Webcam shot, laughing at That One, cause he’s just so darn fun-nay.

Yes, with a real camera! Today was spent at cheer competition. And I must insert here that I was told I looked pretty darn good today. And no Medifast coupons were used to obtain the figure that was so complimented. Which you can’t even see in this picture. Muhahahahhahaha. Both of the teams that could advance did and so it appears that I will be traveling to Charlotte over Thanksgiving once again, this time with THREE cheerleaders, instead of two.

Yesterday, I mentioned some things I mean to discuss and they included

my new closet

such a long freaking hiatus

old photo albums

massive downsizing of my personal possessions

gaining free time

dancing on a fine thin line

pinkness

I suppose we might as well start at the beginning with the blogging hiatus. I found out a few months ago that in addition to in-person stalking, my EH (that would be estranged husband) was also cyber-stalking me, to wit, following me on twitter, trying to friend me on facebook and also reading this blog. A blog where I have poured my heart out again and again and again over the years of it’s existence and which he never bothered to read before we separated. Now, he’s no more interested in my thoughts and feelings now than he was then, and I know that. He mostly hopes I’ll drop a juicy tidbit about wild monkey sex on the living room floor in front of the children, I’m sure. But I am not going to do that, because I can’t. I speak truth here, and since there isn’t any of that, I can’t just say there is, yk?

The thing is, it’s me. This blog is about me, and I am disinclined to put myself out there in front of him anymore. He wasn’t interested when I tried and now it is too damn late. And so I quit blogging, because I don’t want him to think he knows me when he really doesn’t. Even when he reads it in black and white, I doubt he gets it. But that leads to it’s own set of issues— I am a writer: the stories must come out. We’ve discussed this very thing right here before, you (dear readers) and I. In truth, during this period of silence, I have had a lot of fun. I’ve done a lot of growing and a lot of learning, but it’s also been a time of great personal upheaval as I try to erase erroneous behavior patterns that I adopted while I was so depressed toward the end of my marriage. And by end, I don’t just mean the final weeks. So there has been much work, and also much sorrow and a great deal of joy going on with me.

You know, it is not a cakewalk, coming back into one’s rightful self. It is a tumultuous thing, to realize where you currently are, and where you once were, and to begin the slow and hopefully steady climb back to your former self. At one point during this great adventure, I was thoroughly chastised by a very young friend for not “doing more”. Of course, what my young friend did not see was my amazing duck move. That’s when I look still and calm on the outside, but I am paddling like mad on the inside. She was seeing a house that needed cleaned and boxes of stuff that needed sorted and I was seeing a heart and soul that needed some serious loving mending, and that is what I was busy doing. It took the form of “laziness” to her, of disregard. What she saw was a lot of coffee consumed, a lot of cigarettes smoked, and much conversation with friends who love me, even when I find it hard to love myself. That was HARD WORK. But when I had accomplished that mental and emotional work, I cleared that mess she was looking at in a day and a half.

And it was a mess, too. Law, law. That One and Micheal and Jane had moved everything we owned that wasn’t nailed down into the living room of my house. Jeepers, Creepers, it was a lot of stuff. Fourteen bags to charity and probably the same again to the trash and still over half of it had to be put away. And I believe we could pull that same stunt again with similar results. But that will have to wait. I emptied out my old closet yesterday, and the corner of the living room is now filled with that mess. But that, dear friends is a story for another day.

As I look at this makeup-less pic, I am struck by how very much I resemble both Mama and Daddy. Very rarely do my lips look this full in a picture, but that is my dad’s mouth for sure. Also, the girl version of his eyebrows, which look amazingly like Aunt Lady’s. The eyes are definitely like Mama’s in color. Or Daddy’s depending on who you knew

Funny that this picture looks so much like them both because just this week, I rode around town telling stories of my young life to Country and Diva and a high school friend. One of the things that so thrills me about being with people my own age is that it causes my memories to come forth from whatever place they are hiding. One leads to another, and the story of my life unfolds in front of me again. It’s a very powerful thing. Drive me past my old house. Ok, let me show you mine. My dog Laddie is buried in that backyard. My best friend lived right there. By the way, I was wrong on the dates, because tonight I remember crying because I would not be riding on the school bus with her for first grade. Look, I got my foot stuck there in that grate, and I could not get it out. If you think I am tiny now, you should have seen me then. And there, my cat ran away into the swamp. And here were the geese of hatefulness. And yes, children, there really was a van worthy road where you saw only grass, just like I said. That’s where my stuff was burned. And this scar on my knee, I got it right there, falling on my bike.

You know, some people wish they could write themselves a letter from now back in time. Sometimes, living like this, when the memories come, it is like getting term life advice from my young self, if only because I begin to understand what made into the woman I am today.

Other times….well, there’s just no feeling quite like trying to share yourself with your teens and getting the groaning eyeroll for your efforts. How will they ever understand why I do what I do, the parenting decisions I make, if they refuse to know me at all? And is that really my problem if I am trying to share and they refuse to listen?

This week also brought the grand adventure of a water leak that led to significant damage in my kitchen. It’s not much to the naked eye, but the walls, insulation and floor are wet and must be torn out and replaced. It ought to be a whole lot of fun to try to care for and feed this many folks without major appliances on a rotating basis. Hopefully we won’t lose the stove and the washer on the same day.

I also registered my kids for public school this week. Five are going for the very first time. They are excited, but I wonder if they are ready. I wonder if I am ready.

This year, I have had most of the labels I wore stripped off: youth minister, worship team member, wife, homeschooling mom. It’s a strange new world I now inhabit. I am not sure whether I am shrinking or growing to fill it. I guess I won’t know for a while. I don’t feel less, though, only different.