Category: Family

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Time.

“Time is a created thing. To say ‘I don’t have time,’ is to say, ‘I don’t want to.’” — Lao Tzu

You know that feeling when someone reaches out to you that you haven’t spoken to in years? Especially when that someone was somebody really important in your life at one point in time. It makes you realize how many lives one can live within a single lifetime! The saying is that ‘life is short’ but in the moment it sure doesn’t feel like it. Counting the years add up quickly and it’s incredible how something can seem so familiar yet a distant memory at the same time. How accessing memories from the past can make you feel as though you’re right back there, living it all over again in real time. I’ve often joked that it’s a blessing and a curse to be able to recount and recall all that I do. Remembering certain dates, both good and bad. Wishing that it were easier for you to forget certain things, only to one day realize that a day came and went and you didn’t even think about its significance, once. Time is nothing but a relative term. My boss believes that it’s our most finite resource, and she’s not wrong, but it’s also just a relative concept, is it not? I don’t mean to get all philosophical on ya but seriously. Have you ever thought about it?  

It has been 11 months since my last entry and I find that just as hard to believe as the fact I am approaching the 2 year mark of employment with The Sisters Enchanted! Wanna know something crazy? I don’t remember my exact start date nor end date with Borders – but I know that it was just around this time mark; making TSE the LONGEST consecutive job I have ever held! WHAT?! Well, except motherhood, of course. Wild.

So what the hell has been going on for the last year? F if I know. Ha, ha! I mean, work was crazy busy the second half of 2023 and a good chunk into 2024. But sitting here reflecting I realize that as 2023 came to an end I was thrown POTS flair and battled extreme fatigue and all that comes with medication dysregulation. Not to mention that I had developed some new symptoms that we’re still trying to get sorted out. Instead of just passing out upon positional changes, I started passing out just arching or twisting my back ever so slightly. And having costochondritis with slipping ribs movement to simply breath is kind of necessary. I could literally be lying in bed stretching and the lights would go out. I could be working and if someone walked into my office, if I turned to look at them just right, down I went. We have absolutely no idea what could be the reasoning behind this new cause for syncope, but I am meeting with a new local Electrophysiologist later this month so we’ll see what he has to say. The only thing that has come up between my most recent echocardiogram and holter monitor is some regurgitation from both my Mitral and Tricuspid valves. So, I guess it’s fair to say I’ve just been exhausted and finding time, let alone motivation to write, just hasn’t been there.

However, the writing bug has bitten me recently so here I am, with an update.

You ready?…

>> I have decided to turn my writing into a book after all! <<

::Cue digital confetti::

I am not entirely sure when I decided to turn it into a book and obviously it’s going to take quite a while but slowly it’s getting there. I have already taken most of my entries and converted them and as I write more I will update the blog. There is still so much to say but instead of writing up something new when the inspiration fired, I got a head start on prepping the book. Do I think anything will come out of the book? No, not really; I know that I’ll have a few sales as it’ll likely be self published but the point is the follow through. Even if it is self published, I can still call myself a published author whenever that day comes. A goal I set out years ago and one I [WILL] see to the end! ::bowsdown::

SO – what else has been going on? Well, as I piece together and edit what I have for the book, I was reminded of something else that has triggered significant mental fatigue over the last year that has likely added to my lack of motivation to write. That being Leighton’s hormones triggering more psychological episodes and the fight to try and get him help! There are times where he is literally begging for help. He needs a psychiatrist but I cannot get anyone to call me back. No one responds to my emails and even with a primary care doctor trying to assist in my efforts… nothing! It’s maddening! Ever since Covid, finding mental health help has been nothing but a sick joke! Those comments about “not wanting to live” have turned into very real concerns about self harm. His doctor has warned him that he needs to choose his words wisely because we are obligated to take him to the hospital if he continues to say some of the things he says. I think that scared him enough because he is definitely making an effort to try to communicate better, but he himself is still scared that when he’s in a fit, and not thinking, that he will do something dangerous, not being able to logically think about the repercussions. He is concerned about harming himself because of how dark his mind gets. I am just so thankful that the lines of communication are still open and something he has found that helps is sketching out his feelings. Instead of writing a journal, which he did start and really appreciated being able to write whatever he wanted without fear of judgment or punishment, he draws symbols and whatnot to express what is going on for him. Can I decipher even half of it? Not at all, but I’m willing to listen if he wants to explain. There was one day while writing that you could see the whole process from his irrational thoughts, to working his way through them and then realizing where he was in the wrong, what could have been done differently and why he thinks things ended up the way that they did. Proud Mama doesn’t even begin to define how I felt when he shared that entry with me; even if there was an entire paragraph of seeming  just F-bombs.

Parenting is hard. So hard. On one hand we know he is very good at manipulation but the alternative of not taking his words seriously is not something I’m willing to play Russian roulette with. So alas, we’re back to trying our damndest not to upset him but boy do hormones take their toll!

And Kellan? Kel has just been an a-hole. He argues over everything. Complains over everything! Igor says that school ruined him and while I tend to agree, we can’t forget he’s always been my little neanderthal and a total stinker. 

In April I had to head back to the East coast for work and since I can’t travel alone, we decided to make it a family affair. It was the boys’ first time flying and they did really well! AND I didn’t pass out during either descent!! I found these new ear plugs that help with regulating air pressure and they were a literal game changer! Not only did I not pass out, I was also not curled over in the fetal position crying from pain. I have never been able to fly, ever, without my ears bringing me to tears! I have so much scar tissue in my eardrums that they can’t handle the pressure changes. I really wonder if I didn’t pass out because I wasn’t in pain, but also because my ear pressure was regulated? If that’s the case, then ya girl may be able to start traveling ALONE again! Oh wouldn’t that be the dream?! However, now that I know I can request a wheelchair both ways, that’s a game changer too! Who knows, maybe next year I won’t need Igor to assist me on my work trip!

Last year for work we went to Mystic, Connecticut and this year Salem, Mass! Witches loose in Salem, oh what fun! I had to work Mon-Wed so Igor, the boys and I flew out on a Thursday to get some family vacation time in. You’d think we’d have learned by now that a family vacation is not a vacation, but rather a family trip. There is nothing “vacation like” about traveling with kids. Leighton was a dream almost the entire time, a shock and blessing twisted together. Kellan? Total a-hole. Ha. He whined and complained the entire time, nothing was good enough even if he got what he wanted. It was really difficult for me but I especially felt for Igor as he was stuck with the kids without me Mon-Wed. Friday we explored downtown Boston and oh my heart was I in love. Leighton is my sensitive buddy, he always wants to be with me when he’s exploring new places as my “energy calms him”. I didn’t realize how much that means to me until we were in Boston and he chose his dad! Rude, right? My heart has always been drawn to New England and he said that my energy was too comfortable there, like I was meant to be there or was in a previous life; so he was with Dad because it’s like they were experiencing it together. Okay, maybe not rude – that is rather sweet. He even held his hand walking down the street! ::dawww::

I thought Seattle was my favorite big City but Boston is a true contender! There’s nothing quite like standing IN PAUL REVERE’s house and realizing that it’s THE anniversary of the start of the revolutionary war!! It was the coolest and craziest thing to experience. We walked all of Freedom Trail (& yes, John Hancock’s gravestone is phallic & no, the irony is not lost). L had his favorite donut, Boston Cream – in Boston and he stunned a group of college kids over his awareness and understanding of climate change. He was given an Eco-Warrior pin and his response after walking away: “that was so fun!” Ha, ha. We also had Regina’s World Famous Pizza and explored the U.S.S. Constitution. Aside from Kellan complaining alllll day and me passing out twice on the subway (& having to sit on the floor, partly blocking a door, because no one would give up their seat) it was a fantastic day!! 

Day 3 we explored Salem. Day 4 we drove to New Hampshire & Maine (Leighton has officially made it to 13 states and Kellan, 9!) and visited Fort McCleary; then headed back to Salem for an adventure at World of Wizardry with my boss and her family – the kids became instant friends – before heading to Team TSE’s rental house in Manchester by The Sea. It was a super old, creepy home with a lot of energy! By bedtime Leighton was so uncomfortable he ended up getting physically sick and slept almost the entire next day… anxiety hangover’s are rough, poor kid! Igor ended up renting a hotel for him and the boys to sleep at for the remaining 4 nights and I stayed behind since I was there for work. Day 6 Team TSE had an in person event, so our husbands took the kids for a day at the park. The house’s energy made itself known more than ever that day and I myself got physically sick after exploring the basement. I have never experienced anything like it before and I’m thankful I had my black tourmaline on me! Day 7 Team TSE had an all day photoshoot; which ended in us running into the ocean while it was 50 degrees outside. And I gotta say, it’s super weird seeing my own face on the internet, out in the wild, on real ads and whatnot. I’m still unsure how to feel about it. Kellan introduced the other kids to chess and even almost beat a co-worker’s husband (a former avid player)! Day 8 we went back to Salem before heading to Marblehead for the best lobster roll of our lives!  It was a jam packed, busy and eventful week! While I love that the kids finally got to meet after 2 years, taking a work trip with kids is not something I’d like to do again for a long time! Annnd of course we received our first truancy letter upon getting home for school absences, dated before this trip… cool.

Annnyway. I just had the itch to write a bit so I figured I’d give an update.

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21. Miracle Baby

“I was given such a great gift. It’s a miracle that never stops amazing me and reminding me to give thanks, every day.”
– Jake owen

With my {miracle baby} turning > s i x < less than a week ago, I can’t help but reflect on how he came to be. Though, if I’m being honest, both of my children are miracle babies. And no, I don’t mean in the whole ‘all babies are God’s miracles” way. I mean, it’s legitimately impressive that they’re here without [complication]!

See, we didn’t know it at the time, but when Igor went for his vasectomy we discovered he only had -one- of his vas deferens. A missing vas is usually associated with renal agenesis (the absence of one or both kidneys) / abnormalities and / or genetic mutations. The urologist said that he had never heard of it otherwise. So, Igor went off to get an ultrasound only to discover that he, too, is a zebra himself! <3

For those not part of the {chronic illness communities}, in medicine, the term “zebra” is used in reference to a rare disease or condition. Doctors are taught to assume that the simplest explanation is usually correct, to expect common conditions. The phrase taught to medical students throughout their training is, “When you hear the sound of hooves, think horses, not zebras.” However, many medical professionals seem to forget that “zebras” >DO< exist, so getting a diagnosis and treatment can be more difficult for sufferers of rare conditions, such as myself!! There is {no} explanation for why Igor only had one of his vas deferens, and seeing as the urologist was stumped himself, I declare my hubby a “zebra”, even if only an honorary one.

That said, the fact we didn’t end up with fertility treatments is the first miracle itself! I even got pregnant with Leighton on our first try. Our good friend Matt [Friendships pt. 2] likes to joke that Igor has -supersperm- as a result of Chernobyl. <- Which, may be in poor taste given that Chernobyl is considered the worst nuclear disaster in history… buuuut is it not {also} possible he may be right? ::joking;kindof:: Having Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome [06. HS/Diagnosis], I was at risk for a variety of complications, from not being able to maintain pregnancy or delivering prematurely, to hemorrhaging, especially due to my platelet disorder: Delta Granule Storage Pool Deficiency. According to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, DGSPD “is caused by a lack of dense granules and the chemicals normally stored inside them. Without these chemicals, platelets are not activated properly and the injured blood vessel does not constrict to help stop bleeding.” <- basically meaning, I’m a bleeder. I have to be honest and admit that while I knew about EDS {shout out to May being EDS awareness month!}, I didn’t truly understand it when it came to pregnancy, at the time I was pregnant with Leighton. We were concerned about premature labor but my obgyn was much more concerned about my bleeding and the potential need for a hysterectomy due to said bleeding.

As I mentioned in [Twice Exceptional], I had Leighton at 35 weeks+5 days. At 33w3d I was sent for a stress test and discovered I was in preterm labor. I guess I’m so used to pain that I didn’t even realize these were [decent] contractions and not just Braxton Hicks. After a few hours they decided to send me home but to keep an eye on my blood pressure and if contractions started up again to go back. In less than 24 hours I was back in and admitted for the night. We already knew that I was going to be having a c-section under general anesthesia because of my doctors’ fears over bleeding. They didn’t want to give me a spinal and cause more harm, only to have to put me under should there be an issue. The morning of the day he was born, my obgyn was concerned that I was going to end up in an emergency situation. She didn’t want to send me home only for me to come back to a busy ward without platelets on hand. She believed based on how I was progressing that I wouldn’t make it a week, and felt it was the safest, smartest option to deliver him that day, while there were two doctors to oversee it, she would be there (as it was her hospital day), and being morning they had fresh platelets on hand and could reserve them for me. That quickly became the scariest day of my life, up to that point! Like I said, we didn’t know enough back then but you better believe I did my research the second time around, because having a child under general anesthesia, not knowing if I was going to wake up with or without a uterus – or at all, miss the first cry, my husband not being allowed in the room, and so forth, >definitely< lead to birth trauma!! I felt so disconnected from Leighton, and honestly I still do. I don’t know if it’s from the trauma or his neurodivergence. I just know that I love him fiercely, but our bond is nothing like that of which Kellan and I have. Over the years there have been times it felt fake and forced and it breaks my heart to even admit it, but here I am… Telling my truth. The next miracle: being born at 35+5, at 6lbs 11oz – baby boy [never] spent -any- time in the NICU (which is good because he would have been transferred downtown to Detroit Children’s Hospital) and went home with me when I was released!!

Having a 2E child is challenging beyond words! With everything that we went through those first 3 years, we honestly didn’t know if we’d have a second child. We had always talked about having 2 and if they were both boys, we’d adopt a girl. Only in a “perfect” world, right? I shake my head at our naive young selves. It took until hearing the words, “you’re not ovulating” and “you may not be able to get pregnant again”, to realize how badly we actually wanted a second. Knowing that choice was essentially [possibly] taken from me, cut me. Deep.

Huh, just right now I realized, I think that I need to backtrack on my comment about not needing fertility treatment. My [naive] understanding of treatments was always so much more in-depth than just taking medication for ovulation induction (OI). After thinking about the fact that I >did< use oral medication to try and “re-boot” things, I decided to see what actually was considered ‘fertility treatment’. Lo and behold, OI is infact one of the first methods! Wow. You learn something new every day, and I’ll [never] stop learning anything I can. Knowledge is power, my friends! <- Which is why my 9 year old son knows about what is going on with the Supreme Court, at this moment in time. When he found out, his first reaction was to ask, “but what about if the mother’s life is in danger?” Oh my heart, sweet boy. I’m not going to go on a pro-whatever- tangent, I just think it’s incredible while also very sad, that this {child} understands it’s >not< a black and white situation – and he is very much a black and white type of person!

I did two “cycles” and viola, I started ovulating again. Seven months later, I was never happier to see two pink lines! From about 6-8 weeks I had to have regular blood work due to what is medically coded as a “threatened abortion.” <- Because that’s always fun to see on paper when you desperately want that child. And just so we’re clear and there is no misunderstanding, a threatened abortion means :possible miscarriage:. Also during those weeks, I had to use vaginal suppositories daily. I share this because 1) this is my truth and 2) [awareness] as I had -never- heard of anything like it before. I had to get them from a special compound pharmacy, as well. The whole point of my blog is to help others, right? There should be no shame in discussing women’s reproductive health; so ::sorrynotsorry:: if you found that uncomfortable.

It was very evident from the start that I needed to see a [high-risk] ob/gyn, again, only this time my doctor recommended that I head to UofM, completely out of her “network”. Hell I wasn’t going to argue, you want the best of the best, right? Man am I grateful I did!! See, it was at UofM where I discovered that even with my bleeding disorder, hematology cleared me for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), shall my other doctors agree! Missing Leighton’s birth caused a lot of trauma and I wanted more than anything to have a natural birth! More. Than. Anything! Having an epidural was more of a risk to me due to bleeding, plus it puts you at greater risk for needing an emergency c-section, which would again result in me likely being put under. Nope! I didn’t want to risk any of it so I started practicing hypnobirthing. I had my essential oils picked out, I had my music prepared and had been going through all the prompts with my mother as she was going to be my coach though it. She is my calm, which, duh? Of course she is, she’s my mom!

My team of high-risk OB’s couldn’t give me a definitive answer of course, but they knew it’s what I wanted and it was listed as my birth plan from day one! At 21 weeks I started progesterone shots to help prevent preterm labor, but had to stop after 2 weeks. At this point I hadn’t been diagnosed with PMDD, so I didn’t know that those added doses of progesterone would cause me to spiral downward, fast! That was the first time (that I knew of for certain) where hormonal depression kicked my ass! I mean, I figured I was a mess when taking the pills for OI because it was meant to shake things up, I just didn’t realize they were a contributing factor. Nor did I realize that what I was feeling with the suppositories wasn’t just [normal] “pregnancy hormones” with the added stress of a -possible- miscarriage. Nope, as it turns out, my body doesn’t handle progesterone well. I didn’t discover until after I was diagnosed with PMDD, that natural progesterone levels are at their highest right after ovulation, which is exactly when I start struggling; <- explains a whole lot as to why any time I was on birth control, I also ended up on anti-depressants! So, not being able to take the shots meant more visits and added ultrasounds as once again, I was at a higher risk of losing the pregnancy, not just going into preterm labor. Yay me…

Around 28 weeks baby boy was thriving! He was in the 67th percentile, so it was really up in the air as to if I’d be able to have a VBAC. If he continued to stay far ahead the closer to term that I got, my chances for the natural delivery that I wanted would drop lower and lower. By 34 weeks he had dropped to the 29th percentile, which, in retrospect should have been questioned more, but they viewed him as healthy and my chances looked bright. I only knew he dropped as I started going into preterm labor and had 2 ultrasounds that week alone to monitor him. At 36 weeks with a 5+ hour trip to labor and delivery, they were convinced he was coming that night. After walking the hospital for 2 hours, things weren’t progressing enough so they sent me home, even though my contractions had been consistent for 2 weeks and powerful enough to be considered ‘active labor’ that night… until they stopped. All of a sudden, out of nowhere. <- again, in retrospect one would think there’d be a little more concern but my fluids were intact and all seemed [fine]. Cool? As I mentioned in [15. Twenty-Two] Kellan was almost born on his father -and- my father’s birthday. He was also close to being born on my mother-in-law’s. <- Thankfully he wasn’t, no offense, but if he’s not sharing the day with my husband and my father, Kb deserves his own day just for him! Which he got, when my water broke the very next morning.

When we first got to the hospital everything was progressing as it should. I got hooked up to monitors and was super stoked that the outcome of having a VBAC looked promising! Then… literally out of nowhere like the flip of a switch, nurses came barreling in. I was flipped onto all fours, given oxygen, and my doctor did a quick exam (I think?) as they were wheeling me to the operating room, before Igor or myself could even ask what was happening. Within a matter of seconds I was on the OR table and hooked up to monitors again. I just remember not getting to kiss Igor goodbye as we both had tears in our eyes, without a clue as to why the situation was so emergent. During transport my doctor mentioned that they had [-lost-] fetal heart tones for the last 10 minutes!! <- Are you fucking kidding me?! TEN MINUTES?! Isn’t the >whole< point of being hooked up to monitors in the first place, to assure things like that doesn’t happen? Who the hell wasn’t doing their job monitoring me from the nurses’ stand? 10 minutes? GTFO!

Once lying flat on the OR table and hooked up again, they allowed Igor to enter the room. Adam, one of the senior residents (I don’t know what his official year/title was at the time) sat with me and finally explained what was going on. They didn’t know for sure what happened, but at that time I was stable and baby boy was stable. They weren’t sure if he had moved and went into distress or if I unknowingly moved the monitor not realizing. Whatever the case, it shouldn’t have taken 10 minutes to notice!!! Arg. Anyway, after about 45 minutes of monitoring us he felt comfortable enough to let -me- make the decision on whether or not I wanted to have an elective c-section or return to my room and continue with my original birth plan.

See, what makes or breaks a good doctor is truly their bedside manor. You can be brilliant but if you’re a jerk, your ego will get in the way eventually and it wouldn’t be surprising if you face a lawsuit or two+. Adam listened to me. I explained my previous birth trauma and how important certain things were to me. Like delayed cord cutting, Igor actually being able to cut the cord, skin to skin immediately after birth and most importantly – to be awake and hear his first cry!! He knew how badly I wanted to try laboring naturally and allowed me the [choice] without any pressure (How it should be!). He asked if I wanted to speak with an anesthesiologist first to hear my options shall the need for an emergency cesarean arise. He stood next to me holding my hand while I cried unsure of what to do. Ultimately being awake was [the] most -important- thing so we all agreed that while I wasn’t getting an epidural, pre-placing a catheter in the event I needed to be rushed down again, would give me the best odds at not being put under, as they could pump what was needed during transport. 

They had Igor step out as they placed and tested the catheter for proper placement. They told him it would only be a few minutes so he could go back to my room and wait for me to come back. Only… things didn’t go as planned… AT ALL! Again, within a matter of seconds I was back on my back as they prepared to get Kb out of me as quickly as possible. When they tested the placement his heart rate went from 187 to 58 almost instantly. Adam had previously addressed how important it was for me to be awake with all of those involved, so the nurse anesthetist told me that they’re doing everything they can, but to understand that in order to stay awake they needed to overdose me to work as quickly as possible. Pretty sure all I did was blink and I went from having fluid dripping into my spine to, “Jena can you feel that?” “Prepare for the baby to be out in 90 seconds.” I remember yelling, “Wait, what?! Where’s my husband? My husband has to be here; he can’t miss this! Where is my husband?” as tears streamed down my face. Everything happened so fast that Igor entered the operating room {JUST} as they were pulling Kellan out of me. Igor thought fast on his feet and grabbed his camera when whoever went to get him and started taking pictures as the OR doors opened. The first thing he saw was baby boy literally halfway out of me! ::phew:: He just kept snapping, I don’t even know if he was looking through the viewfinder or just holding it while he pressed the button but he at least got to see it… kind of.

Unfortunately delayed cord cutting wasn’t an option, however Adam made sure to leave it long enough to get [some] benefit as well as allowing Igor to “cut the cord”. My sweet baby came out blue; I of course didn’t know this at the time but it sure seemed like it took forever to hear his first little high pitched cry! He was whisked away to be checked over and then brought over to me and placed on my chest right there in the OR for immediate skin to skin! I am not sure how normal that is, as I’ve only ever seen photos of proud dads holding a wrapped baby next to Mama’s head. The problem is, I was legitimately numb to my neck and he kept rooting upwards towards my shoulders. They weren’t kidding when they said they needed to overdose me. The nurse had to keep adjusting him until he finally found what he wanted and started nursing.::awwmybebe:: And nursing did he ever! Pretty sure I made cream as he was already above birth weight at his first doctor’s appointment. They typically say by 2 weeks babies should have reached their birth weight as they lose weight while in the hospital. He weighed 5lbs 15oz at birth, left the hospital at 5lbs 7oz and was 6lbs 2oz by 5 days old!! ::whaaat?!::

Remember when I said he had dropped from the 67th percentile at 28 weeks to the 29th at 34 weeks? At 38w5d he was born barely making the 2nd percentile. Later that night after walking the halls, I returned to my room to find the MFM attending doctor waiting for me. He explained that had I attempted natural laboring, both myself and Kellan may not have made it. If you recall in [06. HS/Diagnosis] I explained how EDS affects the organs, as it’s a connective tissue defect. As it turns out, all of the complications and near miscarriages were a result of a faulty placenta. I was never actually told what exactly was faulty about it but that he was malnourished towards the end of my pregnancy. He was healthy, but it makes sense why he ate around the clock for a while. My uterus was so thin along my previous cesarean scar that it basically ruptured on its own as surgery was being performed. <- Whoa! That explains why the OR looked like a crime scene in the pictures… ::ShiftsEyesSidetoSide:: I was in a controlled environment and they were prepared, whereas if I tried laboring, there is no question that I would have hemorrhaged and it would have been that much more serious. Obviously doctors cannot [tell] you what you can and cannot do, but he made it -very- clear that getting pregnant again would put my life even more at risk. He told me that if I was his daughter he’d tell me, “it’s not worth it and to not get pregnant again!” Roger that!

Adam, or rather now, Dr. Baruch, clinical assistant professor, will >always< hold a special place in my heart!! I know I didn’t go into detail over just how much he was there for me but I will never forget him! He even came to check on me after his shift had ended and he heard what the attending had to say. I am not the person to walk up to someone off the street and say something, however, about 18 months later I apparently became that person. Ha. Igor and I were in downtown Ann Arbor and saw Adam in a store. I was so SO nervous and hesitant but I -knew- that I [had] to say something; I not only literally survived because of him, but I also survived a very traumatic experience without the mental trauma effects. I have tears in my eyes just thinking about his sincerity and how lucky future mamas will be, to be under his care! Also, you know you’re getting older when the doctor who performs surgery is younger than you. Oy.

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Dearest Cuz…

“Accept the fact that some people didn’t intend to let you down. their best is just less than you expected.”
– Thema Davis

This entry is taking a little break from the norm. It is a more personal letter to someone, should they ever cross its path. It will come across as very vague to you unless you know the story, which respectfully is not my story to tell. I may have the new found confidence to blog (or pitch an article to the Huffington Post <- yeah; about that::NervousSideEyes:: ) but I just don’t have what it takes to send this letter myself, atm. I just needed to get it out.

Dearest Cuz,

I have so many things to say and no idea where to begin. It’s probably why I haven’t written to you yet. I’ve been told that I should share my feelings but I have been too bitter. Hurt. Angry. And probably even in denial over the sadness.

What could I possibly say that hasn’t been said before? What could I possibly say that won’t piss you off because you’re tired of hearing about it? What could I possibly say to keep your attention, to read through the anger that may arise? How about my feelings? Will my sharing my -own- feelings [matter enough] for you to “hear it again” but from a different angle? Enough to push past and actually get to the other side of what I need to say? I do certainly hope so, as I believe you have been terribly mistaken about things.

I know that you need help and have emotional issues to work through. I don’t say this bluntly to be harsh, I say it because it’s true; it needs to be said. I love you. I always have and always will, but I have a lot of feelings over various things that do tie together, while at the same time being entirely different. I know as with an addict, mental health also falls in the realm of, “you can’t help them until they’re ready to help themselves.” You are not well. I know you know this, but I also know that you’re not willing to do [everything] you can to actually get the help you need. I just pissed you off, didn’t I? I’m okay with that because it’s the truth. You claim you have tried, you claim that nothing will ever work, you claim that by moving forward you are sacrificing your own mental health. You used to also claim that family meant everything to you and that you would do anything for your family. Let me ask you… if one of those claims can change, why can’t the others?

Your own mental health is very important, I completely respect and validate that! I -know- that you are not well, but where I struggle to understand is why you have alienated yourself due to your own false narratives? Yes, I know mental health is complicated but by creating your own misconceptions, you’re not only hurting others, you’re hurting yourself that much more!! You didn’t give others the chance to be Switzerland, therefore it is not fair to play the victim! I was one of the “others” that you made the decision for. And it hurt. It still hurts. The hurt led to anger, and not addressing it allowed the anger to grow beyond myself and my own feelings. You made that choice, you caused it to happen.

Growing up we were like best friends. In fact, it was me and our relationship that your inpatient therapist believed was vital for your mental health. That you needed me in your life to get better. You were a member of my birthday party, yet you haven’t wished me a “happy birthday” in 5 years. The only time I ever hear from you (which is literally less than once in a blue moon) is when you’re complaining or need my help with something. Even then, never once do you ask how I or the boys are doing. I heard that my vague FB status, that just so happened to be on your wedding day, really hurt you. I won’t deny that it was about your wedding, but let it be known that it had >nothing< to do with -anyone or anything else- other than ::my own:: hurt feelings by you. Given how close we always were growing up, finding out that you had found your wedding dress via a Facebook status update, stung. Hard. And then to not even be invited to your wedding? Oh man, I can’t even hold back the tears as I’m writing this. I understand you were having something small, but not including me? I can’t even…

So yeah, I did write the following: “I’m too nice to actually follow through with whatever petty ideas cross my mind. I so badly want to act on them but I can’t bring myself to stoop to that level. So, this is my passive aggressive way of saying today is going to be haaaard keeping my mouth shut. But I’ll do it…”  I apologize that you were upset, but imagine if I actually told you my feelings that day; because by that point, the hurt and devastation left me with such anger that I had to say something. I never meant to cause any hardship on your “big day”, which is exactly why I left it so vague.

Where does this leave us now? I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix what has been broken when the piece that broke away doesn’t want to be mended. I’m here if you do ever decide to take that step, and of course I wish you well. By writing this letter, I release the sadness you’ve brought upon me.

All of my best through love and light,
– Jena

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16. Year One

“The eyes of love have 20/20 vision when focused on another, and become entirely blind when focused on ourselves.”
– Author: Craig D. Lounsbrough

“And from that day on, they lived happily ever after. <3
– The end.” [14. Forever & Always] Taylor Swift wasn’t wrong when she sang, “this ain’t a fairytale” because life simply isn’t as easy as that!

Coming from the Jewish-Russian background there is some truth behind the stereotype of a “Jewish mother’s guilt.” And does Igor know it all too well. Thankfully mine isn’t too bad but there were definitely times that she laid the guilt down heavily. I try my best not to make my kids feel that way because they are their own people, I respect their boundaries as human beings and do not believe in dictatorship. Now, that doesn’t mean I am a “free range” parent because I definitely am not, there are rules to be followed, but I respect my children’s feelings and honor their autonomy for who they are. Here’s a quick example: my children are both biologically male and identify as so. My oldest decided when he was 5 that he wanted to grow his hair out, but felt pressured by society to cut it as “boy’s don’t have long hair” according to my in-laws [especially..] So he cut it, and instantly regretted it because he no longer felt like himself. After a few more hair cuts he realized that he didn’t care what people thought, he wanted his hair long (at first it was because Mom had long hair- you know that whole “young-child Freudian theory”, but as it grew he felt more and more himself.) He was and still is often referred to as a girl by strangers because he really is pretty and his long hair is gorgeous! At first it really bothered him, he didn’t understand why others just -assumed- he was a girl; it became the perfect time to open discussions about gender, society, and “old world” thinking. How some people won’t understand, respect or agree with his decision and he may get made fun of for it.  After a while, he just stopped caring! We have always tried to instill that in life, you need to do what makes >you< happy, even though others may not agree or like it. It’s NOT easy to do, especially when people you care about don’t agree, and that kids at school (& people in general) can be mean. If you make a decision that causes you to stand out, you need to accept there may be backlash and that you need to be strong enough to not let it change who you are. If it makes you uncomfortable we’ll work through it and come up with a solution, but that being who you are is important, is validated, is okay! As long as you are happy and not causing any harm – {nothing} could or would ever make us feel differently towards him!!!

This whole situation has made him so strong in not caring that he stands out. At school he is one of the only ones in his class still wearing a mask and using a plastic divider at his desk. His response to being different? “I’m the boy with long hair, I’m used to being the only one that is different.” <- Oh my heart sweet child! I could not have been more proud in that moment as a mother! See, the thing is, he has always been different and stood out because of his giftedness, and the fact he -knew- his brain worked differently broke my heart because he saw it as a flaw. Thankfully now he embraces it and isn’t afraid to humbly-brag. Oxymoron? Eh, whatevs. He is who he is and while it isn’t easy at times, I couldn’t be prouder for who he is becoming!

Before I came into Igor’s life he didn’t know how to stand up for himself against his parents. He never wanted to disrespect them, but he realized that being able to voice your own feelings and opinions, especially as an adult, is not only okay, it’s crucial to your own life’s happiness! His family doesn’t see it that way. He is their child so he should do as they say. Much like how they feel we are Leighton’s parents so we are the ones who decide how his hair will be. He is young and shouldn’t be able to make choices like that for himself… F THAT! I would -never- expect Igor to disrespect his parents, but simply speaking up to them, against what they say, even when done nicely, is disrespect in their eyes. I mean, they moved to America to give their children a better life, it shouldn’t be a surprise when they grow up “American” with American Xennial views. Oh man, I have so much to say but I’ll leave that for another post(s)… or try to at least, haha.

As I said in [14. Forever & Always] I was honest about my health from day one, even though he may not have understood the extent of it. I do not have Fibromyalgia, but it is a term he was kind of familiar with so I used it as a way of explaining my pain from EDS [06. HS/Diagnosis]. His older brother (and roommate at the time) overheard and went straight to his parents. He may have been older but maturity wasn’t there yet; he still told his parents everything. Looks as though Igor wasn’t the only one to feel he wasn’t allowed to have his own life. It actually took until meeting his own wife to also grow a “backbone”, per say. That led to a shitstorm thrown into Igor’s lap about how I was basically “defective”. That he shouldn’t want to be with someone [sick] because it’ll ruin his whole life, who knew what would be passed down to >his< children, etc. To them it’s all about how {they’re} perceived by -others-! My mom made a comment once about how if we wanted a third child we could always adopt; I wish I had my MIL’s reaction on film – you’d have thought my mother spoke of witchcraft back in the 1690s. The disgust, the horror, the shame, the shock. The spoken, “Oh, no. No, no, no.” as if just saying the word “adoption” was taboo enough. ::rollseyes::

Anyway, with Igor having never been in a real relationship prior me, everything his parents said got to him. He was confused and wondered, what if they were right? He didn’t know any better because again, at this point in time he was still very much under their thumb. Which – led to us breaking up… after 2 months of being together 2-3x a week and talking daily for 3 months. I was so thrown off I didn’t even know what to think. It literally came out of nowhere!

But as time went on I realized it was more like when Kev and I used to “break up” [09. First Love]. We still hung out fairly regularly and talked daily. We were each other’s “besties” and neither of us were pursuing anyone else. Annnnd ultimately still hooking up (though not at first). I think the second time we hung out post “break up”, we had gone to the zoo (the first being like a half hour visit because I needed to get him his 25th birthday present I had already bought). The zoo was part of his Jdate profile questionnaire [14. Forever & Always] regarding an ideal first date, a date that never happened while we were [together.] This was probably 3 weeks after the “break up” and it was genuinely a great day! At the end of the evening, my heart burst with jOy when Igor –asked– if he could >:kiss:< me! How stinkin’ adorable is that? I mean 10/10 in terms of respect but also, awe!!<3 I wanted nothing to do with this break up and he knew where I stood. So, in my heart, I felt that maybe this was him reconsidering his choice… but no. He just missed me and was even more confused than ever because, how could something that’s not [supposed] to be, feel so {wrong} not being so? He had never been happier in life before I came into the picture; I was the first person to open his eyes to a whole different world and the thought of me not being a part of his life just didn’t make sense!

However, towards the end of summer I noticed some new female friends commenting on his Myspace that were questionable for someone claiming they weren’t [looking to date anyone]. I sort of felt defeated, not going to lie. I [knew] we weren’t together but it was -just- like it was when Kevin and I were “off” but {not off}. Was I destined to a life of on-again/off-again relationships? Was I subconsciously allowing myself to be used (per say) thinking it was keeping them close? Why did I keep putting myself in these situations?!? Oh yea ..>< Love ><.. Only, it was different with Igor! If you were to ask me who I loved more, it would honestly be a complicated answer. My love for the both of them was/is so different that they’re simply not comparable!! With Kev it was the butterflies, childhood memories, teenage hormones and the {“firsts”}, but with Igor it was as if my whole being felt such a deep rooted connection, a calmness and -completion-. My heart and soul just felt complete with him near.

At the end of August I headed out to Seattle for nearly 2 weeks to see my long lost bestie, Tiffany. [11. Childhood Friendships+] I fell \ IN LOVE / with the city and truly considered moving there! A fresh start. I purposefully made it a point to talk to Igor as little as possible: out of sight – out of mind. Simply enjoy my time with someone I hadn’t seen in 5 years. If we talked it was because he texted me. I did send him a postcard because, well, I may have been hurting because of him but he was still my best friend and the one picking me up at the airport when I returned. However, while in Seattle someone else started texting me again and wanted to get together when I returned. I’ll give ya one guess since it’s not like my love life wasn’t already complicated enough or anything. ::faceMeetpalm:: 

After getting my bags I was met with the biggest bear hug, kiss and a gift. I guess a coworker was making candles and he asked if he could get one for me. Dang this rollercoaster of a thing called, <life> sure has its twists and turns. That candle by the way was never used and currently sits on display in our main bathroom. What can I say, I’m a simple sentimental kind of gal. And by simple there really isn’t anything simple about me in retrospect, but at the same time… yeah, yeah I am! ::shrugs::

Over the next couple months things were status quo between us, though we both were keeping some things to ourselves, which neither of us found out until a while later. I don’t remember where in the exact timeline he started, but he started playing soccer Friday evenings with a co-worker in Ann Arbor. With Ann Arbor being closer to me than him, he often just stayed the night at my place afterwards. I went to some games and his co-worker’s girlfriend just couldn’t understand why we weren’t together. Honey, same? He went on a business trip to Chicago and when he returned he came right to my house with yet another gift. Huh, if you’ve read my [Husband Appreciation] post you’d know he’s not a gift giver, and yet, now I’ve received 2 in maybe 2 months? This is what we call -deception- my friends. Haha. Joking, kind of. But really, I find humor in this now reliving it because that wasn’t the last gift I’d receive while still “broken up” – in fact there were 2 more in December alone! ::HandsToCheeksShockedFace::

I come from a very musical family and love musicals. My grandfather used to take me up to Stratford, Canada to see them growing up. Stratford is known for their Festival of modern and Shakespearean plays in multiple theaters. It was also tradition that he sang, “Sunrise, Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof at family weddings; I am so, SO grateful that he was able to at mine!! What an honor to bear witness, what became his last [true] performance! All of that said, one of my favorite live shows is }Wicked{ and I had seen it once before. Mom had gotten me tickets for graduation; so Jessie and I went since it was Jessie who introduced me to Wicked to begin with. [11. Childhood Friendships+] Wicked was coming to town and Igor got us tickets! What?! He even made plans with his best friend to get tickets for him and his girlfriend, too. It was the first time I had met either of them. Yup, 9 months and I hadn’t even met his best friend. Also, not awkward at all to have his girlfriend, whom Igor had only met briefly once before because the relationship was still new, pick me up so I could wait with her until the guys came after work. Nope, not awkward at all… <- Honestly? I don’t know how I did it! But she was so friendly and outgoing, she talked as if we’d been friends forever. That’s just the kind of person she is, though, we really did end up becoming friends and they even ended up getting married one month before Igor and I.

For those who are unfamiliar with the show, one of the most popular (punny because there is a song Popular) known songs is, >For Good<. If you haven’t heard it you must, here; you’re welcome! Here are just a few of the lyrics but the main point of the song:
“Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?
I do believe I have been changed for the better
And because I knew you
Because I knew you
I have been changed
For good”

So good, right? I get chills just thinking of Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth singing it! With Marion being my [10. Twin Flame] this song always resonated with the two of us, still does. I think of both her and Igor anytime I hear it, must be because they’re my two counterparts! Anyway, during the show, during that song, Igor grabbed my hand, held it tightly and tried his best not to let the tears in his eyes fall down his cheeks. I was unaware at the time, but apparently he bought a necklace from the souvenir stand, and said necklace was given to me for Christmas! There went my heart flip-flopping again! Guys… see what I mean when I jokingly call his actions deception? Like, how does one NOT take that as a good sign?!?! We spent New Years together and it was honestly one of the best evenings together since the “break up” that it/I legitimately felt like we were getting back together… [officially].

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11. Childhood Friendships +

‘Childhood friendship is the most beautiful memory that can never be replaced.’ – Unknown

Lauren; my sissy-poo, has already been discussed a bit back in post [02. Dad] – but after 6th grade she moved about 35/40 minutes away for her mom’s new job. You always grow apart when people move, however we’re ~family~. We may not have seen each other often but we remained very close. Anytime we did get together it was like no time had ever passed, we never skipped a beat. Update: she’s still very much a part of my life (30 years this year!) and prior to Covid we tried to get together monthly with our moms. She made me an Auntie and it’s the best feeling knowing that our kids are going to grow up together. Even if mine are older, lol.

I’ve mentioned my tiny but mighty, strong willed friend Jessie [06. High school] but I haven’t really discussed her. Jessie has a twin sister, Jenna, so it’s ironic that while I was friends with both of them, Jessie and I were closer. They were a year younger and lived across the street from Lauren. Small world moment, when their mom stopped working to have them, my dad was hired to replace her at his current job. We didn’t find that out until many years later. Also an ironic fun fact, my mom had a nanny, who then went on to work for my dad’s boss (before he was my dad’s boss) and then quit working for his boss to work for my parents (again, before he was my dad’s boss). Seriously crazy 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon we’ve got going on over here! Their mom was (is?) an alcoholic and they were very much victims to life with an addict parent. There were a few times throughout our friendship that their mom didn’t want them hanging out with me for no other reason other than her need to control. Which sucked because Jess and I were best friends. We were basically inseparable in middle school. By the time Jessie was in 11th grade, life at home was so bad that she actually moved in with my mom and I. That’s why she was with us that day seeing the principal. She was also with us because around that time, Jessie – your typical straight A/B+ student, decided she was done with high school bullshit and dropped out. Figured I was going for my GED. Why shouldn’t she? … Like I said, a victim of life with an addict parent. Update: I’ll always love her and wish her well, but unfortunately the friendship was just too toxic to maintain. She met my husband once after we were engaged, though I haven’t seen her since.

Closest friends by grade in high school:

9th grade: Annie, Teisha (the new girl in 8th grade [from 10. Twin Flame] and Tiffany. Teisha and Tiff both moved to other states for 10th grade and yet I have maintained friendships with them both. I was actually part of Teisha’s wedding and flew out to Seattle to witness Tiff’s. To this day Teisha and I joke about how we actually met because how can we not?

10th grade: Jennifer and Eric. These two went on to get married just after high school but unfortunately Eric was in a terrible hit and run accident that left him with severe brain damage. Their marriage may have ended but they are still very close and I commend Jenn’s current husband for not feeling threatened by their maintained friendship!

11th grade: Jami and Shannon. Shannon’s mother was my chorus teacher’s assistant teacher, whom I was very close to as well, and cousins with a coworker of mine at Claire’s. It was actually Shannon’s birthday the day I returned from the Mayo Clinic for the first time [06. High School/Diagnosis] and the day I had my first car accident. Oh, welcome home Jena and happy birthday to you Shannon. What a way to spend your 17th birthday. Ugh, sorry Shan!

Jami… my Jaymlinn. Jami had a difficult past to say the least and wasn’t the most well behaved teenager because of it. She was a sponsored skateboarder but her poor choices took that away from her. She was sent to live with her uncle and his husband in hopes of turning things around. That’s where I enter the picture. Jami and I met in Health Occupations class the first day of junior year. There was just this cosmic magnetic pull between us. I really cannot explain it, but she was meant to be in my life and I, her’s. She never took things too seriously and just wanted to have fun. She was an incredibly smart, kind, considerate girl. A short story writer, singer/songwriter and artist – but unless you really knew her, she just appeared as an aloof, slow, stoned – but not – stoned teenager. But I can assure you she was so much more. When we first became friends her uncles couldn’t get over the change in her. I apparently was such a good influence that they wanted me around all of the time, ha, ha. It must be the empathic healer in me. I didn’t know it because she stopped drinking when we were hanging out, but she was an alcoholic. And knowing her past I don’t blame her for trying to shut out the noise, I just wish she had the chance to in a healthier way!!

Somewhere along the way Jami fell in love with me. I had no idea and I can only imagine what it did to her when Kevin and I were good. One night at a party we were playing truth or dare. Her friend must have known or suspected her feelings towards me because he dared me to kiss her. No problem, kissing whore, remember? Jami certainly wasn’t the first girl I had kissed but I was apparently her’s. She struggled with her sexuality and that kiss just made things more confusing. For us both. In middle school there was one girl at the skatin’ rink from a different school whom I always joked around with and we called each other each other’s girlfriend. The boys went crazy over it, especially when we kissed [we never made out or anything, just a simple peck].<- Man, I really was bad… We never hung out or saw one another other than at the rink but everyone [knew] we were “girlfriends.” The joke kind of faded as highschool went on and the only time we ever talk now is via Facebook when we wish each other a ‘happy birthday’, seeing as we share the SAME birthday… and similar name, lol.

I had known I was interested in some way to both boys and girls for years, but I never really entertained the idea of actually dating a girl. In fact, it took me until my 30’s to be able to fully understand and define myself. I always said I was attracted to the person for who they are, which is true. I need to have a true emotional connection with someone to allow myself to be vulnerable or intimate with them. I’m simply unable to just look at someone off the street and desire them, but I never really thought anything of it. Then one day I read the words “Biromantic Demisexual”. Upon researching meanings I discovered exactly where I stand. I have always described myself as exactly how those two words together, is defined. Hi, I’m Jena and I am a biromantic demi woman.

I was very confused when I started to develop feelings for Jami, because, well.. Kevin. Even though Kev and I may have been “broken up” we were never [really] broken up. We still talked daily, hung out, hooked up and still shared “I love yous”. We didn’t have the label but we also didn’t try pursuing anything with anyone else. At this particular point in time I was technically single but I still felt as though I was cheating. However, I couldn’t stop myself from being close to her, kissing her. I felt as though I was this whole different person experiencing my first love. I was so confused I started to pull away and she started to slip. She started drinking again, hanging out with the wrong group of people and dropped out of school. Yup, I’m the asshole.

I certainly did love Jami; it was a type of love I’ve only ever experienced once and I know I won’t ever again. Update: we’ve been in touch here and there throughout the years but really only via Facebook or text messaging. As it turns out, she was actually diagnosed with Autism as an adult and looking back it makes a lot of sense. We did get together once to catch up for the first time in easily a decade, shortly after my youngest was born. It was nice to see her but she admitted her feelings came right back the instant she saw me annnnnd I exited stage right. I felt bad, I still do, but that’s not something I can take on. She’s a part of my past that I’ll smile upon when I think about, but in my current life we’ll only ever be a memory. I do check in from time to time because I genuinely do care for her wellbeing. [empathic healer, remember?] I wish her nothing but happiness and success, which seems to be working in her favor as she’s been 100% sober for some time now and is getting married later this year!

12th grade: Sheri. Sheri used to live 3 houses down and across the street until she moved to Florida in high school. I was so sick by this point that all of my ‘friends’ had [forgotten] me. Out of sight out of mind, ya know? Sheri and I had always been friends but it was when I was sick that we were our closest. My best and essentially only friend lived thousands of miles away, how sad is that? I owe so much to her; I don’t think she truly understands how special and important she was to me and how much I’ll always be grateful for her! I admit and apologize that I unknowingly took advantage of her friendship. She went above and beyond for me while I visited Florida twice for spring break, celebrating my 18th and 19th birthdays. But when it came to her visiting Michigan and trying to move back here, I wasn’t around. I promise it wasn’t intentional and looking back I feel terrible knowing that I more than likely let her down. I am not going to sit here and try to make excuses for why I was [selfish] because there’s no excuse for letting your best friend down. Period. I own it and will never stop apologizing. Update: She did move back to Michigan but we weren’t in contact much. She has since moved back to Florida with her husband and we’re friends on Facebook. She is working towards her Masters in Social Work and with her love and compassion, her clients will be beyond lucky being under her care! She was the best thing I could have asked for, better than I may have deserved; I will forever be eternally grateful for her love and support during the worst time of my life. I honestly may not have made it through without her!

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10. Twin Flame

“When connections are real, they simply never die. They can be buried or ignored or walked away from, but never broken. If you’ve deeply resonated with another person or place, the connection remains despite any distance, time, situation, lack of presence, or circumstance… If it was truly real, you’ll be instantly swept back into the moment it was before it left- with the same wonder and hope, comfort and heartbeat. Real connections live on forever.”
– Victoria Erickson

Let’s talk friends. A not so smooth transition I know but I don’t know how else to discuss them as I’m writing this kind of chronologically. Let’s just see how it goes…

I think I need to start with Marion. My Mary-Kathrynn, June Bug and Moe. Marion and I met when we were 2 when my cousins’ lived in the house across the street from her. Mom actually ended up buying the house from my uncle after the divorce so I grew up across the street from her from ages 4-21. Our friendship has been nothing short of a roller coaster. Are you familiar with the concept of “twin flames”? I know I briefly mentioned it when talking about my Mom and Maria but, if you are not familiar with it, let me explain…

Sarah Regan wrote in her article, What Is A Twin Flame? 11 Signs You’ve Found Your “Mirror Soul” that, “every relationship has something to teach us and twin flames are often considered the ones that will teach us the most. A twin flame is an intense soul connection with someone thought to be a person’s other half, sometimes called a “mirror soul.” It’s based on the idea that sometimes one soul gets split into two bodies. One of the main characteristics of a twin flame relationship is that it will be both challenging and healing. This is due to the mirroring nature of a twin flame; they show you your deepest insecurities, fears, and shadows. But they also help you overcome them and vice versa—your twin flame will be equally affected by you.”

Marion and I may have lived across the street from one another most of our lives, but we weren’t always on the best of terms. And it’s not even that we were necessarily fighting, we just drifted in and out from each other’s lives for various reasons. She too was a victim to life with an alcoholic parent and she spent a lot of time at my house. I consider Lauren my sissy-poo but I’d be lying if I didn’t see Marion as one at times. It wasn’t until recently that I came to the realization that she’s without a doubt my twin flame. Our friendship had its challenges but when push came to shove, we were always there for eachother when we needed one another the most. I still have numerous cards and notes from her over the years expressing how we may drift but she’ll always come back to me. And it’s true, she does.

In high school we had completely different friends. She and Jessie did not get along, at all. I don’t know if it was insecurity or jealousy but if I was playing with one and the other showed up at my house unannounced, one would end up leaving. <- Is that even still a thing? Do kids still just show up at their friend’s houses like it’s their own home? My kids barely want to play with their friends outside of school so I have no idea what’s common these days. Ha. Her and my brother had some weird thing for each other and while I know I wasn’t innocent, sometimes her behavior left me concerned. She started dating this guy that I did not get along with. 5 years later they were briefly engaged and I’m so glad she dodged that one! In fact, this same guy told the new girl in 8th grade (during the summer when they met) not to talk to some girl by the name of [insert my name here] because of how much of a bitch she was. During first period on the first day of school I noticed someone new and I went and introduced myself. Some bitch, huh? I let this poor girl go on and on about what he said and she couldn’t get over how kind I was for taking the time to welcome her. Our teacher started doing attendance and when my name was called, I’m fairly certain she went through every shade of red imaginable. Talk about inserting your foot into your mouth. Ha, ha. Luckily for her I’m not the bitch she was told to fear and we became really good friends!

So yeah, it’s kind of hard to maintain a friendship with someone when they are dating someone who was really butt hurt because you turned them down in 6th grade. Good grief. Then there was the time when she came to my brother for weed and I told her mom. ::hides face:: Okay, I did it out of concern, not out of spite. Like  I said, her behavior really started changing over night and I didn’t recognize her anymore. Annnd Kevin may have had a hand in convincing me. Him and Marion didn’t really get along either because she didn’t like how I’d let him back into my life after all the hurt in the past. But also, maybe I was a bit jealous over her new friendships and subconsciously projected it as concern? Idk. All I know is that it was a huge mistake that cost us almost 2 years without speaking. It wasn’t until our graduation parties that we started to rebuild our friendship that turned into the best time of our relationship. From 18-24 we were on the best of terms and I didn’t think anything could break what we had built. She was at my college commencements when I walked across the stage for the first time and she was my maid of honor at my wedding. However, unfortunately, that didn’t last. Once again, the tumultuous relationship between twin flames.

Things started to go downhill when I was pregnant with my oldest. Her husband had recently been deployed right around the time I found out I was expecting. It was very difficult on her and I wasn’t able to be there for her as we both would have hoped. I didn’t realize things were as bad as they were because she never told me. I was SUPER sick during that time and I couldn’t really do much of anything. I couldn’t drive and we lived about an hour away from one another at that point. She slowly started pulling back as depression took over. She had a lot of attitude with my mom over throwing my baby shower and hit below the belt a time or two. It was rough. It was especially rough when my son was born a month early and my bff was nowhere to be seen. He’s 9 and they’ve never met…  in fact, I have only seen her in person 4 times since my baby shower. Her father’s funeral 2 years later, her mother’s funeral 4 years after that, a few months after her mother’s passing we met up to talk about everything that had happened, and then again for dinner this past summer, 3 years later. Her not being around was so incredibly difficult and heart breaking for me, but just like any twin flame relationship – I grew and learned so much about myself during that time, it was almost necessary. I couldn’t be who she needed me to be and I have since learned that neither could she, for me.

After her dad passed I had so many mixed emotions about going to pay my respects, but there’s no way I couldn’t not go. I may have been hurt by her actions but that doesn’t take away from the hurt she was experiencing. At the time I didn’t know they had the chance to reconcile so going into it my heart was that much heavier for her! It was good to see her but after we left my husband asked me if I hoped anything would come of this and I honestly didn’t care if they did or didn’t. We didn’t talk again until she called to tell me of her mother’s passing. I had suspected something as I was still friends with her sister in law on Facebook but I didn’t know for sure. I about threw up when I saw her name appear on my phone. I didn’t want to answer but I knew I had to. My grandfather had just recently passed so I was especially a mixed bag of emotions. I was sad for her when I heard of the passing of her father, but hearing that her mother had died, cut me deep.

Being there, seeing her family, talking to her mother’s childhood best friend about how good it was to see me there or Marion. It was a lot. But in that moment I knew that it was time. It was finally time for us to heal and move forward. 

After a while we decided to meet up for coffee and talk everything through. After my oldest was born and I hadn’t heard from her in a while, I wrote her a letter expressing my feelings. It of course went unacknowledged until that coffee date. I mentioned how much it hurts knowing that your best friend has walked away from you twice due to your health. It’s definitely a knife to the heart kind of feeling and I went 6 years thinking that. She apologized and explained to me that it wasn’t anything I did, she just needed to work on herself before she could be there for anyone else. Which, I understand. It doesn’t take away the pain I experienced but I understand it. I had always liked her husband so hearing of the divorce saddened me. That was of course until I heard the reasoning behind it. But that’s not my story to tell and a tough topic, so I’ll just say: PTSD post war deploymentS. Which, that itself still saddens me because of how screwed over our veterans are!! Arg.. During that talk I discovered that her divorce was finalized the same week her mother passed away. OMfG talk about an emotional mind fk!! I honestly cannot imagine and while I wasn’t there for her during it, I was glad that I was able to be a part of her healing, however much or limited that may be! 

I had been blocked on Facebook (she had no memory of blocking me and suspects her ex-husband was to blame) so she unblocked me and we kept in touch that way. A comment here or there, a memory. Small things. I was going through a difficult time and while she didn’t know the details, she sent me a card to cheer me up. She saw a skeleton mermaid, thought of me, bought it and dropped it off. (Oh, if I haven’t already mentioned, Halloween is my jam and I AM a mermaid. Shhh.. don’t question anything, just go with it!) It felt good to reconnect but I still kept my arms extended so as to not allow myself to get too vulnerable. That’s probably why it took another 3 years before we got together again.

You know, the universe works in mysterious ways. Some say that there is a being, God, that is in control. Others believe in multiple gods and goddesses. Then there’s those who don’t believe in anything and that what is, just is. I myself am spiritual and believe in everything being energetically connected. How that is, I don’t have an answer for you; I can only mention my beliefs from what I have experienced myself. There is no way of knowing for sure during this lifetime, as this physical being. Just be a good person and everything will be good, dammit! All of that was said to lead up to an example of how strongly Marion and I are connected. I don’t typically dream and when I do, I rarely remember them. We hadn’t talked in a while which makes this all the crazier! One night I had a dream and all I can recall is her walking up this grand staircase in the most beautiful wedding gown. I had never seen her so radiant. I mean, I knew she was dating someone but had no idea how serious things were. After a few days I texted her to tell her about it, never expecting the response I received. You see, it just so happens that her now fiance had bought her a ring just a few days prior! They were not officially engaged as of yet and she hadn’t told anyone, and yet, I picked up on it! She ended up telling me the story and I just get chills thinking back. Like, I know we’re not the best of friends these days, but knowing I was the first she actually spoke to about it, warms my heart. She even said that it just felt right that I would be.

She had moved away to a beautiful tourist town a few hours away for a job. It just so happened that Igor and I were going up there for our first vacation away just the 2 of us since our honeymoon {10 years prior!}. While in town we met up for dinner and she had me in tears as she apologized to Igor, because even though he had been nothing but amazing towards her, the fact she hurt me so much had to have hurt him, too. Now that’s growth done right! She has since moved back this way and is living with her new fiance. Update: only time will tell where our paths will cross again and what is to come of our friendship. I just know that we are connected in a way that cannot be explained and I am who I’ve become because of her. I wish her nothing but love, light and happiness!

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08. Auntie

“An aunt is a safe haven for a child. someone who will keep your secrets and is always on your side” – Sara sheridan

So I’ve mentioned Auntie a couple of times but I haven’t touched on our relationship. Where do I even begin? I mean, it’s definitely safe to say that a part of the woman I’ve become is from what I’ve learned from her!

Back in 2018 she had a stroke that left her needing to live in a nursing home. Prior to the stroke she was likely in the very early stages of Dementia, which then the stroke caused rapid progression. At the time, we didn’t know how things were going to play out so as morbid as it may be, I had already written the bulk of her eulogy. I knew that when the time did officially come I would not be in a clear enough mindset to adequately put words together. So full disclosure, a good chunk of what I am about to share is copied and pasted…

It’s no secret how close we were. Whether it was a conscious effort or simply because she didn’t know any other way, anyone who crossed paths with Aunt Mary Lou knew my name – she made sure of it. For nearly 15 years I spent just about every weekend with her, as well as half of every summer. She made sure that my childhood was majestic- filled with an abundance of fun and adventure. She called me daily before school, and again the minute I got home. We shared everything from secrets and laughter, to plenty of arguments.

With her birthday being the end of August and school often starting on the 26th with a half day, she’d pick me up and we’d go out to lunch, Bill Knapps, naturally. Hello? Free cake! But of course Bill Knapps is just one restaurant that comes to mind when I think of her. There’s also: Breakfast at Denny’s, Lunch at Red Robin, Dinner at Sign of the Beef Carver (or “Beef Eater,” as we called it), and then New Year’s Eve at Red Lobster with shrimp cocktails and Shirley temples. Summers were spent at carnivals and pool side, enjoying freshly cut cantaloupe. I loved growing up at the pool, and knowing that tradition will live on with my kids, with their Papa and Gampy, makes my heart smile.

Just like any kid approaching their teenage years, I wanted to spend more time with my friends, and for me, that meant the skating rink and chatting online. When I was entranced on the computer chatting away, she was perfectly content just sitting quietly in the same room as me. And until I was old enough to stay out on my own, every Friday night, Auntie would show up to the roller rink and sit on a bench for 2 hours, just so I could continue hanging out.

When she was 70 she took me to Disney World and on a cruise for my 13th birthday. She loved to share that story, so it’s a worthy mention. We went to all 4 parks and downtown, just the 2 of us. We saw it all, whether she was walking, I was pushing her in a wheelchair, or even her failed attempt at using the electric scooter. Poor kids sure needed earmuffs that day… but the thing that stands out most, at 70 years old, this woman went on their thrill rides with me: Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster, The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, Fast Track, Thunder, Splash and Space Mountains. I have absolutely no idea how she pulled that off, especially with her fear of heights, but I’ll never forget it!

Obviously I would be here all day if I tried to recite all of my memories of our time together, because the memories are endless. Growing up she was my best friend, and I, according to her, “the love of her life.”

Auntie had an incredibly generous nature, and was always willing to give; especially when it came to family, which was so important to her. And because family was so important, I grew up knowing family I may not have known otherwise. Financially she supported me, as well as numerous other nieces and nephews, particularly when it came to our wardrobes. Any time I brought a friend with me for a sleepover, she went above and beyond. In fact, she was so good to my friends that when she broke her hip, they all wrote her “get well” letters that I combined into a folder for her, which she’s actually held onto all these years.

If I needed anything, she made sure I had it, and when I didn’t need something, she still made sure I had it. As I got older I may not have shown my appreciation as much, especially when she boasted about it, but I sincerely never took it for granted! I knew then, and will continue to know, just how fortunate I have always been!  And, while the obsessive phone calls in her later years may have brought some annoyance, I can tell you first hand that when the phone calls stop, it’s the first thing that you notice, and start to miss. March 21st, 2018 was the last time she was able to call me, I didn’t answer. And that is a regret that’ll always haunt me, but it’s also a reminder to not take anything for granted, even the day to day nuisances. However, due to Covid-19 and the banning of visitors at her nursing home, I was fortunate enough to start virtual weekly video calls during the summer of 2020 until her passing Nov. 21, 2021. I am also eternally grateful that I was able to sit with her, holding her hand, just days before her passing. 

Now, she wasn’t a saint, that’s for sure. As a young child I never really thought about why Uncle Mac didn’t live there with her, until I was old enough to realize that he lived at home, with his wife. I know that their relationship wasn’t [right], but you cannot deny the love they had for each other for over 35 years! I don’t doubt that he loved his wife, too (who knew of ML), but I understand it was complicated. He came from money and a higher status in society. Unfortunately he passed back in ‘03 and my aunt had to find out via an online obituary. Talk about heartbreaking!

She loved control and knew her way around manipulation. I know she meant well, but it still sucks looking back. Sometime before he passed, Uncle Mac gave Auntie money to put aside for me for my first car. When I turned 16 I was surprised with said car, only to find out I couldn’t have it yet. My aunt had a hard time believing I was sick, how could I be? I’m perfect. Ha, right… anyway, she thought I was just being the slack-off-teenager most in my family grew to be, that I wasn’t attending school because of that. So, she gave me a keychain and a letter the evening of my birthday, while we were sitting in my car, explaining that once I made it to school for 4 weeks straight, I could receive the keys to put on that keychain. Um, those 4 weeks never happened and after a few months I finally got my car. Again, I know she meant well but definitely went about it the wrong way.

Mary Lou Wiltse 8.26.30 – 11.21.21

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04. Revelations

“Dear mom, I get it now.” – Unknown

It would be easy to hold a grudge against my mom even though I understand, because even though I understand, it doesn’t make it easier when she lets me down. No, I am not naive and think I’m never going to be let down, it’s life. It happens. But again, when others come first for whatever reason it’s just an instant reminder of the past. Just like when it comes to chronic illness. If you do get “used” to it, it doesn’t make it any easier… and in reality, you’re never truly used to it – but rather learning to cope with it easier. It is also easy to call mom [selfish] for her choices, however, unless you’ve been in her shoes and have battled chronic illness yourself – what you need to understand is that her being selfish wasn’t really selfish at all. At least not in the negative way it’s usually portrayed. Don’t get me wrong, I fully acknowledge understanding that it is easier said than done, with or without health issues. But! As someone with her own screwed up health, I am asking you… scratch that – [telling] you to at least [try] to understand it.

It took me until I got sick myself to understand. To understand what it’s like to have your life ripped out from under you; grasping at any little speck of normalcy that you can manage to grab hold of, before it slips through your fingers as you fall. Hard. Flat on your ass. It takes a long, LONG time to come to terms and accept that the life you once had will never again be what it was. Not only do you have to accept your new “normal”, but you have to discover the balance between doing what you want to do and how you’ll pay for it. Whether or not X is worth the backlash of Y. Not to mention learning to [live] and not just [survive]. Something I myself am still struggling with. When you’ve been sick for so long, it’s incredibly difficult to not live in constant fear of ‘what ifs’. It’s only natural to want to avoid anything that [could] knock you down and set you back. Therefore getting into the habit of survival mode instead of living a happy fulfilled life.

In the book 10% Happier: How I Tamed The Voice In My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-help That Really works – A True Story, Dan Harris recalls a discussion in which he was told that, “often it’s not the unknown that scares us, it’s that we think we know what’s going to happen – and that it’s going to be bad. But the truth is, we really don’t know.” It’s scary how truthful that statement is! Since the age of nine the need for everything to be perfect controlled the depths of my brain. No matter how prepared I was for a test, in my mind, I had already failed before it began.

I am a perfectionist.

 – [So much so that I have my cousin and husband editing my writing;  if there’s any mistakes that’s not on me at this point. ::wink::]

I have to plan activities and events way in advance so that I can prepare myself in order to partake in said activities/events – only to stress irrationally what I won’t be able to and that I’ll crash horribly once it’s done, just to get down on myself questioning if it was worth it because of how miserable I feel… This scenario is on loop, always three steps ahead of what’s really going on. My mind does not rest, always preparing for the worst and any scenario that could arise. I can be questioning if something was worth it before planning even begins.

As a sick wife and mother – don’t even get me started on the guilt that I am ruining their lives and they’ll someday resent me. Oh, the guilt! That sneaky bastard is probably the worst part of living with chronic illness. It makes you believe you’re always letting someone down, no matter what. The guilt of wanting to be “selfish” and do something for yourself vs. the guilt of how you’ll be perceived and who you’ll hurt along the way. It’s no wonder I have been in therapy on and off for decades. Between the guilt that comes from being sick and this notion that I am never good enough – always needing to do better; that is a balancing battle I am not sure I will ever master.

I read a quote once that I actually wrote out and framed. I have no idea who originally said it so I apologize for not giving credit where it is due; however, the quote is as follows: “The happiness of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts”. Truth. Happiness is a choice and who wouldn’t choose to be happy? As much as I may think I understand, I can not pretend to fully comprehend what all my mother was going through. What I do know is that hanging out with Maria made her happy. On the weekend, for her sanity, she was childless and able to fake some level of normalcy. During the summer she was able to visit my biological great-grandmother who had been a family secret and institutionalized in PA since my grandmother was 2. 

Freda had been forgotten about for over 50 years, so when my mother found out about her she made it her mission to visit every few months. Of course as a kid I didn’t understand the importance behind it, just saw Mom on vacation with Maria. Turns out Mom wasn’t really being selfish at all, she was using her heart and giving a long lonely life a happy ending. Whether Mom went about things the right way or not – I don’t know, I couldn’t tell you. When life hands you lemons you make lemonade, right? There’s no right or wrong way to make it, you just learn as you go what works best for you. Just like with anything in life. You learn from your mistakes. No one can predict how their life is going to go, nor can they predict how they’ll respond to whatever happens. All you can do is move forward with gained wisdom.

As unfortunate as it was, Mom getting sick turned out to be an unexpected gift. A blessing in disguise if you will. When I was six years old I caught pneumonia and for the next 11 years I suffered from unexplained symptoms. In elementary school I was sent home almost weekly due to low grade fevers. I’d spike a fever and it’d go away on its own. I felt fine but the school said I had to go. I simply wasn’t regulating my temperature properly and no one knew why. I had extreme “growing pains” throughout every fiber of my body. Mom was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and feared my fate was sealed… I don’t have Fibromyalgia. By nine I had started my period and suffered debilitating migraines. Yes, nine. 

Surprise!  – Happy Birthday, Jena! – 

…. Worst. Present. Ever! 

WTF?! Way to ruin innocents, universe!

Nine was a rough year for me. Mixed in with all of the hormonal changes my body was experiencing and the start of my migraines, I was filled with terror bestowed upon me by my thoughtful – loving – brother. An oxymoron, right? My brother, thoughtful and loving? Good one. Jack was nine when he left home for a bit and wouldn’t let me forget it, using it to his advantage. Children are easily influenced by other children, especially when the other kids are older. They have an easier time relating to someone closer to them in age, therefore trusting what they have to say over most adults. So when Jack told me that I, too, would be sent away unless I was the perfect child, got straight A’s, and did exactly what was expected of me, it was easy to believe. He said that they wouldn’t love me if I ever disappointed them. Yikes!

First of all, how heartbreaking is it, that’s how he felt – what he believed to be true?! SO sad! It took me until I was nearly 27 to realize the impact of his words. Up until then I had always figured his words were just words and the issues they originally caused were sorted out when I was 10. Was I ever wrong! I struggled horribly in school. Between ADHD and a form of dyslexia mixed with a processing disorder, I didn’t come close to what I [believed] was expected of me. If Jack was so smart, so advanced – how the hell could I not be “sent away” when he was? How could my parents be proud of me when I wasn’t amounting to even a fraction of Jack? If they weren’t proud of me they wouldn’t love me and then what was the point anymore? 

Eventually the pressure got to be too much. At my tenth birthday party I took a chinese jump-rope, wrapped it around my neck and feet and pushed it out so it tightened around my neck. Luckily some friends walked in on the scene and stopped me. Between begging and pleading I convinced them not to go tell my mother. I know they were petrified so I give them immense kudos for going to the school counselor the following Monday morning. I find it incredible that a group of 9 and 10 year old girls not only grasped the severity of the situation, but also had it in them to do something about it! By the afternoon there was a full blown intervention held in my honor.

Looking back, I honestly don’t know if I was truly depressed and trying to end my life, or if I was joking around. I know I claimed I was joking around but logically looking at all of the facts, it had to have been more of a cry for help. I needed attention. Although, when I was 31 I was diagnosed with PMDD and I do wonder if that played a role because I know for certain that I had my period on my 10th birthday… hmm… Anyway, I was put in therapy and hated it! Over decades of seeing different therapists I know it takes the right fit for anything to be helpful. Maybe if I could have seen the “right” person at that time, I wouldn’t have suffered the next 16+ years with suppressed issues buried so deep! I had no idea they were even there.

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03. Mom

One of the most important relationship we’ll have, is the relationship we have with our mothers. -Iyanla Vanzant

I have and always will be Daddy’s Princess, nothing is comparable to our bond. Sure, being gay probably helps but he is an incredible father none the less. I know when I got married it was probably the hardest thing for him to give me away. [Dad, you showed me how it was supposed to be, how I deserved to be treated! The fact you had flowers delivered to the dress shop before they were even open, the day I went to buy my wedding dress, ::cough:: being gay definitely helps ::cough:: I can without any hesitation say that you set the bar high for any man I’d end up with. And I know [you] know, that I have found the one. The one who treats your Princess like his Queen.

Now, just because I am Daddy’s Princess – doesn’t mean I am not a Mama’s girl, because I very much am! Most mothers and daughters are close when daughters are young, grow apart to almost “enemy” status when the teen years roll around and rekindle their friendship once they’re both adults – especially both mothers. Hi. I am an adult, a mother and yes, my mother IS my best friend. How cliche… But here’s the deal: the above scenario is not exactly how things went down. In fact, it was actually my teenage years that brought us closer.

As previously mentioned, never once did I question my parent’s love and support. I knew my mother loved me, I knew she supported me. But feeling it… knowing and feeling are two different things. I may have known the above but I didn’t always feel it. As I’ve gotten older I can understand why Mom made some of the decisions she did and I honestly can’t say one way or another if I agree or disagree. Adolescent Jena on the other hand: disagrees. Mom was under a lot of stress, so much so that she got very sick. Granted – we know now that she probably would have gotten sick regardless, just most likely not as severely, had there not been so much stress.  I mean, who wouldn’t be stressed looking at the facts? A toxic relationship with her own mother, the loss of a child (they had Ryan between Jack and I, he passed shortly after birth), an alcoholic husband that lead to a divorce, adjusting to life as a working single mother, her now ex-husband coming out as gay, selling a house and moving, and a son who was battling his own feelings. Talk about a mind fuck in just a few short years!

During the divorce Mom joined Al Anon – escentially A.A. for the family and friends affected by an alcoholic.  Did it help Mom? Absolutely. Though in the end I’m not sure if it did more damage than good. It was Al Anon where Mom met Maria and our lives were changed for the better and for the worse. Diarrhea (I couldn’t correctly pronounce Maria and still find it amusing.) was married with two children, one of whom was 19, married and pregnant, the other in highschool. I mean no disrespect to her eldest, but she was the reason for Maria being in Al Anon.  Maria was a former cop in a women’s prison and going to school to be a social worker. 

[Oh the irony in that last sentence.. Sorry my mind is getting a head of itself.]

Mom and Maria became instant best friends, practically inseparable. I know what you’re thinking, and no, my mom is NOT gay as well; shes 100% straight. Maria? Well, we’ll get back to her. To my mom Maria was her sister, her “solemate” (in a completely platonic way – maybe more like her “twin flame”) and the one person she trusted with all that she is. To Jack and I, Maria was the bitch that took mom away, the controlling social worker who tried [telling] Mom “how” to raise us (like she knew better) and a woman we’d hold resentment and hatred towards for the rest of our lives. <- It’s true. We do and will. I tried being mature and forgiving her… until I found out how much she had in common with the Mad Hatter!

Maria’s family became our family. Her daughters, like my older sisters. Once Maria’s husband was killed (Canada’s official record: suicide, USA’s belief: murder) Mom and her grew that much closer. Again – inseparable. Every chance Mom got she was out with Maria. On weekends Jack and I were with Dad one night and Auntie the other. Mom was basically un-reachable from 6pm Friday until 6pm Sunday evening; drop off / pick up time. During the week, when mom wasn’t working (which had become part-time and remotely due to her health) she was in bed or on the couch. In other words, Mom was either sick while with us or healthy enough to get out and be social with her best friend. We rarely took vacations and yet, during our summer weeks with Dad, Mom was always traveling with Maria. It’s no wonder I had a hard time [feeling] the love. Neglect is a powerful word and as a child, I may have used it. However, as an adult, I would never use it to describe the situation. BUT! The feeling of less importance and the thought that Mom was putting Maria before me, was real. Valid even.

As a mother, it terrifies me knowing that my choices will both affect and effect my children. Jack and I both feel, I guess, betrayed? Eh… maybe not the best word to describe how I felt, but it definitely works for him. Maria had this notion that because she had been through stuff with her own daughter, she clearly knew what was “best” for everyone else’s children. Don’t even get me started on how un-ethical she was as a social worker. Two words: total hypocrite. In her mind she may have truly believed she was right, knew best and was [only] trying to help, but truth be told; here is somewhere she caused more damage than help. Yes, Jack had his issues. He too went through a lot during the time of the divorce and he experienced lots of loss for his young age. He is four years older so he understood death more than I, and we had a lot of deaths in a few short years, on top of the divorce, moving to a new city and starting over at a new school. He has always been scary smart and way advanced for his age. He could have easily been Ivy League material had things been different.

Now, I don’t want this to turn into a bashing or tell all when it comes to my brother because quite honestly, it’s not my story to tell. However, there are things that have happened that are vital to my story, why I am the way I am and who I am. When you’re a child and you go through trauma you may block it out, or if you’re like me, you’re unable to forget anything from your long-term memory and therefore hold on to it all. I remember him acting out, rebelling and being scary as fuck. Sibling rivalry is one thing, but pushing me down the stairs and chasing me around the house with a knife is a different story. I won’t deny my instigating, annoying little sister antics but some things are too much. Long story short, it’s easy to see why my mother took the advice from her “social worker” best friend. But, uh… isn’t one of the rules of social work not to “social work” your friends and family? Thought so. 

Jack ended up leaving home for a bit and during that time, life was great. I had my parents to myself, I didn’t have to fear for my safety and I wasn’t dragged to a cramped waiting room to play with puppets week after week. Most importantly during that time, for the most part, I was put first! 

See, not only did I feel second best to Maria, I really felt as though I was third behind Jack. And since I’m being honest, there are still days where it seems Mom puts Jack, as well as others before me. She has a problem when it comes to saying, “no” and feels it is her responsibility to be there for everyone. Maybe I am being selfish but if history has proven anything… it is not all in my head.

When Jack came home things were touch and go for a few years. Once he was in middle school and news got out about my dad, the bullies found him to be their favorite target on top of his gifted classes and ‘band geek’ status. [Side note: it was our nextdoor neighbor and his “best friend” who spilled the beans. Yeah… Jack’s [best friend] was just deferring the attention away from the fact he himself enjoyed the boys. I’d call him an asshole but the sad truth is that he did what he needed to do to survive middle school. It sucks – for everyone!] Our house soon became the victim of vandalization and Jack’s behavior quickly escalated. Mom genuinely fears for all of our safety so he started spending more time at Dad’s and by 14 he was moved in completely. Even though I had an older brother, by the time I was 10 it felt as though I was an only child, except for on weekends, Tuesday nights for dinner and 5 weeks out of the summer until I was 15.

It’s safe to say that for a few years there – okay, maybe even a decade, that Jack had some resentment towards Mom and of course blamed Maria for the choices Mom made. He rarely came around and never on his own accord. Obviously this destroyed Mom! She did everything she could but nothing helped. Not until he wanted to bring his college girlfriend home and Dad and Brian wouldn’t allow it, or rather wouldn’t allow them to shack up in the same room. It was then that Mom’s guilt came to the rescue and forever altered her behavior when Jack’s around. From then on, whatever Jack wanted, Jack got! Still true to this day whenever he is in town we are on his schedule. There was one incident when I was 17 that eventually became Mom’s eye opener. Jack and I had gotten into an altercation that resulted in him barging into the bathroom as I was getting ready to hop into the shower. I used all of my force to fight against him to close the door but his rage was too overpowering that he broke in, causing me to slam my head against the side of the tub. Screaming and crying for Mom’s help was no use. She was too busy downstairs with my aunt preparing for Thanksgiving dinner. All that my ::quote:: “overreacting” ::endquote:: did was embarrass her and piss her off. Of course it was my fault and I, “shouldn’t have instigated the situation.”

I was done!

I instantly packed some bags and moved in with my dad and Brian for the next few months. My how the tables had turned. I suppose betrayal was the correct word to use after all! Unfortunately I wasn’t able to completely cut ties with Mom due to school and my weekly homebound tutor. However, I was no longer staying quiet and made my feelings known. I would not return until she agreed and had proven things would be different… She was now in the middle of her own guilty battle.

Fortunately for me, this was around the time her friendship with Maria started to crumble. Mom was forced to step forward and physically be there for me more than ever before. Not only that, but she had made other friends and had different priorities now. Maria couldn’t handle coming second and started becoming crazy jealous. With jealousy comes anger and she was downright mean. She made Mom feel guilty over things she had no business feeling guilty over. Mom was tired of feeling like the victim, she finally had enough and stood up for herself. Yeah… that didn’t go over well and ultimately she made the decision to walk away from the friendship. It was only then she was able to see clarity. See where she went wrong and how selfish she had been.

As it turns out, Maria, the delusional, hypocritical social worker – had it in her mind that her and Mom were more than friends. Boom! Mind blown… Although, not really. Don’t get me wrong, never once did I think her and Mom were “together”, but I don’t think anyone was surprised to hear Maria was a lesbian. Anyone besides Mom, that is. Oh my poor mother! Talk about the worst gay-dar in history! Oh my god, and the betrayal?! I mean, honestly, how can anyone sane believe they are in a romantic relationship with someone without ever discussing it? There was never anything remotely romantic between them. Nothing intimate, not even a kiss. Maria never indicated that she felt anything more than the sisterly bond that Mom believed they had. Mom had no indication what-so-ever that Maria wasn’t straight. Ironically, all of her arguments “proving” why she didn’t believe it, contradicted what she already knew thanks to Dad. She’s still in denial. The worst part is that Maria is such a coward, she has never directly told Mom any of this! Then how do we know, you ask? Well, Dad ran into her and her partner, and after introducing  Dad as, “Deb’s ex-husband,” (so she’s obviously mentioned my mother at great lengths) she proceeded to ask him, “you know Deb and I were together, right?” W.T. actual F.?!! Who knows if Maria actually believed it or it was all a facade for her new girlfriend; either way it’s royally fucked up! It’s no wonder my mother can’t trust anyone new. The two people she trusted and shared her life with destroyed her perception of reality.

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02. Dad

“A father is a son’s first hero and a daughter’s first love.”
– unknown

You see, I had to grow up very fast. My parents separated when I was three due to my father’s inability to break up with alcohol. I remember the separation, talking to the court, the battles between my mother and great aunt and what it was like to see my father again after months of being apart while he tried to get his sobriety in check.

That memory of reuniting is my truest happiest early memory! My mother’s step-mom, Grandma Ina (may she rest peacefully) made it happen. She was an incredible woman and I will always be thankful for the seven years I knew her! When we arrived at my great aunt Mary Lou’s, whom from here on out will be referred to as simply, “Auntie”, it was like every kid’s dream come true. Presents stacked from floor to ceiling in every holiday wrapping that we missed dad. We even had both Christmas stockings and Easter baskets with Valentine treats to boot. Purely magical in the eyes of a child. Hell, even as an adult who wouldn’t love a scene like that? The Valentine treats being the most symbolic because as of February 14th, just before my fourth birthday, my father stuck to his sobriety and hasn’t looked back!

Other memorable early memories with my daddy include: Friday nights, fish sticks with macaroni for dinner, watching Full House and playing games, particularly barbies, on the kitchen floor. Odd as it may seem, playing on the kitchen floor became “our thing” for years to come.

With sobriety came truths, secrets and personal turmoil. For the first time my father had to face who he was, what he was and what it’d mean going forward. Remember how I mentioned that my father was raised Catholic? We’re talking about five siblings, private school and a mother who worked for the church kind of Catholic. Irony there is that dad and his siblings all struggled with substance abuse and addictions. So much so that out of all the “kids” in my generation on that side – I can confidently say that I am one of, if not the only one, who hasn’t had a substance abuse issue! Unfortunately history repeats itself, passed down by generations. I actually had a cousin who was so caught up down the wrong path that he was wrongfully executed by the state of Texas. That’s right, the asshole known as Rick Perry allowed an innocent man to be put to death. By the sound of those crickets instead of gasps, this news clearly isn’t a shock… Texas has the Law of Parties, which allows someone to be held criminally responsible for the actions of another. Steven Michael Woods Jr. was murdered by a wrongful justice system – while the real criminal (who pled guilty and ALL physical evidence points to) sits in jail for life. The most fucked up part is that Rick Perry had to give the final “okay” just 15 minutes prior, knowing Steven was, for all intents and purposes, innocent of a crime that would warrant death. Perry then went on record just weeks after bragging about his number of executions. ASS-hole!

Just a few short months after working the program, Dad met Brian. Anyone who knows anything about the program knows that you should wait at least one year before starting a new relationship. Yes, you read that right; Dad and Brian started a relationship. Not only was my dad battling for sobriety, but also the truth in the fact that he is gay. I honestly believe if it wasn’t for Brian, my dad may not be where he is today. They were the best thing for each other at such a pivotal point in my dad’s life! [Thank you, Brian, for not only helping my dad, but also for being a decent step-mother… even if you did tie us up that one time while watching us. 😉 ]

Obviously these new revelations spiraled confusion for everyone involved and everyone dealt with it differently. It took some time, but finally everyone came around with acceptance. In fact, my parents are the best of friends, they talk almost every day and we celebrate holidays as one big family. Brian and mom get along great. You’d never know there was a time when things weren’t so great… but there definitely was. I’m not sure when Jack found out about Dad, but I was nine.  Jack had a very difficult time with friends for various reasons, but having a gay father didnt help during a time with less acceptance and when HIV/AIDS was on the rise. Dad didn’t want me to face the same hardships, wanted to protect his Princess from prejudice. As I was getting older Mom tried convincing him to fill me in – but it was too late. I found out during a fight with my life-long friend [shout out to my Lori-Lou Sissy Poo]. Lauren and I fought like sisters. The two most memorable being when she threw a handful of panty liners at me, while simultaneously yelling at me to, “eat pads!” and the other was when she yelled, “at least my dad isnt gay!”
My brother and Lauren’s brother were in boy scouts together and our mothers became instant friends. Every morning before school, for 6 years, Lauren would be dropped off at my house roughly two hours early while her mother went to work. I was usually still asleep and would wake up to either A) Lauren playing, B) a clean room that wasn’t clean the night before (having an organized clean freak for a faux sister had its perks), and more often than I would have liked, C) a sneaky little blond trying to glance at my latest diary entries. Talk about invasion and lack of privacy! Usually I wasn’t mortified, however once when we were seven, the last thing I wanted her to discover was sprawled right across the page: “Mrs. Jena Martin. Mrs. Ricky Martin” … her brother’s name is Ricky…

Yes, Ricky Martin.
No, not the singer.

As I’ve mentioned, we fought like sisters. Over everything. One morning a fight broke out revolving around my dollhouse. This was not new territory, however the following was. I’m not sure exactly what was said leading up to it, but I’ll never forget these few lines:

Bratty Jena: “at least my dad’s not fat!” (Sorry Rick!!!)
Upset Lauren: “well at least my dad isn’t gay!”
Shocked Jena: “my dad’s not gay!”
Confident Lauren: “uh-huh! I heard Mom and Ricky talking about it!”
[Confused, angry Jena runs upstairs and sits on sleeping mother’s bed]
“MOM lauren just said Dad is gay!”
[Half asleep Mom yelling, “oh shit” inside her head]
“What?”
J: “he isn’t gay, right Mom?!”
M: “Lauren, go watch T.v.” 
[Pause that lasted an eternity]
J: “Mom?”
M: “I think that’s something you need to talk to Dad about.”

I didn’t. And it wasn’t until a few weeks later that my dad sat me down and told me what I had already come to realize as true. He is gay and him and Brian aren’t “just roommates”.

Funny story… I had known Brian was gay for at least 3 years – never thought anything of it. Never made the connection. Though, it all made sense then why Dad slept in what I thought was Brian’s room (which was really their guest room) any time Jack and I were over, why we celebrated so many things with Brian’s family. Ah yes, explains a lot. I had found out Brian was gay when I discovered his male calender. At the time he told me it was his former ::coughpartnercough:: roommate’s. I mentioned it to Jack and he told me it was Brian’s. When I asked if he was gay, Jack came right out and said, “yes.” Surprisingly enough, Jack didn’t mention anything about Dad. My guess is because he was protecting me as well… I was only five or six. But don’t you think if I knew what gay was at five, I would have been filled in? That’s what I thought at least when Dad finally told me. I wasn’t upset he was gay, I was upset about the decite and waiting so long to tell me – or rather, for me to find out.

Ironically, I only ever had one incident, actually two – same person – when it came to my father’s sexuality. I always had friends going with me to stay the night at Dad’s. Okay, maybe not “always”… again, female = absolutes… anyway, there was never an issue until 5th grade. I had a friend over for a sleepover – nothing out of the ordinary happened, and yet the next day my mother received a very rash, disgustingly hateful voice message from said friend’s mother. She could not believe my mother failed to let her know about my dad before she allowed her daughter into “that environment.” Needless to say, said friend wasn’t “allowed” to be my friend anymore. The second incident happened a few months later at a school function. The entire 5th grade throughout the district had a meet and greet at the local skating rink. Good ol’ Skatin Station II. My former friend had gotten into an altercation with her friends from her previous school. I just happened to witness it. Yay me! When the girl told her mother, I somehow was again present and was accused of being involved. It was then when her mother publicly announced that I was, “the girl with the faggot father.” Yeah, maturity at it’s finest, ladies and gents. It wasn’t until three years later at the 8th grade end of the year party that the girl’s mother actually apologized.