If she’s around in 40 years, my mom will be calling me up on my birthday to sing me happy birthday. That’s just how my mom is.   Usually, my brother Tommy calls and sings to me.  My sister ALWAYS calls me.  If I were in RI, we’d have a cake, we’d have dinner – we’d get together somehow. 

This year, though, was different. I’m not sure why.  My dad didn’t call – and the next day, when I called him to talk about something, he never mentioned it.

My brother (the singer), although he called me on Friday, it was only to ask my address.

My sis did try to call, my phone was being a bitch.

My other brother, wishes I were dead, so there was no chance of hearing from him, his wife or their kids.

I got tons of Facebook birthday greetings.

Jimmy & the kids went out Friday night and bought me a yummy chocolate cake. But Jimmy went to work on Friday morning without having even mentioned my birthday.  For that matter, he never said it at all.

Saturday, we all went out for lunch and when we came home, I’d gotten a message from my aunt, responding to my facebook friend request.

Basically, she said thanks but no thanks.

She has my brother & his wife on her friends’ list, she didn’t want to get in the middle of the nastiness.

I am just waiting for this overblown bullshit from my brother  & his wife to consume what’s left of my family.  Then I’ll be left with my kids & Jimmy.  It’s only a matter of time.

I think what’s most disturbing is that I heard from more of my bio-father’s side of the family for my birthday than I did from the people I’ve spent my entire life around.  I guess that’s because they really don’t know me and obviously don’t know what a rotten fucked up person I really am.

Ever since this bullshit started with my brother & his wife, NOTHING is the same. Birthdays and holidays always feel hollow to me.  Something is always missing, and it’s because of them.  Even if they did decide to “forgive” me, how can I forgive THEM? 

How can I forgive the heartache?   WHY should I?

They’ve never even laid eyes on my baby boy, and he’s THREE.   They’ve no idea what they’re missing out on.  They continue to ignore my emails and apologies. They continue to tear our family apart.  WHY?  How can one fucking joke be worth all of this?

She began the words, but couldn’t seem to say them.

She grew tired and closed her eyes.

She woke again later, and once again, the words formed in her brain, but Something Somewhere was causing a disconnect, and the words wouldn’t make it to her lips.

‘FUCK!’ rings through her brain. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!!’ continues to ring through her mind, like bells echoing in an empty courtyard.

Her energy consumed, she sleeps.  She feels like she’s suffocating, but really, it’s just the box, closing around her, keeping her still, keeping her silent.

Images flash before her.  Love, strong and pure, envelope her when those images flash. She knows the faces.  She knows them like the back of her own hand. She needs those faces. She needs them more than she can contain within the constraints of her heart.  The words, they will not come, but the emotions are steeling her.  The glass box is fragile, she is realizing.  All she need do is cross that disconnect – wherever it lie, and that will bring her back to those images, those emotions. She just knows it. 

She sleeps.

{w}rite of passage entry – character.

For Anissa.

Because this blog is hosted by wordpress, I cannot display the linky thing to link to others’ posts for this subject. Please visit the {w}rite of passage site to visit the other posts – they’re all quite remarkable.

In 1995, my marriage to my first husband – who I’d spent the previous 12 years with – was dissolving.  I’d cheated on him, though he didn’t know it, in an internet love affair with a man who, at least in text, treasured me.  Even though he was thousands of miles away, in another country,  he made me feel like I could be loved, could be appreciated.  Even through text.  I gave that up, though, and tried one last time, to save my marriage.  It didn’t work.  On an anniversary trip to celebrate our 4th wedding anniversary and our 11th year together, to the place where we’d honeymooned, where we never had sex, barely even spoke – and during which he threw food at me because I’d ordered wrong, I KNEW it was done.   I knew I deserved better than that.  I knew he wasn’t the one to give it to me.

I decided to take a trip and get away on my own.  I’d never done anything ALONE.  I’d moved out of my parents house to move in with my husband.  I was 28 years old and had never done anything ALONE.

I’d made several friends online, and one in particular, intrigued me.  We’d flirted, and had even talked on the phone a few times.  He’d just had a bad breakup with someone, and had no interest in any kind of relationship.  He was cute, flirty, funny and fun to talk to.

He lived in TN, as did a couple other friends I’d met, so I decided to go there to visit and meet my friends.

The thing is, I’d never done anything ALONE on my own.  So when I announced that I was going to go do this, my family freaked.  They were nervous and scared that the people I was going to meet were going to be axe murderers.  The Internet was a scary thing back then.  I went anyway.

The trip itself was so freeing for me.  I spent most of my days alone, swimming in the hotel pool, watching television or driving around in my rental Mustang convertible.  The nights were spent with that guy that I’d flirted with.  The guy that, when we were finally alone, took me and treated me like I’d never been treated before – at least sexually.  He made me feel like I was desirable and even SEXY.  Even though I wasn’t 100 lbs.  Even though I wasn’t even close to being perfect.

I wasn’t honest with my family or husband. I told them nothing of this guy.  I only told them of the GROUP of people I was with, having fun, having a good time.

I tried not to get attached to this guy.  I TRIED.  I had no interest in another relationship either.  He wasn’t the guy who was telling me how horrible my husband was or how my life was so hard.  We only talked about the here & now.  We enjoyed each other fully.

When it came time for me to go home, I was brokenhearted.  I’d fallen hard for this guy.  But I flew home.  I felt like a totally different person – more independent than I’d EVER been.

We talked more on the phone.  We spent every minute together online when either of us wasn’t working.  When I learned that some friends of his from online were meeting down in Ohio at an amusement park, I decided to go too.

This trip sealed the deal – I was in love – or at least what I thought was love.  I couldn’t tell him that, though, because he was skittish and still in the “no relationship” mode.  I knew that.  So does this mean I was dishonest?  I don’t think so.  I just knew that I needed to be with him.

After this trip, I decided to divorce my 1st husband and move to TN.  If nothing else, it was cheaper than the plane fare and telephone bills, which were skyrocketing.  My husband was oblivious – which just solidified my decision.  How could he NOT know?  Because he had no interest in me.

I announced to my husband and family that I was moving to TN.   THAT didn’t go over well.  I found out later, no one thought I’d actually do it.

I did.  I left RI with my car packed full and my cat on December 27th, 2005.

I arrived on December 28, 2005.  I had my period, so our “reunion” was delayed a bit, but he’d found a really adorable little house for me to rent, so I moved in and set to setting up MY OWN place.  He didn’t live with me.  I lived ALONE!  Me & the cat.  In the middle of nowhere in the country.  It was scary, for sure.  But it was also incredible.  While he worked during the day, I went on interviews and set to finding a job.  Most nights, he would come over and we’d spend time together.  Typically, we’d have sex and he’d go home relatively early, as his job began at 6am.  On the weekends, though, he’d stay with me – which is of course, the time I lived for.  I think I just didn’t know how to NOT be with someone.

Was I a different person back then?  Of course I was.  I was 28-29 years old.  I was independent and although I had money problems, I was mostly carefree.  It was short-lived.

In December of 1995, I moved to be closer to this guy I’d met on the net and had fallen in love with.

In March of 96, that guy started trucking school, which was located 3 hours away.

In April of 96, I learned that I was pregnant.  I also learned that this guy would begin going on long-distance hauls for his new trucking job almost immediately after graduating and getting his license.

This guy’s parents knew nothing of my existance, as he’d never introduced me, nor told them about me.

I had made the decision that since I had no support system in TN, and that since this guy would be out on the road so much, I would move back to my home town, to be with my family.

At some point, he decided he’d go with me.  We talked about moving to a mid-point between the two places after the baby was born.  It was 1996.

Now, with that being said, it doesn’t mean I don’t want anything ELSE in my life.  I do not spend 24/7 with them and them alone.  I need my time alone, doing other things, or just regaining my thoughts.

But my life is devoted completely to my children.  Schooling them, feeding them, dressing them, bringing them up with morals and common sense. Bringing them up to be independant, compassionate and caring.  Keeping them safe, letting them grow.

Now I find myself being torn into pieces. I feel as though my heart is bring pulled from my chest.  My soul is shattered. I have no idea how I will be able to pull together what could possibly be left of my relationship after what has gone on.

I’m lost.