Baby, you make me feel alive.

It's been a while since I've really written anything. Usually even if I'm not posting in the blog I at least write in a notebook or something. I used to write in the notes on my phone daily. But I haven't been doing that. And suddenly in the last few days, that's all I've wanted to do. I feel this surge of passion and liveliness that I haven't felt in a long time, and it hit me so suddenly that I'm actually exhausted from it. I'm so happy that it's making me tired. How ridiculous is that? 

My life is good. I've been working on myself and my surroundings and the things I do and people I see. And I've been weeding out the things that upset me. I've been adding in more things that make me happy. I've been carefree. I've been acting on a whim, but in a confident way, not reckless. Instead of worrying about things I just trust my instincts and do what I want. No drama. No stress. And nobody's opinion matters except mine. I talk to whoever I want to talk to. I see whoever I want to see. I do whatever I want, whenever I want. But now, it's like all of that coordinates with one other person. Somebody is making me really happy. I mean. REALLY happy. In a way I haven't been in such a long time. In a way I've never been while dating. It's really too early to say anything but, I just had to express that. That there's someone out there bringing out the best in me. And I love it. I feel alive. 

The worst kind of heartache.

Over the last few weeks, I've been experiencing something that I never could have imagined: the absence of my child. Although it is nothing like losing a child and I would never compare it to that, for me, it feels that way. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to go through, and although I know one day it will be worth it, I'm struggling right now.

Due to some big family plans and tricky circumstances, I'll have to move out of my parents' house a lot sooner than we all thought. Originally I would've moved out as soon as I could afford it. Now, I have to find somewhere to live whether I can technically afford to live on my own or not. In order to be able to support myself and my daughter on my own, I've had to get a second job. Now, I work 40+ hours at Jamba, and an additional 30+ at Olive Garden. That's 70-80 hours a week that I'm now spending at work. The time I have with my daughter is almost nothing. I'm LUCKY if I get to see her twice a week, or if I see her for more than a couple of hours. 

During the last 2 weeks I have seen my daughter twice. Once, I had a few hours with her during the day before I went to work, and once was after I got home from work and I happened to be lucky enough to read her a bedtime story and put her to bed. There are 168 hours in a week, and I've been able to see my daughter for about 6 of them. 6 hours. 6 hours is the amount of time I get to spend with my daughter. And it's killing me. 

I know that things could be worse, and that at least the reason I'm away from her is because I'm working to support both of us. I'm not a deadbeat mom. I don't choose to party instead of spending time with her, or anything like that. And one day, I know it will all be worth it. I'm slowly making more and more money and for the first time since I had her I've been able to actually save it. I'm closer and closer to being promoted to a salaried position. This week I recieved a promotion that's just one step below the position I want. So one day I'll look back and I'll know this was the right choice and all the hard work will be worth it. But it is SO incredibly hard to be away from her. 

One promise I made to myself and to Averie before I even gave birth to her was that I would do everything I could to support her and be there for her and give her everything I am able to. I promised I wouldn't be one of those parents that's never around. I promised to give her a life she deserves. My biggest fear is that I'm not doing enough. I'm so scared that she knows that I'm not spending as much time with her as I used to be able to. I'm afraid that it's impacting her life. I don't want her to look back at her childhood and have little to no memories of me. I'm trying as hard as I can to get to a stable place in life so that we can be together and be happy and healthy. I'm working my ass off to be able to pay for the things we need and to save up for a car and an apartment. I know in my heart that I'm doing the best I can, I really am. But I miss my little girl. My heart absolutely aches for her. 

Every time I walk into a room and she isn't there, my heart breaks just a little bit more. 

I thought I'd give poetry another shot.

I used to be good at this. 

Ink on paper,

feelings melt with words. 

Somehow I can't seem to make that connection

anymore. 

I once was an optimist. 

Wind in my hair,

the world at my fingertips. 

One day I just couldn't find my heart

anymore. 

I haven't always been so careless. 

Hopeless romanticism

to empty gazes and hollow hearts. 

I don't know much about anything

anymore. 

I used to be good at this. 

Selfless love

met heartache and stinging veins. 

And now? I don't feel anything for you

anymore. 

Adventures In Potty Training

Today is the day. I think I can safely say my daughter is potty trained. Of course accidents will happen, and not every day will be perfect. But today I think everything clicked. 

It hasn't been easy. Potty training is hard to do at all, let alone as a single mom with your child all over the place. I'm never sure if the person watching her is helping her use the toilet or not. So as frustrating as it has been for me, I can only imagine what it's been like for her when mommy wants her to use the toilet and somebody else doesn't even bother with it and would rather change her diapers, and somebody else tries sometimes but not always... It's been a mess. BUT. Finally we are here at this proud moment where I'm hoping I can say diapers are done with. 

There's been a few forehead smacking moments along the way for me... (My forehead, of course. Not hers. Haha.)

Like last week. 

I've been basically immobile during the last week and a half due to a torn meniscus and a back injury. I got most of the weekend off work and Averie spent a few days with her dad, but otherwise I have still been taking care of her. Friday (right after I hurt my back) was the worst. 

Averie was at school from 9-3 so I had most of the day to sleep. I sent her to school that morning with a note telling her teachers that she's potty training, and I asked for them to encourage her to use the toilet. When she came home, I could tell they had been! 

She was playing in the living room while I stayed stuck in bed, and suddenly told me she needed to go potty. Oh, the excitement! I helped her take off her leggings and told her to go to the bathroom. She came running back saying she needed the light on, and I told her that mommy has an owie and she could do it by herself. So she ran back. I hear her pushing a chair along the bathroom floor, the click of the lightswitch... and tinkling into the potty! I was so relieved. I have been waiting for this moment for so long. 

So she comes back to my room and tells me she went potty and she needs a new diaper. Generally after she goes potty I let her wear panties instead, but she kept saying she wanted a diaper. I was a little disappointed because diapers are hard to put on when I can't bend my back, but I told her to lay down on my bed while I tried to sit up. 

Then. I see it. Poop. Everywhere. All over her butt and legs. And now smeared across my clean white sheets. 

I'm still surprised at the patience I had as I got up to put her in the bath, called her dad to ask for his help, got her dressed and ready to leave, and then managed to change the sheets. 

Potty training tests patience, for sure. But in a way I think me staying calm that day instilled the confidence in her to continue going by herself, even though she made a mess. Because today, that's what she did. 

I was resting on the couch as she watched Finding Nemo. I've seen it at least 200 times by now, so I fell asleep. I wake up after a few minutes, and I hear her ruffling around in the bathroom. I'm starting to get up to see what she's doing, when I hear her use the toilet. She didn't even come get me for help this time. At all. She pulled up her chair, turned on the light and went potty all by herself. Then she comes in and says "I went pee, give me bones!" So she got a million high fives and fist bumps and then put on a cute pair of panties. 

I am so relieved. Seriously. Not only because changing diapers sucks while my back and knee are messed up, but because it's so much easier to have her using the toilet like a big kid. And diapers stink. And they cost a lot. And I'm beyond done with them. This is the best milestone yet. I'm so proud of my little girl and so happy that she's growing and progressing more each day. She's the sweetest, smartest, cutest little thing. I'm always proud to be her mommy, but today is one of the proudest days yet. 

A little rant.

You know, nothing gives me more motivation than those people who think I'm just a typical teen mom who got pregnant in high school, broke up with the baby daddy, blah blah blah. The only words I have for those people are, "Watch me."

I may not have gone a single day in college. Yes, I'm a single mother. Yes, I work at Jamba Juice and make barely over minimum wage. I may still live at home. I may not own my own car. But watch me. 

In a few months, I'll be the GM of my current store or the brand new store set to open up this year. I'll be making salary, and about the same amount of money as my mother, who has a college degree and has worked for her company for more than ten years. I've worked hard to build good credit, which means I'll qualify for a car and an apartment. And who will be laughing then?

I may not have a typical family. I may not be able to give my daughter everything she wants. But I give her everything she needs, and the best of it. She is in a top rated preschool, for which I pay for entirely. I don't rely on anyone else for money or things I need to take care of her. I support my daughter and myself to the best of my ability, and work hard every single day to make sure I can keep improving our quality of living. Not only do I work hard, but I spend time with my daughter. I sing to her. I read to her. We go to the park. I teach her about good manners. She eats well, most of her meals being organic. I teach her the best things I know to teach her. And I love her. Unconditionally. 

So to anyone who has ever thought I'm that typical deadbeat teen parent, WATCH ME. 

My future husband...

I'll know I've found him when I find a man who makes it fun to do the dishes. 

I wish

After my great grandpa passed away, I started a post about how amazing he was and what he and my grandma meant to me, as well as how I was handling his death. I wrote a bunch, but haven't been able to go back to it to review it or even post it. I thought about it today, but I have something else I want to say. 

I really wish I could talk to my grandparents right now. I wish I could ask them how they knew they were right for each other and how they knew it was real after such a short time. I wish I could ask them about any hard times they went through and how they did it. If they ever fought. If it ever got really hard. I just wish they could give me some comfort and tell me that everything I've been through has had a purpose in some way. I wish I could listen to them tell stories about each other. I wish I could see them look into each other's eyes.

My grandparents were the greatest example of true unconditional love that I have ever known.

I was thinking about the bathroom floor.

Have you ever cried on the bathroom floor? The tile is cold against your face, steaming from your tears. It almost echoes, in the quietest, most still way. It assures you that you're alone in an incredibly unnerving manner. No one hears you and no one helps you. You cry. And then you get up. And then you leave. 

I haven't cried in a very long time, but I used to a lot. Especially in bathrooms. In my own head I'm notorious for crying in the bathroom at work. Sometimes, I just need a minute. So I walk calmly to the bathroom, I take off my apron, I double check the lock, and I fall to the floor. I cry as hard as I can for one minute. Then I get up, splash my face with cold water, breathe calmly for a few seconds, and walk back out like nothing happened. I've gotten oddly good at doing this without anyone noticing. I always think someone will, but no one ever does. Then I work the rest of my shift with a small sense of anxiety and loneliness, because no one knows that I couldn't even go the rest of my shift without an emotional breakdown. 

I don't really know why I chose to write about this. I don't remember the last time I even cried, let alone at work. Maybe it's because I've forgotten how to cry at all. Sometimes I wish for terrible things to happen to me so I can cry again. But even the worst fears and pains I've had lately have done absolutely nothing. I think I've completely forgotten how to cry. And I miss it, as strange as that seems. Because I feel like without crying, everything just eats me up inside. 

Negativity.

I need to put it out there right now that this is a completely raw post. I haven't filtered or edited any of it. This is raw emotion right now that I needed to put out somewhere. I don't expect anyone to like this. But it's real. 

I feel like I have no control over anything anymore. I can't channel my energy correctly. No one listens to me or even thinks of me or my wishes for a second. I don't know what to do. I feel completely helpless. I have no affect in any way that I want to. No one listens to me but then turns around and blames everything on me. I'm always in the wrong. Why? I'm done with this. I want to be on my own.  No family. No friends. A new job. I don't want anyone to know anything about me or my life. I want to live on my own. I want to control my own life. I'm sick of this. I'm done. I'm done feeling inadequate at my job. I'm done feeling stupid for the rules I set with my child. I'm done feeling like a fuck up for the choices I've made and continue to make in my life. I know I'm a good mom, or try to be. Just because I have a different idea of what's good for my child than most people doesn't mean I'm wrong or a bad mom. And I'm sick of people making me feel that way. It's bullshit. I'm sick of being ignored, walked all over and taken advantage of. I'm sick of caring about people who don't give a shit about me. I need to get out. I need to be free. I'm sick of people pushing me down and giving their unwanted opinions. Stay the fuck out of my life. No one fucking asked you what you think about me and my choices. I fucking hate everyone. It makes me sick. 

Hollow Places

I have a lot of good things going on in my life right now. Despite any of the bad that comes, I've been focusing on the good and keeping a level head. I feel like I'm in a good place in my mind and soul, and I am being good to my body. I'm happy. Not euphoric or anything like that, but I am content. Good things are happening for me, I have good people around me, and I feel like I've become a better person than I used to be.

The only thing that still bothers me is that little hollow place inside. You know the one I'm talking about? There are places in your heart that can only be filled by certain things. 

Sometimes when a person feels hollow it's because they don't feel deep love for anyone. I love many people in my life, as friends, romantically, in many ways. I have no problem loving or expressing love. 

Sometimes a person aches for family, for children. I have a beautiful, amazing daughter. Even though I may one day decide I would like to have more kids, I don't feel like I'm missing any right now. 

Sometimes, a person feels hollow because they don't feel like they are good enough. I am finally at a place in my life where no matter what anyone says to me or about me, I know my own worth. I can look in the mirror without seeing my flaws. I am good enough. 

But sometimes, a person has a hollow spot where the love from another person should be, and this is the hollow spot that I worry about. 

There are two people in my life that I can honestly say I have deeply loved and cared for, in a romantic way. Unfortunately things didn't work out, and although I love them, they don't love me. I feel that this is a consistent problem in my life. I care too much for people who don't care for me. 

Sometimes I wonder if I'll be alone forever. If I'll never even have the option to get married or have more kids if I want to. If I'll wake up every day for the rest of my life to look at the empty right side of my bed. If I'll never be as happy as those couples that fall in love and start a beautiful life together. Right now I've been trying to be patient, because I'm only 20 and there really is no rush. But I often find myself wondering if I'll ever find "the one."

Maybe I'm picky. Maybe the reason I don't find real love is because I still believe in a love that may not exist anymore. A love like what my great grandparents had. Love at first sight. The head over heels, not going a single day without that person, kind of love. I still believe in that, and maybe that's the problem. Maybe that doesn't exist anymore. 

My big brother.

My cousin Jake passed away in November in 2009. I still remember every thought and feeling I had when I found out he was in hospital, and everything I went through with my family, flying out to Florida to see him and be with the family. Jake is my uncle's son, on my dad's side. My uncle hasn't been married to Jake's mom for a long time, and Jake almost always lived with her, so growing up I didn't see him all the time, mostly at holidays. But when I was about 4, Jake came out to Utah and lived with us. He was my best friend. I have so many memories of us together. I was completely heartbroken when he passed away, and it took me a long time to come to terms with it. Today I was thinking about him, and found this letter I wrote in his memory journal. I thought I would share it today, as I am particularly missing the person I considered my big brother. 

"Jake, I was only little when you lived with us but I have so many memories of you. More and more come to me each day. I remember how every morning at breakfast when I told you to say your prayers you told me we had to say our own in our heads. I never believed that worked but you still made me do it. And how you taught me what sarcasm was. (Which at the time made me mad, but now I'm thankful.) And how mom and dad always made you wash your feet in the bathtub because they were black from you running around without shoes on all the time. I remember when you used to take me with you to John Paul's house so that I could still be with you even when you were with your friends. Whenever you made me chocolate milk you put way too much chocolate in. I can remember your eleventh birthday party. And that time you let my cat out of the house. And when you told your teacher off in school because she said white chocolate was real chocolate because it has cocoa butter in it. So you told her that her cocoa butter lotion must be chocolate. I have so many good memories of you. You were a wonderful person. I will always consider you my older brother. I only wish that I could have told you how much you mean to me. I am happy that you are at peace now, and that you are happy up in heaven. I know you're watching over the family and keeping us safe. I love you Jake. And I'll see you again soon bud."

I love and miss my big brother every day, and even though I am still sad that he is no longer here, I know he had a good heart and his soul is somewhere better, where he is happy and feels no pain. I don't know what comes after this life, but if I ever got to see my brother again, nothing would make me happier. 

I miss you bud. Thank you for all that you taught me and for being a big brother to me. I love you.  

Potty training, time-out, and the beginning of the "terrible two's."

The last month or so has been a difficult time. There's a lot going on in just about every aspect of my life. Naturally bad things all happen at the same time, and things would just so happen to start going bad as Averie enters her "terrible two's." 

Averie will be 2 on July 1st, so in mommy speak, she's 20 1/2 months old. (For the record, when people ask how old she is, I talk like a real person and tell them, "almost 2.") This will be my first time experiencing the terrible two's as a mother, although I've seen it many times as a babysitter. I'm hoping with all my might that Averie behaves nothing like those devil children.

18+ months is a difficult time for kids, but it's also a fun one. The last few weeks have definitely been hectic, but I'm learning a lot and so is Averie! Last week she started wearing big girl panties and using the toilet. She still wears diapers at night and for naps, and believe me there are still plenty of messy accidents on grandma's carpet, but I could not be happier that in just a short time I can say goodbye to diapers forever. 

Averie also had her first real time-out today. It may have had something to do with pooping her pants and not being very nice to mommy. After she got cleaned up, she sat in a hot pink lawn chair in her bedroom for one minute. (Some time out, huh?) When it was over, she gave me a hug and told me she wanted to "watch a show." I tucked her into my rocking chair with her favorite blankie, and let her watch tv while I started knitting a hat. After about five minutes, she turned around and started calling out to me. 

"Mom."

"What, baby?"

"Mom!"

"Yes, Averie?"

"I miss you."

Even if she were to wear diapers for the rest of her life, I just couldn't be mad at that little girl. She melts my heart. 

Spinning

I am not one of those girls that likes to be picked up. I will push you away and yell and kick like a small child until you put me down. Yeah, I'm dramatic and I over exaggerate. It's not THAT bad, but I still don't like it.

But there are times. 

Like when I see you for the first time for the day, and you're smiling so big, and I walk up to you to hug you and you lift me up and spin me around the room until we're both dizzy, and then you kiss me until I start to laugh too hard to kiss you anymore. And you look right into my eyes, into my soul. And you kiss me. 

I love that. 

Heart Strings

Well I can't sleep.

I find myself wondering... if true love is for everyone. Does every. single. person. find it in their lifetime? I have been in love. I still love, and I love deeply. But I am not in love. Not anymore.

I don't think true love dies. So that must not have been it for me.

I heard the other day that you can actually die from a broken heart. There are these strings in your heart that can break under emotional stress. If enough of them break, your heart cannot function properly. It loses its form and can't effectively pump blood. So when something bad happens, and you feel that pain, that sorrow, in your chest? Your heart is literally breaking.

I wonder if that's how I'll die.

What a sad, beautiful way to die.

…Of a broken heart.

After four years, I am the same.

I wrote this on February 2, 2010. Four years have passed, and this journal entry still describes the way I feel, to a T. This is what anxiety is like. This is what I feel on a daily basis. This is what I cope with. This is what I hide from the world. This is who I really am, all the way deep down inside. 

February 2, 2010

My head is spinning. Spinning, and I can't make it stop. I feel like I'm floating. I'm out of control. I'm almost there but no matter how hard I try, my feet just won't touch the ground. My heart is burning. My eyes are dry. My body is cold and achy. I'm nauseous. There's a shaking starting up in my hands. In my knees. I'm so tired, but I can't sleep. I get so, so hot. As soon as I shed a layer to cool off, I'm freezing. Emotions sitting in my stomach. Heavy like a rock. Tears welling up and being held back, pinching my throat. Begging, needing. I'm so lost. I don't even know how I got here. All I know is that I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and no one can hear me. I'm disappearing. Soon I won't even exist. My soul will only float through a sea of darkness looking for some kind of answer. What is love? Someone please help me find myself. Show me where I belong. Show me love. And let me believe it. 

Three Christmases.

Christmas of 2013 was not a one day event for me. Due to my unexpected traveling, gifts were here and there and family was split up, so I had more than one Christmas, so to speak. First Christmas was the best, so I'm going to go backwards and save that story for last. 

My third Christmas Day was last Saturday at 2 in the morning. My family had been in Vermont for the previous week and a half while I was home in Utah, by myself. They were supposed to come home on Monday, but their flight was one of 4,000+ to be cancelled that week. So when the cab finally got to the house around 1am on Saturday morning, I was a little more than excited to finally see my daughter, my parents and my two siblings. I ran out to the cab in my slippers, climbed in and squealed over how much I missed Averie. She was tired from the 6 hour flight and looked at me like she didn't know who I was, but climbed into my arms and hugged me anyway. I brought her inside to show her the baby doll nursery and play kitchen I spent about 4 hours building for her. The rest of my family made their way inside and I told them about the dinner that had been in the crock pot for the last 7 hours. Organic, gluten-free, non GMO, low fat, dairy optional Lasagna soup. They helped themselves and we chatted and opened up Christmas presents. I was pleased to see everyone open the exact gift they had wanted, but hadn't asked for. (I'm really fantastic at picking out presents, to be honest.) After everyone settled down and got ready for bed, I carried Averie upstairs and we snuggled in blankets on the couch and watched ToyStory until we both drifted off to sleep. 

My second Christmas was a present to myself. I had a little extra money, so I decided to spend it on some new clothes, a nice face wash, a book, a wind chime, and new earrings. It wasn't that big of a deal, but it's always fun to have new stuff. I like to shop online because you never know what day it will show up, and then you just have a little surprise in the mail box or on your porch!

Well, the story I've been waiting to tell since the day it happened, actual Christmas Day...

The day before Christmas Eve, my mom, Averie and I flew from Salt Lake to New York, New York to Boston, and then drove from Boston to my grandma's house in St. Albans, Vermont. No one knew I was coming except my dad, and he was sworn to secrecy. As we got into town, we stopped at the Georgia Market, which is a teeny tiny corner grocery store. It's a little more expensive than Price Chopper or Hannaford's (the main grocery stores in the area) but when you don't want to drive 20-30 minutes into town for a gallon of milk, it's there for your convenience. I got out of the car and climbed into the trunk of our SUV rental. We drove 5 minutes up the street to my grandma's house where my mom greeted everyone with a surprise guest-Averie! I could hear shouts of excitement and laughter coming from inside. My dad came out to the car to "get the bags" and helped me sneak through the garage to a door that leads to the basement. My original plan was to wait there until dinner time, and then come sit at the table like I had been there the entire time. But, I was STARVING. I hadn't had a real meal in days, only a snack at the airport. So I gave in and went upstairs to surprise everyone, so I could eat. Haha. I walked upstairs and hugged my grandma. At first she didn't realize it was me, and when she did she gave the biggest hug and started to tear up. Then Megan noticed I was there, and she got so excited. So sweet. It wasn't that big of a deal, oddly, but that's okay. 

On Christmas Day, the entire family came over to grandma's house. Megan and I got ready in the basement with Averie, and waited for everyone to arrive. When everyone had shown up besides one of my cousins and his girlfriend, I decided it was time to make the surprise. I bundled up in hats and coats with Averie, and we walked through the spider infested cellar to get to the door I had snuck into the other day. We walked out through the garage, and I prayed and prayed that no one would see us as we walked by the dining room window. We got to the porch and stood as close as we could to the door so no one would see us through the window. I got nervous as I rang the doorbell. The door opened and I saw my cousin Chris, my uncle Steve, and my aunt Jessica who yelled "SHUT UP!" and started to cry. She ran to us with hugs and kisses and said, "I'm so glad you guys are here, I can't believe it!" I started to cry too, as I hugged the rest of the family who had flooded the front hall in curiousity. Averie hugged her cousin Alayna who is only 5 months older than she is, and they ran off to play. I talked with my family about the whole plan and how I had been able to leave home. There were lots of hugs, and laughter. I think I made Christmas this year. 

I honestly couldn't have asked for a better Christmas. It was perfect. I love my family and I am blessed to have been able to spend time with them this year. It was a lot of trouble, and a lot of time and effort were spent by other people to make my Christmas miracle come true. I am incredibly thankful for everyone that helped me get to Vermont to see my family. I can't thank you enough.