There are times when I wish I could just turn off the brain.  Especially when I’m sleeping.  Dreams.  Why do we even have them?  Why must I continually be plagued by nightmares and hidden terrors?  Why?  I wake up, typically will sit straight up in bed, in fear.  No, fear isn’t quite right.  Terror is probably a bit closer.  It takes me a minute to realize that my dreams were in fact, just dreams.  That I’m awake and life has returned, somewhat, to normal.  I try and shut out what I’ve just seen or visualized.  Sometimes I wake up and cry.  Sometimes I wake up and am just angry that once again I’ve been robbed of precious sleep.  The very LAST thing that I’ll want to do after I’ve had a nightmare is go back to sleep.  Sometimes I’ll be so tired, that I’ll fall back to sleep.  Sometimes I’ll get lucky and not dream again.  Other times, I’ll find myself in a perpetual loop of falling in and out of the same dream.

Last night was one of those nights.  I think it was probably 6am that I decided I’d had enough.  Got up.  Wandered to find coffee and do a little people watching.  I want to go back to bed.  I want to get a few more hours of sleep, since I’m not on kid duty right now.  I checked into a hotel yesterday.  Decided I needed a day away from everything and everyone.  Its been lovely.  Ordered room service, watched bad TV, snuck downstairs last night at around midnight and watched all the silly drunk people hooting and hollering as they hopped between bars near the hotel.  It was definitely a much needed break.  But here I sit, early in the morning, unable to take advantage of the amazingly comfortable bed they have in this suite, typing to you all.

When will it stop? How do you make your brain realize that it’s not doing anything but torturing you with memories?  What I find interesting, I wake up with one of two words on the brain.  “Stop!” or “Ben!”.  Not hard to figure out what I’ve been dreaming about.  The same thing echoes in my head all morning after a dream, until I’m actually capable of either distracting myself thoroughly or just drowing it out with something else. It’s either the words my father told me after he died, or worse, the words the ex said to me after he passed.

“Why didn’t you save him?”

“Why didn’t you catch the doctor’s mistakes? I thought you were smart!?”

“You murdered our son by NOT catching their mistakes”

“It’s all your fault”

“It’s YOUR genes that caused this”

“How could you do this to our family?”

“You’re a disgrace”

It’s not of course.  I know this.  The rational side of me recognizes that those words were designed to cut me.  Designed to cause tremendous pain because the people who flung them at me were in so much pain and couldn’t take it.  They did what they know to do – lash out and spread that pain to others.  Perhaps in the hopes that the pain would dissipate or lesson for themselves.  I’m betting it didn’t work.  I’m betting that the pain they felt didn’t lesson at all.  Mine certainly didn’t, it magnified.


I find myself lost in thought today.  Memories.  I try very hard to focus on the good ones.  Live in the moment.  Not in the past.  But it’s early mornings like these, that I get a little lost in remembering.  And it’s not all about Ben either.  My dreams last night, while many of them centered around my little angel of a little man, also gave me flashbacks of the last year or so.  My trips to San Francisco, Australia, Hawaii.  The things I’ve accomplished in the last 12 months.  The things I have yet to accomplish that I’ve put off.  The things that have yet to come.  I hope that over the course of time, the pain of some of my memories lessons even more.  Hell – I hope that overtime, I can stop having nightmares, and start having more happy dreams.  Or just no dreams!  Do they have a treatment for that?  Is there some kind of magic pill a doctor can give you that will ensure that you will have no dreams?  Although I think maybe that’d be cheating.  I think you dream these things because internally you’re working through something.  And it surfaces in your dreams where you can’t hide, but you also really can’t be hurt by it.  So maybe, in the long run, it’s better for me to have them.  To remember.  To feel.  It’s better than numbing yourself, or sticking your head in the sand.

Perhaps in another life, I’ll be an ostrich.


Pain, depression, madness…It throbs and pulses beneath the surface.  Sharp and stabbing.  A single bump or brush against something would make my walls crumble and crash, revealing bright red slashes of vibrant pain echoing underneath.  There are no more tears.

I am, by nature, not a crier.  I used to be.  But when you’ve seen enough pain, enough sadness, been tortured by a never ending cycle of hellish nightmares, you learn that crying only accomplishes one thing…it gives me a headache and makes my makeup run – which in turn, reveals to everyone around me how weak I am at that moment.  Hence, crying and I don’t get along much.  Last night, I cried myself to sleep.  For many reasons.  Too many to even figure out at this point.  Perhaps I was just feeling sorry for myself.  Perhaps it’s just grief revealing itself to me, as lord knows, I haven’t taken much time to do that.  Not sure.

Today is a new day.  Going to smile.  Even if I don’t feel like it.  Going to focus.  Even if I don’t want to.  Going to figure this out.  Work through it.  I can.  At least I think.  I need a hug.  I need someone to care.  Someone to show me that I’m important to them.  Not because i’m there for them, but because they just want ME.  That’s weakness talking of course.  That’s me not knowing how to comfort myself – so I’m clinging to the idea that someone can come in and magically make me feel better.  That’s immaturity showing.  I’m not going to reach out today.  I’m going to stay inside my little world and figure this shit out.  Even if I fear it’ll get the better of me.  Here’s to hope.

Can’t sleep


It’s late.  I should be in bed.  But instead I’m writing here.  Worry.  It’s an interesting thing.  Is it even a thing?  What is worry?  Why do we put ourselves in a position to do it?  I have a few worries on the brain tonight.  Just little ones, nagging away.  I thought maybe if I let them out here, they’ll go to sleep so that I can get a little rest myself. 

My son.  He’s almost 3.  He’s … amazing.  So handsome.  So happy.  But I work.  I date occasionally.  I travel occasionally.  I go out and see friends or stay a little late with a coworker.  All that time away.  Then the weekends he spends with this dad.  More time away.  I’m jealous of the people who get more time with him.  He’s my miracle.  And I spend so much time away from him.  Does that make me a bad mom?  Am I neglecting my kids when I’m working or trying to figure out life?  Here’s a confession.  I’m struggling to get him to bed at night.  He doesn’t want me to leave the room.  He’ll let Chris put him to bed with no fuss.  Me?  It takes me easily an hour.  I hate the struggle every night.  I hate the tears.  I treasure every moment I do have.  We dance, and sing, and cuddle and read.  We pretend to be dinosaurs and stomp round the house.  We eat dinner every night.  He runs to me when I come home with lots of Mommy!’s and kisses and hugs.  But is it enough?  Maybe everyone questions this about themselves? 

I look at Alayna, my daughter, and see a little girl who’s not so little anymore.  She’s 11 going on 20.  The more she blossoms, the more proud I am of the young woman I see her becoming.  She’s clumsy still, shy, doesn’t know what she is yet, but I can see it.. she has spirit and heart and depth.  It’s like my roses.  There’s always many beautiful blooms, but sometimes you’ll see a bud that hasn’t blossomed yet, and you know that it’s going to be the most beautiful of all, it just hasn’t opened yet.  She told me recently that she’s an observer of people.  Her words, not mine.  I was a bit dumbfounded actually.  I’ve always felt that way about myself.  Odd, here’s another confession…that would be the exact definition of me.  But i’ve NEVER thought to word it that way or even to put it to words. 

I am fascinated by people.  It’s why I started my degree in psychology.  I loved it, thrived on understanding why and how people think and act the way they do.  Who are they behind all their masks?  What’s deep down inside?  What I didn’t like about psychology was that it always had a tendency to delve into the dark, or pain side of things.  I also wanted to understand the bright lights of the world.  The successful, the creative, the various different people of the world from all their cultures.  Who were they inside?  What made them who they are?  What drives them or motivates them?  I suppose that’s why I’m good at my job.  I get paid to get inside a group of people’s pyschy’s, figure out what they want and work to make it happen.  But I do it everywhere in life.  Anyone who I let into my circle can tell you that I will get to know them on a personal level.  People share with me.  I don’t know why.  I don’t know if it’s something that I do or say.  It doesn’t typically take long for people to open up with me.  I love it, truly connecting with people.  I’ve met some truly amazing people.  some crazy and twisted characters, some diamonds in the rough, some amazingly bright lights and more.  I cherish them all for who they are, at their core.  And I can say, not many people are willing to let you in to see that side of themselves.  But I worry that maybe there’s something wrong with me? 

I was talking to my grandfather about how sometimes I feel like I climb inside someone’s head or heart and learn all I can.  And he got a little upset with me.  Ok so it’s not the best analogy.  But still.  He said “Jenny, you just can’t do that to people.  They can’t handle it.”  I didn’t fully understand, but I dropped it.  It wasn’t the time for that type of conversation.  We as humans, don’t want to feel alone.  Instinctively even, we group, even if only for mate purposes (hehe).  When we put on masks, and we put up walls to guard ourselves, people don’t get to know the full “you”.  Why wouldn’t you want to share that with someone; To connect with someone on a deeper level?  Maybe it is too much.  It’s not that I do it with EVERYONE.  Only the select few who make it into my circle of friends… or relationships… or people who fascinate me lol. Am I in the wrong?  Should I only stay in shallow waters and not connect with others at deeper levels?  That sounds so unsatisfying and empty.

What if I connect with people because I long for someone to connect with me?  For someone to see past my masks and tear down my walls slowly so it’s not painful, and get to know me.  Not because they want anything other than just to be around me.  I’ve met a couple of people in my life who’ve been able to read me.  It’s rare.  I’ve got a good “firewall”.  hehe – sorry, what can I say, I’m a bit of a geek.  Every now and then, it’ll crack and an emotion I don’t mean to share will show.  Whatever it may be.  Could be anger, sadness, surprise, love, worry …. whatever.  Heck, being kind of stressed over surprise garnishments had me in such a spin I cried at work today. All it took was a “Are you OK?” from the person.  She reads me well, always has and is a friend outside of work, so it was OK, but STILL.  I see crying as a weakness, and I do my best to not show weakness.  This of course doesn’t mean I don’t share my emotions, believe me I do.  I am actually quite full of them.  I think that’s why I try and suppress them a bit.  I worry that I’m overly emotional.  And quite frankly, I’ve never wanted to be one of THOSE women.  And thankfully, I achieve that goal most of the time.  But where is the balance?  Would love to know what you all think about any of this. 🙂

I know I’m getting tired, so I suppose I’ll end this ramble and hit post before I rethink it.  Goodnight all.  Sleep well.

New Jobs, Raw Thoughts, Boys, and Airplanes

It’s been a while.  I get itchy when I don’t write.  It all builds in my head, everything I want to say, everything I want to just let out; and when I don’t find that release, I get antsy until I find it.  My reasons for not writing in the last week are many, so grab a drink, a blankie if you have one handy and curl up while I tell you all about it.

I started my new job on Monday.  So far, it’s been fantastic.  And mind numbing – but in a good way.  The work I do is complicated and takes a lot of brain power.  The first few weeks on a job or on a project are usually filled with me trying to learn absolutely everything I can about a system or process or product in the shortest time I possibly can manage.  It is in these moments that an odd side of me is revealed to those at home.  I put everything I have into mastering knowledge for work, so that by the time I get home, my brain is absolute mush.  I become the basket case who will walk into a room 3 times because I can’t remember what I went in there for the first time.  Or I’ll walk around asking everyone in the house if they’ve seen my glasses – only to discover they are on my face.  It’s an interesting contrast to who I am work.  Constantly on the ball, constantly the one with the solution, the motivator, the realist.  At home – after I’ve spent all my energy at work – not sure I could even tell you my own name. 🙂


I’ve had an interesting few weeks.  Both professionally and personally.  New years was fun, had a quick trip to Illinois to visit a friend and had a blast.  Although let me just say, airplanes and any delays associated with weather absolutely suck beyond all sucking capacities.  United – I will NEVER fly with you again.  Alaska Airlines has always been my company of choice and now I know why.  I had this amazing experience at the airport tho on the way down there.  Our flight was delayed 6 hours.  There weren’t a lot of seats at the gate in Chicago.  I was sitting comfortably when I noticed an older woman who’d been wheeled up in a wheel chair.  They dropped her off at the gate and took off with the wheelchair.  I offered her my seat and found a place to sit on the floor.  She looked so surprised that i’d offered my chair.  Her name was Betty.  She was 86 years old and had just ended a visit with her daughter to see her grandchildren.  I sat and messed with my phone and tablet to kill the time.  Helped a couple of people with their phones and ipads – the techie in me is always available to help others apparently. 🙂  After a few hours, the gate changed.  It was going to be a hike to get to the new gate.  I told Betty that I would help her and grabbed her bags and walked a slow pace with her to the new gate.  We found seats and continued to wait.  It was getting late, way past the time for a normal dinner.  I looked over at Betty and asked her if she would be so kind to accompany me to dinner next to the gate.  Again, surprise showed on her face.  She leaned in and said “You tell your momma, she raised you right!” And she and I went and found a sandwich shop.  I insisted on paying for her sandwich and a cup of tea, and in return she showed me pictures of her grandchildren.  A little later, she ended up rescuing me from a sleezy creep at the gate who thought my eyes were on my chest.  “This one is FAR too good for the likes of YOU – sir – move along!” Oh the laughter that escaped me as I watched this little frail old woman put a 6’2″ young man in his place.  There were lots of interesting people waiting for the plane that night.  We all talked and laughed and complained about the lack of communication from the airlines.  A very pregnant woman was also at the gate.  She had a 2 year old with her and we all helped keep her entertained while we waited at the gate.  She ended up sitting next to me on the plane and we talked the whole flight.  She shared that her husband lived in Palestine and I asked tons of questions about their culture and why they cover their hair. She was absolutely a joy to sit and talk to.  Was due any day.  I begged her to keep that little one in her belly until after we landed in our final destination.  It would be just my luck to have her go into labor on the plane.  🙂 Thankfully, that didn’t happen.  She was exhausted tho, so I played with her daughter until she fell asleep in my lap.  Then we landed, I took her bags without even asking and helped her get everything off the plane.  When I landed, I walked over to baggage claim and before I could leave .. I heard “Wait Jen!” Turned around and got hugs.  Betty and her family hugged me, along with the lovely pregnant woman.  We all wished each other a lovely evening and off I went.  I did manage to sneak a picture of Betty before I left. .. for the memory books. 🙂

I heard from my friend.  Finally.  After sending 23 emails and who knows how many texts, with no response.  I finally heard back.  Apparently it’s all my fault, that we never talk.  Funny, there have been a few people in my life (my father being the biggest one) who have done that to me over the course of my life.  Communication is always one sided with these people – and any lack of communication on their side is never their responsibility or their fault, somehow, in their twisted minds, it’s mine.  Well thankfully, for once in my life, I was feeling strong, and courageous – hell even feisty and I gave him a piece of my mind.  What did this person do?  He panicked and put his MOTHER on the phone!  OH MY GOD!  Funny, in October – the thing that woke me up and made me question whether I wanted him in my life was the fact that I saw a huge weakness.  He wasn’t a man.  He was a little boy.  Not only a little boy – but a momma’s boy.  And now – 3 months later – it STILL rings true.  I must have listened to this woman lecture me for about 40 minutes.  I ended the call as best as I could.  I was fuming mad.  They laid a guilt trip on me for why they’ve been busy.  Ok – I get it – you’ve been to hell and back.  But I cannot be made to feel guilty that I wasn’t there as support if I didn’t know what was going on!  The next morning, I woke up to a novel in my email – not from him, but again, from his MOTHER!  DAMN!  There is no pain, no hurt – at least on my end.  Not any more.  I know – without a shadow of a doubt that I don’t want or need another little boy in my life.  I want and need a man.  Not a needy, clingy, over emotional, kid.  And that’s what I saw in him. It’s been a valuable lesson to me.  I need to be around people who I can respect.  Sure we all have our weak moments.  Lord knows I certainly do, and can excuse and look past them. … even love someone more for them… but there’s a line drawn there.  I don’t want to be stronger than my man, especially when I look at myself as being weak.

Strength and weakness.  My bro said something to me over the holidays that I can’t get out of my head.  I don’t think he meant it as an insult, but I’ll admit I took it as one.  He said “I used to think you were so strong.  You could take on the world, and anything in it.  But now that I’ve been living with you this year, I see that you’re not.  In fact, you’re weak in some areas.”  GEE.. really???  I am human afterall.  lol.  I am so strong – in so many areas of my life.  And I’m damn good at hiding my weaknesses behind walls and masks.  Sometimes tho, I get sick of always being strong.  I get sick of always helping others.  I get sick of always being the responsible one.  Sometimes, I want to just run and hide or just be young and stupid.  Ok, maybe not stupid, but to feel like it’s ok to DO something stupid once in a while.  To be allowed to fuck up.  That would certainly be a change.

Well – off to get going on my work for the day – but I wanted to wish you all a happy Friday.

A new found weakness

Words.  Communication.  Human interaction.  Relationships.  These are things I think about.  For work, to navigate my way as a parent.  Even as a woman.  I crave these things.  I explore and study these things.  I seek to improve these things.  It is through these things that I find solace and comfort, where I find happiness and truth and passion, and where I’ve also found pain and vulnerability and loss.

I never read the book about 5 love languages.  I skimmed it when a friend loaned it to me, and I’ve had enough people talk to me about it that I feel I understand the basic premise.  And overall, I think it’s pretty interesting.  I believe I need a combination of 2, maybe 3 of the love languages in order to feel satisfied.  But here comes my question.  Does a person’s love language also become their weakness?  I know that words are something that speaks to me, that regular communication at a deeper, more personal level will spur me to form a deeper level of attachment to someone.  To me it seems that getting to know someone is wrought with mine fields in this area.  Especially in today’s day and age where technology leads us to do so much communication via writing.  Part of me says, then you avoid it.  At least at first.  That way, the attachment forms slowly.  But then you also run the risk of never having that form of love language in your life later down the road.  My ex’s never read books or wrote to me.  They just weren’t wired that way.  I know now that I am, but if I find someone who is wired to speak my languages – how do I protect myself from falling too fast when they use their words on me?  How do I protect myself from being manipulated or hurt by someone who figures out that words mean so much?

To me, it seems a love language, while good, can also be a weak point.  That when exploited, could lead to disastrous results.

Definitely curious to other’s thoughts on this.  Thanks for reading my ramble. 🙂