Oct. 2, 2007
One month of being married. Not exactly what I expected. I did not have much of an idea what to expect, mind you.
I love him so much.
It's hard though, I miss home, family, Chilli, friends, normalcy. This is my new normal. That is hard to grasp.
The thing that I can grab and don't want to is he could be leaving me in less than a year, going away for longer than we've been married. He doesn't see it the way I do. I want to spend every extra moment with him right now. Have a chance to know him in an out.
He has no fear of having children. Ofcourse, when I think about this I think about having to care for them alone while he's gone. Sometimes I think what if he leaves and never comes back. It's possible, scarry, but possible. Then I'd want a piece of him to be with me. That's selfish I know. Have a kid, just in case, so I don't have to be alone. Raise a kid with out a dad.
I am getting way ahead of things. That's what I do. Over think things. Think 'em into the ground.
When I started writing I was really annoyed that the love of my life has spent the last three or so hours on the other love of his life. It's not that I hate his favorite game I just secretly pray the server will crash. Oh, how nice it'd be.
I think the hardest part of the game issue is I can't be involved. With my dad, brother, and, even, other boyfriends there was ways they'd let me into their hobbies. Like sports, I am no sports-junkie. Don't expect meon any sidelines, but I learned my fairshare of sports terms- baseball, football, and, even, hockey. I learned more about politics, which are actually somewhat interesting to me. I have found ways and been shown ways into other males hobbies. But it seems there's no way into this one.
I miss female connections. I miss watching lame shows and picking apart skinny, whining reality show contestants. I miss going to the gym only to go to Candice's to sit on the couch and look at Myspace while eating cookies or cookie-dough.
I miss Biology, yes, Biology. Who woulda thought.
I miss having Nay down the street at school all week.
I miss my mom nagging me about my messy room, taking her parking spot, loud music, hair products,not helping out, dog poo, phone bills, and computer hours.
I miss conversations with two-year-olds about pee pee.
I miss my dad. Hearing the same story twice in five minutes (until were on the phone). I miss hours of baseball and Fox News.
I miss my lil' brother coming home from work, ranting about some idiot bagger dropping eggs then standing and studying them for days.
I miss home.
Oct. 10, 2007
I love my husband, don't know where he is, but love him. I am settling. I miss home but I couldn't live there with out him. He melts me. Often. He's home!!
Oct. 11, 2007
Hmmm. Andy came home with bad news last night. He has to go to Ft. Benning (Georgia) for training. He'll be gone for 15-20 days. We don't really know. I am not sure I am going to lie all the alone time. I am going to hate it as a matter of fact. I already dislike what I have.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Never been This scared...
It is interesting how one situation changing can change your whole life.
My aunt is leaving her husband. He has been abusing her and, now her 7 year old son has seen it. She told him she was leaving; things have escalated. Up until this week I have been very angry at my aunts daughter because she told some very personal stuff to other people (family, that didn't know) and also exaggerated a few "facts" about me. This anger flew out the window when I found out what was going on.
Life is all about small details that out weigh the larger ones.
This afternoon my family had our very first "Family Meeting." This in and of itself scared me. We all sat down and decided to invite Stephen, the 7 yr old, to come stay with us for the next 4 weeks. This is a bit more scary. Stephen is loud, sometimes he literally drives me crazy. I decided I would go get him and asked Nay if she'd come along. She did.
The whole ride there was great, a few incidences with cars riding my tail. Nothing too major. We got there collected Stephen, saw Danielle, Said "Hi," "Bye," and "I love you." We stoped by BurgerKing on the way to 99 [and home] and got a toy turtle and some food. Once on 99 we saw a bunch of sad cows and horses all stuffed in a truck. The door of the truck said, "Go cattle? We Mooove them" I pointed out to Renee that as the reason I don't eat meat. We passed all the cows and horses and kept trecking.
Then we stopped. I had to pee like I've (almost) never had to pee before. Wendy's in Merced is my normal stopping point for Fresno-to-Stockton action so, that is where we went. I made a friend at the door. He had no home and was feeding his companion (a scruffy dog) his dinner. This saddend me. I thanked Jesus for all I have and took James advice.
Short break and we were back on the road. No big deal. By now I was making up the stupidest stories you've ever heard and telling them to Renee and Stephen. Renee would pretend to laugh then, Stephen wouldalugh histerically. After my joke Stephen would tell the same joke with different characters and/or objects. It was good times. Somewhere in the middle of our good times, less than 10 minutes out of Merced someone in a blue pick-up (who apparently had no insurance) got impatient.
Blue truck man who spoke only one word or two letters of english. Tried pulling between my amazingly realiable car and a flatbed semi. His intentions (if he had any and the whole situation wasn't purely accident) were to get infront of me. He some how over estimated how much space there was, how little space there was, or maybe he just wasn't fully competent in the materials used to make his car. With his over/under-estimating and/or incompetence He proceded to drive his blue late-model pickup into my front passenger side. Since I was on the Hiway, I was going about 70mph, as was he, I am guessing. This caused my car to begin to spin. I started to fight it turning the wheel then, I remember what I learned at this safe driving thing my friend spoke at. I let go of the wheel (I actually thought of the song Jesus take the wheel). We got hit one more time on the driver's side. The car spun somemore. Things were flying. Etta James was singing about "a Sunday kind of love." I was praying for God to protect us if there was anything left on earth for any of us to do. The car stopped facing north on Southbound 99. I couldn't open my door: it was locked. Some how my window was down. I got out. Stephen's door was indented. It wouldn't open but I had just unlocked it. Cars were coming toward us and spliting An angel named Lori opened Renees door. Lori had begun to call 911 before we were hit the second time. I went to the passenger side and got stephen out that way.
We all got to the side of the road.
Mid-30s Hispaninc male and friends stepped out of Late-model light blue pickup.
Heavyset Hispanic female said, "Insurance?"
I said, "Yes."
Mid-30's said, "Okay?" or "Ok?" (you decide how much bredit you want to give him.)
I said, "I don't know."
My car was still in the middle of the two lanes facing the wrong way. We tried to push it. I don't know who "we" is aside from Renee, Angel Lori and I (I think Flatbed Semi Truck Driver might have. We couldn't push it. It stayed there. We turned around and Blue Truck was leaving.
The CHP came. It took a while. I hurt I am tired. I want to cry.
]
My aunt is leaving her husband. He has been abusing her and, now her 7 year old son has seen it. She told him she was leaving; things have escalated. Up until this week I have been very angry at my aunts daughter because she told some very personal stuff to other people (family, that didn't know) and also exaggerated a few "facts" about me. This anger flew out the window when I found out what was going on.
Life is all about small details that out weigh the larger ones.
This afternoon my family had our very first "Family Meeting." This in and of itself scared me. We all sat down and decided to invite Stephen, the 7 yr old, to come stay with us for the next 4 weeks. This is a bit more scary. Stephen is loud, sometimes he literally drives me crazy. I decided I would go get him and asked Nay if she'd come along. She did.
The whole ride there was great, a few incidences with cars riding my tail. Nothing too major. We got there collected Stephen, saw Danielle, Said "Hi," "Bye," and "I love you." We stoped by BurgerKing on the way to 99 [and home] and got a toy turtle and some food. Once on 99 we saw a bunch of sad cows and horses all stuffed in a truck. The door of the truck said, "Go cattle? We Mooove them" I pointed out to Renee that as the reason I don't eat meat. We passed all the cows and horses and kept trecking.
Then we stopped. I had to pee like I've (almost) never had to pee before. Wendy's in Merced is my normal stopping point for Fresno-to-Stockton action so, that is where we went. I made a friend at the door. He had no home and was feeding his companion (a scruffy dog) his dinner. This saddend me. I thanked Jesus for all I have and took James advice.
Short break and we were back on the road. No big deal. By now I was making up the stupidest stories you've ever heard and telling them to Renee and Stephen. Renee would pretend to laugh then, Stephen wouldalugh histerically. After my joke Stephen would tell the same joke with different characters and/or objects. It was good times. Somewhere in the middle of our good times, less than 10 minutes out of Merced someone in a blue pick-up (who apparently had no insurance) got impatient.
Blue truck man who spoke only one word or two letters of english. Tried pulling between my amazingly realiable car and a flatbed semi. His intentions (if he had any and the whole situation wasn't purely accident) were to get infront of me. He some how over estimated how much space there was, how little space there was, or maybe he just wasn't fully competent in the materials used to make his car. With his over/under-estimating and/or incompetence He proceded to drive his blue late-model pickup into my front passenger side. Since I was on the Hiway, I was going about 70mph, as was he, I am guessing. This caused my car to begin to spin. I started to fight it turning the wheel then, I remember what I learned at this safe driving thing my friend spoke at. I let go of the wheel (I actually thought of the song Jesus take the wheel). We got hit one more time on the driver's side. The car spun somemore. Things were flying. Etta James was singing about "a Sunday kind of love." I was praying for God to protect us if there was anything left on earth for any of us to do. The car stopped facing north on Southbound 99. I couldn't open my door: it was locked. Some how my window was down. I got out. Stephen's door was indented. It wouldn't open but I had just unlocked it. Cars were coming toward us and spliting An angel named Lori opened Renees door. Lori had begun to call 911 before we were hit the second time. I went to the passenger side and got stephen out that way.
We all got to the side of the road.
Mid-30s Hispaninc male and friends stepped out of Late-model light blue pickup.
Heavyset Hispanic female said, "Insurance?"
I said, "Yes."
Mid-30's said, "Okay?" or "Ok?" (you decide how much bredit you want to give him.)
I said, "I don't know."
My car was still in the middle of the two lanes facing the wrong way. We tried to push it. I don't know who "we" is aside from Renee, Angel Lori and I (I think Flatbed Semi Truck Driver might have. We couldn't push it. It stayed there. We turned around and Blue Truck was leaving.
The CHP came. It took a while. I hurt I am tired. I want to cry.
]
Sunday, June 03, 2007
May & June
May left me. I am hurt. It is June. June is hot but, May was nicer.
May brought more change, It seems change is a main component of life.
_________________________________________________________
This rant has been a long time coming.
I found out yesterday my bestfriend from grade school is engaged. This is the most recent in a number of engagement anouncements. I am sitting here thinking If they can find [mostly] somewhat decent guys that will by them a ring (in most cases) and say, "I love you, let's get married" or "I love you, let's go to Vegas." Why is its so hard to meet a DECENT, Godly, guy, who brushes his teeth, can drive, has a somewhat inspiring vocabulary, likes good music, is in love with Jesus, will stand up and be a man, can do dishes, knows how to speak three languages, will talk to my dad abut sports and politics (with out a huge agrument), can cook a turkey, knows how to paint a house, has a vast knowledge in pop culture as well as classic liturature.
I don't get it. I don't ask for much.
The only offers I get are Crazy guys who just want sex (and are very open about it), guys who are in they're late twenties and just realizing I'm a grown up now, or the ones that are covered, lterally, covered in tattoos.
I am not one of those that thinks young people shouldn't get married until the are 28-30 but, I am also not in full support of marriages that spring from desire to move out of one's parents home or to be able to have sex without guilt. It's like today there is no happy medium. Either couples get married way too young or they put it off until they're 30. Then all the fertility clinics are full of women crying because the can't conceive.
May brought more change, It seems change is a main component of life.
_________________________________________________________
This rant has been a long time coming.
I found out yesterday my bestfriend from grade school is engaged. This is the most recent in a number of engagement anouncements. I am sitting here thinking If they can find [mostly] somewhat decent guys that will by them a ring (in most cases) and say, "I love you, let's get married" or "I love you, let's go to Vegas." Why is its so hard to meet a DECENT, Godly, guy, who brushes his teeth, can drive, has a somewhat inspiring vocabulary, likes good music, is in love with Jesus, will stand up and be a man, can do dishes, knows how to speak three languages, will talk to my dad abut sports and politics (with out a huge agrument), can cook a turkey, knows how to paint a house, has a vast knowledge in pop culture as well as classic liturature.
I don't get it. I don't ask for much.
The only offers I get are Crazy guys who just want sex (and are very open about it), guys who are in they're late twenties and just realizing I'm a grown up now, or the ones that are covered, lterally, covered in tattoos.
I am not one of those that thinks young people shouldn't get married until the are 28-30 but, I am also not in full support of marriages that spring from desire to move out of one's parents home or to be able to have sex without guilt. It's like today there is no happy medium. Either couples get married way too young or they put it off until they're 30. Then all the fertility clinics are full of women crying because the can't conceive.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Beautiful Life?
A few months ago someone I really admire told me I was living a beautiful life. At the moment I wanted to slap her. My life was far from beautiful. I was struggling with my past, facing it finally but I would face it by day and smother it with food by night. I wanted to face the pain but when I did it hurt too much. And that's just what was going on then we won't even delve into the past that brought me to that point.
Life has been a struggle this year, far from beautiful. Yet every time I see this friend she reminds me I am beautiful and I think about my beautiful life. I have sorta taken back my life this year... taken it back from anti-depressants, shame, loneliness, pill popping. Then, I reluctantly handed it back to my Father.
This is where it gets beautiful. He took it. All the pieces I had found, then, he went and found some more. He put them all together so flawlessly that it is hard to tell that I strayed from His plan, that things in my life were created by evil, that was not Him. He is Amazing. He has made a Beautiful Life.
Life has been a struggle this year, far from beautiful. Yet every time I see this friend she reminds me I am beautiful and I think about my beautiful life. I have sorta taken back my life this year... taken it back from anti-depressants, shame, loneliness, pill popping. Then, I reluctantly handed it back to my Father.
This is where it gets beautiful. He took it. All the pieces I had found, then, he went and found some more. He put them all together so flawlessly that it is hard to tell that I strayed from His plan, that things in my life were created by evil, that was not Him. He is Amazing. He has made a Beautiful Life.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Scars
I love scars.
It may be that I am covered in them but, I think it is something different. Growing up I was questioned about the scar on my chest a lot. I hated it then especially the nick-name I aqquired because of it ("Frankenstien-Chest" real clever for a first grader). Looking back the scar helped me out a lot. People could tell where I was coming from when I was afraid to play a contact sport or could hardly breathe after running (the first 6 mos or so).
Scars tell stories. And the bruises and scrapes that come before them show real pain. You see a 5 year old girl with a scab on her knew and you know it's been kissed a thousand times. Growing up pains are often deeper. There is no visable scar for someone who has been disowned, let down, or lied to. Yes, you can sometimes tell a woman has been wronged by a man by the way she reacts to other men. You'll never know how severe it was, how deep the hurt ran.
Scars give an opening to talk about pain. Sometimes it is uncomfortable to mentions scars. If a woman has a scar across her face or your tattoo artist is missing a hand. How do you say, "Hey where is your other arm?" and "Are you sure you don't need it to put this mark on my body?" with compassion.
I wish my big hurt had left a scar. Something to bring up the pain. Hiding it inside just isn't working and pretending it didn't happen lost it's simplicty a long time ago.
It may be that I am covered in them but, I think it is something different. Growing up I was questioned about the scar on my chest a lot. I hated it then especially the nick-name I aqquired because of it ("Frankenstien-Chest" real clever for a first grader). Looking back the scar helped me out a lot. People could tell where I was coming from when I was afraid to play a contact sport or could hardly breathe after running (the first 6 mos or so).
Scars tell stories. And the bruises and scrapes that come before them show real pain. You see a 5 year old girl with a scab on her knew and you know it's been kissed a thousand times. Growing up pains are often deeper. There is no visable scar for someone who has been disowned, let down, or lied to. Yes, you can sometimes tell a woman has been wronged by a man by the way she reacts to other men. You'll never know how severe it was, how deep the hurt ran.
Scars give an opening to talk about pain. Sometimes it is uncomfortable to mentions scars. If a woman has a scar across her face or your tattoo artist is missing a hand. How do you say, "Hey where is your other arm?" and "Are you sure you don't need it to put this mark on my body?" with compassion.
I wish my big hurt had left a scar. Something to bring up the pain. Hiding it inside just isn't working and pretending it didn't happen lost it's simplicty a long time ago.
Silence
Last night at Bible Study we discussed how Noise can be distracting, how it God speaks in silence.
So... I decided I wanted to hear God this morning. I decided last night actually.
Off to work this morning my purse is loaded with bottles and bottles of water, tons of evelopes, my lunch (some shrimp fried rice, thanks mom), my loud cell phone, and my CD face plate. Out of pure habit I shove my face plate in and start my car. Since it was disconnected it doesn't come on unless I turn it on. I go to turn it on... and then remember... Silence.
It takes about one minute for me to get to the red light at Cedar/Shepard that's when I decided: this is crazy, I am crazy. I continue driving. First, in complete silence; then, humming; and then, full out singing (with no accompaniment of course). After about two stop lights I feel guilty. Okay, God Silence. Speak. .... I said speak God. I am seriously listening. ....
This continues down Palm and halfway down Shaw. Silence, thinking, demanding God to speak to me. Then it happens.
I say (out loud), "Ashley, He's not talking to you."
I reply, "I know but, I am trying to listen and all I hear is your voice demanding Him to speak. You're so pushy."
"Well, I wouldn't have to be pushy if you would just listen in the first place."
This my friends is how I lost my mind.
So... I decided I wanted to hear God this morning. I decided last night actually.
Off to work this morning my purse is loaded with bottles and bottles of water, tons of evelopes, my lunch (some shrimp fried rice, thanks mom), my loud cell phone, and my CD face plate. Out of pure habit I shove my face plate in and start my car. Since it was disconnected it doesn't come on unless I turn it on. I go to turn it on... and then remember... Silence.
It takes about one minute for me to get to the red light at Cedar/Shepard that's when I decided: this is crazy, I am crazy. I continue driving. First, in complete silence; then, humming; and then, full out singing (with no accompaniment of course). After about two stop lights I feel guilty. Okay, God Silence. Speak. .... I said speak God. I am seriously listening. ....
This continues down Palm and halfway down Shaw. Silence, thinking, demanding God to speak to me. Then it happens.
I say (out loud), "Ashley, He's not talking to you."
I reply, "I know but, I am trying to listen and all I hear is your voice demanding Him to speak. You're so pushy."
"Well, I wouldn't have to be pushy if you would just listen in the first place."
This my friends is how I lost my mind.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
So Many Thoughts...
- Budget- Can I do it? I know I can do it. But have I accounted for everything?
- No clothes?? What? Did I just say that out loud. The thing about sharing your personal commitments/convictions is people hold you to them. Scary. No new clothes for a year.
- Why are crazy fools getting married when I haven't even had a prospect of a decent date in over a year (okay, One complete year of it was my fault but since March-nothing) My mom's mother's day request is I go on a date, seriously.
- How much money should I give to God and how much should go to savings? I know 10% is tithe but I am looking beyond that. And does the Bible say anything about a savings account, or something ancient that is comparable? Or is it a modern and unholy concept?
- Why is forgiveness something that seems to come and go in my life? I feel like I have forgiven him and then I see or hear something and I have all this rage. I know Gods not like that. I want to forgive him at this very moment I realize that he was a sick individual who was in need of a straight jacket, psychiatric help, and, mostly, God. But If I wake up after I nightmare I'll hate him and pray for him to go to hell. That's so bad... there's not even a word for that.
- Vegetarian?
Friday, May 04, 2007
There's beauty in the breakdown
How do you know you've reach the point of forgiveness? How do I know when I have really forgiven him? Is it when I don't think about what he did to me for a whole day? When I go a month with out a nightmare? When I am not afraid in a car? How do I know when I have moved on? When I can talk to a male with out my heart racing and having a panic attack?
How do I move on? I tried the whole physical going through the motions bit and that was a bust. So do I wait till I feel ready? The thing about my feelings is they are intense and almost always way out in left field.
I am scared. I think that Grace is an Amazing thing (that is obnoxiously cliche). I know that God offers grace for the things I did. And I think that him giving me grace will leave me with grace for A. I just hate where I am at it should be easy. Jesus forgives me. Jesus says love your neighbor. I should just love my neighbor not sit here late at night losing sleep over how to love my neighbor. Or wether he deserves any love. Or questioning God on why He forgives him for what he did. It's not right and it's not fair.
Don't get me started on the church "Christ dying for you wasn't fair, either" answer. I know this, I have told myself a hundred times. I just won't listen. In my head it's not that simple.
Let go...
How do I move on? I tried the whole physical going through the motions bit and that was a bust. So do I wait till I feel ready? The thing about my feelings is they are intense and almost always way out in left field.
I am scared. I think that Grace is an Amazing thing (that is obnoxiously cliche). I know that God offers grace for the things I did. And I think that him giving me grace will leave me with grace for A. I just hate where I am at it should be easy. Jesus forgives me. Jesus says love your neighbor. I should just love my neighbor not sit here late at night losing sleep over how to love my neighbor. Or wether he deserves any love. Or questioning God on why He forgives him for what he did. It's not right and it's not fair.
Don't get me started on the church "Christ dying for you wasn't fair, either" answer. I know this, I have told myself a hundred times. I just won't listen. In my head it's not that simple.
Let go...
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