I'm A Child of God

It's been a rough week. It's only Wednesday. It's been a rough month. It's only October 6th. But it's been rough. Dealing with deaths. People that I love so much, who were taken way too early in their lives. There's been financial stress. Family problems plague me daily. There are men that love me more than life itself. But I can't find a way to let them love me. Or a way to love them back. And it's me, trying to make it through the day.

Sometimes when I just want to give up so badly, God sends me some little message. A beautiful Goddaughter who is fighting for her life. A precious little girl who just wants a hug from her Nana. A friend that needs me to listen to them. Because he misses his wife and child that he'll never get to meet. Another friend who is trying to keep it together for her kids. And my best friend who just needs me to listen to her woes.

When I'm feeling really down, God has a way of getting the message to me. Be it an amazing lightening and rainstorm. Or the perfect phone call. I know that I'm loved. I know at the end of the day, I have friends who would risk their lives for me. That's how much they love me. The way family should love you. The kind of love that I feel is missing from my life.

God is amazing. He's awesome! I know that I talk down to myself. I'm sincerely hard on myself. I expect myself to never stumble, let alone fall. I don't take "No" for an answer. I work myself until I can't go anymore. I take on too many people's problems. And I want to fix them all. But I'm human. I'm one person. And even I can only do so much.

"But to all who have received him, those who believe in his name, he has given the right to become God’s children." ~John 1:12

I'm a Child of God. A God that loves me. He never falters, never fails. He accepts and loves me just the way I am. He loves me completely and without judging. Even with my faults. My God loves me, because I'm me. The only one out there that is like me. I'm strong to a fault. And when I hurt, it goes right to my core. My God loves me because of all these things. I'm unique. Created by him, and him alone. I'm a Child of His.

As I type this, I'm crying. The tears are overwhelming me. Because I know this to be the truth. My God will always love me. No matter what happens in my life. I can always turn to him. He sends me beautiful things, like flowers, and rainbows. He also sends me so much love. And sometimes, there is pain to work through. No one is perfect. And My God knows that. He still loves me. He knows the burdens I carry with me. And he loves me.

"Success consists of getting up, just one more time than you fall." ~Oliver Goldsmith

No matter how many times I fall, I know my God will love me. He's proven it time and time again. Jesus gave his life for you and me. For our sins and our failures. No matter what, they are here for us. In our darkest days, we're never alone. I know this. I know this personally.

I've been sent amazing people in my life. People who have filled HUGE voids in my life. Who have shaped the woman that I am today. People like Patrick. They never ask for anything at all. But they're always there to catch you when you fall. Amazing little girls like Sarita, who just want to love you. There is a God. I know this. And I'm his Child!

It's been a tough few months. Months that I've questioned certain things in my life. But never have I had to question my faith and religion. But it's been a tough time in my life. Time when I've been unsure of what is coming. But I know I always have my God to turn to. I'm going to live a better life. For him. My obstacles in the road, they're not a "Road Block." Instead, I see them as a "Detour." I will always get up one more time than I fall. Because my God has made it possible.

I woke up this morning. It was so quiet. The air was crisp and clean. A new beginning. As if the rain has washed away all the hurt, pain, and misery. I look at today as a new beginning. I might have to change my "Life Path" a bit. Make some adjustments for what's coming next. But as long as I keep My God close, I will make it out of this darkness.



There is a God. And he loves me. I'm a Child of God. When the world becomes to heavy, he carries me along. Until I'm strong enough to do his work. I believe. My God makes all things possible! ♥

Crossing a Line

I know that I probably went too far with my Dad today. I know it. But I'm suffocating in my own body. Just trying to make it through the day. Literally, I feel like someone is trying to kill me from inside my body. And today, the fight with my Dad, was the last thing I needed.

Did I cross a line? I think I might have. But this is me. Carrying all of this. Not just what is happening right now, in the here and now. But the stuff from my past. The stuff that I'm working through in my counseling and therapy. This stuff, it would KILL my Dad if he knew. My parents wouldn't be able to deal with these facts. So I don't tell them. I carry them. And the only person that I really ever talked to about it, well he's in heaven now. Patrick left this world with my secrets. The things that weigh so heavily on my life, heart, and soul.

I did tell my Dad that I wished I'd die. Die right there. Because maybe then, I wouldn't be such a burden for him. Did I tell him I wished a semi truck would hit me on the road? Yes. And it was also me that said, maybe some weirdo will kill me in the night, in my hotel room. I said these things. Because it seems like I'm a burden to people. To the people I love. That I only bring misery and stress.

If I died today, no one would have to pay anything. I decided a while back, I would donate my body to science. That way someone would learn something. And my family wouldn't have to worry about the expense of my death. It's all in my Will. Just a way for me to deal with it. I have no bills, beyond school. So it wouldn't be a financial burden. The only kind that really bothers my Dad.

My brother hates the fact that I go to my parents' house. The other day, he told me why do I have to come so often. Why am I there? Literally, I sleep the night, and I'm gone in the morning, to the next town to work! But it bothers him. In his words, "I ruin his entire week!" What would Dad have to say about that?

I know it bugs my Dad that I haven't graduated. But again, I'm trying. I work hard. I get good grades. But financially, I can't keep up. So I'm a burden, a failure, and just a bundle of stress to him.

So I told my Dad, that I wished God would just take me. Take me anyway that he needed to. Be it in a car accident, a murder, a massive heart attack, in my sleep, a shooting...whatever means necessary. Because I feel like then, I wouldn't have such a negative effect on people's lives. You know what I mean?

Tonight, Dr. B told me just what she thinks of me. In the middle of a meeting with my professors, who I'm supposed to be teaching with this week, she told me I'm nothing but a failure. I'm never going to make it. I'm just causing her stress, and she doesn't need me on her team for the week. There you go.

I disappoint everyone. My professors, my supervisors, my parents, my family, my friends, the people I work with, and Dean C. But I'm only one person. Trying to do it all. Maybe if I died, it would improve the life of others. It's not that I want to die. But it seems the only way to make people happy.

A penny for my thoughts? Maybe then, people would listen to me. Really hear what I'm saying. See that I'm not as strong as I appear. That I'm just human. Holding it together, the best way I know how to. No need for tears. Because I've had a pretty good life. No matter what tomorrow brings, I've done the best that I could. ♥

12

That's the number of times I've been proposed to. The honest proposals. The ones that count. Not the ones from fans, as we put on a show.

12. It seems like a HUGE number. There were 6 men. And I'm the "Forever Single Woman." How does this happen? How does a woman like me, get proposed to 12 times? And how am I still single?

Let's start with the conversation that my Mom and I had tonight. We were talking about life things. Things that are burdening my heart and soul. We were talking about life. And family. And out of the blue, she asked me, what I would do if someone proposed to me. When I told her that someone had, she about died. I just told her, I wasn't ready yet. That's all I said.

But the truth of the matter is this, 6 men have asked me, a total of 12 times. Will #13 be the lucky number? Will I continue to run? Do I have a problem to work through?

12 times you ask? What happened? Sanchoncito...he asked me to marry him 4 times! Oh, and I didn't count that time we ALMOST got married in Sin City...

Sanchoncito asked me to marry him, the first time, after he landed his first big job. Before he moved. I didn't want to hold him back. So I let him go. It broke my heart. But it was the right thing to do. He asked me again, right before my Uncle Al died. I remember it clearly. We had just finished a big concert. The 2 of us were sitting by the pool. He wanted nothing more than for me to become his wife. And to move to Florida to be with him. But life happened. The 3rd time was the night of Linda and Gabe's wedding. I think he was caught up in the "Magic" of the night. And the 4th time came right before he left for Mexico.

I loved him so much. Heck, I know that I still love him. But our lives have just never been at the same place, at the same time. It just never worked out. Although, I have to say, the rings have gotten better every time he's asked. ;)

Then there was J. He asked me 3 times. During the ups and downs of our friendship, I've always known that he's loved me. I just knew. From the moment that we met. And he's always been here for me. 3 times, he asked me to be his wife. He wants to take care of me. He wants to be the man that I love. He wants a family. And he wants nothing more than to love me, full heartily. Body and soul, he wants us to be one.

3 times, in that gorgeous Southern accent, he's asked me to be his wife, the mother of his children, his partner in life. 3 times, I stared into his gorgeous green eyes. Trying to come up with a reason to not marry him. And nothing came to mind. Not a thing! But it always ended the same. With me saying no. With me walking silently away, tears streaming down my cheeks, and me driving away. I didn't have a reason to NOT marry him. But I didn't know how to say yes either.

Twice my boss, "Daddy Warbucks" has asked me to marry him. Twice! The "Billionaire Extraordinaire" from my hometown, has asked me to be his bride. He told me that he loved me. He didn't know how or when it happened. Only that it had happened. Yes, he asked 2 times. At the top of his world. Overlooking the beautiful city, where he lives. Two times, I had to tell him, he was in love with the idea of being married. Not with the woman-child that was standing in front of him.

Once Albert asked me. I'm not sure what prompted it. I don't know where the feelings were coming from. Or if things had changed between us. But he asked. A beautiful antique ring in hand. He got down on one knee, and asked me to love him forever. I was stunned! I didn't know what to say. I made him stand up. And gently told him that we needed time to think about this. I honestly didn't know what to say.

Omar asked once too. I think he was just feeling lonely. At a time in my life, when I was also lonely. And it could have been so easy to have said yes. To have told him yes. But I thought better of my answer. I thought about the emotional state he was in. And I gently told him no. Because I know he is still not ready for that step in his life.

And once, a man completely took me by surprise. Mr. "Blue Eyes." I went out East to work. The band went to work. I had known my boss and friend for over 2 years at this point. We had become close friends. We talked a lot. We didn't see a lot of each other. Because we live a mere 1745 miles from one another.

But during our last trip, as a band, to the East, I was shocked. One night that we were there, everyone was asleep. Of course, I couldn't sleep. And I didn't want to wake up my best friend. Or anyone else in the house. So I went outside. I sat on the porch. And just looked out into the darkness. Mr. "Blue Eyes" was also awake. On the opposite side of the house. And when he heard his dog, he came to investigate.

Before I knew it, we were driving to another part of his property. In the middle of the night. In our PJs. We ended up at a beautiful clearing. So beautiful! The moon was shining just perfectly. And it was so incredibly quiet and peaceful. The 2 of us stood there looking around us. We were in the middle of nowhere. But it was perfect!

He started to tell me all these things. About how much he loved me. About how he could see us having a future together. How this was the spot that he wanted to build his "Forever Home" one day. The day that he found "The One," and they began their life together. This was the place were he wanted to build his future and his family. He pulled out the most incredibly ring I've ever seen in my life. Ever! Sparkling in the moonlight. He got down on one knee and asked me to be his "Forever."

I was honestly stunned. Without words. I didn't know what to do. Or what to say. We'd never dated. Yes, we'd spent time together. We had talked a lot. We had become amazing friends. But beyond that, I just didn't have anything to go on. I mean, how could I move across the country, for this man? Did he really love me? Did I love him? Could we spend our lives together?

I sank to my knees. So we could be face to face. I held his face in my hands. I said nothing. I just held his face. Our foreheads pressed against each others. The tears spilling from my eyes. I just knew, it wasn't right at this time. I never said a thing. I just stared into his eyes.

There you go. 6 amazing men. 12 incredible times. Me? I'm still single. Ridiculously, almost painfully, single. I'm not sure. How does this happen? Am I the problem in every situation? Why do men feel the need to ask me this incredible question? Out of these men, I've only ever dated one. Funny thing, Sanchoncito and I were never dating during the 4 proposals. Or the one "Almost Wedding."

Maybe I was meant to be "Forever Single." Or maybe I haven't met "The One." Maybe I just needed some time to "Find Myself." I'm finally feeling more "Complete and Whole." You know, as a person. Maybe this is what I needed. Some time to grow and become the woman I was meant to be. I just hope, that now, there is a man willing to ask me those four simple words. ♥

Holding True

There's this man. I loved him. I love him. I'm not really sure if it's past or present. But in my heart, it feels like it's still there.

I've never thought of love as being complete. You hear women say it all the time, I'm looking for the man that completes me. I'm not. I need to complete me. I'm looking for the man that compliments the woman that I am, that challenges me to grow, that will help me to be a better person. That's what I'm looking for.

This man, he's an amazing man. Talented, hardworking, loving, caring, and so funny! From the same home state as me. But he grew up north of where I did. We share the same religion, passion for music, and love of life. But our dreams and hopes for the future, lead the two of us, on two very different roads.

He recently started a blog. And I'm not sure what to think of it. I know how he feels. I know how I feel. But does that make something like this logical? I'm not sure...

Yesterday morning, I watched this video, read this tweet, and read this blog post. It just made me think, I need to stick to my guns. He has a lot to prove to me. A lot to apologize for. And he needs to work on gaining my trust again. I didn't do anything wrong. And I'm not compromising who I am, because he suddenly woke up.

It's crazy. He was the person I went to for everything! We'd hangout at school. He'd bring me a peanut butter sandwich between classes. I would have class from 6AM-10PM. We'd talk about life. Things we wanted. How many kids we wanted. What we'd name them. Where we'd live. The fact that I want to stay home with my kids. And he always felt like he needed to be able to support a family on his own.

When things were really bad, I went to him. There were many nights, that he helped me out. Just listening. Helping me to work through one of the worst things that could ever happen to a young girl. Something that I had buried deep down inside. Never told anyone. To this day, the only 2 people I've told, are him and my counselor. And as a young adult, it came bubbling to the surface. He helped me through it. Encouraged me to get help. And to work on putting it behind me.

He was also the one I ran to when I lost my uncle. I cried. I held on to him like he was the sole reason I was alive. He reassured me. Held me tight let me cry. And arranged for me to get home for the services. In mere hours, I was on a cross country flight home.

This man, held my hand before surgery. Before a surgery that I didn't tell my parents about until 4 or 5 years later! He was there. Took care of me. Literally helped me do everything I needed to do for weeks after. Besides my mom and grandma, I don't think anyone else has ever washed my dirty clothes. But he did. And bought me groceries. Tried to cook. Carried me to and from my house to his truck. Drove 90 minutes my doctor's appointments and back again. He was there for me.

He knows more about me than any other single person on this planet. Everything! My deepest and darkest secrets. The horrible stuff that I endured as a kid. The loneliness I felt growing up. My insecurities. All of my accomplishments. My likes. My dreams. What makes my blood boil over. How to get me to fall asleep. He knows it all.

I never felt safer, more loved, or more comfortable than I did around him. His hugs, they were like a warm blanket, that wrapped around my soul. He made me toes curl with a single grin. And my heart race every time he sang. No place felt more safe, than tightly wrapped in his arms. Listening to his heart beat.

He was the one. We joked many, many times about getting married. At 19, I almost did. In "Sin City." We were working a gig. And as poor as they get. We had just realized, we could get some help with our tuition, if we got married. It would cost less than $100. We seriously considered it. But ended our night with a mini wedding cake instead. When he got the big job in Florida, he asked me to marry him again. For real this time. Ginormous diamond ring included. Down on one knee. Tears in his eyes. Arms held out. Because he loved me. And he wanted us to have a life together...

We talked about. About marriage, life, work, careers, moves, homes, and babies. But I knew he needed to chase after his dreams. He wanted to be a musician. And he had every right to do it. He worked hard for this job. I didn't want him to give it up for me. To one day regret not taking the job. And blaming it one me. I knew he had to go. And I knew that I needed to stay here. To work. To go to school. To accomplish all those things my parents wanted me to do.

So I stayed. He left. We tried to make it work. And it was going OK. Until he moved out of the country. And our lives really took different paths. Jealousy set in. Accusations started. The fighting began. The horrible fighting. I couldn't stand to hear his voice, much less see his face. Every single time we saw each other, it turned into WWIII. No lie!

And last summer, it was like the volcano erupted. Just everything the two of us had been holding in, came out. 6AM, in the middle of my front yard. I'd worked 4 days straight. Just drove into my driveway. And he had just gotten back from a tour. I knew in an instant, he had changed...

This wasn't the same man. He had hatred in his eyes. It was like his soul was empty. Missing something. The life, it wasn't shining through his eyes anymore. That, was the last time we talked. The very last time.

Because we have the same friends, work similar gigs, and well, have to see each other from time to time, we've become civil. Not that it's been easy. He did get punched out in a rehearsal. And was asked to leave. Not by me. But by our boss, and my friend. It was shocking. But real life. Slowly, we've begun to heal. We e-mail each other from time to time. But we haven't really talked.

A very close friend of ours, she wants us to talk. She sees both sides. She travels with him and her husband. She's one of my best friends. She really wants us to sit and talk about it. To work through this. We were the "Happy Little Couple." Everyone just expected that one day, we'd make it official. I'm not so sure anymore. But I would like my old friend back. Especially since, we still have to sing together. In less than a month, we're singing for a friend's wedding. Then a show 2 weeks after that.

But listening to the end of this video, reading this tweet, and reading Kandee's letter, it makes me think, I don't ever want to compromise my beliefs, values, and morals. I'm 27 years old. Successful. On my own. No man, and I mean NO MAN, owns me. I'm a person. Not a piece of property. And I deserve and expect to be treated with respect.

It's funny. So many men, they just want sex. That's it. Plain and simple. Being a female performer, I see this a lot. Guys think they're all that and a sack of potatoes. Throwing around cash. Acting like fools. Thinking that will get my attention. Funny how it doesn't. What you see on stage, that's a character. I get paid to be that person. When I leave the stage, I wash off the makeup, throw on a pair of sweats, and comb through my hair. The HUGE and oh so fancy hotel suites, well, I go back alone. To read, study for my classes, and to go to sleep. I'm really not that exciting.

He got that. He understood. I think he actually preferred me in sweats, no makeup, and my out of control hair. He never pressured me into anything. Just realized that I was me. And I had my own time table for things. Beliefs in life. For love.

The ring I wear on my left hand. It's more than a piece of jewelry. It means something to me. I don't care if I'm 27 or not. Or if people think I'm an "Old Maid." That doesn't matter to me. It's a ring I bought for myself. A promise I made to myself. Because one day, I'm going to find the right man for me. That loves, honors, and respects me, for the person I am. Maybe it will be him again. I don't know...

I guess, only time will tell. But I do know, I have to stay true to the woman that I am. I'm special. I'm the only person that is like me. No one else even comes close. Because God has made us all unique. Maybe I'm not right for this man. But there is someone out there. Someone that God made just for me. I just need to be patient. And I can never lose myself in other people. It hurts too much. And through these 3 very different women, I got the message. Loud and clear. I need to be true to me. Because in the end, it's just not worth it to lose yourself in a man. ♥

Miserable Day

It's sorta funny when I think about. The entire day was pretty bad. It started with me waking up at 2AM because of the shooting pain in my hands and arms. I couldn't sleep. They felt like cement. I couldn't move. And it hurt so bad. But what could I do? Nothing. I have no health insurance. I have no money. Welcome to America.

I spent the next 20 minutes trying to get out of bed. And another 15 minutes trying to open my front door. Where I sat in the silence of early morning. Praying to God. And hoping that the pain and fear would go away. I know something is wrong. This is not normal. I've worked in health care too long to let this fall at the wayside. And the feeling in my gut, that spoke louder than any other person could.

Sometime after 6AM, I called my Dad. I knew he would be up. He's always up early. Just to talk. Maybe talking about nothing at all, maybe that would take my mind off of things. No, it didn't help. The only thing I could get him to talk about was the donut he was eating. And sometime after 7AM, when my Mom woke up, I was still miserable. Add to all of this, the miserable cold I got from getting caught in the rain.

But my Mom and I had a good conversation. We talked about a lot of things. And she was in such a great mood. It helped to lighten my own mood. Not the same type of conversation that my Dad and I had early this morning. But I'm coming to realize, the only time he has any kind of a real conversation with me, is when they fight...

So I went on with my day. I managed to drive myself to the library. I needed to get on the computer for school related things. Never mind that I have a laptop at home. But I have no internet access. And I need a new power cord...

I got some stuff done. But I couldn't finish it in the 1 hour they give you. That's right. You get 1 hour, of computer time, at your local library. Not much I could get done with 2 numb hands. So I headed to work. In pain. I still couldn't feel my hands and arms. And it was becoming difficult to breathe. I Thanked God that J wasn't home. That's all I needed. Was to be lectured by him, because I was feeling so bad and needed to go to the hospital.

From 9:30AM-5:30PM I worked. I locked myself in my office, and I finished all the paperwork for the guys. They're leaving early in the morning. Headed to the next job. I started payroll. And I had a million and a half things to do. Let's not get started on the fact that I couldn't feel my hands. And I've been panicked about that ALL DAY LONG!

I missed my session. And I got the usual call to my cellphone. Which I ignored. Guaranteed Dr. D. was at my front door knocking away. But I had to get through work. And honestly, I was in no mood to deal with all my crap today. I had already called to cancel. Guaranteed, he didn't believe me. So I call my parents when I get home.

I should have known when they didn't answer, that something was up. Because I can always reach them between 5-7PM. ALWAYS! Because they're usually eating dinner, or just finishing dinner, or having dessert. They're like that. On a schedule. But nothing. Not after the 3rd time I called on Dad's cellphone. Not on Mom's phone. Not another 5 times on Dad's. I knew something was up...

Oh ya, the crap really hit the fan tonight. I don't know what started it. Nor do I care. But honestly, I swear to God. If my husband ever told me the things my Dad has, I'd beat the man senseless. I'm not trying to be mean here. But there are certain things, that you should never hear about your parents. EVER! I don't care how mad the other is.

But that is what happened when my Dad called me at almost 6:30PM. I don't know how to put it. But it's time. It's time for them to walk away. There's nothing left there. No respect, no trust, and I'm doubting any love...

It saddens me. But if it will bring peace of mind to the 3 of us, it's time. It really is time. How many times can my Dad imagine things happening? How many times can he put HIS kids in front of my Mom? Hell, he tries to do that with me. I just don't let him. How many truly hurtful things can they say to each other?

That right there, that is the sole reason I run from relationships. I know it. No one has to tell me. I know this. For 27 years, I've heard the same fights. Seen the same things happen. And I usually sweep in, and fix things. But you know what? My own life is going up in flames. And I can't be there to fix them. I'm trying to save myself.

I happened to mention my brother. Oh, that really pissed my Dad off. But how many times can I tell him, he is a big part, of the current problems. How can a man, that is older than my Mom, live with them? Does my Dad really think it was going to be OK? My brother doesn't respect my Mom or me. That's why I've avoided going home. Yes, I used to go home a lot more often. For a week or 2 in the summer. But how can I now? Oh ya, in front of my Dad he acts like this saint of a son and brother. But he's not!

And the neighbors, my Dad doesn't want to know the real reasons why they won't talk to them. The neighbor across the street approached me about my brother. What was I supposed to do? Lie? I just didn't say anything. They showed me the papers they got. But whatever. "We're" not supposed to talk about it.

There are so many things going on. And when I mentioned to my Dad that perhaps my parents should see a counselor. Or maybe each of them talk to a friend. Forget it. He didn't like it. But how in the world, does he think, it's OK to throw all of this crap on top of me? I see a counselor and a psychologist. Just trying to deal with this. All of it! I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Sometimes, we just have to admit what's wrong. It's the only way we're ever going to fix it.

Can I tell you something? I've had a horrible day today. Just plain out horrible. I've never in my life had this kind of pain. Not even after my surgery. Never. Ever. And I've never struggled to breathe this much in my entire life! But I can't afford to go to the doctor. I don't even want to think about what it would cost to go to the ER. And I've never, ever in my life, felt like I've needed to go more that I do today.

And on top of that, I was supposed to go talk to Dr. S. tonight. There is no way I'm going now. I'm late. Seriously late. After my Dad and I got off the phone, I was way too emotional. And already 45 minutes late! Dr. S. was probably planning to just yell at me anyone. Because no one can understand that I seriously can't afford school anymore. I'm broke. And my job is just not cutting it anymore...

Do you know that my life is in absolute ruins at the moment? I feel like I'm in free fall. And nobody, not a single soul, could give a damn! That's my life. I can rely more on my friends than I can on my family. It's just fact. They're so wrapped up, in drama that they create for themselves, that I'm left flapping in the wind. It's always been this way!

And then my Dad has the nerve to tell me that he wishes he would just die. He wants to die right now. Are you freaking serious? He absolutely has no clue. None whatsoever. And here I am. His daughter. His youngest daughter. Over 3 hours away, I can't feel my 2 appendages, I'm struggling to breathe, and you tell me this. How on earth do you think, that is not going to bother me?

I swear to God, I can't win for trying. Not in anything in life. Not in trying to talk to my Dad. Not in music. Because he didn't want me to have a career in it. Never mind that I made more money playing birthday parties, than I ever did at the hospital. I enjoyed it. And I was at least able to afford school and food at the same time. It never mattered to anyone that I nearly killed myself trying to work and go to school. That at one point, I was malnourished. Because I was trying to pay for school. And I honestly couldn't afford food.

Never mind that I've had to walk away from the only thing that was keeping me afloat...my internship. Even with all the violence I had to endure, being held at gunpoint and all, that was all I had. An internship where I felt useful and productive. I'm scrapping what little money I have, just to pay for tuition. I know I'm going to have to do without books. I picked up an application for the National Guard yesterday. That's how desperate I am.

But nothing matters. It doesn't matter that I've been on the Dean's List since I started college. Or that I have a 4.0 GPA. None of that matters. Because people are too wrapped up in their own lives. All my Dad can ever see is, this child that is his daughter. And why in hell can't I graduate already. I feel like a failure in his eyes. I always have. No matter how hard I try.

My brother is so freaking paranoid that I'm going to walk away with everything, that he had the nerve to put me down when I left last week. I almost told my Dad. ALMOST! I was so close to telling him just what my brother said. Because he always waits until no one is around. Grow a pair. Be a man, and say what is on your mind in front of our Dad. If you have the guts to tell me, tell him too! Are you honestly going to tell me crap about bringing home groceries? Because Lord help me, my parents bought me some food. Free willed. I never told them that they had too. Or that I needed it.

This while he stays in their home. It's been almost 7 months. He doesn't buy food. All summer that I've gone, he wasn't working. But he feels like he has the right to tell me something about my groceries? Oh, bull crap! Do you even know how to clean the bathroom you use? Can you offer to do the dishes after I cook? No. You eat, and you run to your girlfriend.

Do you know that soon after he moved in with them, he said something to me? Ya. Something very hurtful. Something that made me refuse to go to the store with my parents. Something that stuck in my head. That had me avoiding my parents' house. I wouldn't let them buy me a loaf of bread. I hardly went to visit them for a long time. Then when I would go, I would avoid being at the house. I'd go to the library during the day. And the office at night. Because of what he said. But our Dad never knew the truth...

Then sometime during the summer, I said to hell with him. If he gets to live there for free, and eat for free...who is he to tell me anything, when my parents buy me some groceries? So when my parents wanted to take a road trip, I was game for it. Or if they felt like buying me some groceries or a couple of shirts, I figured, it was THEIR BUSINESS. NOT HIS! It's not like I'm running off with THEIR money. Or only going to see them for food, trips, and shopping. I go to see them. BOTH of my parents. Because I think he forgets that MY MOM is just as important as OUR DAD! I still only eat 1 meal a day. And a little something when I take my medication. I still live off of very little money. But I do this on my own. Can he say the same?

But that is what I'm dealing with. I just pray to God that he helps my parents. They need all the prayers they can get. Whether it's time for them to part ways or not. Maybe they shouldn't have listened to their 5 year old daughter, 22 years ago. The daughter that begged them to get married...

And I also prayed to God, that if there is something serious wrong with me, just to take me. I can't handle this much longer. The pain. Both physical and emotional. I'm sitting here an empty shell. Unable to let anyone love me. I can't trust. And I'm starting to lose faith in this game we call life. I really have no faith in people. Not Mr. Blue Eyes who wants nothing more than to help me heal. And to love me. Not the Cowboy who makes me smile, with the sound of his voice. Not Sanchocito who I really thought I could let in. And most certainly not J. The man who would do anything for me. But I can't.

These are my friends. What they don't realize is the hurt and the pain I've lived through. My inability to trust anyone. Or to truly believe that someone can love you without, expecting something from you. Or hurting you. I'm so afraid of being hurt. But honestly, how much worse can it get? This horrible secret that I've had stuck inside me, since I was 7 years old, I could never ever tell my parents. I would never know how to begin...

Let's be real. They have enough going on. And maybe I was only sent to earth to try and make peace of their lives. I don't know. I sit and ask God every single day to give me strength. To help me along. But at this point, not only is the world fighting against me. My own body is turning on itself.

I don't know how much more I can take. I really wish Memo or O was here. I need someone to just listen to me. To reassure me that I'm going to make it until tomorrow. Because I'm really not sure. Everything hurts. My heart, my head, my soul. Physical pain. Emotion pain. Mental pain.

People see me. They really think I have it all together. How else would they trust me with their kids? What else would motivate people to ask me to be their kids' Godmother, or their Madrina for their wedding? I'm not sure. I want to be as strong as people think I am. I'm just not sure that I am. Or that I have the ability anymore.

I've always said there is a lot of fight inside of me. But when there is nothing left. And you're an empty shell, where do you dig for what you need to survive? I'm at that point. I want to call someone to talk to. But the only person that comes to mind, he has enough on his plate. A serious illness that has returned. And do I really want to burden him with all of this? Do I want him to see this disastrous side of my life? The side that makes me not believe in love or in people.

At this point, I know I'm in the world alone. I know that for a fact. After today, that was made blatantly clear. From a parent that felt his emotional needs were greater than my physical ones, to the loss in humanity as a whole. I wipe away the tears, I try to gather strength, and I pray to God that he gives me another day to live. No matter how hard you work, life is nothing more than a dog fight. ♥

Be Great

I've been thinking a lot lately. You know. About the direction my life is going. I want to do more for others. Being without my internship, it's like walking around missing my head, my heart, and one of my legs.

And as I was looking at things to do, I saw a great news story the other night. About our local Boys and Girls Club. It just got me thinking. I want to join the Boys and Girls Clubs of America. I want to be a positive person in someone else's life.

I was so lucky growing up. I was surrounded by family that was always there for me. My grandma lived next door. I could also count on my uncle and aunt. And my teachers were amazing! Giving me lots of extra time and attention. Helping me to grow to my potential. I had so many excellent mentors. Including Patrick. He was, has, and always will be one of the people I will always look up to.

I want to give back. I want to do something for my community. To have a positive influence on the youth of today. Because, I had people who cared about me. And since I left my internship, I've felt this huge void in my life. I want to be a positive influence on someone else's life again. ♥

D Day

I feel sick to my stomach. Today is the day I sign my internship away. By Monday, it will be final. All the hard work, sacrifices, dreams, hopes, wishes, long shifts, sleepless nights...they're over. And it's tough for my to swallow. But I have to.

I need to put on my "Big Girl Panties" today. And I need to go have this talk with all these people I respect. Casually, my parents and I talked about it for 5 minutes before they went to breakfast this morning. My Mom gets it. She really understands the struggle I'm in. My Dad, he just doesn't understand. And no matter how many times I explain it, he just doesn't get it.

So here I am. Trying. Trying to hold it together. I have a 3 hours trip south. And a 4 hour meeting lined up. Not the way I wanted to start my weekend. But what can you do? I'm poor. And I need to come to terms with that. I hope they can too! Because the cost of my internship is eating me alive.

Until now, I relied heavily on myself. And my ability to line up gigs with the BBs. But at this point, I can see that it has become more and more of a hobby for the guys. But I still need the work. And as the economy continues to sink into the ground, I'm screwed even more.

It still surprises me that our student athletes gets so much scholarship money. While me, a Dean's List student, Crimson Scholar, and I have a 4.0 gets $50 a semester! How is that fair? I'm not sure. And our athletic programs are not even very good. There you go. That's what our education system has come to.

My parents, I'm sure they'd like to help. But honestly, they have a business that they need to take care of. And I know how much it costs them. I also know that between May and September, it's the toughest time of year for them. So I'm not going to go to them for the money. I'd feel like I was an inch high. Literally taking money from them.

So here I am. No money. No help. And needing $4000 by Monday. I guess I'm praying for a Hail Mary. Knowing that there's not one in sight. But hoping against all odds that I get to continue in my field. Because honestly, it's all I have in my life. I have no family (besides my parents), I don't have many hobbies, or much of anything. My work and school, they're my life. And I just know, it will break my entire spirit if I had to leave. ♥

Overload of Emotions

It's crazy! Today was supposed to be all about me signing papers. The papers that would say, if anything were to happen to S and D, Maribel would become my daughter. Yes, I'm her Nana. And her parents asked me to take her in case anything were to happen to them. They asked A to take Marissa and Mariella. And they asked us if we could co-parent the girls. We are both very honored that they trust us so very much!

It was a big day. Later in the summer, they'll do the same for their new twins. They'll go with their respective Godparents. And it was a big day. I felt a HUGE surge of responsibility. Like one day, Maribel could possibly be mine. I hope I don't screw this up! She is their daughter, and I want to do the best I can. How on Earth do they think I can do this? I guess people see more good in me, than I see in myself.

And that my friends, was supposed to be the emotional day I was to have. Ending with a quick lunch and me heading back to work. But someone out there in the universe, thinks I need more emotion. And they sent me truck loads today. It began when I returned to work after lunch. And Dr. S was all up on me. Because he received his paperwork that I will be finished with my internship on July 9, 2010.

Why? You probably want to know that. Well, I was supposed to be done with it back in May. I'm dead broke. I have no money. And I actually have to pay for my internship. I don't get paid a red cent! But I've managed. At least, thus far. Now, our gigs are farther and farther apart. The little bit of money I make working for J goes to me getting better physical and mentally. The whole computer dying...well it didn't help my bank account either. It leaves me with no money for school. Much less an internship that costs nearly $8000 a semester.

I had managed to save up some money. Some money I was going to use for my Fall tuition. But Dr. S and the Dean of Ag managed to talk me into just one more semester of my internship. I wasn't sure. But when Dr. S agreed to pay for my insurance. And the Dean threw in $500, well I couldn't say no. How could anyone?

So I pitched in my almost $1200. Dr. M bought my scrubs. And I borrowed the rest from J. I knew it was a temporary fix. But it allowed me a few more weeks on the job. And that, I couldn't resist. I know there are many people pulling for me to succeed. But sometimes, the desire, passion, and talent are not enough. I just can't do this anymore. I have no money. So the next semester for my internship begins July 12, 2010. I won't be there. Therefore, I'm forfeiting the remainder of my internship.

It saddens my heart to no end. I cried for weeks knowing that it was coming. But there is nothing left for me to do. Not a darn thing. Believe me, I've tried. But I just don't feel right asking my parents to help me. And I can't possibly borrow another cent from J. He's too good of a friend.

So today, instead of Rounds, I sat in Dr. S's office and got yelled at. For 3 hours. I tried to keep it together. But the tears came. I couldn't hold them back. Because this is what I want to do with my life. I just don't have the means to do it. I respect Dr. S to the ends of the Earth. He has made me the "Doctor-in-training" that I am. And now, Dr. S is mad and disappointed in me. And in a few short weeks, I won't work in the hospital. And I won't work with my kiddos...

It was bad. I cried. I couldn't look at Dr. S for the rest of the day. My heart broke every single time I saw one of my patients. This is what I was put on Earth to do. Be a pediatrician. But I can't do it. When it came time to leave, I was slightly relieved. And looked forward to a peaceful evening...

Then I'm on my way home. It's been a hell of a day! And I just want 5 minutes of peace before I have to go to church. My Dad calls. He never calls me. I have to call them. And if I don't call every single day, it's like having to face God and Satan at the same time. I usually call my parents when I get home from work. So this was HUGE surprise! And my Dad never really talks to me on the phone. Our conversations usually go,


Dad: "Hi. How are you? How's the weather? How was work?"
Me: "Hi Dad. It's hot. Really hot. Work was work. I'm on my way home. How's your leg?"
Dad: "It's hot as hell here. My legs OK."


Then I usually hear him ask my Mom if she wants to talk to me. We will usually talk for 30 minutes to an hour. But not today. Dad was pissed. I could just tell. And he talked. And said all these sideways comments. And I knew he was mad. And I was already all emotional. My eyes still stung from crying earlier. And it really was hot in my car. I was trying to make the hour drive home. That was quickly turning into 90 minutes because of construction and traffic. Oh the heat was bad!

And my Dad kept on and on and on. I knew he was mad. Then I said something about having to go to the store after mass. He just blew up on me. I pulled over. Because, well, no need to cause an accident as my Dad is telling me off. Over what? Because I need to go buy some water. Sorry, but we're in the middle of an extreme heat wave. In case he's forgotten, I don't have AC at home. I might be the only one in the entire Borderland without AC. I need some water.

Yes, all I mentioned was that I needed to go pick up some water. And maybe some groceries. Because you know, I get hungry from time to time too. Lord help me for needing to eat and stay cool. And he just went off. Honestly, a few bucks is not going to make or break me at this point. I have no money. What's $2 in water? And maybe $10 in groceries. But I made the fatal error of mentioning a trip to Costco with J tomorrow...

That's when the yelling began, and my tears just flowed. Why does he have to constantly yell? Shouldn't he be happy that I have someone to lean on a little here? I don't have a Costco card because I can't afford it. And honestly, I only need to go maybe once a year to buy some toilet paper and laundry soap. So what's the big deal? My Dad has known that for over 2 years, I haven't had a card. And I've never asked him for one. I know he gets them for his employees. But I don't need one. Not for 1-2 trips a year. He just started yelling at me because of J. Would it be so bad if a good man like J wanted to take care of me? Apparently so...

At this point, I guess I'm not good enough to be a happy person. I should be miserable at home. And no, it's not OK for anyone, especially a man, to lend me a helping hand. Funny thing is, I don't lean on anyone. I might cry a little when things get bad. And yes, I'm not going to lie, I go to J or Memo to talk about things. And well, yes, I usually cry too. But it's not like J is doing anything for me other than being my friend.

But honestly, tomorrow, I'm meeting J to pick up a thing of toilet paper, some laundry soap, and maybe some tuna. And if I don't find water again tonight, I might buy some tomorrow. It's not that big of a deal. But to my Dad, it sure as hell was. And he yelled and yelled. And told me how ungrateful I am. And why is he even living because no one appreciates him anyhow. Um, Dad, you taught me to stand on my own 2 feet. To not need anyone, to do things for myself. I'm just trying to do that. And grow up. But he just yelled. Which made me cry...

And why was that? Because I try so hard to make him proud. And I try so hard to be financially independent. And I can't do it anymore. And I'm falling apart here. And I don't want to burden my parents. And I most certainly don't want to disappoint them either! But my Dad doesn't see it that way. I don't do enough in his eyes. I'm dropping the ball everywhere he's concerned. And why in the hell am I spending my own money on some of life's necessities?

I had to remind him that I'm 27 years old. I've lived on my own since I was 18. And I need to do these things. Whether or not I struggle, it's part of growing up. Hell, most people in my family, at my age, have at least 3 kids. But here I am, trying to make it through college, and everything I do is wrong.

Well, the fight with me was interrupted by some other fight. With who? I have no clue. But he hung up on me. And there I was. On the side of the highway, crying. Because my Dad just doesn't get it. Maybe my 59 year old brother is OK with being a full time mooch. But I'm not. And if I have to leave school for a while, and live off of boiled macaroni, and sweat all summer long...well I will.

And no matter how much yelling Dr. S does, I can't responsibly sign up for another semester of school. And no matter if I have no food, I will never go to my parents for a handout. Because I'm an adult. I have to stand on my own 2 feet. That's what responsible adults do.

And then I think about earlier today. 2 of my very best friends are trusting to raise their daughter, if they are not here to do it. So I must not be a bad person. They have to see some good in me to trust me with someone as special, loving, and as important as Maribel is. That right there, softens my heart a little. And reminds me, there is good in this life.

Now it's time for me to go. Or I'll be late to mass. And tonight of all nights, I need some love from God. And my favorite little girls. I'm proud to me their Tia/Nana. And big hug from Memo wouldn't be so bad either. He really is like a father figure to me. And Bless your soul if you made it this far. You really have a special place in my heart, simply for caring this much. ♥

Open to the Possibilities

I had this intimate conversation with a good friend today. Albeit over the phone, during my lunch break. But it got me thinking. As much as I really enjoyed spending time with my parents and taking care of them this past week, I'm ready for someone to love. Yes, I enjoyed getting the chance to go home and take care of my Mom and Dad. Making sure my Mom got her eye drops. Helping my Dad with his leg. Making them dinner. It was a great few days. But I'm ready for someone to love.

I think I'm finally in that place were I'm ready to "Welcome" a relationship into my life. I don't want to be 80 years old and realize I missed out on the really important things in life. I don't want my entire life to encompass work and the hospital.

I want to find someone to share this life with. A man who can appreciate my goofiness. And my love of the outdoors. Who can appreciate my "Palm Tree" hairdo, and sunburned skin. One day, I want to be making baby things for my baby. I think with my best friend expecting her little girl, it's really got me thinking. There is definitely more to life than my work. 100 hours a week in a hospital...there has to be more to life!

I guess I'm tired of going home to an empty house. I'm tired of going to events alone. And being around all of my "coupled" friends. There has to be something said for being the youngest in my group of friends, and being the only single female. It's not always the funniest place to be. Not when my male friends act as if I'm their kid sister. And I need protecting from any male within 100 miles.

But I just think more things in my life are changing. I'm finally embracing the changes. And I'm ready to start my own life. For so long, I've been living for other people. Trying to make them happy. It's time for me to start doing that for myself.

I'm not on the "prowl" for a man. No way! But if someone happens along my path, I'm not going to be so quick to turn away. I know in my lifetime, I've walked away from a few good men. The timing just wasn't right for me. And now, most of them are good friends. But you just never know what the future has in store for you. You just have to be open to the possibilities. ♥