Post 32-Roots

I was born a floating seed

I was born a child in need

I was born missing a mother's love

I was born white, a sinless dove

As I grew I realize I lacked roots

Roots and family

And no longer white, sin blemished me

My heart flutters, it bleeds

I don't have roots holding me down

I don't have roots showing me how

I don't have roots guiding my way

I don't have roots from yesterday

But I do have hope, I have hope in tomorrow.

I have faith in myself that overcomes sorrow

It is never too late, to plant a seed today

Never too late for roots to lay

Love, unconditional comes in many forms I realize

Love, starts from the inside

Roots grow underground

Invisible, strong and sound

Seeds can be planted anytime

And suddenly I cant wait to plant mine

I may not have childhood roots, and it sets me apart

I may not have roots, but I have heart.

Post 31- Whats love got to do, got to do with it?

Dear Journal,

I am not doing so hot right now. My life has been spinning and spinning around me but sometimes I feel like I am standing still in the middle of it, hands on my hips, trying to scream but nothing is coming out. I'm not depressed. I spend tons of time each day with friends, laughing. Last night I went to dinner with a friend who has been out of town for almost an entire month and then I spent the night at my friend Amanda's house. Amanda, Mandi and I had a girls night. We watched Mr. & Mrs. Smith, ate pizza, Ben & Jerrys, and Cheetohs. We oogled Brad Pitt. It was fun, the three of us together on the couch just laughing.

I spend a lot of time laughing and I spend a lot of time being laughed with. I say things that just really should be filtered but I don't think before speaking. Sometimes that's good. Sometimes it's bad. I was going to be going out of town this weekend but last minute cancellation changed the plans. I ended up crashing on Amanda's couch and having breakfast and shopping with the girls all day. Tomorrow I get to hang out with another friend during the day, and I am looking forward to it.

But as much as I am hanging out with friends, as much as I am laughing, inside right now is so dark. Eventually I have to be alone and be quite. And sometimes I just hate that. I hate sitting alone with myself.

And Ive been feeling sorry for myself lately and I know I shouldn't. Ive never given in to self pity. Ever. Not in my entire life.

But right now, for the first time, I have. And one of the major issues I am having is lack of family. My husband is deployed and I don't have a "home" to go back to to visit. I don't have parents. I don't have grandparents. My husbands grandmother calls and we talk occasionally, a couple times a year and I really appreciate her love. But the rest of his family, no one calls or emails or reaches out to me. I guess part of it is because they don't know me, but even the ones who do, I think they just go through the actions. I don't get random calls checking on me or how I am doing, outside of his grandma, ever. Ill get calls occasionally about KC, but never about me.

And I don't have a mother to call. I miss that. I miss having someone I could call and talk to about random girl things, or just to vent about missing Corky Bear, or to get advice on cooking, or to talk about something I bought, or my weight loss or just about anything. I feel so left out. And I don't like bothering my friends, I don't like depressing them, I try not to talk about things that are negative or sad around them.

I don't like complaining about my husband being gone to my friends because either their husbands are also gone, or they tell me it's what we signed up for. Sometimes I just really want someone to listen to me and nod and tell me it is going to be ok.

I don't have the same support system other people have. And right now I wish I had the support of a family. The thing is sometimes my friends say they are like family, and some of them are really close to us and I love them. But, I cant use their mothers, they are still THEIR mom. And if anything happened to that friendship… and at the end of the day there is nothing there that keeps the ties going outside of friendship, there isn't unconditional love. There isn't the sharing of blood, or a last name. There isn't the ties that time will hold together until we are eighty. And I still, even with some of them, choose carefully what I say and let out.

I don't have that long term ability to talk about memories from when we were younger, or what it was like growing up, I don't have anyone to look at and wonder if Ill go gray prematurely or if heart disease runs in the family. I don't know what my mother's pregnancies were like, or her favorite foods. I don't know.

And I wish I did. I wish I knew my mother. I wish I had a family. I wish I had a "home" to go to, that didn't belong to other people. While I appreciate the words from my friends, and offering their families, I know that it's not MINE. There are just some things that you cant share. And as much as I can go with them to their homes I am still a guest, I am still the stranger, I still cant relate or jump into the past memories and the photos on the walls of kids growing up and going through awkward stages. As much as I appreciate the love now, its simply not the same. Its not mine. I cant magically blink eight year old photos of me with teeth missing and huge glasses into frames, because I don't have photos like that.

I wont be able to share with my children what I looked like growing up because I don't have those photos. I never had parents who loved me and wanted to take photos of me for memories. I have a couple, very few, photos of myself from before I was married. I never knew to take photos until I searched for photos of my mom and could only find one. When I realized that sometimes, photos are all you have left I decided to start taking a lot of my own.

I am all over the place tonight. I am random. Very random. I had a dream last night that there was a koala bear cub and a kangaroo in the bedroom with me. The koala bear was on the ceiling and the kangaroo was hopping around the room. They both ended up in bed, cuddling with me. It was all mix matched. The kangaroo mommy shouldn't have had a koala bear cub. I've been thinking about that dream all day. I don't know why. I don't believe in analyzing dreams or trying to figure out what they mean. I really don't, but I do wish I had a koala and a kangaroo right now.

But more so, I wish I had a mother. I wish I had a mother to tell me I was beautiful, loved, and deserved the best out of life. Someone to call if I ever get pregnant again to share the good news with, to help my choose baby names, who tells me that I should name the baby after her grandmother. I don't even know what my mom's grandparent's names were. I wish I had a mom to teach me hand me down recipes, or to tell me stories about her labor and delivery. I wish I had a mom to call and talk to about my husband and how irritated he makes me or how much he makes me smile. To talk about life to.

But wishes are all I have.

Sometimes I wish I had roots.

I think about the wives in our unit who have gone "home" during the deployment to spends weeks, even months, some of them the entire deployment with their families. The wives, who are surrounded by family who loves them and are there for them. Or the ones whose parents come and visit during the deployment, just to play with their grandkids, lend a helping hand, or simply to offer their support. I think about how nice it would be to have that, as I am sitting in a huge house, alone, and yes that is by choice, but I can only impede on my friends so often, and most of them their husbands are home right now, and let's be honest no one wants a random person over all the time intruding, but parents are different. Theyd want me there, theyd be ok with me staying as long as I wanted, they wouldn't feel like I was intruding, I mean, that's how it works right?

Ok, three pages later and it's time to wrap this up. Otherwise, Ill keep going and going. Yes, I am having a pity party tonight. Its pathetic. Roll your eyes at me. Tell me to get over it. I know, I know. I don't normally give into these feelings but right now I am overwhelmed, and lonely. Im yearning for unconditional love yet knowing in my life, such a thing, simply put, does not exist.

Post 30- Reader Update

Blogger has a cool button called "stats" where you can read your statistics. You can also set it so that your stats don't count, as in, it's not going to add my views into my numbers. I also imbedded a stat counter. I check them both and it's fun to see the numbers. They have only ever been off by one or two views.

Like I said before, every 10 posts I will do a reader update. If you are reading my blog but don't feel like commenting, but have something to say, please shoot me an email toCorkyswife@gmail.com I really enjoy reading what my readers have to say.

By the numbers:

January 2011

Page views: 1,246

Unique Visitors: 730

First Time Visitors: 484

Returning Visitors: 246

Most popular post: Post 2: Bekahisms: Or why facebook is deleted

Readers are logging in: America, Canada, South Korea, Malaysia, Italy and Germany

Internet Explorer makes up 46% of my views, Safari 34% and Google Chrome, Firefox and Mobile devices make up most of the remainder viewers.

Post 29: Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.

Dear Journal,
Today's post is something you hope you never have to do. I hope I never lose my husband. Not to divorce, not to death. I really hope I die first.

Ive lost so many people in my life, so many loves, that the idea of losing my husband breaks my heart. We have an amazing marriage. We are best friends. I cant imagine after all these years not having him in my life.

This question was easy. Im not going to write a long journal entry about it. Ive lost babies already and it has been extremely devastating but having my husband by my side is the only thing that has kept me going during some tough times over the years.

I love him with all of my heart.

Post 28: Car Wash Comedy

Ok. So it is my life and it is funny. I think so anyway.

Yesterday was just one of "those" days. You know, when things keep going wrong but they are sort of comical when you look back at them? Because of something said to me yesterday, I have a feeling that there is a bunch of rumors speculating about my husband again and it pisses me off. We cant win. It has nothing at all to do with me either, Ive been very picky about who/what I talk about. I think that jealousy and petty competition is really immature and that some people need to shut their mouths, worry about themselves and their jobs/careers and talk trash talking others. People wait until he's in a location where he can't defend himself, or even know what is going on to start talking trash. That's nice. Don't go to the person you have problems with, or even be man enough to say anything at all to them, but trash their character as soon as they aren't there to debunk the rumors.

I spent the morning with the Amanda's. And we had so much fun. I made this AMAZING homemade ham and potato soup. By amazing, I mean amazing. It turned out soooo good. We danced around the kitchen with music blaring, and when I had to call Verizon (which I have to call AGAIN later today) because my phone wouldn't call out, we had such a good time talking with the rep. It was just fun.

Then I had to run to the post office and mail off a couple boxes to Corky Bear (one of civilian clothes for when he comes home on R&R which made me sooo super excited because that means R&R is coming up sooner than later!) On my way to the post office I decided to go through the car wash. It had snowed here recently and there was salt all over my car. I closed all the windows, pulled through, was talking to a friend on the phone and all of a sudden I felt a drip on my head. I looked up water and soap were flowing down on top of me! The roof had been "vented" but the actual material was closed so I couldn't see it.

I closed the roof as quickly as possible but not before soap was running down my face. I pulled out of the car wash; grab my gym clothes out of the back of the car and start mopping me and the car up. I started laughing hysterically. I couldn't help myself. Im standing there with car wash soap dripping down my face, wet hair plastered to my head, Corky's boxes drenched and I'm laughing like a loon. Seemed to me that God thought I was in need of a shower.

Side note: Corky always gets on me about calling him Corky Bear around the guys. I spoke with him today; briefly, his phone wouldn't stay connected, and he told me he accidentally called himself Cork Bear around some of the contractors he works with and now it has stuck. So even in Afghanistan my husband is SSG Corky Bear. Ha!

Post 27: Day 6: Something You Hope To Do In Your Life

There are many things that I hope to do in my life. I have a list about a mile long. I have a bucket list that I have managed to knock some things off of. For my checked off one, I have gone ski diving, white water rafting, high and low rope courses, rock climbing, etc. For another I am still checking off states as I want to visit all fifty of them, I want to visit Italy and Ireland, I want to publish a historical romance, I still have many things on the list to do. But there is one thing I have wanted since I was a little little girl. Ive always wanted to be a mommy. Corky and I have tried and we have continuously failed in this area. We have no problem getting pregnant; we just have issues maintaining the pregnancy.

I am bound and determined to be a mother. It may not be biological, we may foster to adopt or adopt a child, we may adopt and have a biological child but either way I will be a mother. I have raised multiple children and all of my friends trust me to babysit their kids, and I do so often. I have power of attorney over several children, I have been a nanny on numerous occasions and I think Im good to go with the basics. But more importantly I have a ton of love to give. I want to give a child the childhood I never had. I want to give a child, or several, love, hope, encouragement. I want to give a child security and safety.



I think I will be a damn good mom.

But not yet, not right now. Right now I have to get me straight. I need to emotionally be healthy. Financially be secure. Physically be fit. Im working on all of that right now. And I wonder if I will be blessed with a child when all of that is lined up.



Right this moment, for the next six months I am delving into my past. I am doing this so that I can finally, in a healthy way, put it behind me. I am going to forgive those who hurt me, forgive myself, and instead of burying the past where it can be dug up over and over, I am deep cleaning it, getting rid of a lot of it instead. Some of you won't ever understand the need for me to do this, or in such a public way, and that's ok. The accountability of this, forcing myself to do this regularly and not running from it is good.

Post 26: no. nO.No. NO.

That's how I feel today.

No.

No.

It's screaming in my head.

Im not going to blog. Ill write more tomorrow. If I write anything more than this right now Ill end up being a massive bitch.

Because Im angry.

Disappointed.

Sad.

Tomorrow Ill tell the funny story about the mistake I made today that was hilarious.

Tonight Im going to worry about my husband and be angry at the Army.

And sleep.

Post 25: Sometimes it’s all about frying pickles

Dear Journal,
The last week has been really tough on me. When I decided to do the thirty days of truth I had no idea that the questions were going to be this rough. I feel almost like weight is lifted off my shoulders after I write my answers up, it's so freeing to get some of it out.

At the same token if I sit here and focus on bad I will never leave the house and be a big bawling mess. Last night the Amanda's invited me to dinner with them. It was so much fun. I had this drink that was much like a peach fuzzy navel.

I am going out. I am socializing. It is rare when I go a single day without seeing someone else. But even if you put me in a room full of people I can feel completely, absolutely, alone.

I ordered some fried pickles. I had heard about them but never had them. And they are amazing. I highly recommend them. Fried pickles are such an odd combination. I would never have thought to deep fry a pickle and serve it with ranch. But I would eat them again and again and again. Lord help me if I am ever pregnant, pretty sure KC is going to be tired of them.

I got pretty tipsy just from the one drink. I am a fun drunk, at least I think, I am a fun drunk. I had fun anyway. Amanda and I went back to her house afterwards, had a date with Ben & Jerry and Drew Barrymore. It was a nice, relaxing, evening. Something that I really needed. I am going to a friend's house for dinner tonight to hang out with her and her family. I am not sitting around dwelling on this stuff.

However, I am not ok.

I'm not.

Ill be completely honest, people have been asking me and I have been skirting the issue. I am not ok right now.

Right now I am barely keeping my head above water. I feel like Im drowning. I feel like I am all alone and I don't feel loved. It's not anything anyone else is doing. It is all me. Even today, getting to speak with my husband on skype for a few minutes for the first time in months didn't help. I cant get my head wrapped around the fact that he, or anyone else, who is sane would love me. I know he cares deeply about me. I just don't know why.

He looks so good. So amazing. He losts a ton of weight and he pulled his shirt up to show off his new abs. I about drooled. Then my stupid ass head decides to think- why would he want to stay with me looking as good as he does? Why would he settle for someone like me when he could get a woman so much more beautiful? I didn't vocalize that of course.

I cant wait for R&R but at the same time Im petrified. What if after all this time apart he realized he didn't love me? Or he doesn't find me attractive anymore? Or hes changed? I feel this every deployment and every time I am proven wrong. But Id be lying if I didn't say that was going through my mind.

I want to be clear about something. I don't want sympathy. I don't want attention. I really dont care if you think Im pathetic. This is not about anyone else.

This is my blog. Its about me. Its about what Im going through in my life. Its about my feelings and emotions. If you don't like it. Don't read it. That simple.

Frying pickles. The concept of taking something already delicious and adding something else to bring out the flavor. Intense and perfect. Maybe Im a pickle just waiting to jump into a fryer.

Post 24: Day 4: Something you have to forgive someone for

Dear Journal,

This one was actually easier to write than I thought it was going to be. It seems to me that I am really really good at forgiving people. I forgive almost immediately. Holding on to hard feelings and hurt does nothing but poison you from the inside out. I find it is harder to forgive myself than other people. 


But I found one person that I have been holding a lot in for. And that is my adopted mother.

Dear Rebekah,

It is time to forgive Julia.

Bekah

 
The letter to myself is simple. Straight forward. On point. The woman who adopted me was full of secrets. Our home life was nothing at all like the act she put on for the outside world. In best she was neglectful, at worst she was abusive. I begged and begged and begged for the state to take me away from her home, Id go back to the group home, Id go anywhere. Her abuse was way worst because it was so emotional.

She screamed at me. All day, every day. I woke up to screaming, went to bed with screaming. She hit me, she pulled my hair, she slapped me, but she made me look like a liar so no one would believe what I was saying. She would sit in therapy with me, and if I said anything she didn't approve of Id be in trouble at home. My therapist eventually caught on and had it so I had one on one therapy instead.

She would manipulate me, using church, my siblings, my friends, reading, my car, etc against me to get what she wanted.

What she wanted was a slave. She told me from the day she took me in that she wanted children, young children, she could raise and name, and that she knew as a single parent she could not do it alone. That is where I came in. I did everything. I worked my ass off. I cooked, I cleaned, and I raised the children. Everything. Julie literally came in, went into her room, closed the door and read her book. She didn't cook. She never cooked. She didn't clean. She didn't do laundry. If she was out of her room she was screaming.

When my prom date stood my up junior year in high school I called her. She was out of state. She told me that I should lose some weight and stop talking so much. I ended up a crying mess on the living room floor. Not because of my prom date but because of my so called adopted mother.

She was not just mean, she was cruel. I was told on a daily basis why I lived there. Why I wasn't loved. Why I was a horrible person. Why I deserved the abuse I had been given as a child. Everything. It was always my fault. No matter what happened it was my fault.

I was accepted into an amazing program between junior and senior year in high school. While I was away from home, no contact with the outside world, she was turned in for neglect and abuse by an in home nurse. She even blamed that on me. I orchestrated the entire thing even though I had zero outside contact due to the type of camp it was.

Then the abuse got worse. Way worse. So bad that I graduated high school early and moved out of the house. I could go on for days and days about how my high school home life was a living hell. She put on this great act when other people were around but in reality she was an abusive monster. Her abuse has affected me in worse ways then the abuse at the hands of my biological parents. They abused me physically, she abused me emotionally and mentally.

I was told daily I suck at life. No one would love me. If I got married it would fail. She even told my husband that. I am a loser. I am ugly. I am fat. I am worthless. I cant do anything right. Every single day. Not one time did she say she was proud of me.

She told me that my mother should have aborted me. She told me that she wished she had never adopted me. She told me that she wished my father had succeeded at killing me. She told me I was worthless. She told me I was ugly. She told me I talked too much. She told me I was annoying. She told me I was fat. She told me I was a failure. She asked why I couldnt do anything right. What is wrong with you? Sometimes it was when she was angry. Most of the time it was just because I was there. I was lazy. I was stupid. I was unlovable. 
The day that I received a full academic scholarship to college, there was an award ceremony and this big dinner. I had an entire table, each of us who received the scholarship did. Guess who didn't show up? Guess who sat at the table by herself? I had a friend come with me, I was the only person there without family.

Opening night of a community play that I had the lead in. A play that hundreds had tried out for. I was so excited. I was the only person without friends or family in the crowd. No one came. No one. I didn't get roses, I didn't get a card, I didn't care about that. I just wanted someone there who loved me. Luckily, a friend came the next night and surprised me, and so did my high school drama teacher. That meant the world to me.

Every big day I had she ruined. She would tell me how ugly I looked. How I could do better. How I was a huge inconvenience to her. I was never encouraged, ever.

She said I was never grateful. I wasn't. The food, the clothes (all from garage sales, she used the foster care checks she got were used to get what she wanted. I never saw a dime of it. All my clothes were three or four seasons behind and 99% were from garage sales), the roof over my head, she said I wasn't grateful. I wasn't. I would have rather lived on the street, homeless (which I did for a semester after high school) than constantly be told what a horribly person I was. It didn't matter what I did. I talked too much. If I cried, I was faking it. If I was mad, I was faking it. If I had any emotion I was faking. She never hugged me, ever. Never said I love you. Never said thank you.

My high school home life was terrible. Awful. Ridiculous. Negative. It was some of the worst years of my life. I wished daily I could just die or run away.

Once I moved out after a year of not talking to her I missed the kids so much. I realized I had to build a bridge in order to be in my siblings lives. I did everything on my own but I succeeded and turned out ok. I would talk to her, they would be very brief conversations, never anything deep, but enough to build a sort of friendship, or at least be on civil terms.

When I moved across country the tolerance grew. We pretended, we scouted around the past, we acted like none of it happened. When I got married she liked my husband and the one time a year we would see her she would put on the same act she did whenever anyone else was around, wed play a game. Everything was ok.

Then two years ago she had a stroke. She lost her short term memory. She changed completely. She said I love you for the first time. It was very awkward. I didn't know what to do. I froze. She has become so nice and it seems so fake to me. The stroke has changed her completely, she doesn't remember anything, she is child like, she is like an Alzheimer's patient. But suddenly she believes she loves me. She tells me Im great. I don't talk to her often. It is awkward to hear the woman who has said such horrible things to you suddenly say such great things to you. It feels surreal.

In addition, her family makes it a bit hard to go visit. They've separated the kids. They've not talked to me or kept me involved in any of it and when I wanted to be involved I was treated like a complete outsider. None of them have called me, not one time, when any of this happened. In fact I was on the phone with her when she had her stroke and I had to convince them to go get help for her. Talking to the kids has become a couple times a year thing and every time I make plans to come home they change or move something or someone so I cant. I am not part of that family, in any way, shape or form. I am an outsider, a stranger. I was hired help for a few years; I was never accepted as a child, a daughter, a granddaughter. I am nothing… and now with Julie incapable of even remembering what happened a few moments before… it was an easy way to cut me out. I don't get to talk or see or be in the children that I raised lives now at all.

I think I've managed to put the past away when it comes to my adopted mom. I think that was one area of my life that I just got rid of the anger and the pain. I just moved on. I realized I didn't need her for anything she never gave me anything other than the basics that I have for over thirteen years been providing for myself. Access to my siblings, which also has been cut out, was the only reason I had left to even talk to her.

When that was taken away I gave up.

I haven't spoken to her but twice in the last twelve months.

And it's ok.

I have never forgiven her for the immense pain she caused me. The way she took away the only hope of a family I would ever have. How she took away my ability to know what a mothers love felt like. I will never know that type of love. I will never know what its like to be loved unconditionally by a mother, or supported emotionally, or even know what a relationship with one is supposed to look like. Its ok though. Ive survived. I have forgiven the people who have hurt me in my life. I have. Forgiving is easier than forgetting. And her words will always cut through to me, the feeling of inferiority will always haunt me.

 
I just have to let go of the pain and the anger I have towards her by forgiving her.

And I do. I do forgive her. I forgive her because she never had a relationship with her parents that was loving either. I forgive her because she was a bitter, unloved, unfulfilled woman. What she did to me was wrong, it was very wrong, but I cant change her or her actions or how she treated me.

I can only control mine. And I do so by forgiving her for hurting me. I can do that. And its good for me, its for the best.

Post 23- Old Fashion Gender Roles

Dear Journal,

Earlier this morning I watched a documentary on domestic violence and it really stirred a lot in me. It made me so grateful for my Corky Bear and the marriage that we have. I am blessed to have an amazing husband. We have a marriage that many people have asked over the years how we keep it going, how we make it work, what we do to sustain it through tons of absences. One of my husband's coworkers asked us last year how we do it, how we have such a great marriage. How he sticks by me when I do stupid things and say the wrong thing as I am known to do, or get involved in things I shouldn't. How we make it work through absences. My husband is gone, a lot. He deploys to war, he goes on temporary assignments, military schools, etc.





We know how we do things is not the way that all people do things. We understand it doesn't work for everyone. That being said, Corky and I have a traditional gender role relationship. Our household is very much a 1950's household. When he is gone I obviously have to do everything. I am also in charge of our finances. I am in charge of finances because he is gone so much and often wouldn't have access to paying the bills. I pay all our bills, on time, every time.



But, when he is home, he does the "guy" chores and I do the "girl" chores. I cook all our meals, except when he is playing with the grill, I clean the inside of the house, do the laundry, organize and decorate. He does the yard work, the dog waste, the trash. He fixes things that are broken, maintains the vehicle.

Corky Bear is the head of the house. I know many people just gasped, rolled their eyes, or are astounded that in 2011 that could be said. Let me explain, it is our belief that in every relationship, whether it be family, friends, work, etc there is a natural leader. There is always one person who takes the lead or sways the decisions. It is never "equal" as some people believe. Corky Bear is the head of our house. He has veto power. He makes all the final decisions. But, I am not a doormat, abused or anything of that matter. He is not controlling but he is in control. He is not an abusive asshole. He is respectful and loving. We discuss everything together, he takes my opinion into consideration and often gives in to my way or line of thinking, but in the end he gets the final say, and I submit to that. I would say our relationship is 55/45.



And it is very amazing to have it that way. Because, I get to relinquish control. At the end of the day if a decision works out he has the pride in knowing it was his, if it fails, he has the consequences of knowing it too was his decision. Now, don't get the wrong impression, it is not like this in all things. I don't ask his permission to do things, it is more about large decisions.

Corky and I only argue maybe once or twice a year. Normally, we have a fun filled marriage. We are best friends, we spend our time together and enjoy it. We love being together and being out and about. It means a lot to us to grow together as the years go by and not grow apart. We have each others back, we play on the same team. We discuss everything in advance. We deal with situations that come our way together, the only way it should be done. If I have done something wrong he lets me know, immediately and we talk about it and move on, I do the same. We try really hard to not let things build up, especially little things, we used to do that all the time and would fight or throw past mistakes in each other's faces. We learned to deal with an issue as it comes up, discuss it, fix it and move on. It is buried and we move on. We have NEVER once gone to bed angry or slept in opposite beds. We sleep in the same bed when he is home. We always kiss each other goodbye and say I love you, no matter what's going on at the moment.



I submit to him and I love it.

And we still have sex darn near daily. TMI? Well the article I just read (http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/03/03/sexless.marriage/index.html?iref=mpstoryview) speaks about sex in a marriage .I believe that a woman should never deny her husband sex. I believe it is one of my duties to him, as his wife. The only time I would refuse my husband sex is if I was sick or injured, otherwise, I cant imagine a reason I could possibly justify not having sex with him. It is my job as his wife to meet his needs. If he needs sex, I will have sex. If he needs food, I will cook for him. If he needs clean clothes, I will wash them. He meets my needs and I will do everything in my power to meet his, to keep him satisfied and happy.



Some of my friends get annoyed when I tell them I want to discuss something with my husband. We have a deal that we do not buy any one item over a hundred dollars without discussing it together. When he is home there are some respectful behavioral expectations that we hold each other accountable for. When we go out with our friends we tell the other person where we are going, what we are doing and who we are going to be with. Then we keep each other updated on when we will be getting home. We aren't asked permission, but keeping each other in the loop. He never has to ask if its ok to hang out with his buddies, I like him too, I encourage him to. I don't nag about him begin gone, how much money he is spending or how late he stays out. I do get upset if I don't know when to expect him home. Even if he is just texting a couple times through the night, "Game is still on, another couple hours," or "headed home in thirty."



It works for us.



Open communication.



Active sex life.



Responsible finances.



Common interests.



We have dinner at the table every night. He sits at the head, I sit to his right. We talk together about our days. We discuss current events, politics, work. We joke and we laugh. We make plans together, not separately. 


We discuss our feelings. Dinner shouldn't be in front of the t.v.

I hold dinner for him. No matter how long it takes him to get home, or how late he is. We eat together. I make the meals with love. I cook from scratch, fresh meals. Before he comes home I wash my face, apply fresh make up. I brush my teeth and my hair. I apply a fresh spray of body spray. I take five minutes, walk around the house, and pick up the clutter. I make sure a candle is lit, the floor is vacuumed and he is coming home to a stress free environment. Our home is our safe place, it is our refuge from the world. It is the one place that is his, that he is in control, that is relaxing and loving, that he will never resent. I want him to want to come home to me, not to be worried about me nagging or yelling at him. I want him to feel like a king. So I do the little things that make it that way.



And he loves me. He supports us financially. He rubs my back, he brushes my hair, he takes care of all my needs. And he appreciates me. He doesn't expect or demand it. He appreciates it. He tells me thank you. He loves me and puts me first. He respects me. He communicates with me. He talks to me.



So, while this type of marriage and relationship may not work for everyone it works for us. We have kept the traditional gender roles. We have kept the 1950's way of life alive in our house and applied it to 2011 and modern society.

And we are happy.

Post 22- Day 3 Something to Forgive Yourself For

Dear Journal,

This post was extremely hard to write for me. I have several things that I need to forgive myself for but one of the things is the most difficult. As I sit to write this I can't see through the tears. I cant see past the past tonight and Ive been dwelling on it for the past week. My friend Heather had to hear story after story about Brian as we drove to Ohio. Ever since I started this challenge, ever since I read the third question, I knew, absolutely, what I would be writing about. And my heart is tight. And my eyes are swollen. And I suddenly cant breath. I didn't realize I was holding my breath. Letting go. Can I? Can I forgive myself? I know that this is something I have to forgive myself for. But knowing I have to and actually doing it are two very different things. The weight of the guilt and the pain drove me to such a grief that I was hospitalized for a week after it happened. I failed to live. I didn't eat. I didn't drink. I didn't sleep. I didn't live. I just was. And I was. And I was. Until I was hospitalized. Extreme grief. Not attempted suicide, was my diagnosis and the reason I was kept in the hospital. I didn't attempt suicide because, quite frankly, I didn't have the energy or the capability to do anything but be after this event took place.

I cant put into words the anguish I feel as I write this.

Day 3. Something to forgive yourself for.

Forgive yourself.

Forgive.

Yourself.

Can you?

Dear Rebekah,

It is not your fault. It is not your fault and you need to let it go. It is not your fault Brian is dead. It is not your fault. It is not your fault. It is not your fault…Forgive yourself and move on.

Bekah

On that October 8^th my life changed forever.

When I started college I felt like I was on top of the world. I felt normal. My past, my abuse, foster care, none of that mattered. I was normal. I was a normal kid, living in a normal dorm, doing normal things.

But I am not normal.

I am extraordinary. By every definition of the word.

And so I ran and was elected to student government. My first semester of college. I wrote for the college paper, I rushed and received a bid for my first choice sorority. I excelled in academics and was awarded a full scholarship. I joined ROTC. I was the most active a person could possibly be.

Because… I was loved. Instead of being told I was a failure and yelled at, I was uplifted, encouraged and hugged. Daily. By my best friend.

I rushed the sorority that was the most social with his fraternity. He was a student senator. He was a Christian. He volunteered his time with the Red Cross. His belief in God was all encompassing. He didn't get drunk, he didn't have sex, yet he was a fraternity boy.

His adorable smile, his sparkling eyes, made my day. He and I would sit on the hill and talk until the night was gone and morning had come. We would discuss philosophy, we would discuss God, we would discuss superficial things. We spoke about our love lives. We spoke about our families. He was one of the only people on campus that knew my secrets, and I trusted him completely.

"I will never leave you." He said the words over and over. "I won't disappoint you." He told me, "I love you." Over and over. Daily. Promises that we would forever be friends, I found a family in him. I had security. I had it all.

He lied.

We spent so much time together our significant others began to hate the other, resent us for being together. We laughed over inside jokes that no one else could even possibly understand. We slept together, but never had sex. We just cuddled in our small dorm room beds. He brushed my hair. I held his hand. We whispered our dreams to the stars together. And looking back, how naïve I was, to believe that we were just friends, we were never just friends, we could never be just friends, because we were soul mates.

I knew we were soul mates the night he kissed me. A kiss that would be our first and our last. That kiss, no one knows about, I have never told anyone about, until now.

That night we went to dinner at a friend's house. It was a typical Friday night. My boyfriend, Mike was there and Brian's ex girlfriend, Jana was also there. I spilled food all over Brian's pants. He ended up changing into our friends pj bottoms. White with large pink lips. It was all pretty comical, and typical, my friends can tell you that I spilled a lot. There were a lot of hard conversations that took place that night. I know, Brian and Jana argued. I know, Mike and I argued. I know that as I sat in front of Shrek, and Mike was in a bedroom comforting Jana, that I felt enraged.

Brian brought me a bowl of ice cream. A huge ice cream sundae he had made. Told me to smile. I guess I always knew Brian loved me.

He showed me with music.

He used to sing and be so silly with songs. Brian Adams, Summer of 69. Garth Brooks, She's Every Woman. Good Morning Beautiful. We passed notes at senate meetings. No kidding. College Student Senate meetings and we were passing notes like little kids in elementary school.

That night… he decided on Mr. Big. "To Be With You." I cant hear that song without crying. I cant hear that song without getting sick to my stomach, without feeling punched.

Because, it was our last first kiss.

We went for a walk. We walked around the block. In November. In Illinois. He was in pajama pants. But we walked. We talked about Jana and Mike. We talked about his dad, the amount of pressure Brian was feeling. We talked about Greek rush. We talked about a Christian retreat we had gone on and how we felt that Greek life was trashed at it. We talked about the future. We talked about the past. Then we talked about us.

"What's wrong Brian?" I asked him. I remember clearly where we were. I stopped and stared at him. I felt the elephant in the room. I felt the pause. I felt the hurt. I knew, something wasn't right.

"How long?" He asked me, "How long are we going to play this damn game with everyone?" I didn't understand. I pretended not to understand. He never spoke like that. He never used that language... and I understood. I asked. And he started singing. I got angry. I didn't want him to sing. I wanted to know. What was he talking about?

"I'm the one that wants to be with you. Deep inside I hope you feel it too."

He kissed me. Tilted my head back and kissed me. It was so soft at first but then got angry, hurt, violent almost in the intensity. It was amazing. It rocked me to my core. I started crying. I pushed him back. I told him to stop, so he did.

I didn't want to lose what we had. I didn't want to lose our friendship. I didn't want to lose him.

And I lost. Everything.

Brian didn't understand. It wasn't that I didn't love him. It wasn't that I didn't want to be with him. It was the fear of losing him. Of not being able to go back. Go back to what we had. Go back to the connection, the fun, the trust we had in each other. Relationships didn't work. I didn't think it would work. I didn't want him as a boyfriend. I wanted him as my everything. I wanted things to stay the same.

And they didn't. They shattered.

We walked back silently. He got into the car. He said, "Im sorry." I figured… I figured it was for kissing me. He said it again. He said goodbye. He drove away.

Mike demanded I tell him what Brian was sorry for. I did. We went back to Mike's dorm room and fought. And fought. And fought some more. Over Brian. Mike wanted to punch him. I wanted to go to Brian, something was calling to me. It felt unnatural, it felt wrong, it felt off. I knew something was very wrong. I knew it. I knew deep inside and I wanted to go check on him.

I told Mike that. But I stayed for a few more minutes, to argue with him, I was stupid. I choose a man who meant nothing to me, over the man who meant everything to me. I wanted to go and Mike told me if I left him, if I went to Brian it was over. I tried convincing him when Brian didn't answer his phone, I tried pleading with him. My heart said something was wrong. I choose my boyfriend over my best friend. I rolled the dice and I lost everything.

While we were fighting Brian took his life. He hung himself.

"Get over yourself Rebekah." Let me be very very clear here. I don't believe he killed himself because of me, or me not kissing him back. I don't believe for one second his death was about me as much as it was about a billion other things going on. Jana. His parents. School. Fraternity. Church. Senate. Volunteering. Friendships. Life. Soccer. Temptations.

I knew Brian. I believe I knew him better than most people did. I believe our connection was strong, very strong, strong enough to deal with all the pressures and stressors. I don't believe he planned it, although hindsight is twenty twenty and we all sat there and tried to analyze the signs after the fact. We all tried to find a reason for his death.

Brian and I had spoken about suicide. Both of us had spoken about times we had thought about it, contemplated it, wished for it in our lives. Both of us said we would never leave the other one. We had a pact. We would stay alive because of and in spite of our pasts and the pain. After all, with the support of each other our futures were bright.

And he lied.

He was selfish.

He broke my heart.

He killed himself.

It was Brian who made the ultimate decision to commit suicide. It was Brian's actions, not mine, not anyone else's that ultimately caused him to say goodbye to this world.

I understand that.

Rationally, I know. It was NOT my fault. I did not put the rope around his neck. I did not.

But… I KNEW. I knew something was wrong. I knew that he wasn't ok. I knew something was going on. And my heart broke and I wanted to go to him. I needed to go to him.

I went to him.

Too late.

I made a bad choice.

I didn't follow my heart.

I could have saved him.

I could have gone to him sooner.

I could have been there before his last breath was taken.

But instead I decided to fight with a boyfriend. A boyfriend, who I would date on and off for years, I would eventually be engaged to and then write off. A boyfriend, who at my best friends funeral, broke up with me and hit on Jana. A boyfriend who had hit me and cheated on me and lied to me countless times in our relationship. A boyfriend Brian hated. For good reasons. I made the choice to stay and fight for him instead of going to the loving, amazing, supportive, and good man that was my best friend.

I let him die.

I let him hang.

I let him suffer.

I left him alone.

What if? What if I had gone to him. What if I had stayed with him? What if I had told him I loved him back? What if? What if doesn't do a damn bit of good.

There is nothing of Brian left for me but photos and memories.

And songs.

And regrets.

And blame.

I blame myself.

Day three: Something to Forgive Yourself For

Answer: Brian.

The lyrics to this song are very very different now than they were back when Brian sang them to me.





To Be With You Lyrics

Hold on little girl
Show me what he's done to you
Stand up little girl
A broken heart can't be that bad
When it's through, it's through
Fate will twist the both of you
So come on baby come on over
Let me be the one to show you

I'm the one who wants to be with you
Deep inside I hope you feel it too
Waited on a line of greens and blues
Just to be the next to be with you

Build up your confidence
So you can be on top for once
wake up who cares about
Little boys that talk too much
I've seen it all go down
Your game of love was all rained out
So come on baby, come on over
Let me be the one to hold you

Chorus

Why be alone when we can be together baby
You can make my life worthwhile
And I can make you start to smile

When it's through, it's through
Fate will twist the both of you
So come on baby come on over
Let me be the one to show you

Post 21- Deployment Disconsolate

I miss my husband.

• I miss his hands. The way they hold me.
  
• I miss his humor.
  
• I miss his noise. It is too quite here without him.
  
• I miss his kisses.
  
• I miss his scent.
  
• I miss his mess.
  
• I miss his smile.
  
• I miss his snoring.
  
• I miss his laugh.
  
• I miss doing things together.
  
• I miss sleeping in the same bed and him stealing the covers.
  
• I miss him raising his eyebrows at the goofy things I do.
  
• I miss hanging out on a Saturday morning and doing nothing together.
  
• I miss discussing current events with him.
  
• I miss snuggling in close to his shoulders.
  
• I miss making him dinner.
  
• I miss his singing to me.
  
• I miss the random people he brings home for dinner
  
• I miss us walking the dogs together
  
• I miss him wrestling on the floor with the pups
  
• I miss us wrestling together
  
• I miss shopping together
  
• I miss cooking his favorite meals
  

He told me I was being too romantic and mushy so I thought I'd write about some things I miss that aren't so lovey dovey.

• I miss him picking up the dog poop.
  
• I miss him taking out the trash.
  
• I miss him talking smack about my hockey team.
  
• I miss him driving everywhere.
  
• I miss standing in Game Stop for an hour as he oohs and aahs over the new games.
  
• I miss his snoring. Yes it can be on both lists.
  
• I miss his dirty, smelly boots by the door.
  
• I miss the alarm going off at 430 am for pt.
  
• I miss growling when weve ran out of something that hes placed back without telling me.
  
• I miss getting in the car and seeing it on empty.
  
• I miss him carrying in the groceries, as I put them away.
  
• I miss dirty socks in the middle of the floor
  
• I miss hair in the sink from his razor
  
• I miss the sound of his xbox coming from downstairs
  

Post 20- Reader update

Blogger has a cool button called "stats" where you can read your statistics. You can also set it so that your stats don't count, as in, it's not going to add my views into my numbers. I also imbedded a stat counter. I check them both and it's fun to see the numbers. They have only ever been off by one or two views.

Like I said before, every 10 posts I will do a reader update. If you are reading my blog but don't feel like commenting, but have something to say, please shoot me an email to Corkyswife@gmail.com I really enjoy reading what my readers have to say.

By the numbers:

January 2011

Page views: 749

Unique Visitors: 474

First Time Visitors: 333

Returning Visitors: 141

Most popular post: Post 1: Introduction

Readers are logging in: America, Canada, South Korea, Malaysia, Italy and Germany

Internet Explorer makes up 46% of my views, Safari 34% and Google Chrome, Firefox and Mobile devices make up most of the remainder viewers.

Post 19- WARNING “Shits about to get real”

Dear Journal,

Not that the content of my blog hasn't already been real, very very real, but its about to get even more real. I wanted to post something before I keep going on with the thirty day challenge. Some of the questions are very real. They are raw. They are going to bring out parts of me that many haven't seen.

WHY? Why am I blogging this for the world to see? Why don't I keep it private? I need to do this. I need to lay everything on the table. If you still like me great. If not, that's ok too, but I don't need to pretend to be anyone I am not.

Because, I also need to hit things head on. To be accountable. To get the help and support I need. To really think things through.

I need to do this.

I want to do this.

I am going to do this.

The content may be very real, very raw, very hard to read at times. If you can't do it, stop reading. No one is forcing you to read my blog.

There are some topics coming up: suicide, love, gay marriage.

I am going to hit them hard. No regrets.

I am going to say what I believe. It may not be what you believe.

But it is me. It is who I am.

I can't do the thirty day of truth challenge and lie. I won't. I will be completely honest. I will step on toes, I will bother you, I will challenge you. Walk away if you need to. Stop reading. Skip the blogs that are obviously going to be ones that may offend you.

But… things are about to get crazy and I refuse, absolutely refuse, to lie on my blog, to sugar coat, to not throw it out there.

I am doing this now because I want to be done and packed before I am thirty.

It has so far been an amazing experience and really has taught me so much about myself. I look forward to continue in growth.

Adult content. Sex. Language. Violence. It is not going to be for children. If this type of thing offends you please stop reading.

Post 18- Something you love about yourself.

Dear Journal,

Here is the second post in the "30 Days of Truth" challenge.


Dear Rebekah,

You are an amazing wife. You take care of your husband before you take care of yourself. You meet all of his needs, many times you anticipate them before they are needs, and you fulfill his wants. You are loyal to him, and are the only person in his life that has never failed him. You love him with all of your heart and you put energy into keeping his home, his finances, and his life in order. You would lay your life down for him and he is happy to have you.


You are an amazing friend. You give all you can to your friends, and there is no limit to that giving. You will drop everything and drive across country in a winter storm for a friend, give them the shirt off your back, shave your head, or the last dollar to your name to help them out. You are there for them no matter what. You forgive over and over again and would do anything for a friend.

I love how you give yourself, your time, your energy, and your love to help those around you. You volunteer with a variety of organizations, you help your friends, you give all of yourself to include your heart, to everything you do.


Your eagerness and ability to forgive those who hurt you, even for the most horrendous acts, is admirable. You can take any situation and make it positive. You are incredibly creative and your writing ability surpasses many. Cooking a large, warm meal, brings a smile to those you are serving and the pleasure you get from bringing others pleasure shows. You are compassionate, passionate and friendly. Your social butterfly tendencies often causes people to feel relaxed around you and open up quickly.

Bekah






Today's question was really hard for me. Way harder than finding something I hate. I had determined to write these blog posts without anything superficial. When I first read the question all I could think of was that I love my eyes. I think I have beautiful eyes. It was very very hard for me to come up with things I love about myself. So I spoke to my husband who told me that I am the best wife he could ask for. Thinking about that and some of the things I do for him, I realized, I do treat him very well. Many people accuse me of spoiling him. In addition, I was told by a couple people this week that I am an amazing friend. My friend Heather was in need and I decided to drop everything and travel across country in a snow storm with her, to make it safer. I didn't do it because I wanted applauded or wanted attention from anyone, and I wouldn't even write about it if it weren't relatable. In doing it, several people told me I am a better friend than them. I shaved my head for a friend with cancer a couple years ago. I don't do these things for attention. I do them because I love the person I am doing it for. In both cases, I didn't think it through. I didn't think about the pros or cons, I didn't think about how other people would react, I didn't give a damn. I thought about the person, what I would want done in that situation and just did it. Heather said she was going home, so literally while I was on one phone with her I dialed up the kennel with the other phone and made arrangements to go with her. In two hours I was packed, the dogs were at the kennel, and we were on the road.




What do I love about myself? I love that I live a life of service. That I can love completely my friends and my family and that I will do anything for them. I love being able to use the talents I have been gifted with, like cooking or writing, to service others and help them with things.

Post 17- NIIIO (Currently out of town)

Sunday night I left Colorado Springs to head to Toledo, Ohio with my friend. Due to the recent storm front and the snow it was about a 28 hour drive. We drove through Nebraska, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana and ended up in Ohio. It took just under two days; we stopped in Nebraska for the first night and just outside of Chicago for the second night.

The weather in Nebraska was horrible. The roads were terrible and the drivers even worse. We ended up going 35-45 miles per hour on the road. But they weren’t so bad in Iowa, Illinois, Indiana or Ohio which was good. We drove through A TON of snow, wet rain, sleet and ice. We saw about a billion cars and trucks in the ditch. That part was scary. Especially seeing semi trucks broken on the side of the road.

The fun thing about a trip this long means we got some time to bond, talk about some issues and even get to know each other a bit more.

I am planning on blogging the questions of the day. But after several days of driving and being exhausted I am going to wait until later to do it. I will blog tomorrow and be back on my normal schedule then.

Post 16- Congrats to my SSG!

Dear Journal,

When I married my husband he was still a private. Today, well technically yesterday our time, he was pinned SSG. It has been quite a journey through the years and I am so proud of him. For those in our inner circle who have been following, he was supposed to be promoted Oct 1. He didn't have an up to date pt card on file so it was delayed. He rocked his pt test, did way better than he has done in YEARS. He was making height/weight tape but he has lost so much weight in Afghanistan that he is on the charts now and doesn't have to be taped anymore. I am so proud of his progress.

It has been an interesting and amazing past few years. Corky Bear started out in the infantry and then reclassed over to EOD. He earned his Sr. EOD badge in October and now he earned his SSG (or E-6 for those of other ranks. I know in the Air Force SSG is E5) We started out living at Fort Belvoir. We have pcsed several times to include Missouri, Alabama, Florida, Washington State and now Colorado.

KC has been in the Army since summer of 2003 with a break in service in 2006.

We have made many friends over the years and have them spread across the world. We have learned, grown and matured. We have enjoyed the experiences and the life that the Army has offered. We are blessed to be able to pay our bills, have a roof over our head, food in our bellies, and the warmth of each other's love at night. We have, and are, experiencing deployments. KC is currently in Afghanistan. We know war is part of his job description, but even with knowing that we still make the decision, together, as a family, for him to reenlist. Serving his country is something that he loves more than just about anything out there, and he absolutely enjoys his job.

The only thing I am sad over is that he pinned his SGT in Iraq and his SSG in Afghanistan, so I have had the opportunity to pin him yet. In a couple years (or whenever) he picks up his SFC I hope he is not deployed and I can be around to pin him! He had a really awesome experience being pinned today and I was happy for him.

Congrats to my love, my heart, my best friend, SSG Corky Bear!

Post 15- Day 1. Something you hate about yourself.

Dear Journal,

The first question in the "30 Days of Truth" challenge is 'Something You Hate About Yourself." I have decided to do these in two parts. The first is going to be a letter to myself. The second is going to be an analysis. The challenge isn't about fixing these issues. So, Im not going to get into what I can do to make it better. I am just going to be honest, because that is what the thirty days is about. Maybe in the process I will get to know myself better.

1/9/11

Dear Rebekah,

I hate that you are so damn insecure. I hate that you have zero confidence in yourself. It drives me crazy how you constantly doubt your ability to maintain friendships or to be loved. I hate how you can't hold a single conversation without worrying about what the other person is thinking or feeling or how they will judge you. I hate that you don't take pride in anything you do whether it is your writing, your scrapbooking, your intelligence. I hate your uncertainty in decisions. I hate that you doubt yourself. I hate that you can't allow people in, can't tear your walls down, can't cry in front of others. I hate that you sabotage the relationships in your life one at a time. I hate that you are living in fear. I hate your vulnerability. I hate that you can't just accept friendship, just accept love, just accept people for who they are and the fact that the like you without turning it around in your head, looking for an alternative motive, or searching for the reason they are friends with you. Why can't you just accept people like you for you? I hate that you wait to be hurt. I hate that you dump people before they can dump you just so you aren't hurt. I hate that you walk away from potentially good friendships because they are too close to the walls you have built. I hate that you feel unlovable and continuously let those feelings stop you from being great. I hate that you live in fear.

Bekah

The question was simple. Name something you hate about yourself. I hate that I am living in fear. I could list a hundred things about my physical body I hate. But I can either change those things, or I can't. Physical attributes are nothing without the internal. My biggest hate about myself is the feeling of insecurity. I have no strength in myself. I honestly, feel unlovable. KC asked me the other day why I cant just accept that he loves me? I don't know how. Don't call bullshit, I really don't know how. The people who were supposed to love me most, my parents, hurt me the most. I was never in a family, I don't know how families are supposed to love or be, because the fact of the matter is I was adopted to be a nanny, a cook, a slave, not a daughter. I was never treated like a daughter, I was never loved, I was never accepted. I've not had the experience of being held by a mother, being told "I love you", unconditional love to me is a fairy tale, much like watching a Disney movie. I don't understand the concept, all I know is that love fails. Love doesn't last.

I constantly live in fear. I fear that KC will leave me someday. That like all the foster families I have had, every relationship I have ever been in, he will one day wake up and realize he doesn't love me. That he had convinced himself that he did but that after everything we have done he woke up and just knew, he didn't love me. That I am unlovable and he wasted his time on me.

I live in fear over every one of my friendships. I don't have long lasting friendships from high school or college. The ones that would have bloomed into something so deep, the three that I truly loved, all ended in death.

I am scared to get close to anyone. I am scared they will die, or walk away from me. That I will sabotage the relationship in some way because of my fears and insecurities.

I am scared because I have seen myself do it. I have the hardest time accepting people like me for me. I always think there is other reasons behind it, I look until I find them, even if they don't exist. Then if I start to get close I start to find things that make me back away. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to get rejected. So I push and push until they leave or I walk away. It is my fault. Or, I isolate myself or just stop hanging out with them if I think we are getting too close. I keep an arm's length distance between me and my friends. Never too close, never want to get broken like I did when Brian committed suicide, or when the car accident happened.

The question was so simple. Name something you hate about yourself. Ive scanned bloggers who have blogged this question. I was shocked by the number of people who said their weight. This is the thirty days of truth, dig deep. Answer the question. I will. I hate that I hate myself. I do. I hate myself. I hate the fear I live in, but mainly I hate that I hate myself. I know it is not healthy. I know it is not good. But it is truth.

1. Something you hate about yourself.
   

I hate myself. That is something I hate about myself.