The Many Ways in Which Life can Flip on You

I delved, temporarily, into the world of blogging, but let it fall to the wayside without much thought. It was much easier to bitch over cocktails with my best friends then to sit down and thoughtfully describe what was going on in my life. But every thing is different now. My party days caught up with me, in a less than pleasant way, and I ended up living with my biological father in Texas. And Texas is where I still am. I no longer have a plethora of counselors (aka fantastic friends) to choose from, so I thought I would try this again.

Let's start with the abbreviated version of how I ended up in the Lone Star State. It all begins with a boy... surprise surprise. This time, I really thought I had it right. He was "the one." I couldn't imagine life without him. He was my everything. However, my party habits had gone to a whole new level, and while he participated at times, my inability to stop was a constant problem. We decided to stop and made it about 9 days. February 13, 2012, I caved in and brought home some party favors. He partook, but the next day (if you are keeping track, that would make it VALENTINE'S DAY), was very upset with me and after a very unpleasant and long fight, ended the relationship. I was living with him, so I packed up my belongings and bolted. And proceeded to spend the next 3 days in a drug/alcohol induced haze. I couldn't tell you what I did in that time period. I am sure I cried and yelled a lot. I was staying in my old room (that was still luckily unoccupied) at the house I had shared with my best friend. And my behavior and actions scared her in a way they never have in the nearly 15 years we have been friends. Enough so that she decided to seek outside help. From my mother. On day 3 of the binge, I got a phone call from my mom, inviting me to dinner at her house. I knew something was going on, but I showed up. And what I walked into was a full blown intervention. This was a Thursday. I was informed my flight left for Texas on Saturday and I would be entering rehab on Monday. I had one day to pack up my whole life and ship it half way across the country.

Saturday rolled around and I said my very painful goodbyes and boarded that plane. Walking away from my best friend, who has always been in the same house as me, or at least the same city, or at the very least, a 6 hour car ride away... was the hardest goodbye of all. It was like walking away from your sister. The person you have shared your life with and never gone more than a few weeks without seeing. I cried almost the entire plane ride to Dallas. And most of the weekend before I went to rehab. But I was determined to turn my life around so I could return home and make my family and my friends proud.

Bennett Cole Short

Things changed even more than I even though possible during my admittance into rehab. I was informed that I was around 4-5 weeks pregnant. At the time, this news was devastating. I knew I would keep the baby, but I had no idea how I would make it work. I informed my ex- boyfriend, who since then, during my pregnancy, has made it perfectly clear he wants nothing to do with me or his child. A hard thing to accept, but something I am now at peace with. And now, come October 27th, I will have a beautiful baby boy. One who I truly believed saved my life. And will continue to save my life and make it better every day for the rest of my life.

30 weeks :)

So this blog will still be about growing up.... but it will be about growing up in an entirely different way. Growing into a parent, into a single mother. Growing with my son. Building our life together. And all this while still battling an addiction, something I have been assured will be with me for life. But I strongly believe between the immense love I already have for my son and my desire to live a better life and make it back home to Idaho one day, I can handle anything. I am so excited for the adventures this next chapter of my life holds for me. And I absolutely CANNOT WAIT to meet my little boy. I am now 32 weeks along, so in around 7-8 weeks, I will get to hold Baby B in my arms for the first time and feel what true love is.

This blog is mostly for me. A place to remind myself that I am capable of anything and can overcome any obstacle. But anyone is welcome to tag along for the ride. It is sure to be an interesting one - never a dull moment with me!

Wow. 2 years.

2 years tomorrow. People lie, by the way. Time doesn't heal. It might make the hurt fade away or get covered by something else, but its always there. That pain... well it never stops. Since I know I won't have the heart to do this tomorrow, a few quick words on my dad.

He was incredible. Smart, kind, caring, so generous, loving.... the kind of father everyone should have. He married my mom when I was a young 6 years old. And was dad to me from day one. He never treated me or my brother any differently than the two children he had with my mom. Always fair, always making sure all was equal. Probably hard to do with 4 kids.

I have a lot of regrets. I was a truly horrid teenager and was not very nice to him. Just when he got sick, we were finally starting to develop a real, adult relationship. I loved to talk politics with him. We agreed on so much and he was so open-minded about what we didn't. He loved to hear about school, and actually cared what was going on with my friends and in my social life. I wish I had gotten more time. Time to show him how much I loved him. How much I appreciated everything he did for me. How important he was to me.

I cried for him for the first time in a while today. For my mom and my baby brothers. For me. For our loss. For the fact that he will never get to see the woman I am becoming. The woman that he helped me become, every step of the way.

I am not a religious person, but I have to believe that he is somewhere watching me and my family. Instead of praying to "God", I like to talk to my dad. It's comforting. I feel his presence when I do and it never fails to calm me down.

So, thank you dad. Thank you for everything you did for me and all the love you gave to me. I wouldn't be me if I hadn't had you. I sure hope he needed you up there, because we could have really used you down here. I miss you everyday.

I love you.

How things have changed....

I almost forgot about this little blog. (Thanks B!)

June wasn't that long ago, but it seems like a million miles away. So much has changed. I've changed. I'm 25 now - a whole new age bracket. It's starting to feel like the race is on - the race to start my real life. 25 has brought so many things already. Starting with what I've been trying to do for the last 5 years. I lost 60 pounds. That's a small child! It's wonderful, but it is a hard adjustment. Confidence comes from inside, and even minus all the weight, being secure in myself is something I need to work on.

True to what I had always believed, after I dropped the first 25 pounds, I meet an amazing guy. Well, re-meet. He made my heart beat again. Every song on the radio was about us, love stories made me smile instead of cry, and it was rare to see me without a smile on my face. All I could think was FINALLY, I know what love feels like. So I thought. Very few things last forever - including what I would have to consider my first real relationship. It turns out, losing 60 pounds won't keep the guy you're in love with from dating someone else at the same time. Heartbreak hurts. I've experienced a lot of pain and devastating loss, but that kind of pain... well it is something entirely different. Letting go is hard, but I can't change anything, so letting go is exactly what I have to do. But now.... now I can start my life as a different person. I'm not that fat girl anymore, and I finally realize I don't - and never did - deserve to be walked all over.

I've been doing an excellent job at keeping my head up and trying to keep a smile on my face, but the next few weeks are going to be hard. January 30th marks 2 years since I lost an amazing man who raised me as his own, even though I wasn't. 2 years... I can't believe he has been gone that long. He always thought I was beautiful and I wish he could see me now. I wish he could watch me get my diploma, start my first real job, fall in love, get married, have kids... I just wish he was here. There are so many things I would say to him, so much to tell him. He would be turning 53 on February 10th.... he should have made it to 93. But, as I continue to learn in many different ways, life just isn't fair. People who shouldn't live do, and people who shouldn't die do. Sometimes the world is cruel.... but I am going to survive by always looking for the good and beautiful parts. They are there, and they are worth the wait.

It was only ONE year??

One year ago, I was the beer pong princess. I could walk though the doors of almost every bar downtown and get a hug instead of a request for an ID. Bartenders started preparing my drink when they saw me approaching - a stiff Long Beach. My tabs were never as much as they should have been and a lot of free alcohol was coming my direction.

It was a blast. Together with my best friend, Shannon, we dominated downtown Boise. It was our thing. Our life. And we loved every second of it. Every night was a new adventure that brought new people and a plethora of stories - many that we could only vaguely remember. In fact, we loved it so much we found a little apartment a short 2-minute walk from Main St. and the fabulous times continued. If only this had been the beginning. Sadly, although I didn't realize it at the time, it would be the end of an era. Binge drinking, crazy behavior and forgotten memories have to stop at some time - or else it turns into what some people would call "a problem."

As my younger brother started to reach his college graduation and began applying for law schools, the guilt of my decisions started to creep up on me. Maybe... just maybe... a 2 year hiatus from college was not the wisest decision. What did I have to show for those 24 months during which I could have been earning a college degree?

So, being the impatient person that I am, I did something unheard of in a family of liberal arts college graduates. I enrolled at a vocational school. In nine months, I could be trained to have a career - one that I would actually be employable in. So as summer rolls around again, that is where I find myself. Instead of nursing hangovers for most of the morning, I am learning how to draw blood, give injections, take vital signs, cast broken arms and suture up wounds. Instead of going out after work and staying there until all hours of the night drinking, I find myself doing homework and going to bed early. In one year, my life has done a complete 180.

This is bittersweet. When you've spent the last several years being a party animal, all of your friends are party animals too. So naturally, with the cessastion of my craziness, a lot of my "best friends" began to disappear. This was the hardest lesson to learn. I look at old pictures and find myself missong them, but I know I am trying to change my life for the better. Loss is sometimes nessecary for gain and I know that a year from today, everything will have been worth it.
I know my whole life is about to change. And I'm okay with that. In fact, I can't wait.

PS... here's what I have to show for 2 years not spent in college: a broken arm, one fake tooth, the ability to stand up for myself, improved hand-eye coordination, friends I will have forever, friends I will never forget, thousands of amazing pictures, memories I wouldn't trade for the world, experiences that taught me things you could never learn in a classroom, how to conceal a hickie, how to make a hangover look like a serious illness, how to fake pink-eye, ways to show up to work late with no consequences, the best way to get free drinks, how to duck and weave through a crowded bar.... the list could go on and on. Just because I wasn't in a classroom, doesn't mean I didn't learn anything. :)