Mood: in love, grateful
Jeff,
Three years ago today I got ready for what was to be my very last first date. I spent nearly three hours getting ready: picking out the perfect outfit, finding something green to wear for St. Patrick's Day and reading through all of the text messages we had sent each other.
I drove, a mix of nerves and excitement rushing through me.
And when I got to you, I became even more nervous (which I thought impossible) and more excited. As I watched you walk toward me holding a beautiful bouquet of pink roses, I thought, some day I'm going to walk towards him holding a bouquet of pink roses.
And six months after that night, I did just that.
Three years ago, I had no idea what the future had in store for us, and I never would have imagined that we would have faced half of what we have together. But I hope you know that everything we have gone through as left me feeling more in love, more confident in our relationship and more like I am home.
I know there are days where we challenge, infuriate and annoy each other, and I know those days will never end.
I also know that despite all of the illness and the hard times, there is nowhere I would rather be and no one I would rather be with. You are an amazing husband and father. You make me laugh each and every day, and what is a life without laughter?
Three years ago today, I sat in a car talking about nothing, everything and zombies for nearly three hours with you. Though our lives have been touched by loss and cancer, there are so many things that have not changed since that night, after all, we spent a good deal of last night rehashing the new Walking Dead episode. And you know what? I could not be happier.
I look forward to every day we spend together. I love to read in bed with you at night, or talk about the most random things we can think up. I strive to be a better wife and mother every day. I know there are happier, healthier days ahead for us and I cannot wait to see where we are together in another three years. I love you.
Your Wife,
Ashley
Showing posts with label wife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wife. Show all posts
2014/03/17
2013/12/06
On Marriage and Depression
Mood: depressed
Jeff and I had our share of hardships during our first year of marriage. We struggled, just like any other couple, to figure out how to make things work. There were nights where we weren't sure it would work. I remember before our wedding, thinking to myself, that I didn't believe anyone when they said a) the first year of marriage is the hardest and b) being married is a completely different ballgame than dating or being engaged.
I cannot put my finger on what makes marriage so different from being engaged, but, trust me if you aren't married, being married is 100% completely and absolutely different than being engaged or dating.
The change sneaks up on you. You don't realize it's coming, you don't even necessarily feel it coming. You go to bed one night and you wake up and BAM! Marriage hits you in the face.
I tried, so hard, to be the wife that I thought Jeff wanted. And the stepmother that Malcolm wanted (or didn't want...but he didn't have a choice). Some days, I still do this. The thing about pretending, or trying to be the perfect wife who works and cooks and does laundry and watches sports (to be fair it's only basketball) and is still up for sex whenever, is that it. is. so. exhausting. Because that is not me. Singularly, all of these things bring me tremendous joy. I love cooking for Jeff and Malcolm, every single night I really do love this. It only ever feels like a chore if I am sick and Jeff is always more than willing to step in. I hate laundry. No, I hate folding laundry. There are more times than I'd care to admit that Jeff ends up folding laundry I have left clean for two days or so. I love watching basketball with Jeff because it is the one sport I understand and actually enjoy following. I love sex (sorry Mom and Dad....), but let's be honest, there are just days where the only thing I want touching me in bed are the blankets and a book.
So, when I found myself exhausted and with no energy left for me, I did not quite know what to do. Because unlike single life, you don't get to just head to your apartment and hop in your pretty pink bed and relax and binge eat pizza while watching "Will and Grace" or "The Golden Girls" to recharge. Or do nothing more than drink a bottle of wine on a Sunday afternoon to old Disney movies with a ton of beauty magazines splayed on the bed around you. I became upset that not only was I not the perfect wife, I was not even close and I knew that in neglecting myself I was actually becoming quite depressed, more so than I had been in many years.
I was first diagnosed with depression at age 10. I took my first dose of Prozac at age 10. And it is something that to this day, to this second, I struggle with. If you have never been depressed or experienced it, I truly don't know how to help you understand. Depression, like marriage, kind of just hits you over the head one morning and all of a sudden every single thing that you thought you knew, well, it's wrong. And nothing seems to mean the same thing that it used to. For me, depression is coupled with anxiety, which means that not only do I not experience happiness, but I then freak out about why I can't just be happy. And leaving the house, which is hard enough to do when you feel that every single thing is without purpose so why get groceries, becomes even harder when you are convinced that something horrific is about to happen.
Today, as I showered, I realized that the depression that started during our first year of marriage has not yet lifted. There are moments of extreme joy and months where I can leave the house just fine, but there are also dark and endless days where it physically pains me to shower and start the car to take Malcolm to school. The thing that hit me most this morning as I lathered up my body wash was that, in trying so hard to be the wife that I thought Jeff wanted, I lost everything about the woman he fell in love with. The confident (most of the time), career loving woman who laughed at everything has morphed into some sad, fat woman.
Admittedly, I do not know how to get this woman back. But I'm at least aware that I want to. And that is progress for me. I'm thankful for a husband who has been patient and tried to learn how to handle someone with chronic, severe depression. And today, I want not to be the wife I THINK he wants, but the woman that I know he loved.
Jeff and I had our share of hardships during our first year of marriage. We struggled, just like any other couple, to figure out how to make things work. There were nights where we weren't sure it would work. I remember before our wedding, thinking to myself, that I didn't believe anyone when they said a) the first year of marriage is the hardest and b) being married is a completely different ballgame than dating or being engaged.
I cannot put my finger on what makes marriage so different from being engaged, but, trust me if you aren't married, being married is 100% completely and absolutely different than being engaged or dating.
The change sneaks up on you. You don't realize it's coming, you don't even necessarily feel it coming. You go to bed one night and you wake up and BAM! Marriage hits you in the face.
I tried, so hard, to be the wife that I thought Jeff wanted. And the stepmother that Malcolm wanted (or didn't want...but he didn't have a choice). Some days, I still do this. The thing about pretending, or trying to be the perfect wife who works and cooks and does laundry and watches sports (to be fair it's only basketball) and is still up for sex whenever, is that it. is. so. exhausting. Because that is not me. Singularly, all of these things bring me tremendous joy. I love cooking for Jeff and Malcolm, every single night I really do love this. It only ever feels like a chore if I am sick and Jeff is always more than willing to step in. I hate laundry. No, I hate folding laundry. There are more times than I'd care to admit that Jeff ends up folding laundry I have left clean for two days or so. I love watching basketball with Jeff because it is the one sport I understand and actually enjoy following. I love sex (sorry Mom and Dad....), but let's be honest, there are just days where the only thing I want touching me in bed are the blankets and a book.
So, when I found myself exhausted and with no energy left for me, I did not quite know what to do. Because unlike single life, you don't get to just head to your apartment and hop in your pretty pink bed and relax and binge eat pizza while watching "Will and Grace" or "The Golden Girls" to recharge. Or do nothing more than drink a bottle of wine on a Sunday afternoon to old Disney movies with a ton of beauty magazines splayed on the bed around you. I became upset that not only was I not the perfect wife, I was not even close and I knew that in neglecting myself I was actually becoming quite depressed, more so than I had been in many years.
I was first diagnosed with depression at age 10. I took my first dose of Prozac at age 10. And it is something that to this day, to this second, I struggle with. If you have never been depressed or experienced it, I truly don't know how to help you understand. Depression, like marriage, kind of just hits you over the head one morning and all of a sudden every single thing that you thought you knew, well, it's wrong. And nothing seems to mean the same thing that it used to. For me, depression is coupled with anxiety, which means that not only do I not experience happiness, but I then freak out about why I can't just be happy. And leaving the house, which is hard enough to do when you feel that every single thing is without purpose so why get groceries, becomes even harder when you are convinced that something horrific is about to happen.
Today, as I showered, I realized that the depression that started during our first year of marriage has not yet lifted. There are moments of extreme joy and months where I can leave the house just fine, but there are also dark and endless days where it physically pains me to shower and start the car to take Malcolm to school. The thing that hit me most this morning as I lathered up my body wash was that, in trying so hard to be the wife that I thought Jeff wanted, I lost everything about the woman he fell in love with. The confident (most of the time), career loving woman who laughed at everything has morphed into some sad, fat woman.
Admittedly, I do not know how to get this woman back. But I'm at least aware that I want to. And that is progress for me. I'm thankful for a husband who has been patient and tried to learn how to handle someone with chronic, severe depression. And today, I want not to be the wife I THINK he wants, but the woman that I know he loved.
2013/10/11
Win Some, Lose Way More
Mood: defeated
I've always tried to be kind. To live my life in a way that showed compassion for others. To imagine other's lives and try to see things that are kept hidden. One of my very favorite quotes is "be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is fighting their own battles." I love that quote because it is true. And because sometimes, we all need a gentle reminder of that.
Jeff was admitted to the hospital on Monday night. Tuesday morning Malcolm and I went over to the hospital around 9. Just before 11, I took Malcolm back home, got him lunch and took him to school before stopping to grab some lunch for myself to take back to the hospital. Panera sounded good, so in I went. I ordered behind some well-dressed gentleman and his fiancee, but my order was prepared before theirs. As I stepped forward to grab my bag he turned to this beautiful woman with the perfect hair and makeup and Gucci purse and said, "I'm so tired of people being too lazy to dress themselves."
In another lifetime I would have slunk out of the Panera and berated myself for looking like such a hot mess in my yoga pants and band t-shirt. But not in this lifetime. Instead I turned and looked him directly in the eye and said, "Sir, actually, I just didn't think that I needed to be business casual to go and sit with my husband who is unconscious in the hospital." And then I smiled.
That shut him right up. Which was my intention.
But, it's still bothered me all week. Partly because HOW DARE HE? And, in part, because I did look like a hot damn mess. In college, the one time where it is acceptable to go everywhere in sweats, I didn't. I did not attend a single undergraduate course in anything less than jeans with my hair and makeup done. I was also so self conscious that I would have never been seen without makeup except by my roommates, and only then because it's pretty unavoidable.
The older I get, and the more comfortable I am with myself, the more I realize that I don't need to please everyone. And that trying to do so just ends with me upset and feeling defeated.
The thing is, I already feel defeated this week. It has kicked my ass. I have spent more time in the car than I have sleeping and I am beyond hormonal. I am trying so hard to be the caring spouse, the fun and educational stepmom, the daughter, trying to be a friend. I feel like I haven't done a single one of those roles justice this week. I have failed in every single way I could this week.
Here's the thing though; in the same lifetime that would have found me leaving Panera silently I would spend all weekend beating myself up and hating myself. And sure, I'll probably do some of that. It's just in my nature. But, I will also try again. I'll get some sleep and I'll tend to Jeff. I'll recharge myself so when we get Malcolm back on Sunday night I'm ready to practice handwriting and play with his superheros. I will rise again.
They say cancer is a family disease, and I couldn't agree more. It touches every single aspect of life and affects all interpersonal relationships. It's brutal and it's scary, it's humbling and hard, but it has already taught me how much stronger I am than I think. And that, despite my previous opinion of myself, I AM a fighter. I will be knocked down on my feet 1,000 more times before this is done but guess what? I'll get up 1,001. And that is a beautiful lesson.
To all those who have reached out after my last post, please be patient I promise I have read your messages. And I cannot express my gratitude. This weekend I will be answering messages, this week was just too crazy for anything more than this generic thank you. But there are people who have reached out and touched my heart and I will be forever changed because of the kindness shown to me.
Thank you.
From the bottom of my heart.
Thank you.
If you are able, please consider donating to my husband's fundraiser, or spread the word if you are unable to give financially.
https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/8t73/jeff-lilland-s-testicular-cancer-fund
I've always tried to be kind. To live my life in a way that showed compassion for others. To imagine other's lives and try to see things that are kept hidden. One of my very favorite quotes is "be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is fighting their own battles." I love that quote because it is true. And because sometimes, we all need a gentle reminder of that.
Jeff was admitted to the hospital on Monday night. Tuesday morning Malcolm and I went over to the hospital around 9. Just before 11, I took Malcolm back home, got him lunch and took him to school before stopping to grab some lunch for myself to take back to the hospital. Panera sounded good, so in I went. I ordered behind some well-dressed gentleman and his fiancee, but my order was prepared before theirs. As I stepped forward to grab my bag he turned to this beautiful woman with the perfect hair and makeup and Gucci purse and said, "I'm so tired of people being too lazy to dress themselves."
In another lifetime I would have slunk out of the Panera and berated myself for looking like such a hot mess in my yoga pants and band t-shirt. But not in this lifetime. Instead I turned and looked him directly in the eye and said, "Sir, actually, I just didn't think that I needed to be business casual to go and sit with my husband who is unconscious in the hospital." And then I smiled.
That shut him right up. Which was my intention.
But, it's still bothered me all week. Partly because HOW DARE HE? And, in part, because I did look like a hot damn mess. In college, the one time where it is acceptable to go everywhere in sweats, I didn't. I did not attend a single undergraduate course in anything less than jeans with my hair and makeup done. I was also so self conscious that I would have never been seen without makeup except by my roommates, and only then because it's pretty unavoidable.
The older I get, and the more comfortable I am with myself, the more I realize that I don't need to please everyone. And that trying to do so just ends with me upset and feeling defeated.
The thing is, I already feel defeated this week. It has kicked my ass. I have spent more time in the car than I have sleeping and I am beyond hormonal. I am trying so hard to be the caring spouse, the fun and educational stepmom, the daughter, trying to be a friend. I feel like I haven't done a single one of those roles justice this week. I have failed in every single way I could this week.
Here's the thing though; in the same lifetime that would have found me leaving Panera silently I would spend all weekend beating myself up and hating myself. And sure, I'll probably do some of that. It's just in my nature. But, I will also try again. I'll get some sleep and I'll tend to Jeff. I'll recharge myself so when we get Malcolm back on Sunday night I'm ready to practice handwriting and play with his superheros. I will rise again.
They say cancer is a family disease, and I couldn't agree more. It touches every single aspect of life and affects all interpersonal relationships. It's brutal and it's scary, it's humbling and hard, but it has already taught me how much stronger I am than I think. And that, despite my previous opinion of myself, I AM a fighter. I will be knocked down on my feet 1,000 more times before this is done but guess what? I'll get up 1,001. And that is a beautiful lesson.
To all those who have reached out after my last post, please be patient I promise I have read your messages. And I cannot express my gratitude. This weekend I will be answering messages, this week was just too crazy for anything more than this generic thank you. But there are people who have reached out and touched my heart and I will be forever changed because of the kindness shown to me.
Thank you.
From the bottom of my heart.
Thank you.
If you are able, please consider donating to my husband's fundraiser, or spread the word if you are unable to give financially.
https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/8t73/jeff-lilland-s-testicular-cancer-fund
2013/09/29
And it Begins
Mood: scared, sad
On Friday Jeff finished his first week of chemotherapy. We got to the hospital at 5am on Wednesday for his port insertion surgery. We left the hospital at 4pm after his 4.5 hours of chemo. 11 hours at the hospital, no matter how pleasant the staff (they are incredible) or how great it is to have your own room with a bed for the chemo (seriously that is sooooooo nice), sucks. 11 hours at the hospital sucks.
Thursday and Friday were, time wise, much easier. Only about 2.5 hours per day at the hospital and Jeff was able to sleep through the majority of his treatments.
We saw his oncologist on Friday and he gave us some good news; if Jeff hadn't gotten physically ill from the chemo yet, he probably would be spared the violent vomiting.
We got pretty excited as Jeff hates vomiting and historically I have a tendency to be a sympathetic puker. If I don't get sick I spend a few hours feeling nauseous at the very least.
We knew going into the weekend that these days would be when Jeff would most likely be at his most fatigued. And that's been very true. My husband can barely take a 5 minute shower without passing out from exhaustion. He cannot hold the comics he bought in anticipation of a ton of bed rest for more than 3 minutes and can't focus on the words or pictures for that long. He can't sit up. It is so painful to watch as he lies lifeless on the couch, this man who usually has a problem sitting still. It is painful to watch tears fall down his face when he can't hold a toy to play with his son. And it is most painful to be 100% helpless to make him any better. All I can do is watch and take care of him the best I am able.
Today, I managed to sleep in after a sleepless night. I got up, checked on Jeff and drank some coffee. He got in the shower and I thought about going for a walk with Zooey. I decided it would be best to wait and make sure he had everything he might need before I left the house, so I chose to go after he was out of the shower.
He got out and could not walk. He fell to the couch and asked for one of his anti-nausea pills, but it was too late.
As he ran to the bathroom I lost hope once again. I rubbed his back as he got sick and grabbed his special mouthwash, a pill and his Sprite. I massaged his shoulders while he could barely manage to hold his head up as he was sick. And my soul was ripped apart.
That's the thing about cancer. It takes away all happiness and hope at the very sneakiest of times. I knew that we had a long road ahead of us. And I knew that things would likely get worse than they had been this week. But I had faith that Jeff might escape with some shred of dignity. And that I might escape with hope.
Cancer strips the humanity of those who deal directly with the disease. Jeff is reduced to a person that I no longer know. His sense of humor and laugh, his energetic demeanor....they are hidden within, forced to take a backseat to this illness. My outgoing personality has retreated, and now I live in fear. Fear that this disease could win. Fear that Malcolm will have to watch this happen to his daddy and fear that I can do NOTHING to help. I have zero control and power and I am afraid.
I have become, in sorts, a robot. Waking each morning at 1am to check on Jeff and getting up later to take care of Jeff, the dogs and Malcolm. Then we go to chemo and I sit and watch as medicine pours into Jeff, draining him of all the life I am used to.
I know we are far from alone in this, and I am very aware that we are lucky. We have an excellent prognosis and only 3 months of this to deal with. I get that. I think that prior to treatment I told myself how lucky we were and I expected that to help with all of the negative side effects. The fact is, this sucks. While we are lucky, it does not change the fact that Jeff is sick. Very sick. And I cannot help. We are wading out way through this hell and hopefully, we will see a light at the end that helps keep us going.
To those who are offering support, financial, religious, spiritual, physical....whatever....we thank you. From the very bottom of our hearts and souls there is nothing we could do to ever repay the kindness and gratitude we have been shown. The John Stoddard Cancer center is amazing and our families have been a constant source of support in every sense of the word.
As we face the next few months, unsure of what will happen financially or physically, we know we have each other. And that we have an amazing group of family and friends that have reached out to let us know just how loved and cared for we are. Thank you. It seems like hardly enough to say, but it is all we have for now.
I'm watching Jeff sleep now. The dogs are curled on him as if their presence might protect him for future pain and sickness. Zooey sits in my lap, my constant companion. I sit here, praying for hope and some sense of peace, even if it is fleeting. I pray for an answer to our financial situation. And I pray, most of all, for the health of my husband. That he not suffer and that he returns to himself as quickly as possible.
And to my husband, who I am sure will read this when he wakes....Do not feel guilty or badly because you are not able to function as you once could. Do not feel uneasy that you need help and to be taken care of now. We all love you. And we all support you in this fight. And if I could, I would fight this for you. But as I cannot...I will sit by your side and bring you water and pills and rub your back when you are sick. And I will watch you sleep with a smile on my face knowing that one day, we will look back on this and remember just how fortunate we are to have our lives and our health for many, many years to come.
On Friday Jeff finished his first week of chemotherapy. We got to the hospital at 5am on Wednesday for his port insertion surgery. We left the hospital at 4pm after his 4.5 hours of chemo. 11 hours at the hospital, no matter how pleasant the staff (they are incredible) or how great it is to have your own room with a bed for the chemo (seriously that is sooooooo nice), sucks. 11 hours at the hospital sucks.
Thursday and Friday were, time wise, much easier. Only about 2.5 hours per day at the hospital and Jeff was able to sleep through the majority of his treatments.
We saw his oncologist on Friday and he gave us some good news; if Jeff hadn't gotten physically ill from the chemo yet, he probably would be spared the violent vomiting.
We got pretty excited as Jeff hates vomiting and historically I have a tendency to be a sympathetic puker. If I don't get sick I spend a few hours feeling nauseous at the very least.
We knew going into the weekend that these days would be when Jeff would most likely be at his most fatigued. And that's been very true. My husband can barely take a 5 minute shower without passing out from exhaustion. He cannot hold the comics he bought in anticipation of a ton of bed rest for more than 3 minutes and can't focus on the words or pictures for that long. He can't sit up. It is so painful to watch as he lies lifeless on the couch, this man who usually has a problem sitting still. It is painful to watch tears fall down his face when he can't hold a toy to play with his son. And it is most painful to be 100% helpless to make him any better. All I can do is watch and take care of him the best I am able.
Today, I managed to sleep in after a sleepless night. I got up, checked on Jeff and drank some coffee. He got in the shower and I thought about going for a walk with Zooey. I decided it would be best to wait and make sure he had everything he might need before I left the house, so I chose to go after he was out of the shower.
He got out and could not walk. He fell to the couch and asked for one of his anti-nausea pills, but it was too late.
As he ran to the bathroom I lost hope once again. I rubbed his back as he got sick and grabbed his special mouthwash, a pill and his Sprite. I massaged his shoulders while he could barely manage to hold his head up as he was sick. And my soul was ripped apart.
That's the thing about cancer. It takes away all happiness and hope at the very sneakiest of times. I knew that we had a long road ahead of us. And I knew that things would likely get worse than they had been this week. But I had faith that Jeff might escape with some shred of dignity. And that I might escape with hope.
Cancer strips the humanity of those who deal directly with the disease. Jeff is reduced to a person that I no longer know. His sense of humor and laugh, his energetic demeanor....they are hidden within, forced to take a backseat to this illness. My outgoing personality has retreated, and now I live in fear. Fear that this disease could win. Fear that Malcolm will have to watch this happen to his daddy and fear that I can do NOTHING to help. I have zero control and power and I am afraid.
I have become, in sorts, a robot. Waking each morning at 1am to check on Jeff and getting up later to take care of Jeff, the dogs and Malcolm. Then we go to chemo and I sit and watch as medicine pours into Jeff, draining him of all the life I am used to.
I know we are far from alone in this, and I am very aware that we are lucky. We have an excellent prognosis and only 3 months of this to deal with. I get that. I think that prior to treatment I told myself how lucky we were and I expected that to help with all of the negative side effects. The fact is, this sucks. While we are lucky, it does not change the fact that Jeff is sick. Very sick. And I cannot help. We are wading out way through this hell and hopefully, we will see a light at the end that helps keep us going.
To those who are offering support, financial, religious, spiritual, physical....whatever....we thank you. From the very bottom of our hearts and souls there is nothing we could do to ever repay the kindness and gratitude we have been shown. The John Stoddard Cancer center is amazing and our families have been a constant source of support in every sense of the word.
As we face the next few months, unsure of what will happen financially or physically, we know we have each other. And that we have an amazing group of family and friends that have reached out to let us know just how loved and cared for we are. Thank you. It seems like hardly enough to say, but it is all we have for now.
I'm watching Jeff sleep now. The dogs are curled on him as if their presence might protect him for future pain and sickness. Zooey sits in my lap, my constant companion. I sit here, praying for hope and some sense of peace, even if it is fleeting. I pray for an answer to our financial situation. And I pray, most of all, for the health of my husband. That he not suffer and that he returns to himself as quickly as possible.
And to my husband, who I am sure will read this when he wakes....Do not feel guilty or badly because you are not able to function as you once could. Do not feel uneasy that you need help and to be taken care of now. We all love you. And we all support you in this fight. And if I could, I would fight this for you. But as I cannot...I will sit by your side and bring you water and pills and rub your back when you are sick. And I will watch you sleep with a smile on my face knowing that one day, we will look back on this and remember just how fortunate we are to have our lives and our health for many, many years to come.
2012/09/17
I (still) Do
Mood: blessed
Jeff -
One year ago I walked down the aisle to your smiling face. I was so sure I would cry. As I stood listening to our prelude music and my father gave me my "something old"
Jeff -
One year ago I walked down the aisle to your smiling face. I was so sure I would cry. As I stood listening to our prelude music and my father gave me my "something old"
(the "it's a girl pin" they received and my hospital bracelet from the day I was born)
I sobbed. I honestly was unsure whether I would even be able to use a steady voice. As I heard "Here Comes My Girl" finish I felt so....right and at peace that I glanced at my dad, saw him smile, and couldn't wait to see your face. I saw you smile, saw Malcolm look at me....and I knew in that instant that my life was forever changed for the better.
I knew on our second date that you were the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Your passion, humor, responsibility, and smile are just a few of the things that cemented this realization.
So here is a brief history of us in photos:
third date...and first picture of us EVER
seconds after getting engaged.
our engagement photography session
mr. and mrs.
annnnnnnnnnnnd.....
me...just a few seconds ago
One year ago today I felt like a princess. And I married you, my prince. We sipped champagne from my dream Swarovski crystal flutes and I danced with you in a beautiful dress as you smiled. Tonight, I'm wearing yoga pants. I have on a t-shirt, no makeup, and glasses. Yet, as we sipped champagne and ate a piece of our wedding cake...I feel the exact same way that I did one year ago today. Like a princess, with you as my prince.
I still have butterflies in my stomach when I think of you. My face still lights up when somebody says your name or you enter a room. So, Jeff, I STILL do. I still promise every single thing that I vowed to keep close to my heart at our wedding...and tonight I promise even more.
We've talked about the common wisdom that the first year of marriage is the hardest. We haven't had the easiest of times every single day, but I find it hard to believe that marriage only gets easier. Because regardless of the fight, the words, the hurt feelings...it's always temporary. And I cannot imagine a life that you are not a part of.
Jeff, I STILL do. I still cannot believe how lucky I am to fall asleep next to you every single night and wake up to you every morning. I thank God each day that you are the one who loves watching stupid tv shows and youtube videos with me. I am thrilled that it's your hand that holds me when I cry, and your voice that soothes me.
I know that life won't always be easy. I know that marriage requires a life of hard and constant work, and sometimes I slack off. But I also know that there is something magical about us, and that you make me want to be a woman that I only dreamed of being before meeting you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for making me feel like a princess, even when I'm wearing yoga pants. I love you.
2011/06/28
Looking Up
Mood: it's not a dream anymore, it's worth fighting for...
So it's almost July. Weird. Jeff and I survived 3 months. I feel pretty confident we'll survive a bazillion more months (if that's mathematically and physically possible that is). As I was driving into work this morning I was staring at the lake (and watching the road) and I realized that it's been nearly a year since I started this blog. It's absolutely insane how much this blog has changed, how much I have changed, and how much my life has changed. I haven't read the whole blog from start to where it is now yet...but I have read since about January on. That much alone is crazy.
I'm engaged. I'm going to be a (step)mother. I have my own place and am looking for one with the future husband. I've separated from my family enough to start my own. That part is still being worked on...the balance between separation and complete detachment. It's a fine line to walk and since this is the first time the family's had to deal with it...it's messy. And painful. And it sucks.
One thing, though, that hasn't changed is my addiction with A&E and all it's "real life. drama." because I clearly can't get enough of my own real life drama...
I've been obsessed with Intervention for some time now. Years. And while I don't have cable thus don't watch it all the time...I've been known to spend weeks watching it online. Now it's Hoarders. I can't get enough of the show. The really scary thing? I sooooooooooo get the mentality. Let me say that the episodes with food or animal hoarding...that is beyond me. And when there are kids involved I feel physically ill. But the first few episodes of the first season were primarily about stuff. Wanting, needing, getting, and keeping stuff. I get that mentality. If I surround myself with all this shit...nothing else can get in. Nothing else matters. People can't hurt me if they can't get to me. And I mean...physically get to me. The thing is...I've never been a super neat person. I'm organized at work...but the office is in a state of controlled chaos. I know where things are...but to other people it's a mess.
My apartment was clean for a while. Right around my birthday. I did an overhaul. Donated all kinds of stuff...finally had Caitlyn around to go through stuff she left behind. But that was also when Jeff and I were first dating. Since then...the whirlwind romance has had a tornado like effect on the apartment. I've been there for MAYBE 5 nights total in June. Maybe 6 including last night. Between going to PA, being with the fiance and his son, and a brief stay at the grandparents for laundry purposes...I just haven't been there. So it looks...uh...let's just say it could be on an episode of This Person May Become a Hoarder if that show existed. But nobody wants to see that. Just the shit piled up to the ceiling...and it's not there. Yet. Not even to my head. Or shoulders. I feel like that's NOT something to brag about.
As I drove past that lake, and then watched another episode of Hoarders and thought about all that's happened this past year...these past few months...I realized that of course I'm watching and obsessed with the idea of hoarding. My "old" life isn't over...it's just transitioning into this "new" life. And that WILL mean leaving the apartment behind which sadly for me means a TON of work and getting rid of all kinds of shit that for some reason I hold on to.
But it's not just the apartment. Or cleaning my car. It's losing weight all of a sudden (I'm counting calories every meal...thanks iphone apps!). Moving forward with another person. Figuring out new ways to be family and friends since the relationship dynamics changed. I'm clearing out the junk...and making space for the old life to fit into the new one. While I still think it would be easier to bulldoze the apartment...and some parts of my old life in general...I can't. I've never done things the easy way. Ever. I like making things harder for myself. This time it's not about making things more complicated just for fun...it's just that starting a new family and changing major parts of my identifying personality...that can't be done easily. It's a hard process. Will it all be done before the wedding (81 days!!!!!)? Who knows. But I certainly hope so.
There are a lot of things in my life that I don't have control over. Other people would be one. But I can control the apartment. And my health. I think I'm finally through trying to keep people out of my life. I'm getting rid of the physical blocks...and the emotional ones have been crumbling. I hope that I can take this attitude into my "new" family and be the woman I've always wanted to be...and know that I am inside.
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