Week Of Anniversaries - Some Better Than Others

So, Thursday marks a decade since I graduated college. Friday marks a decade of marriage. Saturday marks a decade since we left Oregon to start our journey to Florida, and 3 years since the car accident. The car accident anniversary is murky; everything else is good, happy milestones.

Graduating college was a trip. It was something else and it was definitely overshadowed by the wedding, but I kind of liked it that way. My college stuff was rough. I still have some resentment because I literally found out my last semester that I was in the completely wrong program for what I actually wanted to do with my life. But, we continue.

If you look at our wedding now, it was unimpressive. To us, it was this huge send off into life together and literally everyone pitched in. The dads split the venue, my sister helped with the cake, my other sister bought a bunch of wine, my dad did the ceremony and helped with my dress, too. We did a lot on our own. My husband catered it with a friend and his mom bought the supplies. Our friend brought a PA system and I made a playlist on my iPod he played. The boy I nanny-ed for all those year played songs on guitar too. Everyone had a blast.

It was after that we moved away and started a life that was just ours. We've struggled a lot. Our past handful of anniversaries have been less fantastic. For our first anniversary we went to St. Augustine and had a blast. After that, with the exception of a quick overnight when in Pennsylvania we have been with the little one and just tried to grab a dinner.

This weekend is a night away about 90 minutes away from home and I'm ridiculously excited honestly. It's been a long time since we wanted to make the effort to spend time together. Last year we stole 3 days together, not anniversary related but we barely even have a date night anymore so this is kind of a big deal.

We will be driving on the car accident anniversary, which makes me a bit nervous, but I love being further and further away from that day. My daughter talks about it a lot. She isn't afraid to discuss it at all, and I always answer her questions and tell her how it was because she only remembers bits and pieces. Even my husband has a rough time remembering.

It's so weird thinking about all of this. A decade being married, a decade of no longer being a student and fully a part of the working world, and 3 years far from that horrible day. All in the span of 3 days.

This is the first year in a long time none of it has plagued me, I'm not just feeling completely weighed down. I want a one night break. I want to just enjoy each other. I don't want to be afraid to drive.

My best friend told me that marriage is made up of a lot of bad years and her husband always says he wants to get those over with so they can just make it to the good. I wholeheartedly agree. And this is the first time in a long time that I've felt like maybe year 10 could be a wholehearted good one. 

Birthday Hangover and Super Bowl

We survived the big birthday! And I think my daughter has a serious hangover from partying too hard. Today we even had a little more birthday mania with a trip to Build A Bear, excuse me her FIRST trip to Build A Bear courtesy of a friend. Her mind is effectively blown.

Me? My house is a glorious mess and I'm in one of those weird calm states where I know I just can't do too much about it so, bless my mess.

Now we kind of just await the game. Football for me has always been more of a social thing, rather than like, something to watch. In high school girls go to the games to hang out with guys and meet up with their friends and talk. In college you were supposed to support your college team because college football is weird. I went to one game.

For the Super Bowl my reasons are threefold: Junk food, commercials, and halftime show. Sure the game is fun too but let's be real. It used to be beer/food but things have changed a bit in my old age, so here we are.

The birthday hangover has been rough, I'll admit. She's been pretty cranky and sensitive today but with my dad here and a visit to church, she's been a little less crazy. Birthdays are a big deal and she's still reeling from all the fun.

I've tried to explain the Super Bowl to her a few times but I lack any non-lame way of explaining it well, perhaps because to me it's an excuse to gorge on Doritos and laugh at commercials instead of an actual sporting event.

I've always admired real football fans who get into it but the only sport I ever truly got attached to was Tennis and a little of Basketball. Basketball I LOVED to watch in high school. It didn't hurt that 2 of my cousins were basketball stars in our county so I got dragged all over to cheer them on. It was so fun.

Tennis I actually played well and I'm not a sporty person by any imagination. Football was just the thing that happened before the dance and a place to find guys.

So on Super Bowl Sunday while I'm surrounded by family, many things I should be doing and no energy to do them, I'm kind of joining into the Birthday Hangover mode and just chilling out. My daughter is currently bug catching with her dad and I'm listening to my pug howl over my shoulder and some random neighborhood dog he can't even see.

I'm ready for the game and for more family time for sure. Enjoy the game! Drink responsibly and have a great weekend. Thank you all again for your patience as life catches up with me and feel free to email me and comment on requested topics and fun entry ideas!

Blog Post Challenge 24: A Difficult Time In My Life

Well this is kind of an intense subject. There have been a few times in my 33 years on this planet that have been difficult and most definitely parenthood in general has been rough, but I'm going to take a risk and write about something I'm super not comfortable talking about and we'll see how it is received.

Nearly a decade ago I was finishing college and I had my world rocked. My mom has struggled with addiction my entire life. She has had periods of sobriety and also horrendous relapses for about the last 20 years. When I was 17 we learned the hard way that she and I could be great at a distance but could not coexist in the same home.

She stayed in South Florida and my dad moved me to Oregon when I was 17 to finish high school and get into college. When I was finishing at University of Oregon, my mom had just lost both of her parents within and year and had a cancer scare with a huge ovarian tumor removed. I had spent 2 weeks the previous summer before classes started, taking care of her until she was well enough to function on her own just after we had buried her mother and father. 

But one cold, January morning my Uncle called me really early and told me that not only was she using again but that he needed to remove himself permanently from the situation because things had gotten so bad and she had wronged him so deeply that he needed to cut off contact. Somehow he mustered the ability to apologize to me that she had become such a mess and urged me not to stay close with her, afraid of her next moves with no family support. I spent the day home from school, 3,000 miles away from her and freaking out.

My mom had just inherited a great deal of stuff from my grandma. Most of it was sentimental but still important. My grandma's house was on the market and that was just an hour north of my mom's place at this time as well. I was worried about my grandma's stuff being lost or sold. She had done countless watercolor paintings and had some great furniture as well. Also, my then-boyfriend-now-husband and I were planning on living with my mom and putting him through school. This changed everything. We couldn't risk being around her either.

One of my Florida high school friends and my dad helped me get a storage unit and in February of my last semester I flew to Florida by myself to lock up and protect my grandmother's treasures knowing that in July when we moved to Tampa, we could get them and keep them with us. 

When I got to my mom's house she was in a frenzy in the process of being evicted. She had two cars, my grandmother's old Mercedes and a Ford Escape she had promised to my husband. Her other brother was coming to get the title and the Mercedes to drive north for my cousin while he stopped to check how the house was doing on the market in Port. St. Lucie.

When I first got there she gave me this look like "Uh oh, busted." I think I had my friend's truck to pack up and make runs. It was only a matter of minutes before she started yelling at me about taking her things. Then she had quick mood change. "Well, take this stuff too," she said. "Yeah, for later and then I can have the key."

This was one of those moments in life with an addict that no one could ever prepare you for. This was when my 23 year old self, struggling to adult and protect things that are important to myself and my family has to stand strong and summons the energy to say: "Mom this is not me helping you, do you understand that? I don't want you to lose Grandma's things. This is not a favor, these are now mine and we will see what happens if you get clean. And I need the title to the car."

She told me the car was hers and the title was in a safe deposit box at the bank. I knew full well her brother was in route but dare say nothing in case she bolted. She started talking to me again about keeping her things and I finally lost it. "You get no key or access. I will be coming to get these things when we move. Your ex-husband (aka my dad) helped me get down here and by the grace of my old friend and ditching a few days of school I'm taking what's important so you don't lose ANYTHING ELSE." She looked at me blankly and asked, "Can you pay my phone bill too?"

When my uncle drove up he just walked in and said, "I'm taking the car where's the title?" My mom looked at me, enraged, "You told him I was here? You little shit! He can't take my car! SHE LEFT THAT TO ME." I walked outside and let her scream it out before my uncle came back out with the keys. 

When he left in the Mercedes I finished packing up and went to crash at my friends house. My friend joked with me enough that I fooled myself into being calm. I'd given him a key to the storage unit too in case someone needed to get there fast for any reason. My mom harassed him for the next 3 months until he mailed it to me in surrender. 

When I left my mom she was getting ready to live in her car, until a month later they repossessed that. When I said goodbye to her she wasn't even really her if that makes sense. I cried the entire plane ride home because in that moment I didn't know if I would see her again or she would end up dead. I came home deflated and went back to finish my last semester.

I don't tell many people that story because it's dark and uncomfortable. My mom hates being judged as some "filthy addict." If you've ever met her she doesn't ever come off that way but I had to see her at her worst. For me what makes this a difficult time is knowing that I had to be the one to help my mom hit her true rock bottom. I had to give her real consequences so she could find a reason to get healthy.

She's been sober 8 years this summer. No child of any age should have to be that strong and sometimes the weight of what that does to a person is so much heavier than you can imagine. Telling your mom to deal with the ramifications seems unfair but addiction takes over and makes her turn into someone who is not even the same person you thought you knew.

I don't share this for pity or sympathy. Most of my family doesn't know the depth of this. Most of my family doesn't talk about this and still doesn't even speak to her. So yeah this was a dark, difficult time in my life and I appreciate you reading about it. If you, too, have struggled with a life around or in addiction, just know that even when we seem like we're against you, we're with you in more ways than one. And no one's experiences with addiction are better or worse than anyone else's, the just ARE and they must be difficult times for you all as well. You are not alone and you definitely can appreciate the lighter times now, or so I have experienced!