Life Sucks

Really, it does. I know this sounds trite, and it is, but I really have no better way to explain it than that. Because this summer has seen the entire life my husband and I built for us and our son crumble until it's become just a vague shadow of what it used to be.

Father's Day weekend was a weekend full of hope and love for us. We were working in the yard, doing some spring cleaning and preparing for some celebration of family and love. Our house was soon to be ours and there was talk of a promotion for him at work. I just finished my first semester back at school to finish my bachelor's degree I abandoned 15 years ago and things were headed in the right direction for us. Then he decided to run to to the store.

I got the call before I even knew he was gone. "Baby, I wrecked the car." I thought he was joking. It wasn't his car, he had a customer's car home to try to figure out what was wrong with it and that's what he was driving for the weekend. I ran out of the house, leaving our son with my sister and drove to the corner of our street. There he was, in the car, wrapped around a light pole. I waited while the police came and the fire trucks pulled up. I watched as they used the jaws of life to pry him out. I saw him laid out on a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance and then followed him to the hospital.

It took over a week to start to get answers about what was wrong with him. Finally, the collapsed lung and 9 broken ribs were disclosed, but not the kidney failure and heart complications. Twenty two long days I fought to get answers and bring my partner home to reunite our family. Twenty two days, as it turned out, was all it took for everything else to fall apart.

The job decided that they couldn't keep him. Well, with no job, the bank decided we couldn't keep our mortgage either. The life we were working so hard to build began to crumble, but that was just the beginning. When he got home from the hospital, he wasn't the same person either. Guilt, pain, frustration, and disappointment began to eat at us. Both of us. Our bond began to wear. As the process of losing our home began in earnest our focus began to skew in different directions. Our priorities began to take different paths.

Three months later and I don't know how we'll repair the damage that's been done. His body is healing, but our hearts are more deeply damaged than I think we allowed ourselves to admit. Two weeks left until we have to leave this house we entered so full of hope. We're moving into a disappointment that we have to turn into salvation. We have to rebuild from nothing again, but this time we're building on top of a ruined foundation instead of a strong base of true love. We have to build up from resentment and judgement, distrust and miscommunication to try to recreate the unit we used to take for granted. Where we were once a team we are now two individuals trying to find a common goal to try to unite us again. Maybe we can find it somewhere in this wreckage.

Rumpelstiltskin Redux

           Once upon a time, not very long ago and not very far away, there lived a young girl and her father. They did not have much, but were comfortable. They owned a bakery in the not-so-nice part of town that was actually the nice part of town when they first built it there. They lived in the apartment above the shop, so their home always smelled of fresh baked bread and pastries. They lived a simple life, and loved each other very much, so were content.

            It had not always been so, however. They had been wealthy and she had gone to the best schools with the best families. The girl’s mother had died 5 years ago and their fortunes began to plummet. The stock market crashed and many people lost fortunes. Small businesses such as theirs could no longer price their wares competitively with the supermarket chains. Their mini-empire of 8 independent shops closed one by one, until they had one lonely store left. Her father was forced to sell their big house and fancy cars and move into the apartment they used to rent out for a fair price to those less blessed then they had been. Beth (for that was her name) could no longer afford to go to her fine school and graduated from the local public high school with 238 other kids that no one took any particular notice of. College was no longer an option for her, since, although she was clever, she did not do well in school. She began to work with her father in the bakery every day and they managed to get by admirably.

            Now, Beth had never done well in school, but she loved to read. Perhaps that was her downfall, as she was often lost in a dream world and did not take much notice of the world around her. She didn’t have many friends, so spent her spare time writing fantasy stories and knitting beautiful treasures that she gave away to local churches and shelters to use or raffle off for fundraising.

            One day, while traveling through town, their state’s Governor stopped by for some fresh bread on his way back to his hotel. Upon entering, he realized that Beth’s dad was his old neighbor.

            “How’ve you been doing? You moved out so suddenly, no one knew where you went to,”

            “Well, unfortunately, we’ve fallen on some difficult times, but Beth and I manage to make the best of it.”

            “Oh, yeah, Beth! I forgot about her, she used to go out with my son, didn’t she? He’s at NYU now, and is looking at Master’s programs in California. Where does Beth go to school?”

            “Actually, she’s stayed home to help me out, we run the bakery together.”

            “Really? That’s too bad, she was always a cute girl.”

            “She helps me quite a bit, I’m lucky to have her. She keeps busy writing her stories and knitting. She’s very sweet and has golden talents.”

            “I’d better get back, we’re on the campaign trail and I’m on a schedule. They’re talking about nominations for President, so I’m busy, busy, all the time. Great to see you again!”

            The Governor left and Beth and her father went about their business, forgetting all about his visit until several months later when they received a phone call from his aide.

            “Governor Jones asked me to call and request that Beth come to the capital, he would like to see her golden knitting. Please come with all the materials needed to produce some samples for the Governor and his family.”

            Beth began stammering into the phone, “but, um, ma’am…”

            The aide took no notice, “Be there next week, the Governor will be back from Washington and he will have some free time to visit with you.”

            She hung up and Beth stood there stunned. She told her father what the aide had said and both of them stared at each other for a long time, not sure what to make of the call. Finally, Beth found her voice.

            “Dad, I can’t knit gold. Who’s ever even heard of something like that?”

            “I’m not sure dear. Unfortunately, Governor Jones was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, we’ll just have to go visit with him and explain there’s been a misunderstanding.”

            A few days later, Beth packed a few things and loaded their only car for the drive to the capital. Her father had to stay behind to run the bakery, because they couldn’t afford to close it while they were out of town. She hugged him goodbye and promised to call when she got there.

            She drove the several hours to the state capital and pulled up in front of the Governor’s mansion. A maid answered the door, and after a brief security check, Beth was led into a spare room with a bed, dresser, comfy chair, and yards and yards of yarn. The maid couldn’t answer any of Beth’s questions, but promised to send someone in who could. A few minutes later, Governor Jones’ aide came in.

            “Excuse me, but what is all this yarn doing in here?” Beth asked her.

            “The Governor will return from Washington tomorrow morning and would like a golden blanket made out of it for him to take on the campaign trail. He’s announcing his bid to run for President and thinks it might give him a conversation piece when speaking with reporters.”

            “But, I can’t knit yarn into gold, that’s impossible,” Beth protested.

            “Well, then the Governor will have to sue you and your father for misrepresentation and seize your assets.”

            “We never misrepresented anything, the Governor misunderstood something my father said, is all. If I could just speak with him-“

            The aide cut her off, “I suggest you figure out how to start doing what the Governor wants or prepare for the consequences. He’s a very powerful man and does not take well to being deceived.”

            With that, she strode from the room and Beth was left alone. She sat on the bed, wishing she had a cell phone so she could call her father. With no way out, she began to cry.

            Soon, she heard a noise in her room. She knew the door hadn’t been opened, so she looked up, startled. There, in the center of the room stood a small, well-dressed man. There was something odd about him, but Beth couldn’t quite place it.

She looked at him and then asked, “Where did you come from?”

            “Why are you crying?”

            “Because the Governor got some sort of insane idea that when I knit, the yarn becomes gold and it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard of! And, now he wants me to make him a gold blanket to take on the campaign trail with him or he’ll sue my father and I for everything we own.”

            “I could do it for you, for a price.”

            “What do you mean? You know how to turn yarn to gold?”

            “I do, and would be willing to help you out.”

            “I don’t have much, what do you want?”

            “Your car.”

            “Done!” Beth cried. “What do we need to get started?”

            “Knit the blanket today and I will be back at midnight to turn it to gold.”

            Beth worked all day and into the night, but finally finished a beautiful blanket. The small man returned at midnight as promised and bid her sleep. Once asleep, she didn’t awaken until the next morning when the aide knocked. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was her blanket, shining and beautiful, with different shades and types of gold replacing the pattern of yarn she had woven into it. She lifted it, and it was light and soft, just as yarn would be, but there was no sign of the little man anywhere. She handed the blanket to the aide and was soon visited by the Governor.

            “Perfect, this is exactly what I wanted! Now, I need a sweater for my wife to match. She’ll be making appearances on my behalf and will need to look fabulous.”

            “Sir-“ Beth protested, “I think you misunderstand-“

            “Nonsense! I’ll have more yarn delivered immediately!” With that, he stormed from the room.

            Beth waited, and soon the aide came back with twice as much yarn and a hot meal as well. She refused to speak or answer any questions, so Beth sat down and ate.  She began to lay out the yarn again, crying, when she heard a voice.

            It was the little man. “Why are you crying?”

            “You did such a wonderful job that now the Governor wants a sweater for his wife. I don’t know what to do.”

            “Begin to knit it, and I will be back at midnight to work my magic if you will pay my price.”

            “What is your price?

            “That diamond on your finger.”

            “That belonged to my mother.” She thought for a minute, and then agreed. She began working and soon it was midnight. The strange man returned and again bid her go to sleep. She woke up in the morning just as the day before. The sweater was beautiful and had intricate gold work throughout, so she handed it to the aide and prepared to be sent home.

            Instead, the Governor came in, with a new demand. “I need one for my dog, to match my wife. If you get it finished, I’ll let you marry my son, James. He’s considered quite the catch around campus.”

            Beth sighed, and waited for the next batch of yarn to come up. When it was finally delivered, she called softly, “Little man, are you there?”

            He appeared a short time later, “Now what would you like?”

            “I have to make one for the dog, too. Can you help me again?”

            “I will help you one last time, but my price is steep. If you can pay, I will help.”

            Beth was nervous, but answered, “What is your price?”

            “I want your first born child.”

            “I couldn’t!” She was horrified. “I’ll just have to tell the Governor that I can’t do it anymore.”

            “And then what, young lady? Admit you lied and deceived him the last two times?”

            Beth burst into tears, “You’re right, I have no choice. OK, I agree. I’ll see you at midnight.”

            All happened as before, and the next morning Beth was introduced to James. They remembered their lost love, and when he graduated from NYU that spring, he proposed to her.

            Several years passed, the Governor did become President, and James and Beth got married. Soon she was pregnant, and had a little boy. Three days after she came home from the hospital, while she was alone in the nursery with her baby, the little man appeared.

            “We had a deal, young lady, and I would like your son.”

            “No, please,” Beth began to sob. “I couldn’t. He’s my baby!”

            “You made a deal with me, I held up my end of the bargain, now it is time for you to pay up!”

            “But, he’s my son. How could you take him from me?”

            The man looked her squarely in the eye. “How could you make such a deal? You never attempted to negotiate or see if we could change the terms. You can not blame me for your inability to understand the consequences of your actions. You made an agreement, now honor it, or I will tell the President how you deceived him and shortchanged me.”

            “But, what will I tell my husband?”

            “That is not my concern. Hand over the child, he will be well-cared for and will want for nothing, I assure you.”

            “How can I know? What do you plan to do with him?”

            “My wife and I are both endowed with magical gifts, as you have witnessed, but are unable to have children. All she wants in this world is to share her love with a child, and I intend to make her happy. Your son will fill a need she has had for years, and now I am finally able to give her the one thing I have been unable to. Honor your bargain, Beth, and give me the boy, you will have more children and this is my last hope.”

            Beth sobbed and kissed her baby one last time, then handed him over.

            “You will love and care for him?”

            “As if he were my own flesh and blood. I will send you pictures and updates from time to time, but never interfere or tell him who you are. I can ruin your life and that of your family in the blink of an eye, but I am not heartless. I am Christopher Rumpelstiltskin, remember my name and consider your debt paid.”

            And, with that, he and the child were gone.

So, I'm a nerd

And I'm proud of it. It took me almost 30 years to embrace that about myself and another several to actually become proud of it. I like to read fantasy novels, love singing Broadway show tunes, watch science fiction movies...the list goes on. The only "nerdy" thing I think I don't do is play video games and that's simply because hand/eye coordination does not exist in my world.

I'm noticing that my nerd genes have managed to pass on to the next generation. (I'm so sorry, honey!) Easter is coming soon, and so, to celebrate, I have been indulging in my own personal "Lent" and wearing out my CD of Jesus Christ Superstar. I didn't realize how much I was listening/singing to it until I was doing dishes the other night and my son (who likes to play in the kitchen while I'm in there) was sitting on the floor, crashing trucks into each other, singing one of the songs! Of course it was a totally inappropriate song for a 3 year old to be singing, but my heart swelled with pride! And then again today, not learning my lesson from the other day, we're listening to the same CD again and he tells me, "Mommy, this song is in the movie I just watched at my Aunt's house." So, nerdity is apparently genetic...thanks, sis!

I put this out there not to revel in my weirdness, but because it is who I am. I am willing to embrace a part of myself that I hid away and tried to deny for many years out of shame and insecurity. Once, several years ago, one of my best friends told me that she and our other circle of friends thought I was the one in our group with the strongest sense of self, the least insecure. I laughed at her, but didn't explain why-that I hid all the parts I didn't deem "suitable" from everyone I knew at the time. I was so desperate to be accepted that I didn't think I would be "worthy" if I showed my true self. Fortunately, these were good friends, and when I finally decided to stop hiding, still loved me and accepted me for the person I really am.

I find myself from time to time, slipping back into that person I was: insecure, unsure, afraid. It's a habit, like biting your nails or playing with your hair. I don't even notice it at first, but then, I do. I have to consciously pull myself back into the life I've built for myself and move forward as the confident, beautiful, strong, nerd that I can truly be! It's not always easy, and sometimes I cringe as some sort of nerd-ness comes out of my mouth, but then I push my glasses back up my nose and rip off my Clark Kent disguise and remember who I really am.

And so it goes...

I'm officially back in the groove. Spring break is over and it's back to class with all it entails. Homework, lectures, papers, and so on. It's the second half of the semester and apparently the first half was just for pretend, because all of my professors seem to think that we haven't been doing much yet!

I don't know if it's because I'm older now, if I just have more responsibilities, or a combination of the two, but I really don't know how I did it the first time around! Back then I took a full load of classes, and worked two jobs, albeit part time for each. Now I work part time (only one job, though), take a full load of classes, and raise one child. My house needs cleaning, the dishwasher needs to be emptied, laundry is piling up,I have about 900 hours of homework, and the bathrooms are quickly becoming a hazmat site. Yet, here I sit, on the computer, eating my guilt for dinner and trying to unwind.

It's a delicate balancing act and in one week I've forgotten how to keep all my balls in the air. I know that sounds kind of disturbing, but I really just mean it as a juggling metaphor... So, instead, I've opted to write and watch Conan. There's nothing quite like procrastination to really make your guilt multiply by the dozens.

Speaking of guilt, have I mentioned that I'm Catholic yet? No one quite gets guilt the same way as us Catholics do, except maybe for Jewish mothers. I mean that simply there is no way for me to avoid guilt completely, so I do the best I can to minimize it. Usually this involves expectations I assume that others have for me and trying to live up to them before they realize they are supposed to be expecting something. Unfortunately, this usually falls onto my husband's shoulders. He often suffers for my resentment of being expected to do something he never really cared if I did or not. He's pretty good about letting me know what he would like to get accomplished but I constantly assume (you know what they say about that-and I am an ass!) that there are things I'm not doing he would like handled.

I must be getting tired, I'm starting to ramble. I'm going to wrap this up and promise to try to stay more on point in the future. Stick with me, I'll get the hang of this sooner or later!

Beginnings...

Everyone has a blog, so why not me? I'm not usually the type to jump on a bandwagon or get something just because everyone else has it. I don't have an iphone, or an ipad. I got a smartphone so I could put games on it for my son, I really only know how to text and call from it-I can't even use it to get online (well, except for Facebook, I can't go without my mulitple times daily Facebook fix)!

But, a blog, really? I like to think of myself as a writer, although the last thing I wrote that I can remember finishing was in high school. I like to start things, but never get very far. Actually, that applies to a lot of things in my life. I'm really good at starting things. I get very excited and put all of my energy into whatever it is: scrapbooking, making jewelry, knitting, crocheting, stamp collecting... OK, I've never tried stamp collecting, but I'm sure that I'd be very excited by it for at least a week or so. My point is, I think this is a natural progression for me and I hope that I can actually follow through on it. I'm trying to change that about myself. I actually went back to school this semester after almost (but not quite!) 15 years. It's time to finish those things I start.

I've actually started a few of these over the years. (See? I told you!) They've sputtered out after a couple of posts. I think I try too hard. I put way too much pressure onto them and consequently, myself. They need to be the best, most well-written, flawless, beautiful pieces of blog-etry that have ever been published. No wonder they never live up to my standards. I am far from flawless. I don't expect perfection from those around me, but I do for myself, and, therein lies the rub.

So, here we go again! I'm on a wave-tossed ship trying to navigate a stormy sea, and hopefully can put it in perspective and get a little laugh out of it by sharing it here. It's not always pretty and I'm not 100% sure where I'll end up, but the ride is definitely worth it and there's always room for a few extra passengers.

"If that were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let her fade away into peace..." from Dracula