming to a point where I don't know what to do. Being torn between what was and what is are two difficult things. At some point I have to not only acknowledge the fact that he says things deliberately to hurt me but I have to attach to that thought so that the truth of it really lingers. He's hurting me. He's hurting me on purpose. He has been for months. And he doesn't care.

That's the real root of it. He.Doesn't.Care.

I'm exhausted. And I'm hurt. And I feel like a fool because even with the facts in front of me I still took his word for it, and now he's caught in the lie. Even though he still denies it, denying you're doing something wrong doesn't mean you're not doing something wrong.

And yet my virtue gets put into question... as if I'm some kind of harlot who is running around with men all over town. I've been on two dates. Two. And I didn't lie to him about them...

That, that's the difference.

And I know he's reading this... because it was thrown into my face something I wrote more than two months ago tonight. Maybe that's one of the reasons I feel the need to write it.

Because saying how hurt I am never holds the same power as seeing it in print.

And I'm hurt.

Longest Week Ever

As I sit here, drinking an ice cold beer listening to my roommate unload about her relationship drama. To say that this week has been difficult, or emotional, or long are all complete and utter understatements.

This week has been a cluster-mind fuck. And it has left me feeling vulnerable. It has left me feeling drained. And in this moment I find the best way for me to deal is to just cave into myself and take some time.

The week wasn't all bad. It began with a trip to Concord so Evie and Rick could spend some time together, but the days Rick and I spend together are always disarming and emotional. It's hard to deny the feelings I have for him, especially when he looks at me with those eyes: the same eyes that whispered "my god she's beautiful": to me as I slept on one of our first nights together. The love may have slighted, and faded, and twisted into bitterness and then back again but it is evident it is there... and I am struggling with trying to be strong against it.

The day ended abruptly when I was contacted by my mother telling me my sister in law was in labor. It turns out she wasn't. Tuesday is a blur... I couldn't tell you what happened on that day.

Wednesday, I spent the majority of my day in the ER after my mother had another breathing episode and collapsed. I received a call from my sister in law telling me to get to the ER as I was getting ready for work. After blood work, xrays, soft tissue analysis they still can't explain why she is having the issue she is. All they can say is that her lungs have scaring on them and they need to do CTscans. I was terrified to say the least. Rick tried to come to my rescue but my brothers went off on me when i told them he was on his way. I had to convince Rick to stay where he was, which got him upset with me and just made the entire experience even more difficult.

The rest of the week was a cluster of busy work, relationship drama (from the roomie) arguments and disappointments with Rick, and my nephew finally being born.

Days without real sleep.

Lost work shifts resulting in a short in money.

A daughter who has been insanely difficult.

A gut feeling that someone is lying to me and keeping something EXTREMELY important from me.

And Rick deciding he didn't want to spend Easter with us, because he didn't want me to waste the gas (can't help but think it was more about the plans he made though)...

The moral of the story is... because of my exhaustion and emotional-stability and just sanity it is essential to me for next week to be calm, easy, dull, dare I say boring.

It's gonna happen, if I have to shut my phone off and ignore facebook for a week... it's gonna happen.

True Story

Me: Sometimes i'm a little ashamed of how relieved I am I didn't end up being a military wife. Is that bad?

Eric: Honestly, I'm just glad you got out of being "his" wife.

Disarmed and Dismantled

I mentioned the other night that the sheer presence of my ex was both disarming and intoxicating. It is almost impossible to not be drawn in by his witty banter and boyish grin. I tried today to resist it, but I found it pointless. What can I say, it's difficult not to be a little dismantled in my loathing for the man when I watch as he makes Evelyn cackle when he tickles her, the way he closely watched her as she played or the way she would nuzzle into his neck when she was lovingly hugging him goodbye.

In those moments, it's difficult not to love some part of him.

Is there a difference between being mother of the year, and the biggest bitch in the world?

It has been brought to my attention some of the things Evelyn's father has been saying about me.

That I'm a mean, spiteful, hateful bitch.
That I decided he shouldn't be around Evelyn and am thus keeping him from her.
That all I want from him as a father is money.

I don't know what to say. I'm not surprised he's saying these things because of course he wants to put the blame of things on me so he doesn't have to own up to his own part. But what shocked me is how much it hurt when it was brought to my attention. I can speculate, but I never expected him to be so harsh about it.

The truth of the matter is I'm not a bitch, if anything I'm a pushover and that's whats been my issue for a long time. I did not make the decision that Rick should not be involved in Evelyn's life. That was his choice, 110%. After months of him being indecisive about his roll with Evelyn, and being father of the year this week and acting like she was the biggest inconvenience in the world the next I told him to make a decision, to be a father or to not. He has a habit of keeping one foot in and one foot out of the door at all times and I'm not going to have him treating her like that. I don't see why me wanting to be a father, 100%, is such a bad thing. Evelyn deserves it. And as for the last, that again was not my doing. When he decided he wanted to leave he offered to pay so we agreed on an amount and decided to do it between the two of us until he got pissed off. He told me to go through social services and get it court ordered because he was trying to piss me off and hurt me...

I feel the need to defend myself because I don't like getting attacked.

And knowing he's sitting there saying these things breaks my heart. All I've ever done is be good to him, even in bad times. All I've ever done is try to keep him involved, sometimes against his will...

It just really breaks my heart.

Walking a Fine Line

I haven't talked much about Evelyn's father, and my soon to be ex-husband Rick lately. There is a reason for that. About two months ago Rick made the decision he didn't want to be involved with Evelyn at all. I won't go into details, but he had his reasons.

Recently, it appears Rick has had a change of heart. The other day I was talking to my friend Eric about it because I'm very confused about how to handle this situation. Part of me wants to tell Rick no, you can't see her because all you're going to do is change your mind about it in two week, or months or whatever. Which honestly, is already beginning to prove true. We had tried to arrange time for him to come see her this week but it seems he's not going to come through on that thought.

I tried to explain to Eric, it's hard for me to tell him no, he can't see her even when he doesn't deserve to because I don't want to be the one keeping her from him. I've watched fathers have their children pulled from them and kept from them and it kills me to think of anyone ever thinking of me the way I think of those girls.

I know Evelyn needs a father. I know she needs to know Rick and spend time with him, but how am I suppose to be a good mother and protect her from his indecisive and erratic moods. It's a fine line I'm walking, trying to provide her with both; her father and protecting her from the things that will let her down.

I don't know how much longer I can walk it.

Modern Days with Ancient Ideas

My last table of the night today was a young couple. The girl smiled at me as she rubbed her bulging belly.

"When are you due?" I asked politely.

"March 18th actually." She smiled across the table at her husband who was grinning from ear to ear. "It's a little girl."

"Congratulations." I beamed and offered to get them another refill of breadsticks.

As I walked away from the table I had to bite my lower lip to keep myself from crying.

A year ago, I was her. I was the happy, excited, in love woman with the bulging belly and the beaming husband. March 18th, the exact same day Evelyn was due. To be specific, if you were to ask me where I was a year ago to this exact moment I could tell you simply. I was preparing to get married at 10am tomorrow morning.

Thinking about this, and seeing her so happy and full of hope and promise breaks every inch of my already shattered heart. Some days, I wish I had not been so idealistic about how things were going to work out. And sometimes, sometimes I would give anything to go back to that day, to feel loved and beautiful and wanted and worthy.

I miss that feeling. I'm hoping it comes back soon.

To that happy, excited, enthusiastic couple: I wish you all the love, happiness and luck in the world. Perhaps you can succeed where I've failed.