Dear Loverface: Two

Dear Loverface,

Technically, its May 16th but it was the day of two's.

Day two that you're gone.

Day two of me working out. Go me!

Day two of me picking off all of my nail polish in anxiety.

The second time I'm painting my nails.

Got that? We're up to two manicures.

Day two of me being ridiculously sore.

A day where I had two total seconds out of the entire day that I wasn't feeling like I was going to literally die from pain.

Day two of me realizing that without you here with me, I don't feel human.

We've been together for almost exactly 3 months shy of 7 years. 2,436 days to be exact. I don't know if you know this or not, but that's kind of a long time. You're a numbers guy so I think you oughtta be able to see where I'm coming from with this.

I don't think it's sad that I feel this way. Not whole without you I mean.

I think its endearing.

I think it means something bigger than most people would be able to understand.

It means God didn't just make you and make me.
It means he made us.
He made our souls incomplete.

He meant for us to learn in our first 17 1/2 years of our individual lives that we couldn't do it alone. You without me and me without you was wrong.

It still is wrong.

Which is precisely why I don't feel human when you're not here.

Its beautiful.
Its heartbreaking.
Its raw.
Its incredible.

And babe, even though there are two of us, and it's you and me, it really comes down to being a thing of one.

Us.

Dear Loverface: I'm a Wimp

Dear Loverface,

We woke up at 0345 this morning. Well, YOU woke up at 0345 while I woke up a little before 0300 needing to pee. 

SO badly. 

I looked at the time and saw you were going to be up in 45 minutes. I didn't want to wake you up by getting up because I knew you would then look at the time, see you only had 45 minutes left of sleep, and then toss and turn and never really drift back off. 

So I held it. My pee that is.

Why? Because I love you.

The alarm went off and we got up. You took your C bags down to the car and then came back up and got your Blues on. I love your Blues. You look so handsome and just seeing you in them makes my heart swell with pride.

Why? Because I love you.

We got to the airport and were soon surrounded by almost 2 dozen anxious, fresh and new to the 'shipping out' military world cadets. You didn't roll your eyes too much because you're kind and patient. That always makes me smile. You're a much better person than I. You asked me to go find a luggage tag and even though it took me forever to find one, I didn't complain.

Why? Because I love you.

I didn't cry when it was time to say our, "See you later's" because I know it makes it way harder for you to focus on where you're going and why you're going there. I took my quick hug and smooch and walked away.

Why? Because I love you.

I got home by 0515, got myself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and dove into the DVR. I cried. And ate another bowl of cereal. And then cried some more. Why?

Because I'm a wimp. I'm a wimp because I love you.

Instead of going to sleep like I should've, I sat on the couch and watched episode after episode, pining after my silent phone. Even though I knew you were thousands of feet up in the air, I couldn't turn off my fear that you'd call and I'd somehow miss it. I gripped it like it was a lifeline.

Why? Because I'm a wimp. And I love you.

I painted my nails even though I just painted them a few days ago. I got a huge smile and cried some more when you text saying you were at your first stop and some more when you called a few minutes later.

Why? Mostly because I'm a wimp.
But also because I love you.

You joked that I should keep track of how many times I paint my nails while you're gone. You know me so well to already know the number is going to be ridiculous. Even though you told me I should because you were making fun of me, I'm going to do it.

Why? Because I love you.

I tried to nap like you told me to but kept having weird dreams that I missed your call. I was so scared because that was not only the last phone call I'd get, but the last contact I'd have with you until you call me and tell me you're on your way home. I got butterflies when I saw your name pop up on my phone a while later.

Why? Because I adore you.

You were irritated and in a rush. I was yes, devastated that we only got about 15 seconds. I didn't let it leak into my voice though.

Why? Because I love you.

I started a workout so I can look awesome when you get back. I went grocery shopping for all things fruits, veggies, and healthy. I didn't even think about how you weren't here to help me get 4 all of the groceries up  flights of stairs.

Babe, I had this 'aha' moment.

You're super tough because you have NEVER let on how very much it SUCKS to lug groceries up to our apartment. I was dying after bringing the first bags up the first flight of stairs. By the time I got all 3 loads up those four flights, my legs were jelly and I was sweating something awful.

Why? Because I'm a wimp.

I hope you are sleeping well after the long day you had today. I hope you know how proud of you I am. I hope you can feel all of my thoughts and love. I hope you believe in yourself the way I believe in you and that you don't doubt your capability of being the very best.

Why?

Because I love you. 

When You're A Girl

When you're a girl, you have one week a month that you aren't quite... yourself.

Well, if you're lucky it's only one week a month.

*Cough* I WISH *Cough*

When you're a girl, you'll wake up one morning feeling as if your boobs were hit with 10 lb rubber mallets all night long.

It will get worse and you will end up wanting to cut them off because that would feel SO much better. If your Loverface even so much as blinks at The Twins, you can go ahead and swat, bite, punch, or whatever else you feel is necessary to deter him.

When you're a girl, you'll find yourself eating everything in sight.

Yes, everything. 

See that half eaten pack of 2 month old stale Ritz Crackers sitting on the counter? Yep, eat 'em. 

Three king sized packs of Mini Rolos at 7-11 AND a bag of Chex Mix Muddy Buddies? Go for it! 

Just got done eating 6 pancakes with Biscoff spread and a quart of strawberries? So what! Grab that orange and plum and dump half a box of granola on it.

While you're innocently looking in the fridge for something to drink, you see that bag of organic carrot chips and think, "Hey! Healthy snack!" Yeah.... pour half of those suckers into a skillet and dump some olive oil, butter, red pepper, salt, pepper, and cinnamon butter on them. Who are you kidding girlfriend? You KNOW you didn't intend on putting any of those back in the fridge. Eat the whole pan-full. 

Right as you're polishing those beauties off you'll see a commercial for some deep-dish pizza and from the depths within yourself, no not your heart.... Nope lower than your stomach.... Yep! That's your uterus screaming that unless you find a way to have that deep-dish pizza, you won't be getting any relief.

Ha! Relief! That's your uterus and ovaries attempt at making a not so funny, funny. 

No amount of Tylenol, Ibuprofen, Advil, Midol, or ANY medication is going to bring anything even close to resembling that word... Relief. Blech. Its like a curse word. And when you're a girl, you WILL be cursing that word.

When you're a girl you can be found on the couch with a heating pad inside your pants on both sides. Yep, one is to cradle you're uterus as it thrashes about inside of you and one is to keep your ovaries from breaking out through your back, because contrary to what any doctor tells you, your ovaries are on the inside wielding rusty knives that have been heated in the fiery depths of hell.

You see, when you're a girl, and when that special time comes along that makes you feel a little off, your ovaries actually aren't quite themselves either. They go from tiny little organs inside your body to red bandanna wearing, knife wielding members of the Crips Bloods. 

If you aren't on the couch then you can be found in the bathtub soaking in scalding hot water and praying to Holy JuJu to just let you die already. Not in the bathtub? Well then you're probably on the bed vacillating between the fetal position and thrashing around like the chick from The Last Exorcism.

Speaking of being posessed, when you're a girl, you'll have pretty much everyone around you, including yourself, that you have been taken over by Satan's Mama. One minute you'll be as happy as the blue birds flying over the bright and shiny rainbow and in a split-second your head will spin 360 degrees around while your eyes go black. You'll feel like pulling your hair out at the sheer stupidity of EVERYONE and EVERYTHING around you. How dare that mother-effing car get in front of you?! And that commercial on the tv... You know, the one about those magical pads and tampons that come in cute wrappers that magically make your period into something that you don't notice and magically turn you into a skinny, unbloated, smiling, happy, flawlessly beautiful chick. Is it TRYING to piss you off?! I swear a man came up with that one. Once your pupils go back to their normal size and you no longer look like Carrie, you'll be in floods of tears. Over what? Nothing. And Everything. And then you won't even know about what and you'll cry even more over that.

Its a time of misery.
And despair.
And pain.
And tears.
And realization.

Yes, realization.

When you're a girl you realize that as much as it sucks, you're praising Holy JuJu and Mother Earth its us females who deal with it because if it was something a man had to do...

We'd all die.
Us from insanity and them from us killing them.

Again.

And just like that, it's happened again.

It's gone.

They're gone.

Our baby is gone.

Yes, we were expecting.

Again.

It was an utter surprise.

And a miracle.

Again.

This time, we decided we'd share the news. We made phone calls and announcements. You all know me, it hit Instagram and Facebook and it was good. We figured we couldn't jinx ourselves any worse than my already existing blood disorder and hostile lady bits. We asked for prayers and good juju.

We got much, much more.

Y'all we had thousands of prayers, wishes and thoughts put out into the Universe, a convent of nuns, a bunch of Native Americans dancing around fires, lots of chanting to Mother Earth, and so much love and "Congratulations!" my smile was rarely gone.

There was an abundance of puking and exhaustion and hormones. I had so many cravings my husband learned to just go with it.

I loved every.single.second.

No joke. 

I know that sounds ridiculous but its true. Puking and hormonal roller-coaster riding meant our Sea Monkey was still thankfully intact.

About 6 weeks before we found out my uterus was occupied, I had started to eat oranges. Not just one here and there but 3 or 4 a day. And orange juice was what was always in my cup. It struck me as odd because I'm not the biggest fan of oranges but I wrote it off as a calcium deficiency. The night before we left for one of our many Arizona trips I was pulling our bedroom window blinds down and they fell. They fell and landed on some flowers my Loverface gave me on my birthday and crushed them. I lost it. I mean full blown, all out, bawling, hyperventilating, hysterically crying. I fell to my knees sobbing and couldn't even look him in the eyes because I was so upset at crushing the flowers he gave me.

Good Lordy my emotional swinging range was wider than anything else and it swung so fast that it would switch hit 3 times before I could even grasp the first one. After telling Loverface I was pregnant one of the first things he said was, "Now the flowers make sense."

This time felt so different than all the others and it wildly gave me hope. I had symptoms. Not just puking and exhaustion and constantly feeling as if my lower back had been run into with a semi-truck but I had actual outward signs. My belly muscles were sore and taut and it was growing. It was changing and getting big so fast that even over a night's time you could see that our baby was growing.

 

Maybe that's what did it. The bump was the precursor that made my defenses crumble.I could see it so it felt tangible and as if it couldn't turn into the grief we've felt with our last 3 babies.We told people we would let ourselves hope and be excited if I made it to 20 weeks. If we got half-way through the second trimester, we'd buy baby stuff and start on the nursery. If I made it far enough.... Even with us trying to stave off the excitement and planning of the future, it crept in.

Two days ago that "if" was snuffed out. 

It was just a normal day for us. Besides it being a Monday and us not having our normal Monday obligations, things all seemed up to par with what was usual. Mr. Superman awoke around 8:30 and I stumbled out of bed 15 minutes later.

 He looked up quizzically and said, 

"What are you doing up? You should go back to sleep."

Yawning,

"I will but I have to eat. My tummy is just too hungry to be able to get back in bed." 

I ate and he got ready to go grocery shopping. 

"I can come with you."

"No, you'd be wiped out after 10 minutes."

Smiling because we both knew it was true I said,

"Yeah, okay."

He left and after two waffles, a bagel, and 6 bite-size cookies later (my appetite was out of control), I crawled back under my covers. I drifted on and off for 2 hours before finally seceding that deep sleep was not going to come. I got up and did some laundry and cleaning. We decided we'd treat ourselves to a movie so I got ready. Now I know I said the day was normal. It was as far as the general nature of it but I felt odd. The whole day I just felt... off. 

I was exhausted like every other day. 

I threw up like every other day.

 My body was sore like every other day. 

It seemed as though it was just like every other day except for the feeling that something was amiss.  I couldn't pinpoint it but I felt it.

Within 5 minutes of us leaving for the theater I was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea and broke out into a sweat. It was so peculiar because it wasn't the normal "morning sickness" nausea but more in line with the flu. I told Mr. Superman that I was feeling really sick and thought I should go lie down. Immediately, I felt guilty because it had been my idea for a movie and I had insisted that he purchase tickets online. Purchasing them through this website made them non-refundable. I changed my mind and told him I'd be okay. After sitting in the movie for 15 minutes the icky feeling I had was gone. We enjoyed the movie and stopped off at my in-laws house to see our puppy before going back to our apartment. I was feeling a little crampy but otherwise okay. It didn't last long. As soon as we pulled into our parking lot I knew something was terribly wrong.

If you've experienced a first trimester miscarriage you know what I mean. I felt the unmistakable wetness. I knew that as soon as I pulled my pants down it would be there.

Blood.

I rushed into the bathroom and with shaking hands I unbuttoned my jeans. The edges of my mind blurred but the images are clear enough that I  know what happened. I pulled my jeans down and with a sickening jolt in my stomach I knew. It was too late. There was too much tissue for it to be just bleeding. That was our baby. My head was spinning and my skin felt on fire. I stifled a sob as I frantically tried to get air. I couldn't breathe and the world felt like it was tilting over. I ripped my jeans and underwear the rest of the way off and balled them up. Kneeling on the bathroom floor I wrapped my sweater around my bottom half and turned the  doorknob. With the door opened I called for my husband. My voice wasn't right and I knew he could tell. He came in and the look in his eyes is something I can't forget. Confused and worried he asked, 

"What? What is it?"

Choking out the words that were muddled by my sobs,

"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

"What is it? What happened? What's wrong?!"

"It's gone! Our baby is gone! I'm sorry!"

The cries ripping through my throat and wracking my chest were too much. He was there on the floor next to me, legs sprawled and as he tugged at me, trying to pull me close to him I was pushing away. 

"No! No!"

Timidly he asked, 

"How do you know?"

"Because I know what it looks like! It's gone!

No more words. 

Each of us at a loss. 

The only thing louder than his stunned silence was the noise coming from me. 

It was alien.

 Abstract. 

Mutated.

Silence. 

Hysteria.

Two things that should not be able to inhabit the same place at the same time.

And yet...

There was more blood. I could feel it and I knew my sweater wouldn't keep it hidden for long. 

"Get me grocery bags and Clorox wipes!"

A minute later he was back and he set them on the ground. I grabbed them and pushed away. 

"You don't need to see this. Go."

As I closed the door I tried to go numb. If I couldn't feel it then maybe it wouldn't seem as bad as it was. The sobs that had been tearing through me, that I had so futilely tried to stifle were slowing. First, I took the wad of my jeans and tied them in a bag. I then put them in another and then another. I cleaned the toilet and then seeing that my socks were now bloody put them in another sack. I cleaned up the rest of me and the floor, tying everything up in a bag that was inside 6 more. With trembling hands I reached up and opened the door. There he was. Legs still splayed wide with his head tilted far back against the wall. I thrust the bag not  containing my jeans at him.

"Take it. Get it out. I can't have in in here! Get rid of it!"

He stood and a few moments later I heard our front door open and then close. I stood and rushed to grab clean clothes before ducking into our other bathroom. After closing the door I climbed into the shower.

Freezing water pelted me  and then gradually getting warmer before finally settling on nearly scalding. I began to scrub my body so vigorously and harshly it hurt. The pain was a sharp relief. Like feeling the biting stabs of invisible needles that  occur when your limbs begin to awaken after having the blood flow cut off. After  rinsing and drying myself off, I pulled on the clothes I had grabbed and stepped out into the hallway. I could see him on our bed, head downcast and eyes unfocused.  Climbing up next to him I buried my face in his chest.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm the one who's broken. It's me. I'm sorry."

"Stop, it's not your fault."

His head was still steadfastly looking down.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

Nothing. 

No answer. 

No movement.

Placing my hands on either side of his face I tilted his head up and forced him to look at me.

"Okay. Please, tell me how you are."

Dejectedly he said, 

"I've been better."

"Yeah? Me too."

........

"You know what? We've also been much, much worse."

Warily he asks,

 "Have we?"

"Yes, we have. We're going to be okay."

........

"I promise."

In his eyes I see doubt and they are brimming full of too much shininess. Even though I know he isn't blaming me or accusing me, I internally recoil from the inane sense of guilt. 

I had told him I was okay.

 I told him the baby was okay and they were growing. 

I had begun to talk about the future.

I took so many pictures and constantly shared the progress and news with our friends and family. My walls that I'd built up over the last 6 years had come down and I had told him it was okay. I had insisted he ease his worry. 

In that moment with his eyes trained on mine, I saw that even though he hadn't shared the news online like I had and despite all the times he said he'd be less worried and more hopeful if I made it far enough along, he had, in fact, allowed himself to kindle the spark of excitement and belief deep within himself that had come to be.

Here I was making promises I could't guarantee.

Again.

And now...

Here we are sitting amid the ashes of our dream. 

Our wish isn't coming true.

October 15th is now going to just be October 15th. 

Again.

Here we are faced with the task of coping with something that is impossible to cope with.

Again.

Here we are again.

Empty. 

Yesterday and Today

Yesterday I had a hard day. My heart hurt and tears were barely held at bay. Thoughts were continuously swirling in my mind and I felt bitter and broken. I spent most of the night lying awake in my soft bed next to my husband whose sound sleep and warm body were my only comforts amidst all of my woes, is me. 

Yesterday. 

It's not often that something happens to make me turn truly introspective and feel my core shaken but this morning something did. It's a rare thing to be able to see distress on my husband's face but today, it's there.

Evil was not only overbearingly present and manifested in that Connecticut school but it was felt in a way that should not be possible. It is felt now and will continue to be felt which means souls will continue to hurt, hearts will continue to break, and pain will continue to resonate so deeply it may feel as if it will never dissipate. 

Yesterday I felt self pity and jealousy and anger and every other selfish emotion. My unhappiness and discontentment were palpable.  

Yesterday. 

Today, Mr. Superman came into wake me up and after giving me a kiss on the cheek he told me about something that immediately knocked me upside the head and shamed me for all of yesterday's thoughts and feelings and made me feel absolutely pathetic.

"There's been another shooting. This one is bad Chelle. It was kids. A lot of kids. Really young, kindergarten kids. Someone went into this school in Connecticut and shot and killed 26 people. It's making me sick to my stomach."

My heart sank with every word. 

Countless experts in just about everything will be interviewed and talked to and they will all assign reasons and illnesses and excuses as to why this person did what he did. The same conversations will cycle exhaustively never being deterred. No matter what is said and written, they will all be wrong. It's impossible to wrap your head around something like this. People will ask, "Why?" and endlessly attempt to find sense in it all. 

They won't find it. There's no sense or understanding to be found. The only things to be found are sadness and pain and heartbreak and anger and despair and suffering.

And hope. 
Yes, hope.  

It won't come today. 
It won't come tomorrow. 
For some it won't even come before the new year.

Lovelies, I not only know that it will come but I PROMISE that hope will be found. 

 

Yesterday I saw the have-nots and the broken dreams. Yesterday I was blinded by what we don't have and the pain and sadness that comes with that. 

Yesterday we didn't have babies and it seemed the worst thing in the world. 

Today, there are 20 families who no longer have their babies and it is the worst thing in the world.

Today was another day that proves how completely intertwined and connected we are as human beings. It's absolutely vital we cling to this brotherhood of mankind we all belong to and find within ourselves the patience and love and support God gave each and every one of us.

Yesterday was one thing and today is wholly another. 

Today has awakened me. Today has challenged my beliefs. Today has wrought a change so deep its full effects may never be understood. Today has showed me the importance of hope. It's nearly Christmas and for me, the thing I am desperately clinging to is what Christmas holds. Christmas stripped down to the basics and its true meaning is something that is inexplicably perfect.

Christmas is magical.
Christmas is love.
Christmas is promise. 
Christmas is hope.
Christmas is peace.
Christmas is selfless.
Christmas is pure and unadulterated. 
Christmas is truly what mankind should be.  

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Till ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

What Would You Do?

Choices.
Decisions.
Dilemmas.
Forks in the road.
Crises of faith.

When I first opened up about being raped here on my blog, I didn't know what to expect. I definitely had fears and maybe a certain level of expectation concerning what people would think once they knew the truth but as far as the reception and reaction and response... No clue.

When I wrote the truth, I felt sick to my stomach. Tears streamed unbidden down my face and my hands shook so badly it's a wonder how I typed at all. When the moment of truth arrived, when the time came to hit that 'Publish' button, I came unraveled. Who would've thought that such a small, seemingly unextraordinary word could cause panic to rise up so forcefully it felt as though my heart would beat right out of my chest.

And yet, it did.

I can't tell you what went through my head once I did click on that button because I have no recollection of doing it. It's not a memory that's hazy around the edges because my emotions clouded it nor is it something I've successfully suppressed into submission.

It's not there.
Gone.
Perhaps it never was there.

The thing I do remember is what happened afterwards. I began to receive notifications of comments waiting to be moderated and emails so quickly it made my head spin. To say I felt overwhelmed would be an understatement and to say I was blown away would be borderline indecent.

I read each and every word as if they were morsels of food and I a starving woman. I couldn't read them fast enough and I clung to those messages like lifelines. They were my lifelines.

The amount of love and support confused me. I couldn't wrap my head around it all but there it was regardless.

Bold and clear and unyielding.

Then something else happened. My heart began to break. Not for myself and what happened to me, but for all of you.

It's an unfathomable thing, being raped, assaulted, degraded, and abused... It's even harder to open up about it.

In less than 48 hours I had received no less than 361 responses and 157 of those included secrets and stories of similar horrors. The girl who had been molested by her moms boyfriend while growing up. The woman whose own brother used to beat the hell out of her from the time she was 14 until she had the courage to move out at 18 and her parents who knew about it all but never did a single thing to stop him. The reader whose rapist had been so violent and damaging that she could never be physically intimate with her husband without being in extreme pain and risking tearing. The anonymous message I got telling me about being sodomized by her gym teacher for 3 years straight until she attempted to commit suicide in order to be admitted into a psychiatric hospital where she thought she'd be safe. When she told her therapist about it, she was called a liar and kicked out of the program.

These are just 4 stories and I got 157.

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN!

Sick yet?

I could have never in a million years guessed that there were SO many people out there like me. Victimized and broken and whose worlds had been torn apart. It brought entirely new meaning and understanding to my belief that its important to be kind because everyone is fighting a battle.

In the last 3 years I've had ample time to examine what happened to me and attempt to make sense of it all. I've had every single scenario and 'what if?' play in my mind a thousand times over. It'd be more than safe to say that my points of view and perception of just about everything have been and are changed or influenced because I was raped.

All too often I'm faced with decisions, real and hypothetical, that require me to make choices that don't have one expressly correct answer.

The most recent of these was while watching a TV show with Mr. Superman. In this particular scenario there was a sex trafficking ring being targeted by the police and a federal agency. The police were ready to bring the entire operation down. The federal agency however forbade it because this sex ring was connected to an Al Qaeda terrorist sleeper cell here in the US and they were not yet ready to infiltrate it and shut it down. There of course was a huge conflict. On the one hand there were the Feds who had the opportunity to apprehend terrorists and stop a possible terrorist attack but there was no guarantee of success. There was also the fact that in order to even have the chance to do this, the sex trafficking would have to be allowed to continue for as long as 12 weeks to a year. On the other hand there were the police who had all of the evidence to bring down the head of the sex trafficking operation and his son and free 19 girls who were beaten and raped dozens of times each day. The arrest and conviction of this man and his son was guaranteed unlike the possible capture of an elusive terrorist.

Mr. Superman paused the TV and asked, "What would you do? Would you bring down the boss and save the girls or would you knowingly allow that all to continue for the possibility of stopping a terrorist attack and maybe saving a lot more lives?" I didn't hesitate. "I'd save the girls." I made the statement that it may seem irrational because I was biased. "I know, that's why I asked." "But you're biased too", I said. "On both sides. You've got me and you've got your military mindset." "Yeah it's tough. I don't think I could make the decision. It's a tough call."

In true Hollywood TV style they were able to bring down the sex ring AND capture the terrorist but I've been thinking about it ever since. The thought of America coming under another terrorist attack is terrible. It is. In my mind though, and deep down in my heart, the thought of girls and women being brutalized and raped countless times EVERY SINGLE DAY makes me sick. It immediately brings tears to my eyes and I feel a tangible ache and pain in what I know is my soul.

Without a doubt...
Without a second of hesitation...
Without blinking...
Without taking pause...
Every single time...

I'd save the girls.

What would you do?

Because Sometimes Its All You Can Do

Comedy is defiance. It’s a snort of contempt in the face of fear and anxiety. And it’s the laughter that allows hope to creep back on the inhale.

~WILL DURST

Love Is Love Is Love

In my years of blogging and social media, I can't tell you how many posts I've read where the writers prefaced whatever they were going to say with something akin to, "I'll lose friends/readers/followers over this but I don't care, its what I know/believe/will stick with..." I've always been a person who lacks a filter. I'm honest, sometimes brutally so and when it comes to certain things, especially things I'm passionate about, I'm in your face without regret. I don't believe I've ever written something like that before but I'm about to. 

I can, without a single second of hesitation say that because of what I'm about to share, I will lose friends/readers/followers but I cannot say that I do not care. I do care because if you find yourself irritated or disappointed at what you read and you have any thoughts of no longer having an investment in this blog of mine (or my life) then please, PLEASE walk away. I encourage questions and discussions and different opinions and insights but I have absolutely no room in my life for people who I can't take at face value. If in your mind I am any less of a person at the end of this as I am right now but you insist on not sharing that with me, again I say, please, PLEASE walk away.

It's one thing to stand up for what you believe is right and a wholly other to discriminate and say you do so for God. I believe in God. I worship God. I love God. I know God wants me to strive to be like Him, loving all and judging none. 

Love is love is love. 

Opposing LGBT Groups and same sex marriage strikes me as belonging to the same level of hate and bigotry as that regarding biracial relationships and bi-religious marriages. Hitler's ideas regarding the purity of race were/are seen as hateful, spiteful, derogatory, disgusting, and any other terrible word you can think of. To him and his followers though, they were not only inspired but 1000% justified. During the time of slavery, black people were seen as nothing more than animals and property to be sold and used and dealt with as such. The people who owned slaves and truly believed there was/is a pecking order in race also felt 1000% justified. Any decent human being would agree that Hitler and racists are people who didn't/don't deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of us. 

So why, WHY is there still so much hate regarding certain people?

Hate exists and discrimination occurs because of fear. Fear of change and fear of new things and things that are different and difficult for those on the outside to understand. 

That's it. 

Fear. Not anything else. 

It has nothing to do with loyalty to or belief in God. God loves without condition and never stops. He never takes pause. I've always believed that. I'll always believe that. I've always known that but until a couple years ago I didn't truly grasp what that means to its fullest depths.

Can I tell you a secret? I used to be THAT person. The person who once voted against gay marriage. Why? I had certain ideas and beliefs drilled into my head that its what God wanted me to do. So I did. And guess what? I didn't feel like a better person. I didn't feel like I had done what God wanted me to do. I didn't get a surge of pride for doing my Christian duty to 'protect' what has become known as traditional marriage.       
A friend of mine who also happens to have a blog, wrote the BEST post/essay/article/declaration/anything I have ever read in my entire life, addressing this very thing. Traditional marriage, defending it, dissecting it, exploring it and Lovelies, its truly and perfectly flawless. She's amazing with all her facts and research and eloquent and graceful writing.  


How To Be A Sort-of-Traditional Mormon Defending Non-Traditional Marriage

Thanks Christine. 

I look back now and cringe at what I was always spouting and preaching. I really was just spewing rhetoric without a second thought. 

I was right! God only wanted boys and girls to love each other romantically! Love the sinner, hate the sin! 

Nothing could make me doubt and no one could change my mind.

I have no idea exactly when my beliefs evolved into what they are now. All I know is somewhere along the way I began to ask myself why it was so important that a man and a woman be the only people allowed to love each other freely and get married. Not just why it was important but why on Earth was it so vitally important to ME that "traditional marriage" be protected. 

I found out that it wasn't. Who was I to 'take a stand' and tell people who were no less of a child of God than I that they were wrong to love who they loved and that because they loved a little differently than me, they could not marry the love of their lives? The answer to that question is that I am no one. It's not my place nor will I ever claim that it is again.

I look at the people who surround me. My family, my friends, people I work with, people I interact with here in Blog and Social Media Land... and I am in awe. 

They are all different. 
Some are married.
Some are single.
Some are straight.
Some are gay.
Some are Christians.
Some are Atheists.
Some are boys.
Some are girls.
Some I adore.
Some I barely tolerate. 

Why am I in awe? Because I know that they belong to God just like me. They are human, just like me. They are capable of incredible things and making mistakes, just like me. They hurt and feel joy, just like me. They cry, laugh, think, live and love, just like me. 

I've thought many, many times what it would feel like to be told that I couldn't do something because of some other circumstance. 

You can't drive an SUV because you have freckles! You can't write a novel because you suck at math! You can't be married to Mr. Superman because he has blue eyes and yours are green!

Silly right?
Ridiculous and absurd?
No one would ever have the right to make any of this real!

Once upon a time women couldn't vote nor could blacks. Once upon a time it was legal for a husband to rape his wife because it was her duty to have sex with him. Once upon a time marriages were null and void if one of the parties had lost their virginity prior to being married. Once upon a time if you stepped on a crack you could fall and break your mothers back.

If it had been illegal for my Catholic Father-In-Law to marry my Mormon Mother-In-Law, I wouldn't have my incredible husband and therefore would be dead.  

Lovelies, everyone on this Earth is here because of a loving God. Each and every one of us means the same to Him and each and every one of us deserves everything this life has to offer. What do I think this entails? 

To be free to love and be loved by whomever our heart chooses because that's what it boils down to. Our hearts choose. When it comes to who our hearts choose, they beat out the rhythm God intended from the beginning. Wildly, freely, endlessly, and without discrimination or limits. 

Love is love is love.

To believe otherwise is no honor to God and attempting to justify what is nothing short of discriminatory by saying anything to the contrary makes not only a bigot but a liar also.

It's not easy being different. I am the only person within my immediate and also within the majority of my extended family that supports same sex marriage. It's tough but I know that its incomparable to what any gay person goes through. Being told you don't have control of your life and your dreams because they're 'non-traditional' is unfathomable to me.

The day that this world accepts that love is love is love is the day my heart will smile almost as big as God will be.

And That's All I've Got To Say About That

If Train A left the space station at 56 o'clock with 3 ducks, 85 bottles of mustard, and your grandma on board while traveling at the speed of 2 plucked chickens on steroids...

And Water-Treading Zebra #8 departed the basement at 77:17 PM with a sack of potatoes and 101 Dalmatians while moving at 1/2 the rate of 3 pickles and a leper...

Then purple kiwis hate Garfield and Cher because cats and hippos are identical except for every 5th generations monkeys uncle.

Confused? 

Me too. 

Doesn't make any sense?

I know. 

Baffled?

I bet. 

Wondering why anyone in their right mind would ever take any of this to heart and believe its true?

Right there with ya.

― Me

“Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results.” 

― Albert Einstein

Another Phone Call

Life.

It happens.

Until a few years ago, I never really knew what that meant.

I thought I knew. I thought I knew what it meant, what it felt like, what it was.

I didn't.
I do now though.
Boy, do I know.

And if there was ever any doubt, I'm constantly reminded. Most of the time, it's me who reminds me but yesterday it happened to come courtesy of a phone call from a certain Air Force Captain. The same Air Force Captain who has been on the other end of several phone calls that reminded me of it.

Life.

Three years and 14 days ago, it happened.

Pain.
Terror.
Humiliation.
Guilt.
Rape.
Life.

Life happened.

It's nowhere near anything I ever thought would be a part of my life but on October 4, 2009 it happened and it is now very much a part of my life.

About eight months after it happened, I received a phone call from the JAX (AF Legal) Captain notifying me that the civilian court in Texas had declined to prosecute. The District Attorney had taken my case before a Grand Jury and despite all of the evidence against him, they returned a No Bill on my attacker. The DA had pulled the Grand Jury and discovered that there were three men who could not and would not be swayed of their opinions. To them, my swollen and bruised neck, the petechiae in my eyes from being choked and suffocated, the bruises in the shape of his hands on my arms and legs, the scratches on my back from his dirty fingernails, the bump on the back of my head were all indicators that I liked rough sex. They had no problem saying that in their minds, this was a case of a young military wife who cheated on her husband and regretted it so she cried rape. There was no indictment issued and he was then free to continue on to the base listed on the orders that had been put on pause when the investigation had begun. He was free as a bird and when he got to Little Rock AFB and his file landed on the Commander's desk, I got this phone call telling me everything.

In a phone call, it happened. Life. Again. In that phone call I felt all of that pain and terror and humiliation again.

The beginning of September 2010 brought another phone call. This one was to tell me that the Commander wanted to go forward within the military justice system and convene an Article 32 hearing.

In a phone call, it happened. Life. Again. In that phone call I felt hope. Life isn't always bad and I was reminded of that.

A week later Mr. Superman got a phone call. He was being deployed in two weeks.

In a phone call, it happened. Life. Military life. Again. I felt what I imagine to be the absolutely normal yet no less frightening rush of emotions that any military significant other feels when they hear those words. THE words. I'm deploying. A split-second later however my heart jumped into my throat and my head started to spin because yet again, I was facing the possibility of facing my attacker alone. All of these thoughts, and feelings, and fears overwhelmed me in a matter of seconds.... all because of a phone call. Again.

By the end of September my husband was gone and I was living with family in Arizona. The day marking a year since my attack was full of writing depositions, answering questions from lawyers, and praying I got to talk to Mr. Superman who was 8,000 miles away.

October 19, 2010 was our three year wedding anniversary. It was also the day of the Article 32 hearing. I was berated with questions from all sides. The Prosecution walked me through every single second of that night. THE night. The night it happened.

Pain.
Terror.
Humiliation.
Guilt.
Rape.
Life.

I answered the same questions I'd been asked by so many people, so many times. Then I did it all over again  with the Defense team. I was slandered. Embarrassed, mortified, terrified, frustrated, exasperated, upset, angry.... these don't even begin to cover what I was feeling. I did it all a third time with the Judge Advocate. Each time I had to use clinical terms and explicit detail sparing nothing. Three times. A few hours later it happened. Life. I had gone to an Urgent Care because of pain I'd been dealing with. It was a miscarriage. Our third angel baby was gone. I was numb by this point except for a tiny spark of feeling in my heart when the realization hit that I was going to have to tell my husband.

And just like that it would happen again. Life. Shock and sadness would follow the news I gave my husband. He would be reminded that life happens. No matter what, it happens. There's no stopping it. Even though it was our anniversary and despite him being 8,000 miles away in an active and dangerous war zone, the words I'd say to him would reaffirm the bitter truth of life. All because of a phone call.

It didn't take long before my phone was ringing and the caller I.D. showed it was the AF Captain. I didn't answer it. I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to face another phone call that would jar me back to the reality of it all. Life. I was sitting in a nail salon with my sister and we both had our feet soaking in mini-jacuzzi tubs. I was going to be flying to Salt Lake City the next day to spend Thanksgiving with Mr. Superman's family and was looking forward to a week of escaping reality. A few minutes after the missed phone call my phone buzzed to let me know I had a voice mail from the Captain. I ignored it. I don't know how many hours it took or if it took a few days but when I finally braced myself and put the phone to my ear, I wasn't prepared for what I heard.

"Everything has been dismissed. The Judge Advocate didn't feel there was enough to take it any further. As far as his civilian record goes, there is none. His military file shows that while he attended Tech School he was questioned about a SARC case but nothing more. Your request for an extension of the Do Not Contact order or a civilian Restraining Order have both been denied since everything has been dismissed and its now as if none of the investigation or incident ever occurred."

It happened. With an ignored phone call and a voice mail I was reminded of the cruelty and unfairness of life. Regardless of what we do or don't do, life happens. It always happens.

The last couple of years have been full of ups and downs when it comes to how I've dealt with and coped with being raped and subsequently having my rapist exonerated twice. There have been days where I felt strong and brave and as if I could see him on the street and be okay. There have been days where I felt like curling up in a ball and crying until my eyes were swollen and my head ached. I've lost count of how many days I have done just that.

Yesterday I was at work when it happened. Life. I was surrounded by a few coworkers and nine 3 year-olds singing fun songs when my phone began to buzz. Normally, I don't have my phone in my pocket while at work but we had just returned from a field trip and I had taken it with me to take pictures of all the kids. I took it out of my pocket to hit ignore but my heart stopped when I saw the phone number. When I got my iPhone, I never transferred numbers over so even though it didn't have the AF Captain's name on the caller I.D. I knew it was him. I'll always know who it is when a 501 area code is flashing on my phone screen. I jumped up and mumbled that I had to take the phone call. I ducked into a small room/closet at the back of our classroom and with shaking hands answered my phone.

In that instant it happened. Life. I heard the familiar voice of the Captain and could tell what he was going to say wasn't going to be good news. About ten minutes later I hung up the phone while furiously wiping my eyes and hoping none of the kids would see me crying. I stepped out and ran to the bathroom where I kept telling myself that no matter what, I had to pull it together and push it all aside. Life.

Here I am 3 years later and because of a phone call I got yesterday I feel just as raw and bruised and angry and terrified and embarrassed as I was the night I was raped.

Raping me wasn't enough.

Choking and suffocating me until blood vessels burst in my eyes and I nearly passed out wasn't enough.

Raping me again wasn't enough.

Slamming my head into a concrete wall wasn't enough.

Bruising, restraining, and hitting me weren't enough.

Slandering and humiliating me weren't enough.

Making sure I felt like I wasn't worth anything wasn't enough.

Getting to walk away free, twice, with no consequences and as if he didn't nearly kill me wasn't enough.

This person who took something away from me with no repercussions now has FIVE different attorneys assembling against me and looking for me so they can serve me with papers to let me know he is now suing me for defamation.

The Captain was calling me to let me know. Even though he was legally not supposed to contact me again after everything was dismissed, he did. And just like that, with a phone call this Air Force Captain reminded me that it happens.

Life.

No matter how many times we have been knocked down or disappointed, it happens. In spite of how we choose to deal with the past, it happens. Regardless of how good we are doing in our lives and how happy we are feeling, it happens. There is never any slowing it down or stopping it in its tracks.

Life.

It always happens.