Depression

Over the last few weeks, I've been thinking long and hard about this topic. Why? I feel like it keeps coming up. I've seen family members talk about it, on Facebook. I've heard people, discussing it. And recently, at funerals, there's been a lot of whispering...around this topic.

"Depression...a state of feeling sad, anger, and anxiety. A mood disorder marked by sadness, inactivity, difficulty in thinking and concentration, a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection and hopelessness, and sometimes suicidal tendencies."

I looked up that definition. And thought, how many people could fit into that category? How many people that I know. So many! So many of us, just keep moving forward. So many of us, pretending that we're OK.

I'm the Queen of the "I'm Fine" game. "How are you feeling?" "Fine." "How is everything going?" "Fine." "Do you need help with anything?" "No, I'm fine." Because that's how I was raised. To be OK. Not to bother people with my problems. To show people, from the outside looking in, that I was OK.

Until the day...that I wasn't. I can't really explain what happened. How it happened. Or why it happened. I just know, it happened. One day, I was OK. And the next, I wasn't. Not many people know this. But I'm about to share with you, one of the darkest times, of my life.

I was in college. A lot had been happening. I was away from home, for the first time. Hours away from my family. About 2/3 of my friends had moved away. To pursue work, in a bigger field. I had lost 5 pivotal people, in my life. Had 2 major car accidents. One in which, I almost died. Had a major operation. That would alter my life. I wouldn't tell my family about that. And had been held at gunpoint...more times than I can count on my hands.

Life was a little stressful. And I wasn't sure, who I could turn to. I didn't want to damper my friends' spirits. They were so excited about these new adventures. Moving, touring, having the best time. I didn't want to disappoint my parents. Or burden my family. I was falling apart.

And on this particular Thursday morning, I walked into my psychology class. Like I had so many times before. Sat down. And waited for one of my favorite professors, to start teaching.

What I didn't realize was, he was watching me. Studying me. That entire 110 minute class. He knew something wasn't right. When class ended, Dr. D asked me to step into his office. I remember my heart racing. What could this be about?

I would spend the next 4 hours, sitting in a chair, in his corner office...crying. Uncontrollably. He was the first person, to see me fall, completely apart. He saw all the signs that day. Things I would have never imagined. Things he'd watched over the last two weeks. But suddenly, they were screaming at him.

Dr. D would cancel his last class of the day. To talk with me. To make sure, I was OK, to go home. Alone. That I wouldn't hurt myself. He called colleagues of his. To insure, I'd have a doctor the next morning. He set up, all of my care.

I still get emotional, thinking about it. Knowing, this man saved my life. My favorite professor, who talked for days and days. This man, that I'd see at various school functions. That without a second thought, I'd see him and his wife, every single Saturday running up A Mountain. He saved my life.

Dr. D was the person that stopped my train wreck. From the outside, everything appeared to be OK. I went to school every single day. I had straight As, and was on the Dean's List. I worked at the hospital. And doing gigs. Everything seemed to be going great.

But inside, I was broken. Completely, 100%. I would call my parents every day. And for 30 minutes, I'd tell them about all the good things. I made it home, about once every two months. No family visited me. Not even my parents. And it was working out OK. I could hide from everyone.

Now, I was faced, with this demon. The one living inside me. Weighing me down. Eating me alive. Tearing me apart. On that Friday morning, I went to class as normal. Dr. D called the hospital for me, and was able to get me out of work. For the weekend. I went to Dr. D's office. Not only was he a professor, he had a private practice. That is where I went. And where I'd meet Dr. M and Dr. E who would walk this journey with me.

I was going through all of this. And living with chronic pain. In my back and neck. Due to cheerleading. And those recent accidents. I was also experiencing a ton of hip pain. I was not being treated for anything. Didn't even take a Tylenol. I didn't drink. Or do drugs.

All of a sudden, I was in a room. With three professionals. Letting everything out. Telling them about my life. Past and present. I have never cried so much in my life! All of a sudden, it was like the dam had broke. And I couldn't keep anything in. No matter how hard I tried.

I'm a strong person. One that shoulders a ton of responsibility. And every one's problems. But rarely, did I deal with my own emotions. Until that day. By 7PM, I was exhausted! All I wanted to do, was go home. But these three, had other plans for me. They'd rent a hotel suite...and I'd spend my weekend there. We each had our own room. But they could watch over me.

During this weekend, I talked more, than I've ever talked in my life! I cried. I let these people, into my life. In a way, that I had never let anyone else in. And on Sunday evening, we made a plan. One that included 2 hour sessions of therapy, 5 days a week. And prescriptions. The only way, they'd let me go home, was to agree to check in, 3 times a day.

And for the next 6 months, this is what I did. No breaks. No days off. Just dealing with all of this. Learning tools, that I'd use for a lifetime. Tools that would become essential, for my basic life.

I'm grateful for their help. For 10 hours a week, I could be honest. Without being judged. I could just be me. After 6 months, my sessions were reduced. To 1 hour, 5 times a week. It was still a lot. But it was what I needed. I remained on this program for 18 months. For the 6 months that followed, I was weaned to 2, 2 hour sessions a week. A year later, I'd go to therapy like a more normal person. 1, 1 hour session, every other week.

I still take medication. Albeit, it's a lot less. Maybe 1/10 of where I started. And I still have a rough day, from time to time. But I spent a LONG time, dealing with my emotions. Working through my problems. And learning, how to deal with all these stressors.

It was a TON of work! But something I will always be grateful for. When I look back, on the last 7 years, I would have NEVER made it...had I not had this experience. I learned how to deal with all these things. And when my Dad got sick, I needed those tools. I needed to deal with things as they were coming. Emotions and all. And I needed to know, it was OK...to put some things, on the back burner.

Life has not been easy for me. But it has been something, that I learned how to deal with. I can tell you about countless days, were I'd cry on the floor of the shower. When my Dad was sick. Or the hopelessness, I felt when he died. Or the overwhelming feelings I experienced, when my Mom got sick.

But I learned how to deal with my problems. Have there been times, when I scared myself? Yes! During my darkest days, I can remember that familiar drive back and forth. Three hours one way. And going over the large bridges thinking, "Life would just be better without me." Honestly, I felt that way. It's one of the reasons, I was so willing to seek treatment. Those things scared me.

I never actually tried to hurt myself. But I did think things like this. I often wonder, had I not gone through treatment, how would it have ended? Would I have driven my car, off of one of those bridges? Would I have done something worse? Could I have hurt myself?

I don't know. And honestly, I'm glad I'll never know. Because it scares me now. To think of the things I could have done. To think I could have hurt myself. I could have even killed myself. What would that have done, to my family? My friends? And my parents?

It took me, years to let my parents in. To let them know, I had this weakness. This issue, that I had no control over, when it began. But something I worked hard, to deal with. My parents never judged me. Never thought I was less than. They were only supportive.

Have I had relapses? In some small way...yes. I've continued with medication. Like I said, at much lower levels. I've also found other ways of coping. Running, baking, crafting, volunteering, writing letters/notes to people, working on our foundation, work in general, meditating, praying, through music, and with my pup. It's all been helpful.

But even now, I will Skype with one of my 3 doctors...at least once every four months. Just to make sure I'm OK. To talk through issues, I might be going through. To just work through stuff.

When my Dad was sick, I could feel myself slipping. Back into those patterns. I'd live in sweats. Didn't care if 2 or 3 days would go by, without showering. Stopped caring about my appearance, if I ate, or even slept. It was getting rough. The last 6 months, of my Dad's life, I was losing myself.

One day, in the hospital, I saw myself. I'd lost 10 pounds. Didn't care about my appearance. Or about anything other than my Dad. It took me back, to years prior. When I'd been 93 pounds. Alone in my home. Without any cares. I wasn't sleeping. And I just didn't care. It scared me.

During this time, I knew I was losing my Dad. I knew there was nothing I could do. I also knew, life was about to change dramatically. For about 9 months, after my Dad's passing, I was just trying to survive. I was using coping skills, that I'd learned. And just trying to work through all the emotions I was feeling.

Had I not had years and years of therapy, under my belt, I probably would have cracked. Had some sort of breakdown. Who knows what would have happened. But being that raw, didn't scare me. I knew, I could work through it. I had a whole bunch of tools, that I could turn to.

I guess, the reason I wanted to write this post...is to be honest. To let you know, it's OK. If you're going through this, it's OK. There are people willing to help. There are people that have gone through the same things, and come out the other side. Most of all, there are people that care.

Contemplating suicide, at any level...is a real emotion. It's raw. It's difficult. But honestly, it should never be an option. There should ALWAYS be someone to turn to. Someone to help you. Someone, that is on your side.

I think now, how selfish it would have been, for me to drive off of a cliff. But at the time, in a three hour drive...I'd think about it, at least 10 times. Now I realize, had I done that...who would have taken care of my Dad? Or now, my Mom? Where would my crazy dogs be? My family would still miss me. And so would my friends.

But when this disease, has you, in the palm of it's ugly hand...you just can't think straight. If you are struggling. And reading this...send me a message. Let me help you. I WANT TO HELP YOU!!!

People always think, they can yell at you. Get you to snap out of it. Like you are just sad. But you're not, just sad. It's more than that. And you need help. You need a caring hand. Someone to just listen to you. Sometimes, just to sit with you.

Will this be a lifelong battle for me? I'm not sure. I'm nearing a monumental point in my journey. Stopping all medication. But continuing to journal every single day. To meditate. To work on my illness, in other ways. I'm excited. And scared. Scared to death, that I might have some sort of relapse.

But it's definitely time, for me to do this, without medication. To trust my body. And work on my mind. To know, that it has been years, since it's been really bad. That those days of not eating, not caring, and spending all my free time sleeping...are well behind me.

It's a little more complex for me. I was diagnosed with OCD, when I was 7 years old. It's something that I've had to work through. It explains why instead of playing, I'd spend hours organizing my books, as a child. As a teenager, I'd rather hangout alone...than deal with the chaos that too many friends made. Or why in my home, every single thing, had a place. No dish, or spoon, or hair tie was ever out of sorts. Every single surface was scrubbed clean. The yard, looked like I had a gardener.

But when you mix that with depression, it's tough. It makes your mind feel like, a complete world of chaos. All the time! Little things trigger, anger and frustration. Migraines, are just something I deal with, because of all these issues.

But all of these things, don't overwhelm me. They've changed the person I am. And maybe when I do things. Like avoiding Walmart...like the plague, on the weekend. Only doing my grocery shopping, early in the morning. Or just staying home. Because for me, the triggers are stress, chaos, and crowds.

I also know, I want to live. I want to live a long life.  A successful life. And I productive life. I know that one day, I want to have a family of my own. And I want to have these issues, under my belt. Not in the forefront, of my life. As hard as some days are, they are worth it. Just to know, that this is not always my life. I'm full of hope. That tomorrow, I'll be stronger than today. ♫

Whoa!!!

This is the post, were I get all crazy, and heavy on emotion. If you're not prepared for that, you might not want to read this.

I don't know what it is. I'm not a person that lives life, by the numbers. You know, I didn't care when I turned 21. Yes, my friends and I were in Las Vegas. But we were there to work. I was just happy to get my favorite mini wedding cake. :) So when I turned 30, just a few weeks ago...it literally came and went. No "BIG" excitement.

I got phone calls from family and friends. A ton of messages on FB, and Twitter. It was nice. But it was just another day for me. Maybe because my parents, never really made a big deal about birthdays, when I was growing up. Maybe because my Dad never remembered, it was my birthday. Or that there has been so many family issues going on, that I just didn't care.

But something has been missing. And I wasn't quick, to figure it out. Until yesterday. It got me thinking. 12 years ago, I thought I'd be married by 20. Done with school by 22. And would have a couple of kiddos running around my home, by 25. Yes, I've accomplished a lot. Received more than 1 degree. Debt free, I might add. I've paid off my home. And my car. But something has been missing...

Yesterday, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe because I got to spend a few hours, with these cute twins. And honestly, all  my friends...and their kiddos. Maybe it's because, I'll be in a friend's wedding this weekend. As the "Maid of Honor." For the umpteenth time. Maybe it was my sweet Goddaughter's meltdown on Monday night.

I don't know. I can't pinpoint the exact reason. Just that something has been feeling "wrong" for a while. I mean, even 6 months ago, I wasn't this miserable. But now, I run from one crazy place to another. I'm taking care of a sick parent. Trying to juggle 100+ hours of work. School stuff. Writing for a magazine. And a newspaper. Endless paperwork for my parents. Running errands. Crazy traveling schedules. Really, I don't have much "down time." And I'm starting to get resentful, because of it.

Remember how I told you, that by 25 I thought I'd be married, a mommy, and well the "Keeper of the Home." But it hasn't happened. Honestly, I thought I'd be that mujer. That would get up early. Make her hubby breakfast, see him off to work. Spend my days breastfeeding, changing cloth diapers, doing said hubby's laundry, cooking meals, and digging in our garden.

I never thought it would be easy. Do you know my family? Nothing has ever been easy. I expected that there would be days, that I'd want to pull my hair out. That my beloved husband, would drive me nuts! And those babes that I'd birthed...I just knew, they'd test me in ways, that I'd never dreamt of.

But somewhere along the lines, I've sacrificed my life...for other people. I've put my dreams, on the back burner. I've buried myself in work. Because in those walls of the hospital, little can bother me. Little can hurt me. And I can control, most of what's going on.

You see, I can go to work, and forget about family crap. The siblings that make life...well a living hell. Not all of them are like that. But there are some, that just don't let me live. And in the hospital, I don't have to worry about them. I also don't have to worry about people, who try to keep me from my grandparents. Or aging parents, who I'm deathly afraid of losing.

Hurt and pain, can be minimized at work. You can hold yourself at arms length. You can get lost in hours of surgery. In complicated cases. In sick kiddos, who just want your help. You can quickly forget, that you are alone in this world. Maybe that's why so many of the doctors, don't mind these crazy schedules. Or the fact that we go to work at 5PM. And rarely leave before 5AM. That most days, we spend more time, in the hospital...then out of it. That we make more trips to work, in one day, than most people make in a week.

But then, in the quiet moments, you start to remember life. When you're holding an innocent and sick baby...you realize that's all you want. Is a baby. Even a sick baby, is better than no baby. A little person, that is part of you. When you see married couples, you realize, you want that. Even the ones who continuously argue. And might I add, about stupid things. Like the flavor of gum, the husband has just bought. You want, and crave, that company. That person to lean on, when times are tough.

I had this raw conversation with my good friend J, last night. We were making final travel plans for this weekend. When I'm the "Maid of Honor," and he's the "Best Man." Making sure I knew when and where to be. So I didn't miss the flight. We were finalizing the Bride and Groom's Honeymoon plans. Because this man is so incredibly sweet! He's paying for their Honeymoon!!!

It just got me thinking. And emotional. Having read this, just hours before...didn't help matters. Because it was everything, that I was feeling. And I caught myself, silently praying that same prayer. That J stays single for another 10 years...

You see, years and years ago, we agreed on something. Something silly. But something the two of us, have hung onto. Silently. Never talking to each other about it. Just hoping. That by the time I'm 40, if neither of us are married, or have kids...we'd have some babies together. Possibly get married.

I read this on Monday. When we were flying back from Dallas. And I kept asking myself, "What are you waiting for? He's the one! You've always known it!" The reality is, I think I've always known it. From that first instant, when we locked eyes. Those green eyes, they had me. That sweet smile, made me melt. Even in a crowd of people, as I performed, he grabbed my attention. But I've always been scared. Because what if it doesn't work? I'd be losing my best friend. What if he doesn't love me, as much as I love him? What if I got hurt?

All of those things, have allowed me, to stay at arms length. To keep J, just far enough away. But close enough, to lean on. Because let's be real, when times are tough, he's the one I run to. My friend is the should I cry on. All 6'4" of strong, muscular cowboy. With that crook'd smile. Sweet green eyes. Sandy colored hair. He's the man, that makes me feel safe. Like really safe.

He doesn't judge. Knows every stinking thing, about me. And loves me, for me. You know, he laughs at the silly stories. The stupid things I get myself into. He's proud of my accomplishments. And is ALWAYS there, when I need help.

No matter what it is. A shoulder to cry on. He's there. I swear to you, that little "nook," was made just for me. I don't know how many shirts of his, that I've ruined. Because the tears came way too fast. Or how many times I've called J, because I need some help with my tuition payments, buying a book for school, or heck...food. I'm not ashamed to admit it. He's been there. He's come with boxes of food, when he's noticed I'm without. Not judging. Just brought it through my front door, loaded up my fridge, and gave me a hug. J even created a position in his company, so I'd have a job.

I often panic, to think he might realize how handsome he is. Or what a good catch he is. How all those women, are really looking at him. And what a catch, all of those women really are. You know, size 0, smokin' hot, great personality types. They practically scare Jesus out of me. But J, he's usually concerned with bulls, oil, chili, pecans, or something else like that.

Seriously, how many men do you know...that are happy to play princess with their Goddaughters? Or go out and buy every pink food and drink, so those same Goddaughters, can have a tea party. Or like Monday evening, run around town, looking for that doll...that was ruined. Not many. And let me tell you, nothing melts my heart more, than watching J with kids. When I walk into his home, and he and one of our Goddaughters are fast asleep. On the sofa. Big, muscular Cowboy J. Covered with a princess blanket, and a small girl nestled on his chest.

He's the same man I call, when that one light bulb burns out. Because I can never reach it. The one I call, to tell all about that tough surgery that I had. The one that last 2 hours longer, than I expected. And challenged me, in every possible way. I call him, when I'm especially worried about my Dad. And he always makes me feel better.

J is the man, that I can spot across a room. Or a field of chili. And immediately lock eyes with. Somehow, that connection, makes my heart sing. He's the man, that makes me feel safe. And happy. That in every sense of a man, is a gentleman. He makes you feel, like a woman. Treats me with respect. Is more in love with God, than even I am.

He listens to me. Gives me the best advise. Helps me. Encourages me. Challenges me. Makes me laugh, until I swear I can't breathe. He distracts me, from my troubles. But helps me work through them. J is that one person in my life, that knows what I'm thinking, before I think it.

10 years ago, I dreamt of being married. Barefoot and pregnant. I had big dreams. Dreams that meant a lot to me. I was ready for all of that. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Who would have thought, during those first few weeks of college, that I'd meet this man. The one, that continues to make me dream. And hope.

When I think I can't dream any bigger, he challenges me. Because J, he dreams HUGE!!! He works hard. And plays HARDER. He loves with every being of his body. And expects, the best out of everyone around him.

It's been a tough year. We're only 3 1/2 months in. And I'm spent. I'm worried. In some areas, I've given up. Like Valli, I don't NEED a man. Or babies. But I WANT them. I've sacrificed so much, to get to this point. I've taken care of everyone around me. Maybe I'm just ready, to let someone take care of me. Remind me, that life is going to be OK. That not every single day, needs to be on the "edge of disaster."

I sometimes think, that God is screaming at me. Telling me to stop being so stupid. To let love in. And learn to let go, of certain situations. To make people, more accountable for themselves. To quit caring so much.

It's crazy when you get to this point. I even without realizing it, told J something, that even shocked me. "I'd get married. Tomorrow. If I could go on that trip, have a pair of CL stilettos, and just be happy for a second. Really happy. You know what I mean?" I hope he didn't get the wrong idea.

Lastly, I'm pretty sure Dr. S' wife, "The Bride," was equally shocked. Yesterday morning. When in passing I told her, "I'd walk away from it all. This career. My home. My hometown. All of this. If I could find real love. Could make a real family, for myself. And can be happy. Even if, for just a second. I NEED that. I don't need all of this. I just want to be happy." ♫

Sisterly Love

If you are someone from my family, you know, I have 8 half siblings. For my entire life, I've been closer to my 2 youngest sisters. Unfortunately, many of my brothers and I, aren't exactly on the same page. But my sisters, they've been there for me.

It's crazy. In the last 12 years or so, I've really lost touch with my hermanas. It makes me so sad. It hardens my heart. And honestly, it makes me feel incomplete. I really wish, that I could get in touch, with my sisters.

My Mom's daughter and I, were never super close. But we got along. And we saw each other when we could. But honestly, it's been nearly 10 years since we've seen each other. That saddens me. So much!

About 2 months ago, I reached out. We sent text messages back and forth. And talked about meeting up. Before she left town. Unfortunately, it didn't work out. I wish it had. I miss my sister. And now, all I can do is hope. That we can reconnect sometime soon.

Then there is my Dad's daughter. We were super close. For years and years, there was rarely a day that would go by, that we didn't see each other. I love my sister so much. We were so close. And it's super sad to say, but we haven't spoken in almost 10 1/2 years!

I think about her all the time. And honestly, I wish I could talk to her. I wish that we'd run into each other. Somewhere. Because I really miss her. We were so close. I miss that. She was the only sibling, that I've ever had, who treated me with love, respect, and care.

Most of all, I miss just hanging out with her. Laughing. Sharing our lives. Cooking together. The simple things. Celebrating our birthdays together. I miss just spending time together. Being sisters and friends. I miss my sister more than words can say.

It's crazy. The older I get, the more I miss my sisters. It's like I need them more. I need them in my life. I want them in my life. If only. If only we were closer. We had more time together. Had a better bond. Didn't have the family issues to deal with.

My sisters mean the world to me. And if I can help mend our broken relationships, I'm all in! If only I had a way to get in touch with them. To build back our broken relationships. To be sisters and friends again. I pray for this every single day! ♫

Oh Mr.

I've been lucky the last few days. My Music Man has been in town, and we've spent some time just hanging out. Catching up, before he leaves, for 6 weeks in Europe!

My Music Man has been working hard. In my hometown. And I got the opportunity to "steal" him away on Friday. His parents and I showed up, and we took him out to dinner. Yum! Was the food delish! And the company was so good. We laughed the entire time. And honestly, I don't think anyone missed him at "work." There was just so much going on. But we did manage to get him back, before the entire event was over.

But it was nice to enjoy time with him and his parents. It doesn't happen much. Actually, it's rare. But definitely a fun time to be had. That is definitely one family I'd love to be a part of. You know what I mean?

On Saturday, Mr. Wonderful there, got me some tickets. I ended up going to the concert by myself. I knew my parents wouldn't be up to it. But I was set to have some fun! Meeting the Mr. and his parents for dinner, just before the show. :) We had a yummy dinner. And prepared for a fun show. Full of beautiful music. And a little singing from My Music Man. It was wonderful! I don't know who the bigger fan was...me, his sister, or his mom. But this guy, had an entire section of fans. And I'm not just saying the 3 of us!

After the concert, my "Wanna-Be-In-Laws" went to gamble in the Casino. We headed to one of the Ballrooms. Which was set up for some "jamming." One thing you should know about our Music Conferences, is there is a ton of "jamming" that happens. Generally, there is a location, where everyone just shows up. Instruments in hand. And you just play. Everyone joins in. Teachers, students, anyone. And we sing. And dance. It really is a lot of fun. And that's what we thought we'd be doing.

Nope. The "Jam Session" turned into a night of dancing. One of the guys, that I worked with in my hometown, well his brother is a DJ. And came out for free. We had a great time. Lots of really good people. Having a lot of fun! And a lot of dancing happening!

Before I knew it, money was coming out of his wallet. Directed at the "Free DJ." To play this song...



A smile found it's way to his lips. My heart melted a bit. And we danced. No lie. I'm turning into one of those women.

Before long, the man with all the chivalry in the world, was punching out that musician. The one neither of us can stand. The one that prevented the Mr. from getting a job. In my hometown. And is now jealous of My Music Man's success. Did I mention? He can't stand me either. The feelings are mutual.

My Music Man has found himself on the other side of "that punch" before. During that time when we weren't talking. When I couldn't stand him. When he was mean as heck! And 'Ol Blue Eyes decked him. During our rehearsal. No lie...

But to see him punch someone else, well that just makes, well wonder. I'm grateful for My Music Man. And all of his good values. Before I knew it, that musician was being dragged out of there. My Music Man was checking to see if I was OK. And well, the rest of the musicians were on our side.

Yes, it's been a complicated and difficult road for My Music Man and I. We've had good times. Really good times. But we've also had really, really, really bad times. There was a two year span, when we didn't even talk. That's how much anger was there.

But whenever I've needed him the most, this man has been there. For whatever it was, that I needed. I'm so thankful. And grateful. That he is in my life. We encounter many people, like that rude musician. And never, not one single time, has he not defended me. My Music Man makes me feel so incredibly special. And worthwhile.

At the end of the night, we said our goodbyes. And got one of those truly amazing hugs of his. I went home with a knowledge, that someone out there, really does love me. Not out of obligation. But out of want. Beyond all the storybook lines, he really does love me. Maybe it's time, to start letting that love in. Into my heart. And really believing him. After 10 years, there's little, that we don't know, about one another. ♫

I Have a Secret...

I almost got married once. Only a handful of people know about this. Until now. But ya, little 'ol me, once almost got married. Here's the story...

When I was a freshman in college, I was juggling a lot. It was the first time I lived on my own, I was in college, had a new mortgage, worked a "real" job, had to figure out how to do laundry, I pumped my own gas for the very first time, and "really" cooked! I was just trying to survive. Oh, and then, 9/11 happened. That changed a lot. 9/11 would change a lot about my future education plans. Things that I never thought would change...they changed!

Some time between starting college, and 9/11, I met him. My Music Man. The one man, that would haunt my life...and at times, save me from myself. He was that man that every single female fell for. Every SINGLE one! Which isn't horrible when you work for tips...you know, as a Mariachi. But from the beginning, I never felt “worthy” of being around him. Like I wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t the way he acted, or treated me. But the way other people viewed him.

We became fast friends. Spent lots of time before and after rehearsals together, laughing and talking. Before long, we were in the same Mariachi, spent at least 40 hours a week together. And learned how to pack food in our luggage. Anything to save a few pennies, to pay for college. Yes, we took oranges, peanut butter, and crackers with us to Orlando. Because we were poor…

Ya, we figured out that I cheered at his old high school. At least 8 times a year. My Music Man is 3 years older than me. But he still went to his old high school’s games, after he graduated. During the time when I was on my high school's varsity cheer team. He went because his younger brother went to the games. His brother is younger than me.

Yes, we had met years before. When I cheered. And he was trying to figure out how we (the cheerleaders) could bend “like that.” And how in the heck, could we pull off those tricks. And why in the heck would we cheer, in the middle of a snowstorm, in tiny skirts. We were hardcore cheerleaders. The ones from his high school, they rarely went to the games. And our coach, well she thought that cheerleading was our life. We didn’t miss a thing. Including the Band Competing in the “Battle of the Bands.” Yes, we cheered for that! :P

So ya, we met. We actually shared a meal. Because 5 of us, and our coach got stuck, in his hometown. And we were stuck at Wendy's. Eating French fries and Frosties, at 2AM, during a snowstorm. We had met. He actually bought us real food. As in meals. I remember him telling us, “You ladies need a proper dinner. I saw how hard you worked. Very talented.” The only guy on our team was with us. And he was not impressed. I remember him calling him a Jack A#@. Under his breath of course. Did I mention? He was also my best friend. Somewhere between passing out the food, and going for ketchup, My Music Man asked me, for my phone number. And I gave him, a friend's phone number. Instead of mine. :)

But in college, it was different. He made my heart skip a beat. My tummy would get butterflies. And well, it just felt “right.” Hilariously, we were set up together. To sing. Lots and lots of duets. Which required a crap load of rehearsal time. And a bit of acting...

We started to realize things. Like he lived a few blocks down the road from me. Any given day, we were both happy to be eating Ramen noodles. Yes, we were those "Poor College Students." He walked to school, to save money on parking. I spent hours in the library, trying to save money on books. We both enjoyed old movies, and the craziest jokes. Running was our second favorite past time, to music of course! And hunting, fishing, and camping...well to both of us, it's just a part of life. :) Let’s not forget Salsa dancing. And the occasional midnight, ice cream run. :)

I also had a roommate that was making life horrible. So I needed someone to vent to. To tell how frustrated I was. Because I did everything in the house. All the cleaning. My food was frequently stolen. Things were being broken. No one cleaned but me. And well, my roomie wasn't doing anything. So I vented to My Music Man. Who listened. Really listened. And at the perfect moment, gave me one of those big bear hugs. Remedy to all!

Then, one day, we were talking to some friends. They had recently gotten married. And now, 90% of their tuition, books, and fees were paid for. Why? Because they were a married couple. HELLO!!! The bells were going off. We had this amazing idea...

It was the end of January. I was a freshman in college. I needed money. WE needed money! Ya, I had scholarships. But well, I needed help living. You know, once in a while, I wanted to eat a decent meal. So the idea was born.

We decided to get married. Nothing else would change. He'd stay in his $1000/month apartment. The entire place could fit into my living room. No lie! And I'd stay in my home. But school, it would be completely paid for. Completely! It sounded like heaven. :)

Being the chivalrous man that he is, My Music Man decided to take things into his hands. He paid for our blood tests. Yes, our state requires them. And he footed the bill for the license. He also went to an Antique Store, and bought us rings. They were the perfect fit. No sizing required! Quite beautiful, if I say so myself. :) We were all set. Our appointment with the Justice of the Peace was set. 4PM on a Friday afternoon. It gave us enough time to make it legal, and still make it to our Mariachi gig. How very romantic we are! :P

Well, our vocal lesson lasted longer than it should have. And we couldn't find a parking. Which made us late. And we missed our appointment! We couldn't wait another 30 minutes for the last appointment. We'd be late to work. So we figured we'd try again, the next week.

God had other plans. You see, My Music Man's Dad, is good friends with a certain Indian Chief. Who signed a certain paper, declaring that a certain man was at least 33% Native American. This allowed the government to pay for his entire tuition, fees, and books. And he got a monthly stipend. This happened on Monday. 3 days after our original wedding date.

So now, we didn't have to get married. His school was paid for. And with that extra money, well he paid for gas. To get us to work. You know, we had to travel, at least 50 miles one way, to gigs. And we did this 4-5 times a week. I also had a steady stream of food. We now lived off of PB&J sammies, or bean burritos. We were really living it up!

In the years that have followed, actual “real” proposals have happened. With big diamond engagement rings and all. So fancy! He's gone on to bigger and better things. Traveling the world, performing his beautiful music. Making a 7 figure salary. Touring with amazing performers. As the jobs have gotten better, the rings have gotten even bigger. And I've still said nothing…

I'm not sure what it is. But I don't want him to "settle." Or feel obligated to me. I started thinking about this recently. Because we had a serious conversation. And we also went down “Memory Lane.” Because he was getting ready to sell one of his cars. And we found a small box. With that beautiful ring.

The one that he bought. At that dusty Antique Store. The original ring. That would have made me his Mrs. And he my Mr. We had planned this, to pay for school. But he's not the kind of man, that would just walk away. I've always known that. Had we gotten married, all those years ago, we'd probably have 2.5 kids by now. With some dogs running around. In a beautiful home. My Music Man providing for his family. Allowing me, to live out my dreams. Because, he's that "Old Fashioned Man."

I'm not sure if our path was a good one, or a bad one. Or if we really should have just gotten married. Could you have imagined how we would have told our families...talk about insanity! We may have killed my Dad on the spot! And his family…well I don’t even know what to say. Did I forget to mention, just 6 weeks later, we were in Sin City. Oh ya baby! We almost took the plunge again. This time, I don't really know what prompted it. But we were standing in the “Little White Chapel.” Calling some friends. Apparently, you need a witness or two. :P Instead of saying "I do," we shared a mini wedding cake.

Out of all the men I've ever known, he is probably the only one, that I really saw myself, having a life with. Envisioning our life together. All those conversations we've had. Talks about how many kids, where to live, careers, finances, and religion. All of those things. By the way, we wanted 3, maybe 4 kids. And 2 dogs. :)

But in the end, I'm just not sure. I don't think I could ever really give 100% of myself to anyone. I'm just not that person. And honestly, he needs that kind of a woman. He was meant to be an amazing husband and father. That much I know.

After nearly 10 years, I know that much. That this man, no matter what he says, needs that kind of a woman. That gives 100% of herself. And as much as I want to be a SAHM and wife, I'm just not sure we were meant for one another. But, I thank God every single day for him. He is definitely one of my very best friends. We've had our good times, but we've also had some of the worst times together. And we've made it out of those bad times. Actually, those bad times, made our bond stronger. Much stronger. He knows some of my deepest, darkest secrets. The things I’m most afraid of. And I know all about his dreams for the future.

Who knows. One day, I might just show up, in my hometown. Newly married. I might still become that "barefoot and pregnant woman." His Mrs. and “Baby Mama.” The one that gives up her career, to be the SAHM. You know the one. That makes all the class snacks, goes on every field trip, and has dinner on the table...when her hubby gets home. I guess you just never know what My Music Man and I will do. There have been so many opportunities. You just never know...



And just a little bit of fun. But really I like that song. You know, our life paths are not set in stone. Not yet anyway! I might just pick up and do something silly. Like let myself fall in love. There is still a little bit of hope out there. ♫

Friendship

The word friend, it sometimes leaves me speechless. Utterly speechless. I have some of the best friends. Friends that people would die to have. That are just amazing. As much as I try and do for them, they do 10X more for me.

Then I have these "odd ball" friends. The ones that seem to hurt me every way possible. They attack your character. Everything about you. They put you down. And only look for ways, in which they can hurt you.

These are the friends that completely shock me! They tend to be the ones I do the most for. Or at least make the most effort for. I call them. Try to see them. But nothing is every reciprocated. And I'm left feeling stupid.

One of these friends, just had a birthday. And I just didn't feel like calling her. I was spent. And just not in the mood. So I sent a text. Nothing fancy. Simply, "Happy Birthday." The next thing I know, she's called me. Every single day. For a week! What the heck?

I don't know. I was only trying to be nice. It was her birthday. But honestly, I was done with her. Done with having her as a friend. She infuriated me. And now, it seems like she wants to try. Makes me feel horrible. But I'm spent. And over it. Ready to move on.

But it makes me feel horrible. I wonder, what do people really think friends are? I know, we all have a bad day, from time to time. But to consistently treat a person horribly. Well, I'm not so sure about that.

I guess it just makes me appreciate my good friends even more. I really do love them. The ones that are real friends. That I can count on. You know the kind. They listen when your day isn't going so well. When you're sick, they remember to bring you some soup. And when it's 100 degrees outside, they always check to see if you are alive. You cry together, laugh together, and from time to time...tease each other. Those are the friends that I need. The rest, I think it's time to purge my life of them. ♫

Peace and Quiet

It's funny. I yearn, honestly yearn, for peace and quiet. It's funny because my life is so chaotic. So full and jam packed. I have little time to myself. Even less time to be in peace and quiet. But I yearn for that time.

I'm one of those people, honest to God, that wouldn't go crazy if I lived in the middle of nowhere. I would actually thrive. If I went days without seeing people, it wouldn't bother me. Not one bit. Why? I have absolutely no clue. But it wouldn't.

That part that makes me laugh is, I'm constantly surrounded by people. Constantly! At work, at school, even at church. And I thoroughly enjoy it. I enjoy helping people. Nursing babies back to health. Talking to their parents. Experiencing new things through music.

But I'm a "loner." To the deepest part of my soul. I like to be alone. I like to sit and reflect. Listen to myself from the inside out. I like to write in my journal, every morning. Without fail. I enjoy long, quiet runs. And digging in my garden at sunrise. It's not out of the ordinary, to find me quietly sitting in my backyard, at midnight.

Or even curled up with my favorite book. The house dead silent. Just me and my latest book. I yearn for that. The time when my soul rejoices! And actually heals itself. The time when I am free to just be me. When I listen to my thoughts. Not the world.

I don't get much of this. If I'm lucky, I still 5 minutes a week. For just me. Without all that outside noise. Even my commutes are jammed with phone calls, studying, or practice. So maybe, that's why I long for these times. When I can shut the world out.

The next month, well it's going to be chaos. Final exams, clinicals, presentations, traveling, work, hospital stuff, taking care of family, time with friends, and lots of celebrations. But I'm promising myself this, in a month, I'm shutting the world out. Even if it's just so I can stare at my flower garden. ♫

He Still Has My Heart

No matter how much I try, he has my heart. My whole heart. Yes, he does. No matter the distance, the time that passes, or the things that happen in our lives. He has my heart in his hands. And honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. Who knows...one day...he might just be the one. :)

Maybe it's my humbug attitude as of late. Or my unwillingness to go home. The fact that I just don't want to be around other people. Whatever it is, he understands. Even from 1000s of miles away, he gets that. Has just the perfect things to say. Those things that make me feel better about myself.

And it's when I see him, and my heart does that silly little thing, that's when I know. When he tells me I'm beautiful. You know, when I have the flu, a fever, no makeup, my hair is a hot mess, and I've been wearing the same pjs for 2 days. Yes, that's when it counts the most. That and the chicken noodle soup that he's brought over. Because he is convinced that it will make me feel better.

But it goes deeper than that. He's the man I turn to when my world falls apart. The one person who just lets me cry, when I need it. Who comforts me, as I lose yet another important person in my life. My biggest cheerleader, when all I want to do is give up. He is all those things. And so much more.

It's funny how much we've been through. Sharing a stage. Learning from our mistakes. Challenging each other. Celebrating each other's victories. And helping each other to reach our goals. Money, popularity, and all that crap, it's never mattered. What's mattered, is each other.

Sometimes we falter. Sometimes we fall. We've gone months without talking. At some point, I'll admit it, I hated him. But that's in the past. All in the past. Because every time I've needed him, he's been here for me. Whether I've asked him to, or not.

It's nice to know. Especially when I had a crazy person hunting me down. And no one to depend on. I had him. Who else takes off 2 months of work to just make sure I'm OK? Not many people. But that's the difference. This man has respect, love, and knowledge to share. That's what I need. Along with a sense of security. He provides all of that.

Is it funny that we still argue about cakes? Yes. But eventually, I'll bake him a cake. Maybe even for his birthday. Is it strange that I pick up his mail when he's gone...and on tour? Maybe. But I think it's funny, that his neighbors think I live there. That I'm their neighbor too.

Our relationship is complicated. Strange. And, well not common place. But it works for us. The 2 musicians that grew up, more alike than not. The 2 people that probably should just give in to this thing. But you know, we're both pretty hard headed. For now, this works. In a year...maybe it won't.

You just never know where life will take you. Will he be living in FL again? Will I move to NC? Or we just might be a little nuts and say, both careers aren't the right thing for us. I guess only time will tell.

But today, I'm just happy to know he's on my side. He's still the man that calls to chat at 2AM, because he knows I can't sleep. Or the man who shows up at my house, to help out in my latest round of painting. Ya, it's that time of year. My house needs a new coat of paint.

That's the 2 of us. Singing those ubber romantic duets one minute, the next laughing at some ridiculous thing we seen. What really happens under the sombrero? Nothing. The 2 of us trying not to laugh. Ask anyone in the band. The audience can't see. But we all know. It's part of the act. At least 50% of it.

Chemistry? Well you can't deny that. But it's not the beginning and end of us. We're both more complicated. And a whole heck of a lot funnier. What can I say. And to think, after all this time, I've had this hombre right under my nose. And no matter what we try to do, we keep finding our way back to one another... ♫