Friday, April 16, 2010

A Re-Post...In an Attempt to Re-Motivate

This was one of the most painful blogs I ever wrote. As I try to re-energize myself and begin blogging again, I am choosing now to re-share one of the most difficult moments of my entire life. I have yet to feel the same kind of pain that I felt on this night, even though seemingly more difficult events came and went, leaving me unscathed. I still cry when I read this blog. It is as real to me now as it was then. And although I still experience some disappointment on a regular basis, I have the calculation by which all other pseudo-disappointments must be weighed and measured. And blessedly, they are all found wanting.

I, however, still wield the power to disappoint. And although I try to keep my weapon guarded, I do brandish it on occasion. But, I am only human...and disappointment is a part of the race that I run in. So I accept it and I move on. And I continue to try and teach my children that disappointment is just a part of growing, learning, living. So as you read this heart-wrenching missive, know that when your day comes (may it never), your single most disappointing moment may not only be your nemesis, but your friend.


Disappointment: My Nemesis, My Friend.

Whew. I have reached levels of disappointment that are beyond description. I have spent the last week disappointing myself, disappointing my spouse, and now, finally...disappointing my children. See, tonight is the night that my soon-to-be ex-husband and I decided to tell our beautiful, innocent babies that we were getting divorced. It was, without a doubt, a grand disappointment.

My oldest daughter was overwhelmed. She cried and begged us to stay married forever. She wanted to know if we were leaving her. She wanted to know where she was going to live. She wanted to know if we (my husband and I) would be alone forever or if we would find someone else. She had so many "adult" questions, it overwhelmed me...She is only 6 years old...It was just so disappointing for her. It broke my heart. My husband sat next to her, holding her hand, tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort her...when he needed to be comforted too. When his turn came to talk to her, he did an amazing job. He pulled himself together and explained things just as he needed to...It was more painful for me than anything we have gone through this far. I wanted to stand up on the couch and scream..."WHY! Why couldn't you have cared this much when it still mattered to me! Why couldn't you have been this involved in the emotional well being of your children all along"! Of course, I didn't. I sat on the couch and cried. I haven't stopped since.

My youngest daughter was underwhelmed, to say the least. And that was a blessing. She ran around, with scissors in hand (I am for real people...yeah, judge me. I don't care. Do it now while I am still to exhausted to kick your ass), and tried to eat a candle. She was fully unaffected by the conversation that was going on. But periodically she would come up to her Daddy and say, "Daddy, please don't go"...She too is disappointed. Her disappointment may manifest itself through symptoms of pica, but there is disappointment there just the same. She is only 3...I hope that she doesn't remember this painfully disappointing night 3 years down the line. I sit. Glass of wine in hand...blogging. Some people may think that's callous or even strange. But it's more obligatory catharsis. The girls are sleeping...exhausted from all of the disappointment that has been heaped upon them over the past few days, and I am just numb. Sometimes blogging allows me to get out all of the emotions that I keep bottled up inside in a way that makes me feel better, and sometimes amuses others. But now, I feel like I am telling a story that doesn't even belong to me. My heart feels empty. I don't really have any great emotional stories to share. I feel like I have been in a bloodletting, and all life in me has poured out onto the earth...absorbed and then gone. But yet, I feel compelled to write this blog and send all of these thoughts into the blogosphere...Because the part of me that takes my raw emotions and turns them into something creative and unique is dying. I am slowly starting to shut down and I am helpless to stop it. I have been trying to keep the people who love me close to me, but my heart is fighting that attempt, and I want to push all these people away. If I can just shut down and feel nothing, I can get through all of the disappointment...I wont have to feel it...and I can put all of my focus on helping those who are going to suffer the most...My girls.

So if I don't smile...Forgive me. If I don't want to talk to you...Forgive me. If I seem to lose some interest in the very things that used to bring me some measure of happiness...Forgive me. I know that I will disappoint you too. I am sure that I already have in some way or another over the years, so it is likely that you are used to it. Soon, I will not be myself anymore. I have already changed...There was once a girl who would do anything for a man that she met, until she had more disappointment than she could stand, and she began to shut down...and she began to change into someone that turned the disappointment table...But heaping disappointment on others doesn't make you feel better. In fact, it is as bad - or worse, than feeling the disappointment yourself. So I choose to feel nothing. In nothingness there wont be any disappointment. None to be delivered or received. So if I can't look you in the eye when we meet...forgive me. I am trying to spare you from disappointment. Because my tired, empty eyes will give it all away...That I have been friends with disappointment for years, and although she has been a hard friend to have hanging around all the time, she has always been there...Even though I have been a faithful companion, she is always looking for new people to be fast friends with. And I don't want it to be you.

Monday, October 12, 2009

But I Want to be a Moustache!

No. You read that correctly. And no. I don't want to be a moustache. But my 4 year old daughter does. For Halloween, I should add, not as a life goal. As she was on her way home from school last week, Randy (my delightfully accommodating and perpetually wonderful "boyfriend") asked both girls what they wanted to be for Halloween. Halloween is one of our very favorite holidays in the Salvatori-Lambert house. Salvatori comes before Lambert because there are more Salvatori named individuals than Lamberts. Just in case you wondered...But I digress. Halloween has always been a favorite holiday for my girls, fueled solely by the promise of an entire years worth of candy, garnered all in one night. But no matter the reason, they look forward to Halloween all year long. So when Randy asked Izzy what she wanted to be for Halloween, she had already set her mind to, yep...A moustache. Just what every Mother dreams their daughter will be. A moustache. So, after nearly careening off the road in a fit of laughter, Randy calls me at work. He says, "do you know what your daughter wants to be for Halloween"? "Uh, I dunno", I say. "A princess"? "NO"! Randy is nearly in tears at this point, and I can hear the squeal of the tires as he is yet again struggling to maintain control of the car under the duress of laughing til it hurts. "She wants to be a MOUSTACHE"!


"I'm sorry, do what"? I ask. At this point, Randy is pleading with me not to make him say it again, because it is just too much...And so, more silence from me. Then, I begin to wonder. Does she want to be a handlebar mustache, or something more along the lines of Groucho Marx or Hitler? How does one make a moustache costume? And as if knowing that breaking the silence is just the right thing to do, Randy asks me if he should go as a razor. Really? I'm so sorry. I can only conceptualize one complex costume at a time. And I am still working on moustache! Get in line, Gillette! Suddenly, I am reminded of last year...My oldest daughter wanted to be something complicated too...What was it again? I know she ended up dressing as Hannah Montana, and that was a piece of cake. She already has the blond hair, and the costume came in a plastic bag. I did spend a little more than intended on the fancy Hannah Montana boots, but I did say NO to the cutting of Amelia's bangs (you know, to make the look more "authentic"). So what was it she wanted to be again...Hmmm.

I had momentarily forgotten that I was on the phone, then something pulled me back from daydreaming...It's the sound of more laughter...squeeling...this time not from the tires, but from my oldest and youngest laughing in delight. So I ask Randy, "what is going on in that car"? To which he replies, "do you know what Amelia wants to be for Halloween"? Cautiously, I say "nooooo"...And in between convulsing he manages to say "a coral reef"!

Suddenly, I remember just what it was Amelia wanted to be last year. And I guess it is making an encore. Great. When I visualized my time on this planet as a Mommy, it never once included the vision of me, walking down the street on Halloween night, telling the Moustache and the Coral Reef to hurry the hell up, cause this Mommy needs a cocktail. Well, here's to visualization, and I am having that cocktail now. I need it. I still have a Coral Reef costume and a mustache to build.

Thursday, September 10, 2009


Tomorrow is a day that will forever be remembered by all peoples old enough to actually remember what happened 8 years ago, in all countries...everyone, everywhere.

I remember that morning. I remember it like stock footage from a B-rated, film noir, memory montage. I was pregnant with Amelia. I was sleeping in my bed, next to my husband. My neighbor called and told me to get up and turn on the T.V. My Mom was in town. I sat, transfixed, for the next 4 hours - holding my enormous belly - watching all of the streaming news footage in numb disbelief. I remember looking over to my Mom and asking, "should I cancel the reservation"? I remember her saying, "we still need to eat". So we went out to eat. We were only one of two parties in the restaurant that night. Under normal circumstances, we could have passed on the dinner. It wouldn't have mattered. But on that particular day, My Mom had come into town to take my husband and I out to dinner, to our favorite restaurant, for our third wedding anniversary. We all ate, in silence. I don't even remember if there was a gift. After that year, our anniversary lost some of it's allure. Maybe it was because of the absolute horror of the events of that day in 2001. Maybe it's because our marriage lost some of it's allure. Not really sure.

So tomorrow, I will spend a few moments in remembrance. I will remember all of those lives lost on September 11, 2001...I will remember people I didn't even know, but feel as though I did. I will remember that I was pregnant, wondering how to bring a child into a world full of so much hate. I will remember that people are still dying for tomorrow. But I will also remember that ten years ago, on September 11, 1999, before the day would forever be marked as one of the worst days in American history, I got married. So, I will spend just a few moments in remembrance of the death of that marriage.

But do you know what? I still believe in marriage. I still believe that it is a beautiful thing, and can be full of happiness and bliss. Do I think everyday is like that? No. I'm not a fool. I also believe in America. I believe it is a beautiful country, and can be full of happiness and bliss. And no, everyday is not like that. And that's okay, because we are alive to look forward to those kinds of days. And I am alive to look forward to that kind of marriage. So, even though September 11th will always be a bit of a dark day for me, for more than just the historical reason, there is always September 12th.

Friday, August 28, 2009

It Matters to Me

I find myself regularly torn between two lovers. The lover that wants to do what I want to do, and the lover that wants me to do what he/she/it wants to do. I often find myself highly motivated to follow the lead of the latter lover, and do what he/she/it wants me to do. Maybe it will be fun, maybe it will be exciting, maybe I will feel free. However, more often than not, I settle for the lover that just wants to do what I want to do...Sit on the couch. NOT work out. Eat ice cream. I think that this lover is good to me...Tonight, I wonder, maybe not so much?

When I was younger (read, college), I used to feel a little - let's just say depressed - when I was alone. I craved the company of another. Could be a friend, a lover, an instantly discovered and just as easily lost soul mate, it could be anyone. I just needed the company. I didn't really care about what I wanted to do. I wanted the lover that could promise me good times, good drinks, good friends, even if followed by hazy memories and less than good digestive results. Somewhere along the way that changed. On the road to adulthood I took a side street to hermit-ville and decided to stay. Once I arrived in this new found place, I lost the desire to take a lover who wanted me to "party like a rock star"...The lover who was proud of us if we came home as the garbage men picked up our trash...The lover who probably didn't really care about me, but cared that I was fun. I just wanted to be alone. I still took the ex-lover's calls, still listened as he/she/it romanced the potential night that awaited us, but would always find a reason to say no. And so I sat alone. Until I met my other lover. This one promised me solace, quiet, unrecognizable depression. And I fell deeply in love. To me, the promise of nothing was better then the promise of it all.

As I grew older (read, now), I began to realize that my new, albeit long term, lover didn't really have my best interests at heart. I wasn't so sure that sitting on the couch, watching SoapNet, playing on the computer, drinking one glass of wine after another, was really what I needed, after all. Maybe I needed a lover who could give me both...Not only what I need, but helps me to see what others around me need from me...And is there really such a lover? I think that there is not. And really, that's okay. Because more than anything, I need to learn that I do not need to take a lover to know who I am. I need to learn that I am the only one who should say, "Get up, girl. Go get your piece of life". Because I want to be that girl. I want to get up and get my piece of life. I want to not only do the things that matter to me, but the things that matter to you. Isn't that what makes me my very best me? When I can and will do both? Cause, honey...It does matter to me. The things that are important to you, can also be important to me. And the things that are important to me can be important to only me. That's okay too.

To all my former lovers...Well, I have finally put you all to bed. I have found the "beds in boat world". I finally realize that it's okay. It's okay that it matters to me.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Still Missing You...

Sheesh. If you had asked me, say, two years ago (give or take) if I was capable of "missing" someone, I'm not sure how I might have replied. Sure, I missed my children if I travelled away from them, but not really. I seldom left my children behind in my travels, and when I did, it was because I desperately needed the break. A break from the whining, the crying, the exhaustion that comes with being a Mommy...I finally had someone validate this for me...And I must say, I had been waiting--so very long--to exhale. A friend, that I have had since high school, confessed to me that parenting was hard for her. I was floored. She was then, and quite frankly, still is, perfect. Perfect in a real way. A successful career. An amazing spouse. Beautiful children. A great nose. Christian, and proud...Ever trying to lead me away from the "dark side"...Just perfect. But hearing this "perfect" woman talk about her struggles with parenting, infanthood, toddler years, and then some...Made me feel real. It made me feel closer to perfect (and if you really know me, you know that is my ultimate goal). And it made me miss my children. See, I am out of town this week. My beautiful heathen spawn are with their Daddy (my ex-husband, in case you needed a refresher). They aren't entirely thrilled with the arrangement, but they are resilient beings, and are rolling with it just the same. And, oh...How I miss them. I even had a stranger give me a dollar so I could have my picture taken with Elmo tonight(Look for this post later this week when I get a chance to upload). I miss them in a way that I am unfamiliar with. The last time that I left them for more than a day my parents were with them. Prior to that, I was still married, and didn't feel as "off-put" over the whole thing. Odd really. There was a time, pre-Zoloft, that I couldn't get away from my family quickly enough. Now, all I want to do is be a better contributor to my family, even as that dynamic changes...And no, I'm not taking my vitamin Z anymore, thanks for wondering...

But what does this have to do with "still missing you"...Obviously, missing my children isn't new to me. I'm not a monster. I love and cherish my babies, I'm just not that kinda Mommy...You know, the one that can't seperate who she is from who her children are. I have no problem with that. But I miss now in increasingly different ways. Back in "the day", I viewed travel as my escape...Escape from the toxic environment that was developing in my home. Now, travel is taking me away from something I have grown quite dependant on. My spot. I miss my spot. I miss what my spot represents. I miss the way I fit in my spot. My spot is more than just the crook of an arm, the feeling of warm skin, the smell of a man that I love more than I can express...It's my spot. It's all I have ever wanted. It's the family that I am rebuilding. Yeah, so maybe the players have changed somewhat, but the goal never does...And that ultimate goal is Happiness. For my children, for me, for the people in my life that are non-negotiable...And I miss my spot, and all that it represents. And I miss the man that gave this all to me. You may shake your little head all you want, and declare to your empty room that "no man/woman can make or break your happiness, it's all in you". But you, me and your empty space all know that's bullshit. A single person can change your life. Maybe it's a child, maybe it's two (as it was for me), maybe it's the introduction of an outsider who becomes an insider, and shows you just what it means to be a family...And so, I am really missing my family right now. My girls, my man, my dog and the guinea pig and the African frogs and the cat...

I can look at the pictures, I can talk on the phone. I can text, I can Facebook, I can Tweet and I can blog. But I am still missing you. And I am certain that I always will. When I am not in my spot, I am still missing you.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

When It All Comes Together

So. Here we are. A long time has passed since I have spent any time with you, and for that, I am sorry. I have had many months of trials, many months of stresses, and many months of the very scenarios that would have once sent me running to my computer, burning to turn out the next great literary masterpiece via blogger...And yet, here we are. Nothing for months, and here I am, expecting you to take me back. But as I have dutifully pointed out to you before, disappointment is my shadow, and it follows me everywhere, inflicting it's wrath upon all those who should fall under it's cast...So you should have been prepared for this from the beginning.

While I have been away from you, I have learned a few things. I have also forgotten a few things, and even remembered a few things that I didn't know I knew. That last one is always exciting...But I digress. Primarily, I have learned that sometimes, even in the very face of adversity, things can go well. What the bulk of my random readers don't know, is that through all of the drama, trauma, and overall chaos of last year, I had a great deal of emotional help (well, let's just call it what it is, shall's love). And it was that love that kept everything together, even when I was the one trying to tear it all apart. It was that love that showed me how real love can be when it is done right, that real love doesn't involve angry words or disdainful looks or cold shoulders...In fact, it is all quite the opposite. Things in my life began to change completely...I felt better about myself. I treated those around me with more kindness, more generosity. I played more with my children and spoke to them more lovingly. I involved myself more in the lives of my friends, took the time to let them know that I am still here for them in spite of what is going on with me. I began to become the woman I had always wanted to be...And although it seems so very, very trite...All it took was the right kind of love. And when it all comes together like that, it's amazing.

And thus, I have become the kind of woman that people want to hit. I am so full of this incredible love that I am on regular bliss-overload. When I talk about the source of my love, I ooze like so much puss from an infected wound. When asked about the source of my love, I can prattle on for hours like an escapee from Pendleton Asylum. It's nauseating, I know. And I love it. I had a conversation with my Mom a while back, and she expressed concern for my overall well being. It is a Mother's job to do this on a regular basis, I understand, but I still find it annoying...I know that one day, I will do it to my children too. During that conversation I revealed something to her that I had not verbalized to anyone (other than my beloved, and I think that was in e-mail form) was this: I have been fortunate enough to experience the kind of love that overwhelms a heart. It's so much for the poor heart muscle, that it expands to the lungs, to the nerves, to the brain...It fills you up. It fills you up in a way that is almost uncomfortable. And not uncomfortable in a painful sense, but uncomfortable in the sense that you are experiencing something you have never experienced before...And it's amazing. But this wasn't what put my Mom at was what I said next. I explained to her that the love that I have been given, and the love that I have returned, was so remarkable, that if it were taken from me tomorrow, I would be okay. I would be okay because I was able to just have the love at all. Because for me, it was the realization that this was what love was supposed to be, and it was mine...and everything else came together. And now, all the pieces of the puzzle have been laid into place, and some cosmic force came by and sprayed the puzzle with that crazy spray glue shit, and now it's a fixed piece. The same could be said for my heart. It is a fixed piece. It has all come together and I am whole. And although I never, ever want to lose this love, should it disappear, I will never feel like a loser. I won a long time ago, and the glue that holds this heart together is the strongest I have ever known.

So. Here we are. I hope that you still aren't upset with me for having neglected you for so long. I will strive to find new and exciting things to blog about very, very soon. In fact, I have a great topic for me next post! Let me tell you about this man I know...(Oozing begins)

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I haven't blogged in such a long time. There are so many reasons. Some I can't even really blog about, and I hate that...Blogging, for me, has been about providing me with an outlet for disclosure. Of course, a good 98% of my blog readers don't really know what a good 98% of my blogs are actually about. And that's okay...they don't need to. It would be too much for people to process, I think. But recently, I haven't had the time, or the inclination to blog. However, I had an experience the other day that I feel compelled to share. Something happened to me that has happened to everyone in one way or another. So many people have said to me, when one door closes, a window opens...I used to think this was pretty much total crap, but am feeling it's true, now more strongly than I ever thought possible. You see, this week I walked out of the home I shared with my ex-husband for almost 10 years, for the very last time.

I have known for over a month that I would be moving out. My ex-husband moved out on November 1st. I stayed, wanting to keep the girls in the only home they have ever known. I wasn't happy there and I was ready to move on...But there is so much to moving. So much packing, so much trashing, so much everything. Putting it off seemed easier. Then, the time came. With a LOT of help, I was out of the house in just two days. The girls were happy, the pets were happy and I was happy. Kinda.

I didn't feel alone in the old house. Everything I have ever known as an adult was all around me. Now, well...Now I am surrounded by emptiness. There are no pictures on the walls, so memories made...And yes, of course I know these things will happen, the pictures will appear and the memories will be created. But as I sit here, alone, while my children are spending a few days with their Daddy, I feel cold.

If you know me, you know that I can be impatient. I want things to happen when I want them to happen. I want things done on my time frame, my schedule. I don't need you to tell me that's unrealistic...In my life, it hasn't always been such an unrealistic expectation. Maybe that is why I always find myself in this place, where I am cold and alone. Because I want what I want when I want it. And when I don't get it, I shut down, push away and move on. Am am tetering on the brink of this shut down. I don't like to feel alone, and I don't like to be cold. Yet here I am...Feeling very much by myself and very chilly. But like all of the things that have happened over the course of the past three months, I will make it though this, too. I have to learn that my time frames don't always gel with the cosmos, and there really isn't a damn thing I can do to change that. So, I will grab my blanket, read my blog to my sister (cause she can't work a computer - yeah, she's 34...there is no excuse), and I won't feel so alone. And maybe one day I will open up the Pandora's Box that contains all of the mysteries and secrets that are hidden between the lines of this blog. And I will never have to feel alone again, because the whole world will know me. I think I will like that.

So before I shut down my computer for the night, I want to say "goodbye" to my old house. Goodbye to the life that was created there. Goodbye to the sadness that permeated the drywall and most certainly goodbye to the rancid stench of dog pee that seemed to be lingereing in the air. I definitely wont miss that.