I'm with you...

I’ve been missing my nieces lately.  They live 2000 miles away and we haven’t seen them in three years.  And despite the modern age of technology that includes cell phones, texting, Facebook and Skype, I haven’t talked to them in about two years.

The sad part is that I’m really not sure why.  

I dreamed of the day that the girls would be teenagers, and I could be the confidante aunt that listened when you had problems with friends or school, and didn’t judge you.  The aunt that sent you little gifts just because, that came at precisely the right moment that you needed to feel loved and cherished.  That we would share secrets and they might call me in the middle of the day just because. 

When CJ was small, she knew exactly what our relationship was to be.  She was helping me put on my makeup, running the brush across her face and saying, “CJ will do it!”  

When I shared this with her dad, he corrected me.  “No, she says it, ‘CJ WILL do it’.”  

“Not with me,” I giggled.  “She doesn’t have to convince me…she knows that I will let her.”

Every time we got the chance to visit them (which was not nearly enough with my brother in the military), I would take lots of pictures and then create a themed scrapbook with the pictures.  One year, I made a book in which each page began with “At Aunt Jaycie’s house…”  Another year, I recorded a piece of advice for each picture.  

The next time that we got together, they would quote the books.  I went to visit them one year, and Allie apologized when I saw the tattered book from their last visit.  

“I’m sorry, Aunt Jaycie,” she said soberly.  “It’s getting ruined!”

I couldn’t have been more excited.  They were reading them.  They were memorizing them.  They were LOVING them.

It was those shared memories that kept us close.  We could laugh together about how their grandmother, my sweet mother…is the worst poor sport in the world.  You have to keep an eye on her, one would say, and then in unison, “Because SHE CHEATS!”

We would talk about how their dad flipped out when his he couldn’t get the film out to develop photos from when he proposed to their mother.  He ended up smashing the camera and the film on the back patio in frustration.

They loved to hear about how they used to tease Uncle Chops that they were “stinkin’ up his spot.”  That once, he took away Allie’s “buh uh gum” because she wouldn’t keep it in her mouth.  He held her over the garbage can until she spit it out, and she cried for an hour.  They promised to never be teenagers and ignore their adoring young cousins, like Tux did when he turned 13 and was too cool to be seen with them.  

We remembered making Fourth of July shirts together, Tie dyeing, and working on the roof of my parents house together.  Eating crab around the island in the kitchen, and the many nights watching Pokemon when Todd and I spent a week with them when their parents were out of town.  How the storm nearly drowned us at the park before we could get back to the van.  Eating Taco Bell and watching CJ cry when her cheese got spilled.  About how JJ kept telling me that I was mean.


The cool aunt train appeared to be going the right direction.

But then the phone calls got fewer and farther between.  They were more hurried.  And soon, calls were not answered.  No return call.  

CJ was nearing those teenage years, and I had hopes that even if her parents were too busy to keep in touch with us, that she and I could keep in touch via social media or her new cell phone.  I texted her one day, sitting in Taco Bell, and reminded her about the spilled cheese.  I told her how much I missed her, how much I loved her, and how I wished that she were at Taco Bell with me.  

I never heard from her.

Bro told me later that she had mentioned that I texted her.  But she didn’t text back.

I posted on her Facebook wall.  

She never replied.

Bro says that she isn’t your average teenager, and she isn’t into texting.  

I happened to catch Bro one day, and we had just a moment to talk. JJ was there, and Bro asked him if he wanted to talk to me.  He said "No, thank you."


 

I finally quit trying to contact them, because it broke my heart to be ignored.  

No one noticed.

I heard Avril Lavigne’s “I’m with You” on the radio today.  CJ loved that song when she was little, and we found it refreshing that she heard “DAMP cold night”, instead of the lyrics “damn cold night”.  

I thought that you'd be here by now
There's nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but there's no sound

We’re also coming up on the Fourth of July holiday – a family favorite.  It reminded me of the time that we were coming home from the beach and a tiny CJ said from the back seat, “You love us, Aunt Jaycie, and when we’re not here, you miss us!”

I smiled at her and at Allie, whose big eyes were looking at me in the rearview mirror.  

“When you’re not here, I miss you all of the time.”

Just so you know…I still do. 

Not today.

Of all of the coping mechanisms that I employ, this is perhaps the easiest and the most effective.  

I don’t know how I’ll feel tomorrow…
…tomorrow is a different day

Music has always been a big part of my life, and this song holds special significance to me.  The first time that I heard it was on the television program, “Joan of Arcadia”.  Joan, who regularly talks to God in various forms, has been diagnosed with mental illness for believing that she is talking to God.  She’s returned home from a summer camp for crazy kids, and trying to return to her previous life.  It was heartbreaking to watch her try to explain her struggles to those around her, knowing that they are judging her and watching for any sign of recurrence.  

And I wanna believe you,
When you tell me that it'll be ok,
Yeah, I try to believe you,
But I don't.

There are days when I feel like everything is out of control and I just can’t take one more ‘hit from the snake’, so to speak.  I can tell that my resources are low and that given the right trigger, I’m going to lose it.  Over the edge.   I’m not sure if it will be fits of crying, or anger at anyone who looks my direction, but it won’t be pretty.

My mind starts to wander, and it never heads into a good neighborhood.  I start listing all of the things that are wrong in my life, all of the things that I have failed at.  I start to overthink everything, and see patterns where they don’t exist.  

Everything begins to take on a sinister twist, and I’m sure that the universe is conspiring against me.  To be fair, I’m sure that the universe is simply trying to balance the scales against my failures, but it is against me, nonetheless.   

I get angry that no one seems to notice that I’m hanging by a thread.   

That’s when this song starts to play in my head.  Because even if I can’t take one more minute of today, there’s always tomorrow.  If I can just get through THIS day, things will be different.  

Gimme a little time,
Leave me alone a little while,
Maybe it's not too late,
not today

                I feel myself retreating into the darkness, but not succumbing.  I can pull back and let myself recover.  Take a breath.  I can let the darkness surround me while I hide in the shadows and look out.  Not so far that I can’t see the light, but far enough that I’m not going to get burned. 

              

                 And I wait.

And I know that I’m not ready
Maybe tomorrow

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel stronger.  Maybe I’ll be in control of myself and my surroundings.  Maybe someone will see my struggle and take my hand.  Maybe, the world will just be better tomorrow.  And if not, I’ve given myself the time that I need to keep it together.

Things can be so much worse if you let yourself get dragged into the darkness.  

And I wanna believe you,
When you tell me that it'll be ok,
Yeah I try to believe you,
Not today, today, today, today, today...

Tomorrow it may change

For now, I’m going to bed.  Taking a bath.  Not going to think about the walls that are closing in on me.  A good night’s sleep is never a bad thing.  Tomorrow is, after all, another day.

When you can't tweet...or post...or even type!

I feel complete.  At least for this moment…

You see, I’ve been without a laptop for a few weeks.  It started out with a hibernation issue.  It would refuse to boot for days at a time.  Then, it developed a screen issue that meant that I had to use it with an external monitor attached.

That’s really not convenient, especially you are used to laying in bed typing or reading.  The monitor is never positioned quite right, and well…it kinda digs into your knees when you try to balance it. 

Finally, I took it in to the computer doc to fix it.  Not that I couldn’t have fixed it; in another life, that’s what I did for a living!  But it frustrated me so much, and I would get bummed even thinking about it.  So I paid someone to do what I simply could not bring myself to do.  Whip my baby into shape. 

$100 and one hour later, she works like a champ.  Even in bed.  I’m a happy girl.

What’s interesting to me is what I missed about my laptop.  I could still access email, Facebook, and Pinterest on my Kindle or Ipod.  I didn’t miss much there.  I could peruse the web, check out the news, all of the really important things.

But I felt like I couldn’t DO anything.  And by anything, I meant anything creative.

I could still take photos, but without having a computer to edit them, it wasn’t worth the effort.  I couldn’t work on my 365 project.  I couldn’t scrapbook.  Even if I wanted to go back to scrapbooking with real paper, I always use my computer to edit photos, print, or create titles and journaling.

Most of all, I couldn’t communicate.  I type all day, every day.  I work in front of a computer, and everything that I do is typed.  I type as fast as I think.  Well, almost.  But writing?  Fuggettaboutit.  Even if I could write quickly, it would be illegible.  I was completely frustrated when I would take out a paper and pen.  It was as if the delay from my brain to my fingers was interminable.

And typing on a Kindle?  Not a chance.  Crazy misspellings.  Ipod?  Crazy autocorrect.  (and sometimes, even inappropriate!)

I’d have a thought, and I couldn’t flesh it out.  I could make notes, but knowing that I couldn’t just sit down and think it out was incredibly frustrating.  Not that I’ve done much writing lately…but when I suddenly couldn’t…I really wanted to!  I felt the urge to bare my soul in prose.  To write the great American novel.  To write SOMETHING.  

I vowed that if I got the laptop fixed, I’d write.  I’d blog.  I’d type and type until there was not a single word left in me.  I’d understand what was inside of me.   

Ah, there’s the key.  I’ve been struggling with a number of things in my life, and I had no outlet.  I’ve always written, even if no one ever read what I had written.  The simple act of allowing my thoughts to flow out into the keyboard allows me to process them, to organize them, and to let them go.  

It’s comforting to know that my therapist is only a keystroke or two away.  

Life is good.

PS.  After I wrote this, my computer died completely.  I was lost.   I debated what to do, and finally decided that this was my thing.  I need it.  It centers me and gives me access to the great big world...and my own  heart.  A few clicks, and a brand new one arrived in just a day or two.  I consider it an investment into ME, and I refuse to feel guilty about the expense.  That's my story...and I'm sticking with it!