Never Grow Up

It took me a while to figure out why this song makes me bawl my eyes out... I mean, it's Taylor Swift... It's so embarrassing how much I love her. I can't help it...

 


 Sad, tragic, nalstalgic, and beautiful... When I first heard it I was thinking of my two sweet babies. How is that so much time has passed? I'm still sad that Gwen's infancy is over, and here she is in elementary school. I've grieved over her milestones. I was happy but it was so sad. When she walked she didn't need me to carry her anymore. When she began talking she needed me to communicate for her less and less. She doesn't need me now to get dressed or brush her hair (most of the time), or get her seatbelt on. I am proud of her, but it's too fast!


 But I have realized that my grief goes beyond that for my own children. "Memorize what it sounded like when your Dad gets home. Remember the footsteps. Remember the words said and all your little brother's favorite songs. I just realized that everything I have is someday gonna be gone." The thing is... I haven't been ready to grow up. I have felt since that since I became an adult, I have still been a child. I'm trying so hard to make the right choices and be brave, but I keep waiting for someone to step in and make it all better. In my child's mind I don't understand why the people I love can't love eachother. I don't understand why people don't just get along. Why can't everything just be ok? It should be that simple. But it isn't. "I wish I'd never grown up."


 I've said lately that I am so tired of people telling me that I had a horrible childhood. My God am I sick of it. Don't anyone dare tell me what my childhood was like. I remember what it sounded like when my dad came home. I remember my parents in love. I remember what came later, but it didn't change how I view them. I loved them. I see the pain in both my parents. I see the pain in my siblings who have such varying stories. I see the pain in many other people and yet I see the beautiful hearts of those who I love.


 I cry because I want to give my kids what I didn't have. I want them to have their worlds connected. And yet this is the very thing that I can't give them. God knows I tried. I know that what I can give them is me. What I can give them is my very best. When Gwen is 29 and looking back, I want her to know that I loved her. I want her to see how I surrounded her with people who loved her and chose her. I had this. It made it better. Honestly it made it beautiful. It was broken, but beautiful. I want her to know how much I grieved and wept over what I couldn't fix. But I also want her to look at what I did with what I had and be proud of her family. I hope I do better than my parents as they did better than theirs. I hope they know how thankful I am for both of them and for all the people that they have  brought into my life that have said and lived the words "I love you".




 This is my favorite scene of my favorite movie... fitting I think

http://youtu.be/19GjQhKP_G4

  "You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone." "I still feel at home in my house." "You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place."

TRUTH

There is a truth. There is a right and there is a wrong. There is one way.


These are comfortable ideas. They make us feel safe in our cozy, boundary padded playpens. They give us a ruler to measure ourselves against, and what is even better, they allow us to have a ruler to measure everyone else.


 It feels good to create walls. It feels good to have labels and reasons and explanations for our truth. Our label becomes our identity. No longer does it become a search for truth, but a quest to fit our reality into whatever version of truth we have embraced. Square peg in round hole.


 This happens everwhere. It is true in almost every aspect of our lives. Most people have already decided what to believe. We are now looking for arguments to substanciate whatever belief system has made us feel comfortable.


 The worst of human nature has manifested itself through the protection of religion. It makes people feel shielded from the reality of their evil. It makes them feel safe in their predjudice. It makes them feel superior by way of others' inferiority. It is the reason for people opressing and murdering eachother throughout history. It is the reason for discrimination and division.
What makes us feel challenged and uncomfortable must be wrong. 


The Christian label. The Muslim label. The Democratic or Republican labels. They all think they are right. They all thing everyone else is wrong. No label encompasses truth. 


 Everyone in reality is stumbling around in this maze trying to make sense of tough issues; trying to find the truth in the mucky confusion. And whether we choose to admit it or not, none of us know for sure exactly what the hell is going on. We get on platforms and get passionate and fired up just to believe in something; just to feel alive. 


 But truth surpasses our puny playpens. It is there; but I don't believe it looks anything like we think it does.

running again...

someone emailed me yesterday asking for my advice regarding running her first half marathon. i was so honored/embarrassed because i feel like such a newbie myself. two year anniversary this month... yesss i did run my first half six short weeks after i started running... but that's just because i was running... running from every bad thing in my life falling down around me... one week before i laced my running shoes for the first time i had blood work done for my declining health. I was debilitated by my anxiety. My thyroid levels were out of control. I had anemia, loss of appetite, and couldn't sleep. I was winded by climbing my stairs. i was so very tired. so i ran... my first full marathon was 5 months later... i was running from my situation... and it took me there, to that day; June 6th 2010. the power i took back from that experience was life changing. if i could do that, then i could do anything. i could take care of myself and my kids and make a way for us.

it's such an emotionally connected thing for me. it's not the mileage, or the pace, or the actual day of the race. it's every day that took me there. every day that takes me there now. it's every hard choice that makes me a better runner. it's what i eat. it's what time i go to bed. it's that dark, cold, morning vs that cozy bed. it's running through the aches, and discomfort and realizing that i just made it up that hill for the first time without stopping. it's realizing that this was easier this time than it was before. it's realizing that i'm feeling better; getting faster. it's every choice along this road that makes me a better mother; a better friend; a better partner-student-sister-daughter... and a better runner...

so the SLO marathon is happening April 22nd. it's the first one San Luis has ever had. do it. do the half. do the 5k. do what you can. it's hard, but it will make you better. doing what's hard generally does.

also, watch "the spirit of the marathon" on netfix instant streaming because wow... it's great...

Random

Due to circumstances absolutely within my control there have been a few misunderstandings regarding my "atheist rant" in a previous blog. I would like to go on record that this blog absolutely in no way coorolated to my childhood, or Apple Creek, or my sweet mother. Any connection you may have seen was incorrect. It was written regarding very current issues in my life. For those that don't know what the hell I'm talking about it doesn't matter. I didn't celebrate Holloween or Christmas growing up but certainly had a great time on those holidays anyway, and completely respect people that choose to abstain from participating in them. I have no judgement for people's choices regarding the matter and would appreciate the same spirit of acceptance from others.

my guy

it would have been so much easier for you to let me go... and you didn't... and i'm thankful... thanks for sticking through all this time... i love you... looking forward to whats next...

wanting to be an atheist

it's annoying that christians make an issue about halloween, but i don't really wanna write about halloween. it's also annoying that christians think christmas is about jesus and his birthday, but i don't want to talk about christmas either.

christians make specific issues their poster children for feeling better about being horrible. now i realized that everyone has horribleness, but the deceit and hypocrisy that is used to cover it is what gets to me. it's awful.

most of the horrible things that people have done to each other throughout history have been done in the name of religion. the bad things that people have and continue to do to me are done in the name of jesus. i personally think jesus would hate that. i personally think jesus would dress up like a vampire and celebrate halloween. however whether he would or wouldn't isn't the issue. christians and their perspectives about halloween are minute compared to their fucked up marriages, horrible parenting, mis-money management, sexual addictions, and every other issue they have. now i'm not saying that other people don't have these issues as well, but christians (along with other people of different religions), cover and hide them. Christians pretend not to have these problems because they have jesus, or christianity, or whatever religion has made them better. No one wants to admit that they are just as fucked up as the next guy.

yes, i'll be abusive to children, i'll drink too much, i'll falsely destroy the reputation of others, i'll hurt the people who have loved me, i will lie to get ahead, i will endanger others, but i WILL NOT put on a costume and say "trick or treat". it's stupid.

how about we be good people. how about we treat others well. let's believe in beauty. let's protect each other. let's protect ourselves. let's defer and sacrifice and hold ourselves to a standard of love. how about we not set up artificial rules for everyone to follow based on our own definitions of truth. believe what you will. believe it with your whole heart. do right by yourself with what you believe. do right by your children and the ones you love. but don't tell me what to believe. don't tell my children what to believe.

don't hold me to a christian standard. i don't want to be a christian. i'm not proud of us... them... i want so bad to be an atheist but why would i choose to deny belief in god when he really has nothing to do with it? i believe in him. i don't believe in them. i really don't know and neither do you.

Divorced today

in the spring of 2010 he left me several times. one of those times, in a rage he threw and broke this little statue that a dear friend gave us for our wedding. gwen wasn't there but at 3 years old she knew something was wrong in the home. she would ask every morning where daddy was and i distinctly remember the first morning she didn't ask me. she learned not to ask at the age of 3. as soon as he broke the little statuette i hid it so she wouldn't find it. well she found it anyway and when she saw it, she knew. she had always loved it and more than that, i think she loved the security that it represented to her. and it was broken. she was sobbing crying and i was crying as well, trying to hold myself together promising her that i would fix it. i tried to fix it. for several more months i tried to fix it and i couldn't.

there are many versions of our story that my children will hear... there is only one true story and i'm not saying i am the one that has it... but i know he doesn't...

so today was the day... i've both wished for and dreaded this day... as i sat there in front of the judge, my lawyer, his lawyer, his mother, and a bunch of strangers, i felt like i was watching myself... i felt like i was teetering between the weight and regret of these last eight years...

once again he showed his character... he was like a rabid dog... lying, refusing to listen, refusing to reason... angry angry angry... which was strange because we had come to an agreement on Thursday. but that didn't matter... it all was out the window... at the last minute he called off his tantrum and demands and gave in... perhaps he realized if the judge saw all he has done, he would lose what he has and more... maybe his lawyer talked him into it... maybe his mom... i don't know... bottom line is i got what my very last offer was and it's not great, but it's ok...

it was the perfect day to get divorced. all the reasons i cannot be married to him were right there in front of me... the judge ask... "Are you Elissa Rachael Parrish? Were you married on July 16th 2005? Do you have two children by the names of Gwendolyn and Gabriel as a result of this marriage? Do you wish for this marriage on this day October 24th to be nullified siting irreconcilable differences, claiming that there is no hope for reconciliation?" "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes." ...(Pause)... And Elissa...... would you like your name back?" I was barely able to speak. The weight of the questions. The weight of the yes'. And out of my mouth came my last yes. "I want my name back". And that was it. I was divorced.

I walked out. Past all the people. Past him. Past the lawyers. Into the elevator. Down the street, into my car and then of course i cried. i cried because i married him in the first place. i cried because it is over. i cried because i felt like i wasted my young innocence on him. all those years and now all this cynicism. i cried because he is the father of my children and i can never truly get away from him. eight years i had been tied to this man and now i am not married to him. i am not responsible for him. i am not to protect him. i am my own now. the relief i feel almost feels like a weight. it is heavy, but sweet.

i will remember every detail of this day for the rest of my life. i'll remember that my feet were cold all day because i stupidly wore sandles. i'll remember that he wore the striped blue button up shirt. he has been wearing some version of that shirt since we started dating. i'll remember that the day was foggy and misty just like i like it. i'll remember that musty smell in the courtroom and the tension that suffocates everyone there. i'll remember it as the day i was free from him. i am not without my battle wounds and regrets. hell, i'm full of regrets... i am so sorry that this will be my kids' story. i hope someday they will understand. i hope their lives will be full and rich. i hope i can do whatever it takes to add to their lives what this mess has taken out of it.