There's an old country song by Trisha Yearwood from the 90's that talks about how you can be going along in your life and suddenly you'll hear a song come on that totally takes you back to a specific time and place. I'm sure you all know what I'm referring to.

I was standin' at the counter
I was waitin' for the change
When I heard that old familiar music start
It was like a lighted match
Had been tossed into my soul...

So anyway, I heard a song the other day (not the one I just referred to) that totally reminded me of a totally different time in my life. I was 20 years old and I had nothing but a bright future ahead of me. I had plans and dreams and I thought I was in love. It's funny how things never go quite how you imagined them to go. The twists and turns that life takes you through end up taking you to a completely different spot than you ever thought you'd be at. Would I change some of the things from the past 20 years? You bet I would! Or would I? If I knew that ultimately I would be right here where I'm at now, happy and in love with my wonderful husband and our kids, would I really change anything? Would you?

First, to set the mood....a song...

First, I want to clarify something....I don't feel anger about this any longer, but it took me quite some time to not.  What I feel is hurt, a deep hurt....and, hopefully, if you're a fellow dog lover, you will understand why.  I just need to write this down; I hope that it will help aid in my healing over this issue.

When I was little, around 6, or so, we got a Cocker Spaniel puppy and we named her Mitzi.  My childhood is FULL of memories with her in them.  We even bred her 4 times and enjoyed baby puppies (22 of them, to be exact).  You can imagine, that this sweet dog was most definitely an integral part of my growing up.  She lived to be, I think, around 14 or 15 years old (people years, of course), before she died.  Towards the end of her life she was blind and deaf and very obese.  She was this chubby little Cocker with such a beautiful and sweet disposition, and, as long as we didn't move around the furniture, she didn't do too bad at getting around!  She gave love just as freely at the end of her life as she did when we first got her...more so, even.  (Doesn't love grow when it's nurtured?)

I grew up and left home to be a nanny for a year.  I lived only miles away, but in a different city.  One day I came home and Mitzi wasn't there.  I asked my mom and she didn't say anything, and I didn't really think much of it.  I thought perhaps she was outside.  So I let it go.  Then a few days later when I was there again, I again, asked what happened to her, and joked that my mom had taken her to the vet to have her put to sleep.  Again, silence from my mom.  When I looked at her, I knew that that was the correct answer.  She had, in fact, taken Mitzi to the vet and had her put down.  Now, I don't know if Mitzi was sick, or if the vet suggested that she do it due to quality of life, I don't know, and my mom has never been terribly clear about the whole thing.  But whatever it was, Mitzi had given us 14 years of her life.  When I prompted my mom, she told me that she had taken Mitzi to the vet and left her there before she was put down.  THAT is the part that hurts me.  Mitzi is the only family pet that we ever had, whom we didn't bury in the backyard.  I don't understand.  And what I REALLY don't understand is how my mom could have just LEFT Mitzi there, in a strange, cold, sterile environment, surrounded by strangers, in her final moments.  She just LEFT her there...after Mitzi gave us so many years of her LIFE...never leaving our side, always there when we needed to cry, or a hug, or just the contact of warm love...  My mom just left her there.  Abandoned in her final breaths of life.  And she didn't even want the body to bury her.  She just...threw her out like a piece of trash.

What I don't understand is how my mom, who is an animal lover like myself, although maybe not as extreme, could do that?  I sit here, with tears falling down my face and my mini dog snuggling up to me with a very concerned look on her face, just uncomprehending of such an act.  As hard, and as heart breaking as it will be when we lose our babies, we will always be there, by their sides, until the very end.  I can't imagine not being there.  After all of the love, tears, hugs, kindness, understanding, consolation, and acceptance that they've shown us....how can we think about NOT being there???

OK, maybe I am still a bit bitter about the whole thing.  I think about it every so often, and it just makes it hurt all over again...like the proverbial bandaid ripping off of a wound.  My heart hurts for Mitzi's fear and terror, being left in such a cold place with her family nowhere near, unable to see or hear, abandoned and alone.  Why on earth did my mom do such a thing?  I've tried asking her about it a few times, but she never gives me any straight answers.  Perhaps that is why I'm unable to leave it in the past.

I don't want my mom to think that this is an attack on her or her present character as we all grow and learn from past mistakes, and I'm almost certain she's learned from this particular one, but it's lived in me, festering, bubbling up from time to time, and this anger takes over, quickly overcome with hurt and sadness that it happened at all.

Mitzi, I know you're waiting for me on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, no pain, full sight and hearing restored, playing with your other friends, there.  I can only hope that you can forgive me for not being there...for surely I would have been, had I known.  I would not have deserted you in the end.  To you, I dedicate this song....

In getting back in touch with my cousins and other relatives from my dad's family, I've learned some disturbing news.  The first, I can't remember if I mentioned this already in my previous blog, my Aunt R had died back in 2007.  I was saddened.  She is an integral part of my childhood memories.  To know that I will never see her again is difficult for me to comprehend, yet I must.  The second, my Uncle F has passed away, as well.  I was floored upon hearing that news.  So much has happened that I didn't know about...so much sadness.  My uncle didn't have any services, though, so I suppose there's not much that I could have done, anyway.

My dad has been holding a pretty large and drastic grudge against my Aunt R, though, for the past 15 years, or so.  He kinda got himself off track after my folks first split up and he ended up on a lot of people's shit lists (including mine); at which point he disappeared for 14 years.  Nobody had heard from him.  Nobody knew where he was; how he was.  It was like he was just gone...from existance.  For a few years, I'd check in with my Aunt R to see if she'd heard anything from him...of course, the answer was always negative.  Eventually, I moved on with my life, giving up on the idea that I'd see him again.

And now I learn of my dad's two siblings' deaths.  He's lost a brother and a sister.  I wonder if that will be cause enough for him to reach out to his remaining family again.  I'm truly hoping so.  So now, K and I are planning a trip over the hill this coming weekend, to see my dad.  I need to break the news of their deaths to him.  I'm not really sure how to do it...or what his reaction will be.  How would I feel if someone were to tell me that my sister had died?  I honestly don't know.  I love my sister, no matter our huge and vast differences, and, to me, she's just always out THERE.  I always know that I can pick up the phone and call her if I wanted to...not that I do that very often....but, for instance, her birthday is coming up...I'll call her then.  What would I do if I couldn't do that anymore?  Knowing that whatever disagreements we had going on could no longer be resolved...  I love my sister.  I hope my dad cares about his siblings the way that I do about my sister.

I suppose I needed to go see him again soon, anyway.  He's been calling me with computer/internet questions...he'll never learn if I don't show him at least a few times!

So after my last blog entry, I was feeling relatively nostalgic and, once again, decided to attempt to locate some of my dad's side of the family on Facebook again; to no avail.  I just couldn't find any of them!  So, I started wondering if I was spelling anything right...or if, perhaps, some weren't even using any of their maiden names.  An a-ha moment on my part, to say the least.  But I still couldn't figure out how I'd find them, if that were the case.  Till I remembered a super awesome people finder website called Zaba Search.  In the results that it brings up you can click on a name and see all the other names that are associated with that person...maiden name, children's names, etc.  And it finds everything...phone numbers, addresses, yada yada.  So, I popped in one of my relatives names...and sure enough, I found them!  And then, by looking up that name on Facebook, I was able to find that person...and using their list of friends, found oh so many more!  Needless to say, I'm pretty stoked about the whole thing.  I was bummed to learn that my aunt Rita had died back in '07.  She is a huge part of my childhood memories...and I would have loved to have been able to attend her funeral.  :(  I'm honestly unsure why I wasn't notified.  My mom has always been in the phone book, and to get a hold of me they could have called her.  But, I suppose it's all water under the brige at this point.  I'm just happy that we're in touch again.  It's been so long.  And, I'm in touch with a cousin that I barely remember (they lived in ME while growing up so I think I only met them once when I was a kid), which is neat in, and of, itself.

And so...in honor of finding my relatives...I give you this song to listen to.

So yesterday, I was thinking to myself about all the things that my family used to do on Labor Day weekend.  Well, not ALL the things...mostly just one thing.  But it was a huge thing that we looked forward to every year.  My whole side of my dad's family and us got together and camped at the amusement park that was an hour's drive from us.  We'd load up the trailer, tents, sleeping bags, etc. and head out.  We'd meet up with everyone there, and all camp together.  We'd buy a 3 day pass, which back then was hugely affordable in comparison to nowadays, and have so much fun!  My sister and I would wake up at the crack of dawn with the rest of our cousins, and we'd wait, and wait, and WAAAAAIIIITTTTT, till we heard to them starting up the rides and testing them out...and then the countdown was on.  We could barely choke down breakfast due to our excitement.  And when the park opened?  Well, our parents didn't see us until lunchtime and then closing time.  We were much too busy to stop for dinner!  Oh the rides, the rollercoasters, the log flume, the merry-go-round, the ferris wheel, the sky tram....so, so, SO much to do....and so little time.  Food?  What was that?!  I remember going through the haunted houses so many times that they weren't scary anymore, so much as just silly and it made us laugh so hard!  I remember taking my first rollercoaster ride on the big coaster with my dad when I was 5 (I BARELY met the height requirement) and it scared the shit out of me cuz I almost fell out since the bar didn't go all the way down to my lap.  I didn't ride another coaster for a few years after that.  Silly me!  Oh the thrills that I missed because of that fear!

I remember one labor day when we were camped out there in the trailer, my sister and I had walked over to the community showers and were walking back in our towels and flip-flops/barefeet.  My sister got in the trailer first and then I reached out to keep the screen door open and I got electrocuted.  Not just a little shock...but as in my entire body was buzzing and my fingers couldn't move and were locked on the handle of the screen door.  I started to just hang there on the door...vaguely hearing my mom telling me to stop playing on the door, and then exclaiming that something was wrong, that I couldn't let go.  I remember my sister taking a flying leap and knocking me to the ground.  I remember feeling worn out and tingley for the rest of the night.  Apparently, I needed to wear flip-flops in the damp grass before grabbing hold of the metal door.  Haha.  That was a scary experience.  But it wasn't scary enough to keep me down the rest of the night or following days.  The only thing that changed was that, even though I was wearing proper foot gear, I made someone lift me into the trailer from that point on.  I didn't want to risk another electrocution!  Yikes!

Those were certainly the fun times.  Back when my grandparents were both alive, and keeping the family together.  My grandfather passed away around 1992 and my grandmother passed around 1998'ish.  After that, the family just never got together anymore.  Of course, by that time, also, my parents were divorced, but we were always invited to family get-togethers.  My dad never showed up to them.  Long story there.  But after grandma died...there was just never any reason to keep in touch.  Now, I don't even know where any of them are, or if they're ok.  I imagine we'd hear from someone if there were a death...at least, I'd hope so.  But who knows?  I do miss the get-togethers.  I miss all of my cousins.  I never really got to know my cousins on my mom's side...so we're not close.  But the ones on my dad's side...we were always hanging out together.

But those are whole other stories.  This was about my memories of Labor day weekends of the past.  Fond memories.  Fun memories.  Amazing memories.

Sometimes when I need help falling asleep (which is more often than not), I will use my white noise app on my iphone to lull me into sweet dreamland.  There are so many sounds to pick from, the sound of a train on tracks...clickity clack clickity clack...the sound of a thunderstorm (they never quite get this to sound like the real deal...maybe if they add smell to it!), softly falling rain, an amazon jungle, a river or creek, the sound of a fan, or just plain ol' white noise. 

But I must say that my favorite sound to fall asleep to is one that reminds me of when I was a child.  In the summertime I would sometimes fall asleep during the late afternoons with my window open.  Outside, my mom would normally have the sprinkler going on the lawn.  You remember those old rainbird sprinklers before they went plastic?  I'd drift off to sleep with that sound wafting in through the window to my young ears, and I didn't put the connection to it, but I felt safe. So now, I hear that sound and I immediately think of home.  I think of safety and security and love and contentment.  I think of my mom and how great of a childhood I had.

Now, almost every night, I fall asleep to safety and security in the sound of the sprinkler on in the yard.  Thanks, mom, for the comforting memories.

Click to hear the sound...and see if it takes you back to your childhood, too.

I've been fat all of my life.  ALL of my life.

I remember huffing and puffing across the field during the last day of school festivities.

I remember passing my peers in the hallways and hearing, "you're fat," beginning a long tape of negative self esteem.

I remember picture day and how I was never able to wear cute outfits for pictures because everything was too small.

I remember school shopping at JC Penny or Sears for clothes that were larger sizes, because they were the only ones who sold them big enough.

I remember getting a cool new shirt with flappy arms and geometric shapes and a really cool wide belt that was to be worn low on the hips and off center and hearing people talk about how fat it made me look.  And the belt never sat low on my hips because my hips held it up.

I remember never being asked out to dances.  Nobody wanted to dance with the fat girl.

I remember I hated clothes shopping.  Hated it.  With a passion.

I remember hating to go to the Diet Center every morning to get on their scales and see how poorly I did.

I remember shopping for swimsuits through the Sears catalog because nobody ever had my size.

I remember the doctor never addressed my obesity, instead telling me to eat better.

I remember when I first started starving myself to lose weight and how hungry I got.

I remember being followed around the halls of my high school by two bullies who made my life miserable by chasing me out to my car while making rude comments and noises.

I remember never feeling completely safe or comfortable in school.

I remember never looking up while walking the halls in high school, trying not to bring attention to myself, and knowing whenever I heard laughter or whispers that it was about me, and I was horrified and turned bright red.

I remember my best friends ditching me once we entered junior high school, because I no longer fit the cool image.  I was so confused.

I remember being such a good friend to people, giving everything and getting nothing in return.  I remember when I stopped giving, the friendships died because I wasn't needed, anymore.

I remember how that totally messed up my mind and heart.

I remember crying so hard, with a broken heart, wondering, "when, WHEN will it be MY turn to be in love??"

I remember wondering asking god, back when I believed in a god, why I was put on earth when nobody wanted me here to begin with.

I remember hating gym class, and eventually getting a doctor's note to be excused from it, because I was afraid of taking showers with other girls.  I knew they'd laugh and rumors would fly about just how fat and hideous I truly was.

I remember that I was never really happy in my youth.  And that is such a shame.

I remember finally realizing that I don't need to be skinny to be happy.

I remember realizing that I don't need to be perfect to be pretty.

I remember realizing that only I could make myself happy.

"Though the people that caused my anxiety over the years probably don't remember what they have said or did, I can never forget."

Inspired by this article.