SABOTAGE

Hi.

My name is Tabbie.

I am an over thinker. I have some pretty serious relationship anxiety. I tend to project my fears onto the men that I date, making it impossible to be with me. I tend to sabotage perfectly good relationships, because I am terrified of being hurt. My anxiety makes it hard to speak the words I want to say, to the people I wish to tell the most. The things I hear inside my head are not the things you would expect of me, because of my outer appearance or behavior.

“You’re too much.”

“They just aren’t that into you.”

“They’re still looking for a better woman.”

“You’re only good for sex.”

“No one wants to deal with your mess.”

And it goes on and on and on.

These thoughts override sensibility. These thoughts break me down and make me crazy. These thoughts cause me to run off some great humans.

When I talk to someone, I hear annoyance in their voice when they talk back. I hear impatience. I hear aggravation.

This could all be manifested in my mind, in the beginning, but eventually, people tire of my mind. It’s exhausting for me, so I can only imagine how exhausting it is for someone else.

I am working on it.

I am uncovering the things that are making me feel and act the way I do, and I am WORKING ON IT.

I don’t want to be a “head case” forever. I refuse to be like this. I hate myself like this. Okay, I don’t “hate” myself, but I hate the way I think, sometimes.

I.

KNOW.

BETTER!!

I should not talk down to myself or let negative self talk in. I may not be able to do certain things right now, but damnit, I am a god damn survivor and I WILL make it through this atrocious infection of the mind.

I will take each step as they come.

I will beat this.

The Sock In My Hand.

Have you ever found yourself holding something, and you don’t realize you’ve got a death-grip on it? Have you ever clung to rightly to an IDEA, that you couldn’t let it go? Let me tell you a little something that I learned recently.

The other night, I took my socks off and must have fallen asleep with a sock in my hand, because when I woke up the next morning, I was still clutching that sock in the same hand, so tightly that my knuckles were white, and my hand was sore! When I let go, there was a uncontrollable sigh of relief that escaped my lungs.

There’s a major significance between that sock and my life.

I have a tendency to not let things/ideas/people go, when I should. When I woke up, and I had that sock in my hand, I felt like I was coming upon some revelation about who I am.

I know I don’t let PEOPLE go, easily. I have discussed this before. When I have my mind set on something, it takes a while for me to change that way of thinking.

Like the guy (I know, I said the last blog was the last one about him, but bare with me… this part will be short), from the previous blogs. The guy I love, with such intensity that I am unaware of how to deal. It took me months to realize that I wasn’t IN LOVE with him, but only have a love for him, so much so, I would rather be his friend for life, and never lose him, rather than risking it all for sex. MONTHS of clinging to this idea that we would be together someday.

So yesterday, I fully let go of every thought of a possibility of being with him. There was this feeling of relief.

Thanks to that sock, I feel okay with this. Just days ago, it hurt to think of giving up that hope. Now though? It’s like a weight I never knew existed was lifted from my shoulders.

Thanks to that sock, that I was gripping so tightly, like I was afraid to lose it, I am going to be better at letting things go, that aren’t meant for me. Like ideas I dream up, or holding so tightly to people who just keep taking a step farther from me, with each passing day.

I am unaware of what this chapter is, in my life. I am also not too worried about it. What is meant to be WILL be, and I have to have faith that when it’s my time to shine, I’ll shine for the correct person. Myself.

I keep looking for the deeper meaning to everything and I have forgotten to live in the moment. I have forgotten to have fun NOW! Life is fleeting. I could be gone tomorrow. You could be gone tomorrow. Everyone could be gone tomorrow.

So, why was I so stuck on the “possibility” of something, rather than the reality of what is?

Me, of all people should know better than that. All I am doing, when I hold onto a possibility is hurting myself. If I continue to hurt myself, I will lose my friend, because he cannot stand to be the reason I am in pain. I am okay with letting go of those possibilities now. He never caused me pain. It was me all along.

I’ll never NOT regret turning him down, last year.

I will never forget, again, that I did that, but it was important in that moment. We had barely just started talking to each other on a regular basis. We’d always talk about how we are worth more than just sex, and I was serious. We would drink and text each-other all the time. We were never both drinking at the same time, or things would have gotten out of hand, quite quickly.

But, I’ll let go, now. For real, this time.

I am happy with letting go.

But let me be clear. Just because I am letting go doesn’t mean I’ve lost my sisterly/friend love for him. He’s a freaking superhuman, super-dad, and has been one of my best friends through all of this dating crap, and I’ll never forget that, nor will I downplay it. I wish I could tell everyone who he is, because most of you will be like “what?! Holy shit!” But I won’t share, for his privacy. I respect people, much more than most would think, when it comes to THEIR privacy. I share all of my feelings and my experiences, but I won’t ever reveal someone unless they ask me to.

But I wish I could share so everyone could see him through my eyes, and have my version of him embedded in their minds.

amazing.

Strong.

Super-dad.

Dedicated.

Smart.

Funny.

Great listener!

Encouraging.

Positive Thinker.

Good looking 😉

And a complete gentleman.

I’ll cut it off here, because I could laundry list all of the positives about him, for days. Women would be BEGGING for his name and number. Haha!

So… the sock in my hand was a lesson to myself.

Sometimes, you just have to have faith and let go.

Dreaming In Full Color

This isn’t one of my creative writing blogs. This is a legitimate dream of my late husband, with no sex happenings.

I think it had a bit to do with a guy I saw, recently, across the street from Freddy’s on Shawnee Mission Parkway. He looked just like Mitch. My heart skipped a beat, even.

It may have something to do with my cousin reading cards for me. It was the night of Imbolc (which I really know nothing about, but it’s a “witchy holiday” is how I refer to it, since I don’t know. Lol)

My cousin read cards for 3 men who have entered my life recently, without knowing which she was reading about each time. Anyway. I’m a “weirdo”, and I have this fantastic pull when it comes to certain people, and there’s a telltale sign in my bones when someone is meant to be in my life long-term. When you just come out and say “you’re not going anywhere until we figure this out!” It gives off weirdo vibes to the max.

So, with each man she read the cards. With each one, The cards matched my initial gut reaction I experienced upon meeting or reconnection.

Now, onto my dream.

I fell asleep after my cousin left here. Mitch was there. He was across the street at a gas station looking like he’d never been gone, but also quite confused. No car, no wallet, nothing.

I went to him. He gasped and hugged me hard. He told me he missed me.

The dream flashed to a doctor’s office. I told him he had a heart condition and needed to keep it monitored so he didn’t disappear again.

The dream flashed to me being in a car, seeing Mitch through a window of our apartment, and he grabbed his chest. He grimaced. I stopped the car, ran inside and began cpr while screaming for someone to come help.

The dream shifted again. I saved his life this time. I was there and I saved him. I was scared he was going to leave me because of all the things I’ve done since he died.

I laid with my head in his lap crying as he stroked my hair. I told him I love him and I’d never stop loving him, but that I believed our journey together on earth was over. He told me “Your journey is just beginning. Keep following the path you’re on. What is meant to be, will be.”

I woke up with such a sense of closure, and such a sense of love and acceptance and a new sense of excitement to explore this part of my life.

He spoke words that I speak regularly, but it was as if someone was finally speaking them to me. Someone was finally reminding me that everything happens for a reason.

Every single meeting is meant to take place in each and every person’s life. Nothing is coincidence. Everything is purposeful. Don’t get angry when things don’t go your way. LEARN, then put your knew knowledge into action to create the life you’re meant to live.

That dream, my husband telling me to continue my path. Just wow. I, honestly, don’t even know what path I’m on. Am I on a path to be with my next “person”? Am I on a journey of further self-discovery, a deeper knowledge of myself, spiritually?

I guess, when it comes to this path I’m on, I’ll treat it like every other one,

I’ll keep putting

One Foot In Front Of The Other.

Happy Monday.

Divine.

3 Years. A Confession Tsunami.

I wasn’t going to write, today. I wasn’t going to dive into everything that I have done recently.

I was definitely not going to admit to everyone that around this time of year, I do things I really shouldn’t do.

I wasn’t going to admit to the fact that I got off of work early, yesterday, drove to my ex’s house, and had sex. Hello, 23 years older and we still behave like teenagers with raging hormones. yeesh.

I wasn’t going to admit that I sat in his bed and responded to the guy friend of mine that I fell in love with, when he texted me. read receipts give me anxiety and I keep mine on for the most part.

I wasn’t going to confess that they LIVE A FEW HOUSES FROM EACH-OTHER! I learned that today, actually.  I couldn’t believe it. The friend could have literally watched me walk into the ex’s house. Wow… Just WOW.

Not going to mention the fact that I lied and fulfilled a desire I had. I’m not ashamed of the act of sexual pleasures. I am ashamed that I lied. I mean, I really am a terrible liar anyway, so I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew I was lying anyway. But, I also don’t see the need in saying “hey child of mine, I am going to “insert name here”‘s house to have sex. See you soon! Nope. That is ridiculous!

I don’t even know why I lied. I can’t keep it a lie, because I have a big ass mouth and I have this blog and this blog is where I confess all of my shit. Especially when I am hungry, and I am waiting to go get food and I have a brain that’s lacking in nutrients. I don’t have the ability to lie.

I wasn’t going to admit that I knew all along that I was just another “hoe” when it came to the ex. HA! Sure. Or just a woman who knows what she wants and where to get it. I’d be more surprised if he wanted to continue to see me, than I would be if he never texted, called, or facetimed again. I’m not sure I even care, honestly. I am not mad, or even sad. I just feel blank. Maybe it’s because today is what it is, or maybe its because it’s real. I won’t know until later on. But that’s what I feel right now.

Empty.

My heart is getting harder and harder, I guess. I can’t lie about that, or pretend otherwise.

Last Saturday, when I was sitting in my car, sobbing like a baby, because the man I fell in love with who could never find time to hang out with me, even as a friend, told me he asked a woman on a date, is the time when I decided I was going to follow through, and quit holing out for him. I knew the ex wasn’t small, I knew he had been around the block and could hold his own in the bedroom. Why the hell not? Right? (No offense, babe. It’s just how my fucked up head works these days. And I was right. you were great. Thanks. 😉 )

Happy Fucking Deathiversary!

I’m going to eat, now, before I confess to the candy I stole when I was a kid.

I Got Issues. You Got’em Too.

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Many times, lately,  I find myself throwing myself into situations I should most definitely avoid. These situations are mainly men.

Men who aren’t right for me.

Men who I’m not right for.

When does it end?

When does “real” happen again?

When do I stop? Have I gotten myself into situations so often that it’s becoming natural for me?

I don’t NEED drama in my life. I don’t. Consciously, I don’t want it either, but, I seem to draw that shit in, each one filled more so than the last.

Meet a guy at a party. Start seeing him as a friend with benefits, but when I wanted more, it wasn’t an interest.

Have an AMAZING hookup, see the guy 2 more times, then nothing. Wrong guy for me. (You’ll read about him in my book)

Fall in love with this guy, because he’s perfection in a man, one of my best guy friends.  Wrong man for me. God Damnit!

Date a guy from school, who turned out to be absolutely horrible for me.

An ex came back into my life, and I am not sure this will work. Simply stated: I don’t trust him. I’m not sure if it’s his fault or if it’s my fault or if it’s a combination of both our faults, and our histories. Whatever the case, I don’t trust him, so I am paranoid, and my overthinking mind goes ballistic of it’s own accord. Thoughts and images of him with another woman raging through my mind. WHY? But, usually, my intuition is right, when it comes to this, so I am fucking terrified. The first night out with the ex, we damn near went to town in the bathroom at a bar. Thank god the glass fell off the sink and broke.  That isn’t me. Is it? Seems to be me, when I’m with him, oddly enough. Even when we were kids, making out, hot and heavy at the drive in theatre, with his dad in the front seat of the car. Always hot and heavy. Can’t keep our hands to ourselves. Never could. Like there’s no “simmer”. Gotta find that knob, or this won’t work either. 

I don’t want to change anyone. I know that’s something a lot of women do. I don’t. I stand strong in the statement “Only you can fix you.”

One of the most commonly occurring statements to me, seems to be, “I’d love to have sex with you, but you are just my friend.

Why am I good enough for sex, good enough as a friend, but not good enough to be a partner? Why is the first thing every man wants, when it comes to me,  sex? Seriously.

So, instead of keeping my standards high, I lower and lower until the bar is just stepped over, like nothing matters.

When will this end?

I know my worth. I quit talking about my worth out loud, because I don’t want to sound like a conceited, stuck-up bitch. You know? I’m not trying to scare potential male suitors away. ha. Or maybe that’s what I SHOULD do. Maybe Survival of the Fittest is how I should treat it.

I’m a LOT. I am sure I’ve said it before, somewhere in all of these writings. I was way up then wayyyyyy down, yesterday.

I left the bar, to go get pepto for Meg, and come home. I sat in the parking lot of CVS, snot crying because my head is so twisted, and knotted over so many thoughts, and I can’t get it straight. I can’t untie the knots, and smooth the strings. Am I in love with my friend? I mean, the whole world shifted and I haven’t been able to NOT think about him all of the time. Anytime I kissed a guy, I felt like I was cheating. I felt like I was cheating on a chance to be with him. And maybe, MAYBE I created a version of him that isn’t who he is, but who I see and want him to be. Maybe I fell in love with an illusion. I don’t know.

I just want the tangles in my brain to stop.

I want it to unwind, but every time I pull a string, it makes the knots more and tighter.

I want easy, for fuck’s sake!

I mean, I am not naive enough to believe that having a relationship will be simple, but I want the trust to come naturally. Why is it SO hard for me, now? I had zero issues trusting Mitch. But he sat down with me, before our second date, and told me, “I don’t trust you.” Zero intro to the statement, and just a touch of explanation after. Then, I proved myself to him.

Maybe… Maybe I’ll just take a dating hiatus again.

When I don’t fight for attention.

When I feel wanted for more than my body.

When I feel like a partner.

When I get a say in when we see each-other, rather than the guy always calling the shots.

When he makes me feel beautiful at my worst.

When I am so obviously the only one he thinks about and wants to be with.

When I never have to question if he’s lying.

When he proves he’s worthy of my company.

Then… THEN I’ll step into something.

 

Until then… Respect my mess, because it is a part of this package.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Next…

I feel like I have been hyper-active on social media lately. I feel like I get like that when I have something that I want to say, but just don’t know how to say it.

Instead, I say everything except the one thing I wish to say.

I write privately, now, to try to understand myself a little more. It’s not quite the same as writing and sharing with everyone who cares to read it.

I enjoy sharing my mind, my feeling, my everything with people. I am still in the mindset that maybe, just maybe someone out there needs to understand that they are NOT alone.

Did you know that I do want love again?

I can’t remember if I’ve shared that in a private journal, or on this blog, but it’s true.

I know I will never have the same kind of love I had with Mitch, but, I know that I have so much more to give. It bubbles and glops over at times.

I love life. I love everything that comes with living.

I don’t want to have sex with people, just for the sake of having sex.

I want to be with someone who looks at me in a way that says he’s not able to get enough of me. Soak me in, and miss me when I am gone.

My next husband will be kind, yet assertive. Hell, we all know I’m pretty indecisive about things, like where to go for dinner, or what movie to see first. (PICK the scary one, and tacos… oh! or burgers!)

My next will have his shit in order. He will love me for everything I am, and everything I am not.

He will take me by the hand and lead me into a better version of me. He will encourage me to succeed. He will invite me out with his friends. He won’t want to hide me.

My next will almost surely have kids, because I am a sucker for an amazing father.

He will know that I am always here. I won’t leave in the bad times. And he won’t leave me in my bad times, either.

I know it won’t be the same as it was with Mitch, because I know that in the wake of his death, I have learned that you cannot take for granted the things that people do for you. The things that usually go unnoticed or aren’t hyped up, anymore.

Opening doors, and paying for dinner.

Driving us to our dates, rather than meeting places.

To be 37, and widowed, is not for the faint of heart.

This.

Shit.

Sucks.

But I have learned so much. I have learned about me. I have learned about men. I have learned about dating. I have learned that dating sites are the fucking devil.

And most of all, I have learned my worth. Of course, when you’re with someone for half of your life, you just kind of know your worth with that person.

When you are, essentially, abandoned, you’re left questioning your self-worth. You’re left wondering if you’ll ever be good enough for another man, again.

You’re left in this mindset that you’re broken, and no one is going to want to walk into that. I’ve seen the faces of the men I’ve gone on dates with, when I mention that my husband died. It always comes up, because they’ll say something like, “What’s such a great woman, like you, still doing single?” And I am 100% honest, even if I really like a guy. ESPECIALLY if I really like a guy. “Well, sir, my husband died.”

Side-eye.

Deep breath.

Release of air.

“Wow. How? Is it okay if I ask?”

Every. Single. Time.

Then, I never see them again. I’m okay with that. It’s better than them pretending to be okay with me, and then breaking things off down the road.  I am a seriously complicated woman. It’s going to take a hell of a man to understand and accept me.

My next will understand that I’m an absolute wreck 3 days every year. 1/25, 5/24, and 8/18. 4 days if you count the day I put the Christmas tree up. I may want to lay in bed all day and cry. I may want to run 20 miles and then come home and cook enough food for an army. My next will understand.

One day, and I believe this, whole-heartedly, Mitch will shove him in my direction.

My next will have a lot in common with me, but still have his own thing.

My next will love sports, but not be too crazy about them.

My next will love his career, so he doesn’t come home super cranky all the time.

My next will be vulnerable around me, open with his feelings, and let me comb his hair with my fingers as he lays with his head in my lap, to tell me about his shift.

And most importantly. The most important thing about my next. He will not be threatened by my love for my husband, for I have plenty more love to give. He will understand that without my husband, I wouldn’t be the person I am, today. He will not replace my husband, nor will he want to,  but he will pick up where Mitch left off, and that’s okay.

I see him, in my mind’s eye. Not a physical him, but a spiritual him. A beautiful soul. Someone who is the other half of my very soul.

 

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Is There a God? If So, He Has A Terrible Sense of Humor.

So, there are a lot of stories about this and that on the internet. Everyone loses someone, so what makes my loss any more interesting or something that anyone wants to read.

“It’s so painful to read. I just can’t do it.”

“It’s too personal. Not in my wheelhouse.”

That’s cool. My feelings aren’t hurt. I TOTALLY understand.

So, my idea of God and his sense of humor.

I’ve gone my entire life, only really knowing one good man, before I met Mitch. (My brother was still young and going through some things. He wasn’t “great man” status just yet. Great brother? absolutely!)

And get this. The greatest man I knew was ALSO named Mitch. He is my uncle. When My uncle Mitch met my (at the time) boyfriend, Mitch, my uncle was the one who gave him the father speech. “My niece is worthy of someone great. Do not hurt her. You will regret it.” type of speech. When my Mitch told me that, I cried. I had never thought myself worthy of anything more than temporary commitment.

Wow, did my Mitch prove me wrong! Then, if God is real, he took him from me. Really fucking funny, God. I’m not laughing, and neither are any of the people who met him.

I’ve talked about the bar Mitch set when it came to how a man should treat a woman.

Slowly, over time, I have lowered that bar.

It had gotten pretty fucking low, actually. I seriously have dated some pretty fucked up dudes, and at the time, I didn’t think anything of it.

Then, I received an insanely rude, quite disgusting text from an ex, and I just lost it. I was SO pissed off, that I texted a couple of my girlfriends and my recently acquired guy friend.

My guy friend called me and proceeded to tell me that I am worth so much more than those kinds of texts. He was so nice, and I just bawled. I was, literally, snotting everywhere. I wasn’t hurt by the text. The text pissed. me. off. It made me wonder what the hell I was doing.

I was talking about my birthday with my guy friend and he said he wanted to take me out for my birthday. I had a date the night of my bday, so I threw out some other days that I could be available. I didn’t say the day before my birthday, because that was “tomorrow”, in my mind and not enough notice.

He suggested we go out that morning. Not on a date. Just a friend taking a friend out for her birthday.

For it not being a date, he treated me like a queen. He opened every door. He paid. During the movie, he left to use the restroom and grab something caffeinated and asked if I wanted anything from the concession stands.

I know. It does not sound like much at all, when its typed out. But to me, it was everything.

Absolutely Everything.

I didn’t even REALIZE how low I put my bar of standards and expectations.

It was unacceptably low.

Thank goodness I became friends with a man who has been the only one to meet my initial expectations, when it comes to dating. Who knows how long I would have left that bar so low? Who knows how much lower it would have gone?

What the FUCK was I teaching my DAUGHTER?

Thanks, friend, for grabbing my lowered bar, and placing it back on the top, where it should have always stayed. Thank you. I appreciate you, even though you won’t read this. And if you do, I’ll be surprised.

God’s sense of humor, here? I’ve mentioned how amazing my friend is. I knew he was pretty amazing before experiencing him in person, for the first time since our teen years.  I was never physically attracted to him. I even told my work-wife (Love you Lisa!) that I wish I was physically attracted to him. I asked, silently as well, “Why can’t I be attracted to HIM?”  Some may call it a prayer. I called out to everyone and no one, and when I saw him, that morning, all I could see was how handsome and kind and amazing he was.

Oh, for FUCK’S SAKE!

Really?

REALLY, GOD?

You choose NOW to “answer my prayers?”

WHY?

You dangle perfection in front of my face, knowing damn well that it’s a fucking triangle of doom??

Ugh!

It’s okay. It is. I am a mature adult, and I just thought, “Well damn. Maybe he does exist? Maybe he just thinks he’s fucking hilarious? Maybe, my life is a sitcom, and he’s laughing as he pulls these strings and watches me stumble about.”

It’s okay.

I’m gonna laugh right back and keep him as my damn friend, and that’s that!

Maybe The whole purpose of this friend coming into my life, when he did was to help me with my expectations. Hell, I had been helping him ask a girl out that he has been crushing on for a while. (hence the triangle comment above)

And today, TODAY, God people came to my door with booklets. I don’t do well with any people coming door to door, for any reason. It bothers me.

Then, as I sat at the dining room table, after cleaning up a bit, I realized I had just done something the Bible says will put me in hell!!

FUCK! FUCK! DOUBLE FUCK!

I turned a person away, that was trying to share the word of god with me.

If I go to hell for that, I will be in hell with a lot of people I know. My husband included. You know, since he didn’t believe in the Bible or organized religion.

God, if you’re out there, I don’t think this is funny. I don’t know if you’re real, and that’s got to be because this would be the first prayer that was answered, that I didn’t realize was a prayer in the first place.

*forehead slap*

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My Face, not laughing at God’s sense of humor.

Hey, Mitch.

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Johnny got married this past weekend. Hopefully you saw. His bride, Tina,  was stunning. Megan went, and she even wore a dress. She was wearing her Vans, but,  still in a dress and looked gorgeous.

Our OCR group took over the bar area, and served everyone drinks all night, because we can never just sit still, and we always seem to have our hands in everything, helping wherever we can. I wish you were able to meet these people, babe. They’ve become some of my closest friends. They encourage me to keep going, and most of them only knew of you, what I told them, and they all love you, too. You were definitely a keeper, that’s for sure.

I think about how I hit the jackpot with you. I know you always claimed we were like the couple from King Of Queens, “I’m the fat guy with the super hot wife!” I love you. I love how you loved me. I love how we loved each other. It was beautifully meant to be. No question.

I was telling someone yesterday, about how I used to HATE when you shaved, because you would always leave a huge mess with your little red beard hairs all over the bathroom. I loved that red beard.

I followed that up with how I ran out of shaving cream, recently, and decided to use your shave bar, and how I sat on the floor of the shower, as the water blasted me, and cried my eyes out, because your little red beard hairs were still in the shave bar and dish. It smelled like you, and there was a little piece of you right there, like you were still here. But, you’re not. You’re no longer here, in my realm.

I survived that bout of tears, as I will survive many many more. I don’t fear my tears, anymore. I don’t fear crying in front of anyone. I don’t fear the reactions I may receive in the event of crying in the oddest of places. I just do. If someone asks if I am okay, I always tell them “I will be. Give me a minute.”

Race season is coming up, and it’s coming up FAST! I am hosting a workout with a few other KCOCR admins, this Saturday to help the general public get ready for Warrior Dash. It’s so cool, because it’s a free workout, and Warrior Dash posted it on their social media pages to help spread the word! Remember when I would get up at ungodly hours, and go work out at different gyms, with our tiny group? That tiny group is HUGE now. There’s almost 1,000 of us, and now I am one of the moderators, alongside some amazing people.

My strength and conditioning coach got an amazing opportunity to put his degree to use, and make some pretty great money (I am guessing about the money), and will be moving to New York! I’m super happy for him. He’s created a monster in me. HA! I’ve lost weight, built muscle and strength. I haven’t looked this good in decades!

OH!! You won’t believe this! I am down to a size 6! I can even fit in some 4s. It’s crazy! I haven’t been this small since before I got pregnant with Megan.

Speaking of Meg…

I’m at a loss. I can’t get her to clean her room. Her room, sadly, looks just like your basement bedroom always did. Moldy dishes, bottles of drinks all over. Goldfish crushed into the floor. Trash, clothes, and hangers EVERYWHERE!! Towels all over. You get it. You know what your room looked like. That’s what her’s is like, and it’s driving me insane. I mean, I get a little messy sometimes, now, but not dirty messy. Just stuff like a basket with 13 loads of clean laundry that needs to be folded and put away, or dishes after a big meal prepping day. I know. You probably think I’m crazy. I just can’t stand having a messy home anymore. I’m less exhausted this way. I don’t have to think too much about where my things are, and that makes me a happy person.

I also can’t get her to improve her grades. She is, well, lets just say it isn’t looking good.

I wish you were here to help me help her. I try. I try hard.

She is smart. I know she’s smart. She knows she’s smart. But, some stuff, she just doesn’t DO and it’s causing her to get bad grades.

She’ll get it. I know she will. She’ll figure out how badly failing classes will be for her, in the future.

If there is a God, please, tell her I need guidance, because she isn’t listening to me. Or him?

I have decided to attempt actual dating, now. Although I love you with so much vigor, and will always love you, whole heartedly, I have come to realize that there is a growing chamber of my heart that is going to allow me to love another person, some day. I’m not saying anytime soon, and it’ll never be the love that we shared, because that cannot be duplicated. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be a great love, too. Right? I know you’d want me to be happy, and you wouldn’t want me to be alone forever.

Oh! When I went on a date the other day, I ACTUALLY let him open the truck door for me, and accepted help in and out, like a lady should. Remember when I threw the feminist shit at you? “do NOT open my door for me! I am fully capable!” I’m so sorry. I was so young. I didn’t think about it being a nice gesture, or an act of respect. I’m growing more to understand the things I didn’t know while you were here. In some ways I am so sad that I didn’t figure these things out, while you were still alive. I wonder how I never realized some things. I should have let you be the man you wanted to be for me. I mean, you were definitely the man for me, but I didn’t allow you to be a typical gentleman, from the very beginning. There is so much Love and so much respect for you, that I wanted you to see me for the independent woman I really was.

I wasn’t “independent” then. I mean, sure, I could do this or that by myself, but I had no idea what was happening with bills, the bank account, or anything else, for that matter, for many many years.

Our 16 year wedding anniversary is coming up. It’s crazy to think we would have been married 16 years. Together for 19, come August. If I didn’t live the beautifully tragic love story of us, I wouldn’t believe it. Or I would, but I wouldn’t believe that the widow is still sane, and functioning for every day life. It’s like a story someone made up, so they could sell books or tickets to a movie.

But here I am, babe. You’d be proud, as you ever were, that I am not only an independent woman, raising one hell of an amazing daughter, but, I am helping to run our obstacle course group, working full time, keeping myself in shape and our home under control. I am making more time for friends and family, and I am living this life I was granted.

I miss your beard hair in my sink. I miss all of your nearly gone body wash and shampoo bottles in the shower. I miss the way you smelled after mowing the grass or rolling around on the floor playing with the dogs. I miss the way you would try to lock Megan or myself into a room by tying things to door knobs, or trying to play pranks. I miss all the things that made you who you were.

Forever love is forever, and that’s what we share. No matter the shift I feel within myself, It’s not a change in my love for you, at all. It’s a growing change. An amazing,  unbelievable growth within myself, that I never ever would have thought possible.

Until we meet again,

With all of my heart,

Tabbie

Hopefully the quality of my video is okay. I had to screen-record because I cannot download it. This was at The Life Celebration.

I Used to be a Christian

“The other day, when I was reading something you posted, it hit me. YOU are the writer!”

 

I know, the title is going to get everyone’s panties in a wad.

Chill out.

Read it.

You’ll get it.

I am 36 years old.

I have one HELL of a story to tell.

I’m not sure I’ll make money off of it, but it I do, I’ll have to A: change the names of the people so I don’t have to get their consent to tarnish their names, or B: Get consent from people I love dearly, to drag their names through the mud, because it’s a part of my story.

I remember when I was little. I remember going to church and loving Sunday school. I remember coloring and playing with other kids, praying at night for all of my loved ones and even all the strangers I never met, and never would meet to be safe. I was naive. I believed that if I prayed for EVERYONE, everyone would be safe. Then, one day, I was in shorts and a t-shirt, accepting Jesus into my heart as my lord and savior, as I was dunked into a pool of water in front of a congregation.

I was 7.

I remember, because I remember the look on my dad’s face when I told him I wanted to be baptized. It was a look I craved. A look of acceptance, of love, pride and happiness. I believed that Jesus was good and God loved all of mankind.

The older I got, the more confused I became. It wasn’t because of outside influences. It was because of everything I had read in the Bible.

I’m not going to bash the Bible, or God, or Jesus, or Christians.

I guess, I am writing this to say a few things. I am one of those “think outside the box” types of person. I know. You probably never would have guessed it, am I right? ha!

I have read the Bible. I have read it cover to cover a few times.

It. Makes. NO. Sense. It’s about as contradictory as anything could be.

But that’s okay. MOST of it is good guidelines for how to be a good person.

Jesus was this totally rad dude, who helped poor people, sex addicts, drug addicts, thieves and more! He totally loved them and taught them how to be good people. He proved to them that the choices they were making weren’t the only choices set out for them. He showed them that, although a rough road, a possible road. Right?

Totally cool guy. Loving, accepting, nurturing.

One of those guys you aspire to be like. Right?

Well, you don’t have to BELIEVE the Bible, to believe in the main character. Right?

Either way, my “faith” is different than it was when I was a child.

I have lived. I have observed. I have survived, and have stayed pretty damn level headed in the process.

At the point where one would finally break, I, instead,  keep striving for better. Not to GET something better, but to BE something better.

When I was a child, I believed that I would forever be protected. Nothing bad could happen to cause heartache or sadness, or the things that I have experienced through my 36 years of life.

Boy, was I wrong.

I say something that I know may piss off a lot of people, but I believe it one hundred percent.

Everything happens for a reason.

I’m sure many people who are grieving right now want to reach through their screens and slap the ever-loving shit out of me, right now.

I believe it. You do not have to. But, I do. I always will.

I REALLY met Mitch at a point in my life where I was really ready to call it quits with dating. I honestly never wanted to see another man in a dating manner again. (That was my dramatic teenage mind)

He walked into McDonald’s, smiled his brilliant smile at me, and told me I was coming to his birthday party.

You read that right. He didn’t ask if I’d go. He told me I was going.

“Hey, What are you doing this weekend? Oh? going to my birthday party. Okay, We’ll pick you up at 6!”

I was stunned. I was shocked. I was ALREADY in love with that boy, and he didn’t even know. We were both 17 years old.

He walked into that McDonald’s on the most perfect night, with the best “invite” to a birthday party I had ever received.

I think if God is real, he laughed when I swore to all things holy that I would NEVER name my child Megan, when I was 15 years old…

Que the laughter…

My favorite human, aka my daughter, is Megan. I can’t even imagine her with a different name.

Just as I remember the first time he “asked” me out, I remember our last night together. I remember what he had for dinner. I remember what movie we watched. I remember the words he spoke, as if they were gospel.

I remember his hand as he held mine during that movie.

I remember the next day, when I walked… ran to the doors of the FedEx Hub only to be dragged into an office and told that he was gone. I remember thinking “There’s no way there is a god. There’s no way a god would take such a man from this earth. No way!”

I always joked with Mitch about how I didn’t remember life before him. I think I phrased it wrong. I remembered life before him, but it felt like another lifetime. Like everything was happening as it should .

When he died, I had that same feeling. Everything is falling into place. Everything is exactly as it should be.

I hate it. Megan hates it. Our families hate it.

But that feeling. Gawwwwwd that feeling.

I’ve thought so many times that if anyone knew how I felt, how I felt as thought this is meant to be, I’d be looked at as heartless.

Now, though, I know I am not. I know my family and my friends, my coworkers and my past coworkers know that I am not heartless.

Mitch, I believe, completed his mission here. Whatever his mission was, he completed it, and he did it FAST.

I can tell you that whoever was supposed to learn from him, learned well.

Whatever it was he taught, he taught it without knowing he did.

I feel like I was a part of his mission, but definitely not the whole of it.

He taught me to be kind, even when I didn’t want to be. He taught me to see everyone’s point of view, and not take sides. He taught me that I have the ability to be amazing, I just needed to put forth the effort. (still trying, babe!) He taught me, most of all, that good men did still exist. He taught me that there were really still good fathers. He taught me that I am so much stronger than I ever imagined I could be.

I could write a book about how much like Jesus Mitch was. He never “laid hands on” and “healed” people like the Bible says Jesus did, but he sure did heal people with his words, his kindness, his acceptance, and his love. He talked to everyone, and he helped everyone.

So, again, I say: I used to be a Christian.

Now, I no longer align myself with any one religion, but, I believe that something is out there. Something is in charge and we are mere pawns in a game.

Am I winning?

Am I losing?

I guess I will only know when I pass on to the next realm.

Until then, I will continue my path of love and acceptance. I will not intentionally harm anyone. I will cherish my family and friends. I will teach kindness, empathy, and happiness through example.

 

IMG_2531

 

What Is Life, Without A Little Death?

Here death strikes again.

So many people, such a short time.

It has happened since long before any of us, and will continue with us and way after us.

Death

It’s inevitable.

We all live our lives. We go and go. Some of us are moving so quickly through life, that we are missing out on the things that really are the more important things.

I was guilty of this. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I have since figured out a better balance, though.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

I love racing, and birthdays, and listening to my people talk about their lives, and the things that they are passionate about.

I’m not very good at asking the questions, or initiating conversation, but that’s because I will listen to you tell me about your passions, your grief, your day at work.

When Mitch died, in January of 2017, I was confused. I wasn’t angry, I didn’t really wonder why, so much as “What the Fuck?” It wasn’t an angry wtf, so much as a confused, how could this have happened type question. Once we knew the science and biology behind, I stopped asking. I knew.

That question was answered.

You hear people say, all of the time, “god only gives you what he knows you can handle.” If you believe in God, this has to be true.

You may not know you have it in you, until LIFE (or death really), slaps you in the face.

Wednesday, after I ran 10 miles and was in my car, headed to get some food, I received a phone call. My father in law lost his girlfriend. (They might as well had been married. They had that connection, and that unconditional love. They were only missing the legal documentation).

Let me throw out a little back story on this man, without going too deep into details, or anything.

This man was married to my husband’s biological mother. He adopted my husband, and had 2 more children with his wife, Megan.

When Megan was in her early-mid twenties (I don’t want to screw up on the details), she was murdered in a bar, by a crazy man.

This man, Mike, became a widower father to 3 children, one of which was a tiny baby girl.

He did not handle that well. I mean, who could blame him, right? His wife was murdered. What was he supposed to do?

Fast forward through some addictions and runaways, some verbal fights, and a bit of time in jail, a couple of marriages, divorces and a couple more kids, grandbabies and sobriety.

Here we are, he’s the father of 5 now. He’s gotten his head together, he’s trying very hard to be a good man.

His eldest son dies. The son he adopted, when the son was just a boy, and had his mother ripped from him. The father who may have had his problems surviving this life, lost his son.

He had an amazing woman by his side, to help keep him together. She was there to keep him steady, and remind him that he would be okay. He would make it through this.

Fast forward a little over 2 years, and his girlfriend is now with his first wife, and eldest son.

If god is real, and only gives people what they can handle, he sees something heroic in Mike.

I’m so devastated, for him, and can’t even begin to imagine how his mind is processing.

I’ve been told I’ve handled all of my adversity with grace, and I don’t know. It’s what everyone on the outside sees, when my insides are a screaming and tangled and threatening escape.

But death. Death is one thing we are all going to face.

Death is inevitable, and I don’t think we should fear it. I’m not afraid. I don’t want to die, and I’d never do anything to speed up the process, or invite it sooner. I want to live into my old age, maybe meet a second soulmate, and grow old together with them. I want to have grandbabies and a son-in-law (or daughter-in-law. I’m not picky)

I want to watch my daughter grow into a woman, and watch her find her soulmate, fall madly in love, marry, and grow into her adulthood.

I really love living. I think that Mike is realizing that he loves living as well. Even through the grief that seems to keep being added to his plate, he becomes just a little bit stronger, each round.

I wanted to share his story, because many people judge. Many people do not KNOW. People will never truly understand. But, just the briefest summary of the shot hand this man was felt, and he’s still here. He’s still standing. He is STILL putting one foot in front of the other.

The world we are on is still spinning.

The bills still need to be paid.

Our work here isn’t done, yet.

Death: The only thing guaranteed of life.

Live while you can!

Find happiness!

Be who you are!

Never stop saying their name!

Mary. Megan. Mitch. Sandra. Annie. Gramma and Grandpa McAnany.

Only their bodies are gone. We are forever able to remember them through our pictures, and our memories. We have videos, and voices recorded, now.

On the days we miss them the most, I think their spirits are the closest. Our human form cannot process their presence without their human form, so we interpret their spiritual presence as sadness, and yearning, and missing them.

We FEEL them, but we cannot touch or see them.

May all of our loved ones be partying like rock-stars.

Annie.

Has.

Arrived!

We will miss her, of course. But she is definitely in good hands now.