Everything That Glitters Is NOT Gold

I sold my jeep yesterday. Crap. I loved that jeep. I know. I know. "You needed a new car." "You can't drive the jeep anymore." "You've been wanting a new ride for a while now." Blah. Blah. Blah.

I sold my jeep and then cried like a freaking baby. You know the kind of bawling that leaves snot rolling and mascara dripping. I couldn't be consoled and my racking sobs WOULD NOT END.

Today the cheery, hopeful and awe inspiring blog does NOT exist. You get the raw, angry, not-so-nice side of me that NOBODY likes or even pretends to tolerate. Tough. I'm angry. I'm pissed. I'm sad. I'm scared. I'm sick. And I'm so very tired.

I have stated over and over and over again. I don't like what is in my future. Can you hear my ragged, breathless scream? I DON'T LIKE WHAT IS IN MY FUTURE. It's scary. It's sad. It's not AT ALL what I had planned. It sucks in general. The suck part is absolute, positive, and UNEQUIVOCAL. It's beyond words, beyond description and beyond cheerfulness. It just sucks. That's all.

I didn't want to sell my jeep. I don't want to sell my house. I don't want to use a walker. I don't want to be bound to a wheelchair. I don't want to spit and slur and choke. In fact, I'm TERRIFIED of choking. I despise asking for help. I don't want to be lifted by my butt into the truck. I don't want to fall down EVER again. I don't want to need help in order to simply walk and lift and carry.

I want to sing and dance and run and twirl and hike and swim. I want to talk without exhaustion. I want to yell or laugh or cry without spittle dripping down my chin. I want to work in my yard unassisted. I want to clean my house quickly. I want to hop down my stairs and dash outside. I want to hold my grand babies hands and walk with them without seeing their worry that I'm going to fall. I want to design on the computer until I'm old and frail without my stupid hands stuttering over the keys and inevitably cramping up. I want to jump on the motorcycle without my legs cramping and aching until I can't stand riding even one more second. In fact, I want my own dang motorcycle. I want the feel the wind in my face and let the sun shine on my shoulders. I want to wear heels with my dresses and feel sexy again. I want to wear my make up like I used to.

I don't want to swear every time I stand up to get a drink or pee or clean. I don't want to shake so badly that contact lenses are out of the question. I don't want to give up my independence and freedom. I don't want to lose my license and NEVER drive again.

I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT I NEED TO BUCK UP. I know that others are a part of the ugly brunt of my weakness. People have to be aware ALWAYS to walk with me, dish my plate for me, carry my water to the table, lift me, carry me, watch me, help me, babysit me, etc. And etc. AND etc.

However, it's ME that can't. It's ME that chokes. It's ME that slurs. It's ME that can't write. It's ME that cramps. It's ME that falls. It's ME that aches. It's ME that has to "find the bright side" of EVERYTHING. It's ME that has to find the humor in order to make things easier for those around me because they just don't know how to deal with all this crap.

I see the "looks" and I hear the comments from those that have no idea what is going on. I deal with the accusations that I blow off and make light of. I'm judged. I'm angry that people are so shallow and self-righteous.

I feel like a freight train is bearing down on me and there is absolutely NO WAY to stop the impact. It's going to hit and there isn't a dang thing I can do about it.

Today I'll be angry. Who knows? Maybe I'll be angry tomorrow. However, I will try over and over to be better. For the most part, I know that I will laugh and smile and enjoy the simple things in life. I will face the obstacles placed before me with as much grace as I can muster.

As Dan Seals serenaded in his same-named song:

And that's okay.

There's Good in Goodbye

September 9th found me loading up in my car and driving to White Salmon, Washington to participate in a memorial for my dad.

This was the first time I would ever go to Washington and my dad wouldn't be there. I didn't want to go. I had a stomach ache for days. I had no energy. I cried a ton. I have been sad and depressed and I missed my dad. Terribly.

Mark got off work early and after rushing around to complete my task sheet, we loaded up the suitcases and road food and headed out. By the way, I do NOTHING fast anymore. I walk slow. I talk slow. I move slow. I AM SLOW. So quickly for me is not necessarily very fast. However, progress was made and eventually we got out of here and directed our car towards the adventure. We ended up staying in a motel on Friday night in Boise, Idaho and left Saturday morning to complete the journeys final leg.

We wound around the Columbia River and climbed passes to get over the mountains. The scenery was green and beautiful and peaceful. I watched fishing boats and tug boats. I smelled the majestic pines. I watched for deer and goats and elk and birds. And before I knew it, I arrived in White Salmon and was able to wrap my arms around mom and cry. Hard.

I gazed at dad's chair. Empty. I kept waiting to hear "hello kid". The room remained quiet.

Arlene had worked super hard to get the house clean and the property in tip-top shape for the barbecue. The kids had gathered pictures and Cheryl made a I-loved-it-so-much movie of dad's life.

I think that's when it all hit me. I watched the pictures flash across the screen and I had absolutely no fond memories to attach with the pictures. No smells to go with the campfires. No sounds of laughter and singing with the guitar playing.

I thought I would be even more sad. Guess what? I wasn't.

Many many MANY people came to the barbecue. Food was abundant. The sun warmed our shoulders. Laughter filled the air. I clung to the stories of dad and thought how lucky am I to have found this family?

I really really REALLY like my siblings. I adore my nieces and nephews. My cousins are amazing and my aunts and uncles are the coolest people in the history of EVER.

I spend much of my time at these gatherings trying to remember "who is that? or asking "am I related to him?" or pretending that I know who I am talking to but in actuality I have NO IDEA. So I fake it, nod my head, smile and hug.

And I watched and listened and embraced every single goodbye to my dad. He had to be watching over us and grinning from ear to ear. It was beautiful and magical and just what this girl needed. I AM lucky. I'm blessed to have TWO wonderful fathers and mothers that love me beyond words. Not many people get to add an abundance of family and friends to their life. I did. I'm better for it. I'm grateful for it and I'm beyond lucky for it.