7 Years

Seven years.

That's how long it's been since Trevor's father, "Nicholas", and I started "officially" dating. Today would be our 7 YEAR anniversary. I was 17 years old, now I'm 24. Obviously, a lot has changed. Except the things that should have changed. Like me, thinking about Nicholas every day; comparing stories with people, saying "Nicholas and I used to..." or "That's like one time, when Nicholas..." It hit me the other day. WOW, it's going to have been SEVEN YEARS since we started dating. Three since we broke up. Even then, I was 21.

It HAS to be high time to move on. I've got to get over him. Now, this won't be easy; he is Trevor's father. So I can't never, ever talk about him again. There is no question. But I can take myself mentally out of his life. I suppose I've been "out of his life" for three years now. But I have still, daily, wondered what he was doing. I have still been worrying about the times I've run into him. I've still been thinking (and talking) about how we would be married by now, with or without Trevor. I keep trying to find out through the grapevine what he's up to. I need to stop!

So today, marks the day I started trying. Trying to get over him; trying to move on. Trying to live my life for the future and not for the past. That's a big one. I am one of those people who lives in the past. I dwell on it; drown in it. I need to look towards my future as a strong, Christian woman who can take care of herself. I want to need no man in my life; though I need to have faith that one will come. My knight in shining armor is out there somewhere. I may have already found him; but I've been running from him because of my past experience. The abused little girl in my past whose son was stolen from her needs to let go, and become the strong woman; the wife, the mother that I know I will be.

I'll never "get over" my son. I don't want to. But that doesn't mean that I can't get over his father. Our relationship is over. OVER. He's not coming back. And in reality, I never wanted him to; or I would have never left him in the first place. He hit me, raped me, and told me I was worthless...why couldn't I ever see through the haze?

I make no promises, other than to TRY. I won't say this will be easy; but I know that once it's over I will look back and think, how trivial. I know there are bigger, greater things in store for me, thanks to my one and only Savior, Jesus Christ. God has a plan for me, and I'm going to let Him see it through. And I know God gave me Nicholas, so that one day I would learn these lessons.

7 years. Time to move on...

P.S. - his name isn't Nicholas, it's Charlie.

Happy Birthday to me!

So today (Sept. 25th) is my 24th birthday! I am actually, despite a few obvious setbacks/distractions (which we will get to), pretty excited for tonight. Later tonight, that is...since it's 2:41am and technically my birthday starts when I wake up later. A bunch of friends and family and myself are all going down to our family's lake house for a bonfire/birthday party on the water! I'm excited because for once I'm pretty sure the majority of the people I invited are coming. I have some new friends, some family and some old friends coming. A good mix. It should, for the most part, be a good time.

Speaking of old friends, however, I have gotten myself into quite an awkward situation. An ex-boyfriend of mine, Josh, is going to be at my birthday party. I haven't seen him at all, pretty much since we broke up a year and a half ago. So he texted me to wish me a happy birthday, and asked me if I had any good plans for my day. So I told him about my party; and I said he was more than welcome to come, because he never shows up anywhere I invite him anyway...and I had to be polite and ask. So guess who thinks that's a GREAT idea? Yup, the ex boyfriend. I guess our breakup wasn't as bitter as others of mine have been; but I generally don't invite my ex boyfriends to my birthday parties!!!! What was I thinking? So now I wonder, does he think this is some kind of booty call? Because HELL. NO. If I'm being blunt, it's my time of the month, I can barely walk AT ALL because I sprained my ankle tonight, and I'm not that interested in casual sex anymore. It has to mean something, or I'm not giving myself up or so I say. So Josh is not "getting any", if that's his goal.

And then I think, what if he really is still into me? We didn't break up because we had lost feelings for each other at all. We broke up because it was the wrong time in both of our lives HIS life for a relationship with each other. But I'm a lot different now, so maybe he is, too? Maybe he's never lost contact with me for more than a month since we broke up, because he really does still have feelings for me? Maybe he's the one! Maybe he's realized leaving was a mistake...

...and maybe, it's still just a booty call. I almost can't tell the difference, anymore. Only time will tell.

But like I said, outside of these things, for some reason...I am completely optimistic about my birthday! So I'm basking in the ambiance. Hope all is well out there in blog world!

Getting old...

To start with, I've had a Mountain Dew and a Dr. Pepper after months of no caffeine and it's 1:00 in the morning...just a warning. In other words, I have a lot on my mind and I don't know quite yet where this post is going, so bear with me.

One thing I've noticed lately is that apparently, my son's story is getting old. He may be turning five in just a few short months, so I suppose I should be "over it" by now, according to those who by the way, could never even IMAGINE losing their children, once, at least pretended to care. Almost no one at all even knew my son existed until less than a year ago, and even those who have known for less than six months are literally already MAKING FUN OF ME for it. Literally. Busting my chops about my dead son, like it's some kind of quirk I have that they can poke fun at. My favorite was my sister's boyfriend telling me, "babies die; get over it." REALLY? Because last time I checked, old people are supposed to die and babies are supposed to live...correct? Sometimes I want to say, "Yeah, well then I hope it's YOUR kid some day." But I would never, because one: I would never wish this life upon anyone else, no matter what they did to me; and two: it's not going to get me anywhere. So I have bitten my tongue. Another excellent one was "Not today. I don't have the time or patience for your problems right now." Thanks a lot, best friend of mine...(with beautiful, breathing, healthy children, mind you.) About a month ago, I was with my brother, my sister and her boyfriend, and an episode of House, M.D. came on in which a premature baby boy is on a table being shocked back to life, and eventually, dies right there on screen. I asked nicely a few times, and then eventually not so nicely if they could PLEASE turn it off. They literally LAUGHED, turned it up, and then told me a I was a crazy b****. Yes, you read that correctly. Oh, and my sister's boyfriend, being the biggest **** of them all, said another cute thing to me on our recent cruise (in front of 20 people, by the way: "your son's lucky he's dead, because his mother's such crazy b*tch he would have killed himself by now anyway." I couldn't speak, and ran off crying through a crowd of witnesses. On my top ten of life's worst moments, let me tell you.

So...needless to say, having a birthday party for Trevor is now something that unfortunately is not comfortable for me to do, because my story is getting old, and annoying. I was so excited, too! But celebrating my son's life, is now something I feel ashamed about...AGAIN. I thought I had gotten past this? I thought my ex was the only a**hole person who could have no feeling for something so precious. Apparently, I'm the only one who does. Regardless, I will lose all of my friends and family before I let my son's memory fade AGAIN. I betrayed my little man for far too long, and I will forever make it up to him.

On that note, my story is not the only thing getting old around here. I'm turning twenty-four a week from today (Sept. 25th), but I feel one-hundred and twenty-four. I'm exhausted, worn out, overwhelmed and weakened, trying to keep my son's memory alive. I'm tired from the guilt and embarrassment I feel even speaking his name. THIS IS NOT RIGHT. It can't be. What is wrong with these people? Am I the crazy one? Is it me, or is everyone I know cold-hearted and cruel? I'm also tired from consciously holding back when I feel like mentioning him; or interjecting about the ups and not-so-obvious downs of my pregnancy along with the other mothers. They look at me like I don't belong in their conversation, because I have to step out as soon as it gets to the living baby in your arms part...that part didn't last so long for me. I'm not able to chime in with the cute little things Trev did as a baby. Or give advice on parenting to someone who's technically been a mother for less time that I have.

What I've figured out is that no one really cares about anyone else for an extended period of time. And that 24 sucks. Because everyone I know is either on the end of the scale where they're married with living children and a life, or on the other end, where stuff like that is unfathomable because after all, we're only 24, right? Either way, I've learned that the one thing that makes it impossible to fit in with anyone at all, is having a dead baby...and unfortunately, my son is not here with me; so I guess I'm one of those people who will never fit in.

...I guess I'm getting old.

Break My Dreams

Okay, so last night I tried to, for the first time in a LONG time, go out and have a good time.  I should have known better! My cousin and his girlfriend just turned 21 this month, so we decided to go out to a local bar and have a few celebratory cocktails.  I ran into some friends from high school, and it was overall a fun and endearing situation.  I was having a great time.  How I missed this next part coming is beyond me.  We were at a bar down near my house, called Gillian's.  I guess it's a popular place to be in South County.  Which I knew; I was the one who wanted to go there.

I see a group of guys leaving.  Somehow, I didn't see them at all the half hour I had been there.  I take a sip of my drink, realize who's walking out, stop everything I'm doing, and all in one motion I see him.  "Nicholas", Trevor's father.  We haven't spoken or seen each other face-to-face in over two years.  I guess until now I had let go of all the animosity.  I had started coming to terms with the fact that he's a good guy, and maybe we're just different people.  But in that moment, I remembered why we are apart.  He looked at me, as if to try and cut me with his eyes.  Those green eyes that once melted my heart are now piercing me like a knife.  I've almost never seen him so angry.  I've never seen so much hatred in those eyes.  I'm wondering, what went through his mind?

I always knew this day would come.  We live in the smallest state, and even living at opposite ends of it we're only half an hour away.  But why, in such a small state is someone from half and hour away at Gillian's?  I was almost hoping lately that we'd run into each other.  I thought, maybe it would ease my mind.  Instead, it's tossed me up in the air, and I don't know how to land without crashing.  I know we were in a fight last time we spoke; I know we (obviously) have a history, but why was he so horrible?  Even the people I had run into at the bar, were shocked and angry at the look he gave me.  He said nothing, yet he said so much.  That's always been his way, though.  Always.

I have never been more hurt.  I'm starting to dislike myself again.  He always had me brainwashed into thinking I was the scum on the bottom of his shoe; that he was better than me and I'd never amount to anything.  I don't know that he's ever said that out loud, but he might as well have over the years.  Here I am all this time giving him credit!  Thinking he just didn't know how to deal with Trevor's death and maybe he just couldn't handle it all.  But now I think he's really just a horrible person.  After all we've been through, not only do you not say hello, you CRUSH me like that?  What happened to the boy I fell in love with?  Where is the boy who was helping me through my frightened teenage pregnancy, who wanted to marry me and take care of his son?  I know you're probably reading this and thinking I'm overreacting; it was just a look.  But that look, said a thousand hurtful and horrible things in one instant.

What's worse is I chased him!  He walked out the doors and I RAN after him!  He didn't notice, and I stopped myself at the outside door, but how pathetic am I?  I didn't know what else to do!  I had so much to say, so many questions to ask him.  I let him walk away.  Even if we fought, at least I'd know for sure what he's thinking.  I thought I didn't care about him.  I thought I was past this!  I thought I had convinced myself I wasn't worthless, and that Nicholas wasn't going to dictate the way I live my life.

I wonder if he heard through the grapevine (i.e., my dear, but incapable-of-keeping-her-mouth-shut friend, Courtney) that I've been opening up about Trevor.  I know we always said we'd never talk about it; but that's not fair!  I WON'T forget my son and act like he never existed.  I WILL NOT.  I don't care if Nicholas flips out, denies it, hates me, threatens me...the one thing I will not do is go back to not talking about my son.  He is MY SON, not some accident that happened four years ago that I'm going to push to the back of my mind and erase.  I did that for four f***ing years, and I won't waste another day not remembering that precious little life.

I'm sorry for rambling, swearing, getting mad, etc.  I just had to get it out.  Now there's another whole side to my pain.  Another thing to be angry about; another thing to "mourn", if you will.   I loved Nicholas in my memory as a lost boy who happened to handle our tragedy poorly.  Now, again, he's just the a**hole who tore my heart out and stomped on it.