My New HOMETOWN

I am going to start by listing ALL the moves I have made. Mostly just because I want to put it somewhere, that and I think it says something about why this feeling matters so much to me...this feeling of having a home. So without further ado....*drum roll please

1. San Manuel, Arizona – 7 yrs

2. Memphis, Tennessee – 6 mo

3. San Manuel, Arizona – 6 mo

4. Lake Charles, Louisiana - Aunt Leisa's house – 1 yr

5. Lake Charles, Louisiana - Uncle Doug's house – 1 yr

6. Lake Charles, Louisiana – Apartment – 1 yr

7. Westlake, Louisiana – House 3.5 yrs

8. Shreveport, Louisiana – Apartment 1.5 yrs

9. Shreveport, Louisiana – Apartment 6 mo

joined the Army...

ARMY STATIONS

10. Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri - Basic Training – 2 mo

11. Fort Sam Houston, Texas – AIT – 1 yr

12. Fort Meade, Maryland – OJT – 9 mo

13. Fort Carson, Colorado - Security, CO – Apt –2 yr

14. Fort Carson, Colorado – Fountain, CO – House – 1 yr

15. Fort Carson, Colorado – Colorado Springs – Apt – 3 mo

16. Buedingen, Germany – On Post Housing – 2 yrs

17. Buedingen, Germany – On Post Housing – 1 yr

18. Midlothian, Texas – Mom’s – 6 mo

19. Fort Knox, Kentucky – On Post Housing – 1 yr

20. Fort Knox, Kentucky – Radcliff, KY – House - 2 yrs

DONE WITH ARMY

21. Midlothian, Texas – Mom’s – 9 months

22. Fort Bragg, North Carolina – On Post Housing – 2 yrs

23. Midlothian, Texas – Mom’s – 6 mo

24. Arlington, Texas – Motel 6 – 6 mo.

25. Midlothian, Texas – House – 3 yrs

26. Midlothian, Texas – House – 9 mo

27. Austin, Texas – Ronnie’s House 3 yrs

28 Austin, Texas – Apt- 1 yr

29. Buda, Texas – HOME

Total moves -29. 

States lived it – 9.

Cities lived in –19  Countries – 2

So, yea…I have moved a bunch. Which I don’t regret. I don’t wish I lived in San Manuel, Arizona my whole life or anything. I love that I have so lived in so many places but I yearn for a place I can rest. A place that FEELS like my home and I feel I have it now. I have been living in Buda for 3 years now. 3 years went by in a blink. My house looks like a story of my life, I know back ways to get places, I am a member of the local Y. I know several of my neighbors. It is just a wonderful experience. This hometown feeling of belonging to a community. What a new, delightful experience. Who woulda ever thunk it ...Texas is where my home is at...for now. 

14 years....Soundtracks

14 years in soundtrack.

In which we are passionately in love, young and on cloud 9.

In which we discover we will be apart for the first year of our relationship. 

(cheesy song but it WAS our song)

Happy, young, best friends in love with the world at our feet.

And baby makes 3, then 4, then 5.

Life has thrown us many a shitstorm and yet, we still survive. Us against the world. There is nothing we can't face. Together.

or is there? Something is wrong with Eddie.

But I can't let go

and I go slowly insane with emotional pain, almost kill myself twice and escape, just barely, with my life.

I get mad. And empowered.

and see the truth.

And can look back at the love we had as the EPIC love story it really was.

                                                                        And let go...

and learn to love him in a different way

This post is dedicated to the anniversary of my marriage. The last one I will have. Thank you Eddie, for 14 years. I will never regret them. You were my person, my favorite, my best friend and lover. Here is to the next phase of our life together. Partnership in parenthood...and hopefully friends for life. You will always get a piece of me that no one else can touch. You were the love of my life. I wish you well on your journey. 

Shattered

How do you heal a shattered heart. How do you stand in an empty room, begging to be seen? I am Angie's empty shell filled with nothing but pain. What is left of me if my other half has cut themselves from me? How do I breath? I can't fucking breath. When will this nightmare end? Why can't I wake up. Everytime I try, I find myself staring at an empty bed and that means I must still be dreaming, right?

Dirty Little Secret

Ok I am going to just say it. Spit it out.



I HAVE LICE.

Yes, I said it. I meant it too. Our house has been plagued by lice for several months now. It started with a visit from a friend. She found out while visiting that her daughter had it. And the fun began. Everytime we get rid of it someone else in the neighborhood passes the nasty visitors right back. And WHY do they pass it back? Because we are all to ashamed to admit that we even have it. Because lice is dirty, right? There is such a stigma attached that rather then admit to having lice we all just keep pretending as all the boys suddenly find being bald is totally in fashion and no one is letting anyone in there houses. "Lets hang outside!" Because we are dirty, dirty, dirty.

BUT the truth is this: Lice prefer clean heads. Did you know that? They can't breath in that oil, can't reach your life saving blood through the crap. So the truth is, if you have lice, it is probably because you are CLEAN people. Who the hell invented this shit anyway? What god decided LICE was a great idea? What purpose do they serve to the whole? Punishment? Have I been very, very bad?

So we have done everything, RID, SLATHERED OUR HEADS IN VASA-FUCKING-LINE, nit picked for hours, but those fuckers keep on coming back. Now we are trying the wash your hair with Denorex and coconut conditioner and blow dry for 10 days route. This time, we shaved the boys heads so they won't have this problem. This time somehow, Layla doesn't have any lice. This time I am the only one with BUGS IN HER HAIR. (I bet your head is itching RIGHT NOW). THIS time, I told my neighbors. Because I would rather be shunned by hypocrites then eaten by bugs.

There isn't much point in this blog. Just wanted to say it out loud. Besides, Nicki is the only one who ever reads this anyway. LOL.

Forget

Yesterday, I took the best nap. 2 hours of deep sleep late in the afternoon. Unfortunately, it was a mistake, as almost all late afternoon naps are. The inevitable happened when I went to bed for the night, as I tossed and turned with my mind going a mile a minute, it was clear, sleep wasn’t going to happen again soon. So I got up and went to watch TV. I had wanted to watch Private Practice anyway and my husband deplores the show so it seemed like a good time to watch it. 

Boy was I wrong. First off, let me breakdown Private Practice for you. Hot doctors run a private medical practice in which they almost always cause more harm than good. Such as voicing their opinions to patients, writing books about them, having sex with them, kidnapping them. Whatever, don’t judge me for my nighttime soap addiction. It is ENTERTAINMENT. Except with this series, it is ALWAYS tragic. Like, I cry every single episode; which is why Eddie has banned it in the house. He says it is pointless depression. He is probably right. Well, last night’s episode was expected to be a doozy. One of the doctors, a neurosurgeon, fell off the wagon and was going south fast. I should have known better. The show ended with her sticking a fucking needle in her arm. 

Why, why, why do I do this to myself? Jeremy was already on my mind. My cousin sent me some great pics of us as kids playing at Grandmother’s house and this one in particular has Jeremy with this wonderful giant cheese grin.  I forgot that Jeremy was a goofball, forgot that he could smile like that. Forgot, forgot, forgot. 

So I went to bed, and tried to forget, forget, forget the image of that woman shooting up, tried to not put Jeremy’s face in her place. I don’t know which hurts more - Jeremy as a dead junkie or knowing that he was once a silly, smart, goofy kid once. Forget, forget, forget…….

I watched a movie the other day called The Southbounders. It was about a women who takes 6 months off from college to hike down the Appalachian trail. It awakened something in me. The part of me long buried because I married a city boy who prefers AC. I watched this movie in complete and utter envy. Because there is no way I could do that. 6 months on a trail? I have kids and I am also immensely out of shape. I ONCE RAN, YES RAN UP THE GRAND CANYON!!! Just because I saw some guy doing it on our hike down. I RAN UP. I about died at the top and some lovely foreign girl threw a bottle of water on me ( I LOVE HER FOREVER). BUT I did it. I I I I I did THAT. NOW? Now I go to Walmart and come home exhausted. It was a more then subtle reminder of my lack of fitness.

So, want to hear the good news? The awesome reminder of how I didn't totally marry the wrong guy? I told my man about this movie and he got really excited. He wanted to do it just as much as me. He said it sounded like an adventure of a lifetime and wished we could do it! I was so shocked and pleased I no longer cared about the damned Appalachian Trail. I don't need to take a 6 month killer hike to find my inner hippy. The problem was I didn't think it was a part of me I was able to enjoy because it meant making my dear husband miserable. I WAS WRONG. I suppressed my inner outdoorsy girl for nothing. Once again proving that I am unnecessarily  self sacrificing. When will I learn that I have nothing to prove to anyone? When will I learn that I don't have to NOT do something because no one else around me enjoys it? When will I simply do my own thing, walk my own path, HIKE MY OWN HIKE? I think I am on my way to figuring that out. HIKE YOUR OWN HIKE. Think I need to make that my next tattoo. :)

If Your A Dreamer...

     How do  I begin to tell the story of my life? Should it be a classic tale of a girl who grows to be a woman? Should it be a modern tale? Start in the middle and work my way back and forward and everywhere between, leaving the audience confused and perplexed and wanting more? I could make a trilogy! Should there be vampires? Would anyone even want to hear the story?

    I sort of get the feeling that most people think I am either trying to steal there tragic thunder or I am a huge liar. The truth is simpler and worse. I share my experience with someone hurting in hopes that they won't feel alone and therefore, better about their current hellish situation. The truth is also that, unfortunately, I am not lying. Almost any crappy thing that has happened to the average American, has happened to me too.

    Part of me admits to feeling a bit of smug satisfaction with that knowledge. I mean, I have survived shit most people implode and die over. Yet here I am, wondering what the hell your problem is while also completely relating to it at the same time.

    Do you want to know my story? It is a indulgent story of tragedy and strength. Of overcoming the worst and celebrating the best in life. It is a story about knowing that no matter what the world throws at you, you CAN survive it. You can THRIVE. It is MY story. The story how I went bat shit insane and never even realized it. It is a love story. A journey about learning to love myself and love my life and to see the beauty in it all.