Wednesday, December 21, 2016
Wow. Just wow.
Lots of good things. Lots of very sad things. Lots of stupid things. Lots of stressful things. Is it me? Or was 2016 the year of extremes?
I know every year has its good, bad and ugly. I feel like this year I would get bombarded with great opportunities that I took advantage of. The problem is, all the great would happen all at once so it was almost a burden.
I remember discussing with a friend that too much is going on at once. All good, but not anytime to sit back and take it in. She also agreed that life was giving her blessings but making her too busy to enjoy it.
Lost some people way before their time. Ended a lifelong friendship. We elected an orange, reality star into the White House! Wtf. Saw the worst in humanity. Fear for the future. Can't shake that off.
Oh well. Here's to 2017.
Sunday, December 11, 2016
So it's been a while.I don't know where to start because I didn't actually end it previously. So much has transpired that I either avoided dealing with it or sharing. Some was too painful or secretive. So without going back to see what I wrote about before, I'll start with what's in my head.
Michael will celebrate 1 yr clean on Wednesday. After 3 attempts at rehabs and sober living houses, living on the streets, burning bridges , hurting everyone in his path, he has made it thru. For one year.
The kid has lost so much. A couple days ago, we buried his best friend. His brother. Sean never got clean. He died alone on SEPTAs El platform with no dignity. I knew this kid. Well. He stayed with us often growing up. He was a sweet, gentle kid. Michael loved him more than family. I saw him in his open casket. I'll never shake it. The pain of his family and friends knowing they could do nothing but sit by and wait for Sean to live or die. I've been there. I still suffer from those feelings. Sean died. Michael is here. Heroine is bigger than all of us. It's only getting bigger. It's got our kids. It came as a harmless high from a stupid pill. Now our babies are dying alone on a cold El platform. To outsiders? They get what they deserve. Fucking worthless junkies.
I worry that the pain is too much for Michael. He's buried a lot of friends over the past few years. More than I ever did. Sean seems too much to handle. Even tho they couldn't be side by side the last year due to Michael being clean, I learned that they spoke regularly. For hours at a time. That love was pure. Heroine couldn't rob them of that. It's a very sad time.
Life after deployment...
Well so many things have taken place. I got married right before I left for the Middle Easy. Got divorced as soon as I got home. That's all I'm going to say about that.
I bought an "investment" property in Philly which I am lovingly referring to as my Money Pit Retirement Plan.
17 days after I bought this place I got called to Active Duty. Not temporary. It's permanent. I now live in a DC suburb paying a mortgage and rent. Fingers crossed my Philly spot gets a tenant soon.
Dating has been a trip. I think I can no longer care if a dude is in my life or not. I'm pretty sure that's a sad thing. Who knows? I've seen some shit in this lifetime that makes something like a love life seem so trivial. I am way too fucked up. Way more than before and I have always been fucked up. I am different in many ways. I don't sweat the small stuff. Some days I'm so fucking grateful and then there's days like this where all I can think about is Sean, his family, Michael's mental state, and me being in MD. Where would a man fit in there? I wish my ex wasn't such a complete asshole. His drunk has gotten to a point where his anger is always on the surface. I am the brunt of that anger. I never knew when and what would set it off. There was never an apology. To this day he believes I deserved all of it. I didn't. Nobody deserves it. We are cut from the same cloth. When it was good? It was perfect. When it was bad, it was catastrophic. The last 3 years it was rarely good. I accepted it. I was dealing with a junkie kid. I would take an hour of good times to escape a tormented existence. I took a lot of abuse because I was already so low. Those scars are up front and in your face. He was the first person I contacted about Sean. He knew him too. He has been checking on Michael. Checking on me. Friends are stepping up in my absence. Michael is being so bombarded with support, he has no time to respond to everyone with 1 full time job, full time student, and a part time gig in between there.
My birthday is in 2 days. I have no plan. No celebration. It will most likely go unnoticed except for the FB shout outs. I will be working a high profile case in Crystal City where nobody knows me. I will quietly turn 44. Take the metro back to my posh crib and put myself to bed. I will probably cry. Not for something as silly as growing older, but for all the things that have taken place in these 44 years.
I am feeling more alone than normal lately. Even tho I have love and support. No one can relate to me. My shit is too heavy. It's crazy that just 2 weeks ago I was vocalizing about how lucky I/we are. That Xmas time we will take care of those in need because we need nothing. Now I need something. I just wish I knew what it was.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
I thought that was the most profound statement I ever heard. Of all places to hear it, one of my trashy reality shows. She was talking about how she finally slept when her husband lost his battle with cancer. Falling asleep during the final stages couldn't happen. You didn't want to miss anything. I feel like that is my life.
We are all dying. Some just faster than others. Some, slow and painful. Some are killing themselves chasing a heaven. Some of us stand by and hope they never catch it. We don't fall asleep either. We don't ever rest. Just wait for the end and then what? Then we sleep? For how long? What happens when we wake up? What then? What will happen to those of us who waited to sleep? What if we don't want to ever wake up? Who stays awake waiting for us to die? What will they do after they finally get sleep? Is this life? Is this what it's supposed to be? Waiting to sleep. Dealing with being awake. Checking whatever blocks you need to , to be a productive citizen and not look like you're a mess? Is this everyone? Or just the severely broken-hearted?
I wear my pain on my face after a while. I can fake "normal" for weeks and even months, but then comes the day when it just won't be ignored. Strangers on the street ask you if you're ok. Coworkers tell you "you look a mess". A kind woman read my rank and name "staff sergeant Kelly, do you need to talk"? I smiled and said "it's been a bad day. We've all been there. I'm not special". Sometimes I believe everybody feels this. But logically I know, they don't. They couldn't. A lifetime of hurt has prepared me for this devestation. You can't go from rainbows and unicorns to this. You have to build up to this. Calloused heart from years of abuse and disappointment kept me from rolling over and dying. I guess that's a positive? How sick is that?
I'm stuck here. This hurt does not serve me. I have nowhere to go. I can't cry. I can't let anyone in. Can't tell them my story. If I let myself shed one tear, I will drop to my knees and it will take a fleet of Angels to pick me up. And there's no such thing as Angels. If there were? I'd be so pissed at them for not saving us earlier. No prayers will be heard. No bargaining will me made. No begging will be acknowledged. No selling my soul because no one is buying. What steps do we take? I wish there was some kind of manual... "Things to Do to Get Back to Normal". What the fuck is "normal" anyway? If anyone knows, I would like a down and dirty brief. The Who, what, why, when & hows.
Running to the Middle Easy hasn't made my reality disappear. Today it caught me and it will take my sleep.
Saturday, July 4, 2015
I'm wasting time in the coffe shop until my scheduled facial. Life is tough. I almost like it here. It's easy. I know what is expected of me and my time is my own. I just joined a running group. Yoga starts Tuesday. Ran a 10K yesterday. Still working these Internet issues. There has to be a way for me to watch cable. The bandwidth sucks and it never stops "loading". The struggle is real.
Time is racing by. I just thought to myself... Only 8 1/2 more months to accomplish everything I want to do. I imagine most people would fell like ... Ugh 8 1/2 more months until home. I have nothing to get home to. After what I've been through, this is a much needed respite. The everyday reality is not here. My responsibilities are light. How easy would life be if this was my normal? I can isolate here and no one will notice. I can work on me without someone having a problem with it. Other than my work hours, my day is mine. No drinking so everyday is clear. I don't really like the food, so my weight is in check. I get more comfortable with my surroundings as the hours go by. Finding out just what is possible to do here and the options are so many, it's overwhelming.
I will find my clique. Just more connections across the globe. But, I am enjoying my aloneness. I am comfortable in it. I am finding the days of my social butterfly-ness may be a thing of the past. I have head phones in my ears when nothing is playing. Like right now. I am building a wall not even giving a chance for small talk with strangers.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Here I am. Kuwait. Not AFG. My bitch of a boss thought it best to change MY plan. What I signed up for because he is an incompetent boob and was afraid people would find out. So screw over the SSG and her plans for his benefit. Typical. Less money, less bragging rights. What does he care? So, here less than a week and ISIS strikes a Mosque about an hour away. This is not considered a combat zone. Kuwait is a peace mission. Iraq getting crazy as we expand our footprint, things are about to change. I'm not scared. Ever. Just want the benefits of being in a combat zone, not this summer camp for pussies. Proof by me writing this while waiting for a mani/pedi.
I have secured an area in the "real army's" JAG cell away from my idiot boss and the rest of the crew. The education and connections I get there will be invaluable. Everyone is cool, just not an ounce of goof. I prefer to surround myself with the immature. I have a few of those in my unit, but I am nowhere near them now. I am easily being forgotten. Which is good and bad. I'm not made to do bullshit details because they forgot me, but I'm also not included in cool stuff because I'm forgotten. Oh well. 2 tears in a bucket. Fuck it.
There is a shit ton of stuff to do around here. Trying to figure it out and make a plan. I can sign out a bike tomorrow and that's freedom. I can't rely on other people wanting to do what I want. I walk to the beat of my own drummer. I may take boxing lessons, guitar, woodworking, go to college, find God, cross fit, or a public speaking class. I know I will NOT Zumba. I'm not going to waste away here. I will take advantage of everything. It's hella hot and no option of booze, but other than that? It's summer camp. There's flag football, rugby, soccer, basketball, craft nights, bingo, 1st run movies all free. Poker tournaments, trips, there's even a pool. Crazy right? This is not a deployment. I was looking forward to sacrifice in AFG. I'm still going. Not for the full 9 months, but I'll be bouncing to Iraqand AFG periodically. I'll see how the badass live and tell them I was supposed to be one of them. But instead, now I have a biweekly facial scheduled and yoga classes to take. Ugh. Real American hero.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Stuck in on a Saturday. Freezing and snowing makes it undersirable to venture out, I made it to yoga this morning. Was supposed to run a couple miles and run errands and I didn't. I'm avoiding something I HAVE to do that is super unpleasant. Too unpleasant to address at this time. Opened a bottle of wine and I guess this will be how I spend my day. The clock is ticking on my deployment. It will be here before I know it and no matter how prepared I am, I'll not be prepared at all. I am looking forward to only worrying about surviving. Keeping my head down. Cut off from my norm. AF is a mental vaca for me. Life here will go on. My life will stand still. When I get back, I won't know where to turn. I will just have to walk off into the sun. I just need to heal and I'm not getting that opportunity here. I am such a different animal now. Need to learn who I will be. How to adjust to a life that is completely foreign to the life I've always known. Maybe I won't make it back. I am so cool with that possibility too. No more worries. No more anything except a legacy as a war hero. I'll take it. People will only say nice things after I'm gone. People who wouldn't lift a finger to show a resemblance of caring. People who I didn't like, will speak of all the good times we've had. Every asshole who abused me or stabbed me in the back will feel redemption by attending my final good byes. Fuck everybody. That should be on my tombstone. Except I've already made my arrangements. No tombstone. No anything. Maybe a funeral program with my middle finger. Appropriate. I love a handful of people. So much my heart could burst. There will be no doubt in their mind that I loved them. I know they loved me too. There will be no need to prove anything and those few will see right through any bullshit.
Crazy, I'm speaking as if I won't come back? Oh well. One can hope.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
When your ex does a total douchebag thing. On Facebook. Disrespecting you. Making him look like a complete dick. In front of all your friends. So glad I took the risk of being with a someone I trusted. Lesson learned. There is no such thing as loyalty. Fuck this.