...by example...

I read recently that if you want to help the environment, you don't have to become uber-granola and try to save the world one tree-hugging moment at a time. Just pick one thing to do and go from there, being an example and doing more when you can.

I suppose my first earth-friendly deed that I am an example of is breastfeeding. Oh, all the resources saved just by no formula cans to be recycled, no bottles to be created...even just the process of making formula takes it's toll on the environment.

Months ago, one of the mom's groups I'm in did a co-op for Earthwise bags. They came out to just over $1 a bag. I have been forgetting to use them, but do my best to keep them in the passenger seat of my car so I remember. I used them when my sister was here, and when she got home, she ordered enough for herself and her best friend. Bam. The environment helped just a little more. Friday when I went to the grocery store the clerk and the lady behind me took down the website from the bags. Bam. More help for the earth.

It's not just the reduce and reuse part of 'reduce, reuse and recycle.' These bags are slowly paying for themselves. My grocery store gives me .03 off for every bag I use. Not much, but at $1 a bag purchase price, these bags will not only pay for themselves, they will eventually earn me money. My sister's grocery store gives .05! So be sure to check into it. You can feel good and not be put out too much financially!

letting go

we've walked this stretch of beach before
the waves fall into the shore
the sand shifts under our feet
what should be the same is ever changing

in the past we have entwined our arms
fingers laced together
heads tilted towards each other

we've also just walked side by side
fingertips touching
the words on our lips barely said

each time we walk this strand
we walk a different way
near far
but together

now I find myself turning away
facing into the wind
the horizon in the other direction
a new place to walk

I hear you call my name and I turn back
to see you reaching towards me, hand palm up
warm brown eyes filled with love
fear
longing

the wind holds me up, pushing me towards you
but I worry that it will fail
I will fall
I have nobody but myself to do the catching

still your hand reaches out
your voice hopeful
the wind gusts around me
confusion swirls in eddies

I reach out to you, touching your fingertips lightly
this is a chance I'm taking
one I am not sure I want to take
if I finally walk alone
at least I know I tried.

Dose of Reality

Recently, someone left me a message that read: face reality.

Reality is that P. and I dated young. Have had marital problems based on the youth and issues from our past. We never dealt with each problem fully in our marriage, everything just built up. Now we find ourselves at the point of no return.

We push and pull. Sometimes he's fully committed, sometimes I am. There are so many factors to consider. First is whether our marriage can become healthy enough to be a good environment for the kids. Secondly, can we give each other what we need?

So here's where my dose of reality is.

1- I have tried to leave, told him he was free, consulted a lawyer.

2- Currently, he is the one wanting to try and work it out, and I can't help but want to try based on his words of love and assurance. I am still scared though. Sometimes leaving seems easier than all the work we will have to do.

3- I am not 'using' our kids. I have told him he could have open access to them. Indeed, he would likely see them more in that case then he has in the past 9mos.

4- I am not 'staying for the kids' and neither is P. We have made that clear to each other. It is not 'for the kids' to see a broken marriage hobble along. It will be the blueprint of what they expect for their marriage and we don't want that for them.

5- For the kids means both parents being the best role models for their kids, whether that is together or apart we have yet to see.

6- Even with the positive progress that P. and I have made, there is a chance that this marriage will end. However, we have the right to not only try, but to hold off on a choice either way in the immediate future. The choice doesn't have to be made this day or even this month. We are seeking help, we have goals and if things don't seem to be progressing, then we will re-evaluate.

7- The only people that fully know the picture of our marriage are the two people who have been there the entire 15 yrs. Not people (even my close friends and sis) that have heard things second-hand. Not people that were there during a down time and a 're-write of the relationship history'. The reason my closest friend and my sister are my confidants is because they can understand that. They have their opinions that might be counter to my own, but they keep them in check because they know they are not IN our marriage. They support me either way.

8- Working through our issues is the best chance for everyone to have happiness. I am happy on my own, indeed have been at the most peace when I have imagined living on my own. But the statistics are that future relationships are more likely to fail. If we can work through this and our other marital issues, then it is best for us and our family.


So there's my dose of reality. Yes, I helped get my marriage in its fucked up state. Yes, I have wallowed in my depression- never made any bones about that. This blog is a fairly complete record of my struggle. I have been this honest in the hopes of helping others who might feel depressed. Now you know one more issue in my life.

Because of that, I hope you understand when I say that I am all the more amazed at my healing. Yes, MINE, not P.'s. He's responsible for his own. I can't force him. Over the years I have talked to him about the childhood issues I see popping up in his adult interactions. Up until know he has refused to acknowledge that anything is an issue. We may or may not succeed, depending on what path we each take. We can only do so much together, the rest is up to individual things. I feel really good about my path. It's promising that P. has agreed to continue his own therapy.

Rest assured that whatever happens, it will be on OUR terms. Not someone's mistaken impression of what our marriage is, should be or will be. To my friends, thank you for your support- even when you don't believe in my actions, you believe in me.

Overheard in the Shower this Morning

Sometimes, after I get out of the shower in the morning, the kids get in. It's cool, because I have some peace while I am getting ready and putting their stuff together.

This morning while they were in the shower, J. begins saying, "Mimi! Mimi!" which she tends to do when she sees nipples (or anything else breast related really). C. replied, "Yes, but when I grow up, I won't make milk." J. queried, "Milk?"

C.'s reply was, "You have the power of milk!"

Another related incident happened yesterday when J. brought me a little toy pig and told me it was her. "Really? That's J.?" I asked. "Uh-huh!" she said. Then grabbed the toy chimp she had been carrying around (it had 'mimis') and proceeded to have the pig nurse from the chimp.

I love that I enjoy my kids so much more now.

Letting go of the Shoulds

Part of not huddling inside myself and holding onto the pain means that I am becoming not just a 'there' mom, not just a 'come cuddle a bit' mom, but a 'more fun' mom. We're establishing little routines to build fun into our days. We joke, we tickle, we laugh.

The kids love when I try to sleep in and they gang up on me giving me tummy gummies. They love to dance around the room and have me film them. They love a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes.

But in addition to these little rituals that remind me to not just be loving, but fun also, I have started to recognize that letting go of the shoulds is a big step towards fun. For instance, extra chocolate chip pancakes cooked and saved for another time are extra special and silly when they become dinner. Breakfast for dinner? You're crazy mom! So simple and yet such smiles and giggles.

This morning, one of my favorite 'letting go of the should' event occurred. Everyone was ready to head out the door. We had close to fifteen whole free minutes, because we had been free from dawdling that morning. No stress, no worries. Wow, a morning where we should sit and savor, or maybe leave early to take C. to school and really enjoy the walk.

Instead, C. asked me to teach him to cartwheel. It was a crazy idea, but I showed him the steps. He managed a couple assisted and I was amazed at myself for still being able to do one. J. tried her hardest, but when I took her waist to help her flip, she just melted into a puddle. We all collapsed into giggles. Soon, we got up and tried again, this time somersaults. J. actually tried and did pretty well at that, C. was an expert and it's been so long since I turned a somersault, I forgot the head rush you could get from one. Dizzy and looking at my laughing kids, I resolved to remember that the shoulds don't always take priority. Sometimes the alternatives are better for the spirit.

Seasonal Life

I know, how can you not compare life to seasons? The summer of youth, the winter of old age. It's been done so many times and here comes another comparison.

I always enjoy walking C. to school. Ok, the day it was 6 degrees out, not so much. But we get to watch the world around us gradually change. When school started, we watched the blooms gradually turn to apples and pears. Then the fruit dropped off and disintegrated into the ground. During winter of course, there was nothing happening except the cold nipping at our noses and ears.

Always though, there's the prattle of the kids. J. mainly shouts out things like "Moon!" "Burr!" (bird) and so on. On the way back, she'll have me go over the numbers on the mailboxes over and over. It's like she's trying to solve the mystery her big brother has the key to. C. will talk about whatever comes to his mind. Today it was life cycles. He mainly concentrated on what ate what. So I talked to him about how we're omnivores, look at us with our plant crushing teeth in the back and our scissor-like meat cutting teeth in the front. C. gasped at the pure simplicity of that, as though it was amazing that our bodies are built specific ways to do specific things, even our teeth. Well, it is, but as we get older we tend to forget. We talked about cows being herbivores and all of their teeth are flat crushers. The carnivore shark has only sharp teeth for ripping. I just loved seeing his wonder as we talked over these concepts and a little more of the world made sense. Right now, he knows only joy really. According to his teachers maybe too much, he's so happy he has a hard time reigning it in; his Sunday school teacher loves it. His regular teacher enjoys it too, but I can tell it's more wearing.

So while I see the 'seasons of life' aren't affecting him yet, something he said got me to thinking about how we see life in seasons. Right now I will stick with winter and spring.

Walking along this winter, there were only the crows really. Their ca-caws weren't frequent, but when they did sound out, it can be jarring and unpleasant. Even their glossy black feathers look foreboding in the spare landscape of winter. Now that spring is blooming into the world around us, the songs of birds fill the air. I don't know about you, but I forget those sounds are missing until they come back. There's still the occasional bossy crow, but also so many joyful birds to balance it out.

Life is like that. When you are feeling bare and empty, the only thing you remember is the grating sound of the crows. Suddenly, your entire life seems bad. It's all you can remember. At least, that's the way it is for me. I know it is for other people. It can happen personally (it's all about me, I am awful), or with a relationship (it's all about us, we are awful together). I suppose even projected on a particular person. Of course, the truth is, nothing is ever all bad. Just when you are feeling winter, it sure feels like it. One book that is often recommended for those of us living in a winter state of mind is Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy. The author helps you recognize your thinking habits and attitudes and how to gradually change them.

When you get to that point, with or without the book, you suddenly hear what we heard this morning on the walk to school. The singing of many different songs. Sometimes it all blends into the background, sometimes one twitter stands out more than the other. When you hear the annoying ca-caw, it is just part of the entire picture, instead of taking it over. And maybe, if you're lucky like me, you can also listen to the prattle of a little voice talking about birds eating worms and some animals eat leaves and fruit and vegetables and...

And you hold that small hand tighter, smile to yourself and tune out all songs but that one.

The Final Days

As a military brat, we celebrated the two-digit midget days when we got to go home after an overseas PCS. No matter how you adapted to the country you were sent to, there's nothing like 'home' even if home ends up being an assignment in a new state. The point is, being stateside. So, to celebrate P.'s recent step into the digit midget realm, I bring you a walk through memory lane. Feel free to stop reading here ;)

Again, the bookends of memory. P. leaving for three months 15 years ago, off to the never-ending stress of Parris Island. And then this year, three months overseas in a high conflict area. With both, he had long hours, but we have done our best to be in daily contact. In '92, I wrote to him daily and cherished every letter I got back. This time, thanks to the internet, we haven't just had phone calls when he can fit them in and care packages winging their way to him from us, but email and IMs. Even better, the pictures we've been able to send back and forth. How wonderful it's been for him to be able to go to YouTube and see our kids, hear them talking to him and feel more of a part of their daily lives.

Just like I was reminded of the goodbye 15 years ago, so I am thinking of the hello. As the summer waned in '92, I was in contact with his mom, making plans to drive to SC. One of his uncles would drive his van. We'd all ride together and stay in a hotel. I remember his mom giving me a Mary Kay makeover- so NOT me. Showing me the clothes she bought him for his second year in college (even then, I knew the white jeans were SO not him).

The first glimpse of him, right up in front of his platoon, just behind the guidon bearer (is that what USMC calls it? I dunno, it's what my title was when I did the same thing in AF JROTC).


I held back and let his mom be the first to greet him. But when I hugged him, I never wanted to let go. I worried about that darn Mary Kay makeup rubbing off on his uniform. I felt like I was wearing a mask.


I remember watching his confirmation into the Catholic faith. The actual graduation ceremony, I can't remember much. I do remember thinking this is what the ceremonies we 'played' at with JROTC looked like when they were real. I remember sitting in the heat, being impatient with every moment of military pomp and ceremony that kept us apart. His gifts of a necklace and a pin with the stoic USMC boot camp official picture on them.

I remember the ride home, running my hand over his thigh, leaning against him, just soaking him in.

Going out to a date at the local Pizza Hut that night, his ex-girlfriend was our waitress. I couldn't believe the gall of her afterwards, calling him over and trying to rub up on him, purring who knows what. Funny if you think about it, since his most burning memory of her was finding her in the closet in flagrante delicto with one of his closest friends at the time. He all but laughed in her face this time and walked away.

He shared with me the picture he carried in his hat the entire 13 weeks. It should have been confiscated, but when his DI found it, the DI pretended he didn't see it. It's in our scrapbook now, but you can see the remnants of its time at Parris Island:


Now, not knowing the exact time yet, and knowing he has to take care of the business of coming back after a extended assignment, such as getting his car out of 'storage', I don't know what to expect- even less so than in '92. Will he be home in time before the kids go to sleep and we can celebrate as a family? Or will he be home after they are in bed and we can have a few precious hours of just us? The dog is the only one not expecting him back. She stopped looking up at the sound of cars after a few weeks. Such an unexpected surprise will send her into new heights of spastic running in circles, I am sure.

But what of me? What will I be feeling after all we have been through in these months? The ups and downs and tears and promises? Will I feel like I am wearing a mask yet again? Or will I let myself feel the joy and relief that is sure to flow through the door in his wake?

Dear Readers, I need your opinions!

Today my therapist called to tell me about a yearly magazine that comes out in the mental health community in my state. The deadline is in April and he thinks I am a good writer and wants me to submit something. I think the Wounded Child essay is one, but I can submit three more. Anything you remember reading of mine that would have widespread appeal? Anything that struck a chord?

Just let me know, thanks :)

Straddling Seasons

I like this new place I am. Obviously, I am not totally thrilled with the situation, but who I am and where I am inside me makes me feel pretty darn good. I have been fighting my way up for so long it's been hard to look around. But after the precipice, I have slowly been awakening to my surroundings.

This morning while walking C. to school, I noticed they are awakening too. Frost on the windows, nipping cold on my nose and ears, yes. But there was also a new flowing of noises. The squirrels are always out, but they seem to scamper more merrily. As if they know their winter diet is nearing an end.

And of course, there's the birds. The sounds of chirping birds filled the air. J. was delighted to point out the plump robin hopping along under the bush next to us.

Yes, spring is coming. A time of hope and rebirth and renewal. That feeling spans time, cultures and religions. It's a feeling that's so primal we all feel it. When I was young, fall was my favorite season. It meant school and less hours at home. I find that the beginning of fall and the beginning of spring have much the same feel. But as I get older, I find I much prefer spring. Although fall still has its attractions, the hope is spring is wonderful to behold.

Happy Birthday P.!

Another year older. We have both changed so much since we were 18. It would be a shame if we didn't.

Chatting with P. last night, he had a bad headache. A Bree migraine he called it. But still, he chatted with me about family stuff until the wee hours because he said it made him feel better and forget the pain. He was also sweet enough to comfort me with all my roadblock issues mentioned in the previous posting. Suddenly, as we were saying goodnight I realized it was his birthday where he is.

How things have changed.

Here's a pic of me giving him a gift the first birthday we spent together, the big one-nine. Sorry for the quality, it's a pic of the one in our scrapbook, it's also 15yrs old.

I bought him a Victorinox Swiss Army knife. He had bought a $10 imitation that of course tarnished before he had it a month and, going by my Boompa's belief that buying the good stuff once is better than buying the cheap stuff multiple times, I saved up and bought him a real Swiss Army knife.


Know your family is thinking of you, loving you and praying for your safety P. We're eagerly awaiting your homecoming (more 'vintage' P. and Bree pics when that draws nearer).

We'll have a cake and celebration when you get home.

road blocks, bumps and dips

Here we are, in the last weeks of P. being gone and I find them harder than even the first weeks. The kids are great, it's just me. I know what it's going to be like to be together again after three months and then I don't know.

There's a roadblock I can't really put a name to. It's a pitiful roadblock really. If I was at another place in my life I would look at it more as a speed bump. Or rather more like what they had when I was growing up in California, dips. I remember the big yellow signs, cautioning: DIP. Yeah, I can see that in conjunction with this road block. Too bad it's still a roadblock because of how I am feeling right now.

It's leading to my feeling of unrest and uncompleted business. I want to laugh at it, snarl at it, release my bile at it. Anything to get past it. But my hands are tied because I don't exactly know what to do, what I should do even.

I'm tired of crying. I wish I could see the strength in myself that other people say they see in me.

When we were talking about being back together yesterday, P. told me he was looking forward to seeing his best friend again. The smart, funny (if sarcastic), sexy woman he married but sometimes forgot to appreciate for who she is. Only, I didn't recognize that person. A few months ago, I felt so strong. Then how come now, when the waiting is almost over, the answers are in front of me- how come now I am feeling so weak?

Maybe just because I can.

Just a Ring

Those little circles hold so much symbolism. Round and round to eternity for one. What type you pick tells something about who you are. How important they are, when you wear them, when you take them off.

The story of my wedding ring. We shopped around for one we could afford in college. I wanted a plain gold band. P. wanted a heart shaped diamond. He got his way. We found a nice little .25 carat heart that P. kept talking about upgrading eventually but I wanted to keep. After all, it was 'the ring' we got married with, anything else was just show. So he began talking showy anniversary bands.

At one point, while playing soccer at a local park with some friends, the diamond fell out. It was replaced since it was still under warranty, but still, it changed the feel of 'my ring'. Sometime in '98 I became aware of conflict diamonds and nixed Pete's window shopping for a new band. No new diamonds, make them some other stone or antiques.

Early in June '06, the diamond fell out again. I was informed this happens frequently in heart shaped diamonds. So we began shopping again, sending links back and forth trying to find a balance between P.'s desire to show how much he loved me by the size of the ring and my desire to be socially conscious (oh and it didn't help I learned there were issues with gold mining too- why did that surprise me?)

Given our problems in the fall that we are trying to work through now, I feel that maybe the diamond falling out and the subsequent inability to agree on a ring was a sign. P. assured me it wasn't.

But in the meantime, after reaching my personal precipice and jumping over it (as read in my St. George entry), I had purchased a posey ring with money I earned sewing. It was custom made with the words: Moment by Moment. I wanted a reminder that I could survive anything moment by moment. The sentiment has been a blessing to me given all that has happened. Even more so when a talk with my pastor revealed that there is a scripture that basically says you let Jesus in moment by moment. It's not a once and forever thing, you have to keep open to Him. The same with forgiveness. You don't forgive once, you forgive every moment you make the choice to do so.

I wore that ring on my right, my left hand feeling empty. Eventually, Pete asked me to wear something on my left hand and I picked a tiny anniversary band I hadn't worn in years. On our anniversary, he sent me a temporary replacement ring he ordered online.

Today, he sent a link to a new diamond band. Ready to renew our relationship, he actually picked something conflict free. It's a blend of the two of us and the sentiment is very much appreciated. So that's what's got me thinking about the symbolism of rings. How in the beginning, my preferences weren't listened to, and now, they are. It also is making me think of a phrase I have been seeing a lot lately. You can't unring a bell. There are things you have done that can't be undone. The reverberations stay with you for years, sometimes for always. While marriages can be broken, they can't be unrung. They follow you in some form always. I suppose that's why we are trying to get it right even now, even after all that has happened. The bell ringing the sound of our marriage? Maybe we can make it into music rather than a jarring reminder of flaws.