Engagement, And family.

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I will never Marry…but I came really close once. He was a handsome lad, who truly acted like I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He had dark hair and pretty blue eyes. We had dated for a while when I was in high school. I had gone to a special camp for occupational therapy. He was there and we hit it off. He was so cute, with a little bit of a problem with authority…yeah I know I have a type where men are concerned. Almost all of the men I have actually been attracted to have had that same issue with authority. I left him and the facility. Then a year or so later he and I met again. We hooked up. He asked me to marry him. You know what…at the time I had an awful amount of stars in my eyes where love was concerned. I wanted that damn white picket fence with six children. I wanted happily ever after like the poets speak of. (Says the poet) He made me think I was worth that love.

I was nearly twenty-one. I was an old lady to my mind. Thirty was an impossible dream. I had one child already. My best friend was engaged to a charismatic stoner. We were a group. At the time I thought that the traditional monogamy route was the only way life was. I also was quite deep in the metaphoric closet. I had girlfriends, but I was hiding them and our relationships because I was convinced that being myself was a bad idea. So, I was convinced that I would marry him. We would be together and there would never be a reason why we would not.

Then I walked in on him and my best friend on my couch. Yeah. He apparently had different dreams than I did. I had a one night stand with her fiance as revenge. That was an incredible memorable night. We are still friends, that one night stand and I. The best friend and the husband to be…well I haven’t seen either of them in 26 years now. I left the area and joined Job Corps. I met my boyfriend. He was unlike any guy I had ever dated. Yesterday is the anniversary of the day we met.

He is my best friend. He makes me laugh. He and I will never marry. We don’t want to. He and I had an open relationship from the first. It worked because we were able to be honest with each other. He closed it off when I found someone I could actually have considered getting close to. He realized that he wasn’t able to find anyone else who was even remotely like what he had in me. I still am able to find a girlfriend because there is things that a girl can provide that he cannot. But I have the only man I will ever have. And I am okay with that. (If he was gay the situation would be open there, but he is not.) I had in my youth figured that I needed to marry. I needed to have the house with the three-car garage and white picket fence to be normal. I was so foolish. At forty-seven I have learned a lot. I have carried to term 3 children. I had to give one up for adoption. I miscarried 2. I have found my home. It was not in a building. It was at the side of a man that loves me. It was being Mom to a neurodivergent Girl who thinks I am some kind of hero…and I still am trying to convince her she is mine. It was allowing myself to be me.

I have some definite opinions about Roe vs Wade. This story has a lot of family intonations in it. If I had grown up without the option for an abortion, it would not have mattered to me. I would have not aborted any of the three. However, I miscarried. Twice. Both were emotion killing moments. I wanted both babies. I barely survived having my beautiful neurodivergent girl. The doctors told me if I got pregnant again I would die. I can never carry another child to term. Roe vs Wade means I have the choice. I hate the idea of getting one. I still want that choice. I was raped after my son was born. If I had ended up pregnant I would have wanted that choice. I didn’t report it. I was terrified of the idea. I had told about the sexual abuse I endured as a child. I was told I had lied. Why would anyone believe me if I said that this had happened?

Ending RvW will not stop abortions. It will stop safe abortions. There was abortions before RvW. There were no safe abortions. Women have been choosing to slip pregnacies since the dawn of time. We are supposed to be an advanced society…so why are we discussing this again? It was solved in 1973…

Each life is a book

This week I have been sharing some of the stories of my book. A lifetime of stories lived. Some of the stories I have lived will never be shared – for various reasons…some because they are not my story to tell(I am a mother after all) Some because the trauma prevents. So many lives are books stuck on dusty shelves. Never shared for various reasons. I need to share my stories. As a survivor of childhood sex abuse I felt like my voice was taken from me. For me, telling my stories is empowering. For others it is not. I would never try to force the telling of a life.

However, I also want to be clear. I am always willing to hear the story of the lives you have lived. I devour books like the dragon I am…and if you choose to present me with more to read I will revel in it.

Thank you for allowing me to share the stories this week. For me, it is the best form of immortality. I when I am gone will remain due to the book written by my words.

Poetry

Radios, rednecks, and the results

My dad was a plumber. The majority of his friends were blue collar – construction workers, bikers, and truckers. We had cb radios in the house and in every vehicle. My mom met her second husband on the cb. It was a central part of our lives.

That radio has been featured in a couple of stories over the years. Once when I was 10 or 11 Daddy had a bunch of friends over. I was bored and trying to find trouble as all kids do. I snuck into one of the cars and got on the cb. My handle – the name you use on the cb – was/is Sasssy Suzy.

One of the guys who was visiting heard me on the cb flirting with anyone who would talk to me. He proceeded to get on and inform the audience of my age. The radio went silent.

The first time I met my Pop – mom’s second husband – he was talking to me on the cb. He called me honey and I was sure that he was thinking that I was Mama. He chuckled and said that he knew who he was talking to cause he was outside and mama was with him. Man…I miss him.

Remember my handle? The first year I was dating Joe, we were messing around on the cb. Joe has been a trucker for most of our lives together. I started flirting as I was prone to do on the cb. I still remember the response. Some dude I didn’t know came back announcing that he knew Sassy Suzy and she had an ass the size of a 747. I don’t think my backside is or was ever quite so large. It did offend me enough to stop the flirting and caused Joe fits of laughter.

That cb was a feature of so many other stories. Too many for a single blog post. I may tell a few more tomorrow.

Story of humor and headache

A quarter of a century ago I lived in the garage behind my current home. The house belonged to the grandmother of my boyfriend. We have been dating since we were 21. I moved into the garage with him after only knowing him for a week. It never occurred to me that I was being impulsive.

That door covers a smaller door into the small space that was our home. His grandmother put a bathroom on the back porch of the house – where the laundry room is now. We had a fridge and a gas stove. We slept on a couch against the back wall of the garage.

We would play D&d and hang out and live our lives in that garage. One night the boys got me laughing. I threw my head back in laughter. The garage is made of porcelain brick. I cracked one with my head when I threw my head back laughing. (nice little concussion)

Now that garage is behind my home. sometimes the little changes are huge.

More childhood mishaps…I mean stories

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I have a huge family. My parents were each from families of five children. So there were lots of cousins. My grandmother wanted my brother and me to know our cousins. So every summer for a few years – I believe it was like five but the memories are so infused into my childhood that I am not sure, she would drive us out to my aunt’s farm to visit. Mom has three sisters and a brother.

Her brother was into cosplay before cosplay was cool. He did his costumes without a pattern. I used to have pictures of him in his spiderman costume with Stan Lee. He was one of my childhood heroes. Mostly because of how creative he was. I had a lot of childhood heroes that I could look up to. Still, he lived close so he was not involved in our trips.

One of the sisters was Navy. She lived in Florida and still does. She did not choose to have children till later in life. My cousins on that front are amazing, but closer in age to my son. So they were not around when we were doing these trips.

The trips, and the cousins, were based in Michigan. A gorgeous small community near the Canadian border…Boyne City. My one aunt had a farm and though I don’t know what the other aunt did, she lived nearby. The farmer had two boys, one close to me in age and one closer to my little brother. The other aunt had a boy and a girl. The boy is elder than I, I am not sure by how much, and her daughter was my age. We stayed at the farm when we went. I remember drinking milk straight from the cow and riding ponies. I remember my cousin telling me dirty jokes in the barn. I remember all of us kids playing in the coal shute – it looked like a black sandbox. Then we were all thrown in the bath together because we were covered in coal dust. The summers there were amazing.

Now this story is about one of those trips. We lived somewhere between Virginia and Maryland. Grandma lived in Alexandria. She lived in basically the same place my whole childhood. That is why I often claimed her place was home. She had a station wagon…much like the one pictured on the top of the post. The trip between home and my aunt’s farm was a long one. We would drive up and back. On that particular trip, we were somewhere in Ohio on the way to the farm. Grandma was having trouble with the car, and she never did…but it was not acting right.

I remember her deciding to get off at an exit that was coming up. She took the exit ramp, and it was one of those that turned around and went in a circle. She was going slow, because it was an exit ramp, and thank goodness she was. I remember her cursing…mind you when I say she rarely did. The next thing I saw looking out the window was the passenger side rear axle and wheel rolling away ahead of us down the exit.

She somehow managed to get us pulled off of the ramp into the grass. This was way before cell phones…and she had two little children with her. My brother was a toddler. I am seven years older than he, and we stopped those trips around the time I turned eleven or twelve. I am not sure but I believe that this was on the last one. If it was I really can’t blame grandma. We walked to the nearest place where grandma could call for help.

She was good at handling emergencies. Obviously, we survived, but I remember it being a huge thing. I remember the fear when we saw the axle and the wheel rolling away. Yes, It was worse because it wasn’t just the wheel. Somehow just the wheel would have been comedic. This felt like we were in real danger because it was more than the wheel.

So many of my memories from childhood are based around trauma, mostly because that is what cemented the memories into my brain. This one is both different and not. Though the fear was there… I knew I was safe. This one has all of the wonderful memories of the trips attached. The cousins that I got to visit and know because of them. Two of those cousins are gone now. The little farm boy who told me dirty jokes lost his life on a snowmobile. The daughter of my aunt passed away as well – due to more natural causes. So all I have left of those cousins are the memories of summers spent in childhood. If you can, let your cousins know you love them. I am lucky enough to still have the cousins on my dad’s side.

Well, this was not supposed to be a dark story. I was trying to tell it for the fun oh my goodness type tale it used to be. Now I am melancholy at the loss of the cousins. So I will leave the blog well enough alone, maybe tomorrow I will go back to posting the normal stuff. It depends on how I feel in the morning.

politics, and sleep deprivation demons

Poetry woke me. it is not the first time, likely will not be the last. I have been working on two different projects as my poetry goes…I have been finding that I am writing a lot of political poetry…where I had not been before. I guess as I have aged my heart is just not in swallowing the rage I have been feeling for the way the world around me is. I don’t like saying nothing when I see a wrong being done. I have fought for my voice, so I guess I will have to use it. well not all of the poetry I have been writing is appropriate for this volume.

so I am writing two. I think the first one is either going to be smaller than my usual or take longer, I am not sure. it currently has twelve poems compared to the twenty nine in Handprints. Gathering Teardrops will be released in May and I am not sure if either of these will be available this year. I have a bit of a full schedule for publishing this year.

I will announce when each are done writing. I have another poem that is bouncing around my head wanting to be written, so I am writing instead of sleeping….sigh

oh…btw…I have an interview on Facebook on Friday…will post the link as soon as I get it.

Artsy Fartsy Thursday

Artsy Fartsy Let’s Discuss art

I was trying for a sandstorm on a beach at sunset…I swear it looked better in my brain. lol I have found that drawing on a digital medium is more fun, but I am better with pencil and paper. I have more control with a pencil than I do with digital. What medium do you do best with?

Artsy Fartsy Thursday

Artsy Fartsy Let’s Discuss art

Ok. I love Abstract art…mostly as an artist. My personal taste in art to hang in my home is Faeries, pagan symbolism, and cutesy stuff. For creating tho…Abstract rocks. When I was starting to allow myself to play with digital creation…I was struggling. I found myself saying too often “but it doesn’t look like…” and it was not helping my self-esteem and my creative nature. It Bloody hurt. I started lessening the standard I was holding my art to. I started creating beautiful swirls and pieces that I could see several things in. The fun thing about abstracts is that everyone sees something different in them. I have since learned a few things and do abstracts because they are fun, but it is not the only art I can create. Sometimes just changing your perspective can help you to create.

Artsy Fartsy Thursday

Artsy Fartsy Let’s Discuss art

Ok I have a question. What is art? Each person sees art differently. This was photo manipulation. I think of it as art…But I know others will not. When you are looking at creating you need to answer that question for yourself. What do you consider art? It will make creation flow easier if you have the answer.