Are You Reading Me?

So I’ve decided I really stink at blogging. I mean, I really want to do it on regular basis, but I just can’t think of anything to say.

The thing is, I don’t know any of you, besides the few I’ve met, so it’s hard to open up and tell you my secrets. So I’ve decide to tell you about things that I like, then maybe I will be able to open up and let the real stuff out, before it festers.

So today I’m going to tell you about the kind of books I like to read. That would be all of them!

No really, I love to read. I was the girl that read so much my mom had to take the book out of my hand to get my attention. I remember a time when I was 10 or 11, I was in the shower, the window was open to the back yard and I was in hot water. I got in trouble because my dad was in the backyard and he could see me leaning against the back wall with the water pointed down so as to not get my book wet, because I just couldn’t put it down.

I read under the covers with a flash light and in the back of the car on the highway at night, using the moonlight to see the words leap off the page.

Reading is my escape and my first real love. I’ve never had much of an imagination, I can’t imagine what something is going to look like and I never had imaginary friends when I was little, I had friends in books. They were friends that I could laugh with, cry with, I could run the gamut of emotion with them and it was okay, they would still be there for me tomorrow.

I read everything I could get my hands on. I started out with Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew, The Happy Hollisters and Judy Bolten and The Hardy Boys. Those books are some of my favorite that I read over and over again and still do when feeling nostalgic. I wanted to be Trixie Belden and had a crush on Honey’s older brother just like she did. I, in my own mind was as clever as Nancy Drew and wanted cousins like Bess and George to have adventures with.

In the morning before school I would read the cereal box if I didn’t have a book handy and yes, I was the kid who took the time to read the dictionary.We had a really old dictionary with names and their meanings and a whole set of encyclopedias, I never had a shortage.

My sister and I used to ride our bikes to the library all the time and stay for hours. Summer reading lists were burned through in 2-3 weeks and I yearned for more. I had a voracious appetite for words and the places they could take me.

I am still the same way. I would much rather read a good book than watch a movie. When I find a good book, I have no problem reading a second or third time, they just keep getting better. There are so many things that you miss the first or second time through, things you may not appreciate in January, but come to appreciate in August.

Is it any wonder that my boys are named Atticus and Zane?

Why I Need To Get Away

This is my story of why I need to get away.

I’ve never really been what you would call a sharer. What I mean by that is, I’m not really good at sharing my fears, emotions or feelings of joy. I don’t want to be a burden.

Why am I like that? I’ve been hurt and my trust has been betrayed so many times that I can’t put it out there anymore.

When I was 11 my dad was in a serious bicycle accident and I had to grow up overnight. I missed out on so many of the childhood experiences that should have been mine for the taking.  I was a daddy’s girl through and through and I was devastated by his accident. From then on my role has been care taker and peace keeper and now, I am exhausted.

I was so emotionally stunted that I got married at 18 thinking that Rob would change everything, when really all he did was make it worse. At first it wasn’t so bad to be emotionally abused, it was just kind of an extension of the things my dad said when he was angry. The only difference was that I could excuse my dad because of his lack of control in life. My husband was all together different, in the fact that he chose to make me miserable. Then he chose to hit. I think it came as a surprise to him the first time he did it and he saw how easy it was to control me, that he did it over and over again.

Why didn’t I leave? Good question, I think that I didn’t want to be a failure in that part of my life too. I played my role as caretaker very well in that relationship too. I took care of him and his needs, with nothing left for me.

I finally got divorced from Rob, it was the hardest thing to do. I had to pull myself up by my bootstraps and really see what was going on and it took a while but I finally got out.

With no self confidence or self worth to speak of I threw myself into my work and quickly became the best that I could be, because maybe I could get some sort of validation from a job. Someone would see me and think that I was worth something.

Over the years I’ve chased love, trying to find my place in the grand scheme of things. I married again and was for a little while happy. I thought I was being taken care of for once. Turns out all he really cared about was himself and what others thought. After partying at a strip club with his friends he proceeded to come home to throw up after doing the deed. He was too hungover to go visit my family with me the next day when we had a “my dad is dying” scare.  I visited my family by myself and then drove back to Arizona and told him it was over.

Maybe that seems harsh, but I was devastated. The situation showed me exactly what he thought of me. Here it was two years into the relationship and I’d worked my butt off to pay off his bills and then he pukes on me.

I eventually married again, yes, the third time’s a charm. We are happily married, however, I am not happy. I am so stretched to my limit. I need a break. I was diagnosed with undiagnosed PPD and hypothyroidism. I never have any energy and feel like I am on the verge of a breakdown all the time.

My life now is full of demands on my time, from work to my husband, and most of all my kids. I don’t have time for myself, ever.

I deserve a spa getaway, because I really need one. I need to have some time, some where that I can completely decompress. If I don’t “win” I’m sure I will be fine, however I would love the chance to just, be.

Just be, without any demands on my time but my own. I’m not really sure what that is like, but I’m sure I’d love it.