Get Real, Amie

I guess I can scratch 'professional blogger' of my list of potential career choices, seeing as how I haven't posted anything since January. Then again, I haven't had much to write about until recently.

For starters, Adam and I were going to separate. He was going to stay in San Antonio and I was going to take Kimmy back to Arizona where I would go to school and work part time and try to get on my feet and get on with my life. Ironically, after we established this, we began getting along better than we had in probably a whole year. And then even more ironically, Adam received orders to go to South Korea in November. At first he asked me to go with him, I think mostly because he doesn't want to be away from Kimmy for a year and a half. And I do feel sorry for him, having to be away from her so long. But there's a possibility the army won't allow us to accompany him any way. Plus I think that the time away from each other will be good for us.

The plan is to move to the East Valley area around the end of September, early October. I want to rent a nice little house with a yard for Kimmy, and possibly a puppy, to play in. I plan on working part time and putting Kimmy in pre-school before she becomes completely anti-social. She's incredibly bright and intelligent, but she's still very shy around new people and other kids. Also, she needs some friends. I also plan on getting my funeral director's license, like I've been trying to do for five years. It seems like timing is always an issue.

The past few months have seen a lot of personal growth for me. I have really started questioning who I am and what kind of person I'd like to be and what attitude and beliefs are holding me back from my full potential (Dr. Phil would be proud of that last sentence). I realized that I had a lot of anger, resentment, bitterness, and even a little hatred festering in my black little heart. As I grew up and went to school and dreamed of what I'd be, and then all through college, I was excited about life and what I would do with mine. And then my family lost everything. My sister was killed. Everything fell apart. And instead of some Hallmark network movie scene where we all pull together during the terrible tragedy and help heal each other, we all isolated ourselves. Most of us turned to very self destructive behaviors to cope.

Looking back over the last several years, I realized that all that ambition and lust for life I had was completely sapped. I now looked at life as a chore, something to get through, a never ending danse macabre of bullshit.

I've decided for my own sake and that of my daughter, that I'm letting all of that go. All that anger and negativity and pessimism, the self loathing, and the pity parties -- I'm just going to set it all down and move on. I'm going to be more honest and direct, more kind and patient and loving. I'm going to be grateful for what I have and look forward to every day and every opportunity. I'm going to have more faith in myself that I can handle anything that comes my way, and I'm going to do it with a smile on my face.

Oh, and I'm also going to cut off this horrid, burnt straw catastrophe that is my hair

And I think I'll go with a super short, kinda dykie spiky cut and get back to my roots. Then I'll grow it out healthy and bleach free. It's all part of the Get Real, Amie campaign. That, and it takes me too long to get ready in the morning and I'm not really trying to impress anyone with long flowing tresses, so I think it's time to cut it all off and start from scratch. That applies to my hair and myself.

My husband took leave last week. Here's a list of things he's done:

1. Began growing a beard, which he'll have to shave when he goes back to work. But that's ok, he has very sporadic and sparse facial hair so it won't be much to shave off.

2. Play, research, and trade video games like it's his new job. I swear, I thought I married a grown man, not a 14 year old.

3. Pick like, 4 fights with me. Here's how a fight goes. I'll be in a good mood until he says something shitty or calls me a name. So then I get pissed and then he calls me crazy, says I need Xanax and then ignores me for 2 days.

4. Slept in til 4:00 or 5:00 every day. Oh but to be fair he got up at 1:30 today and took Kimmy to the park after I asked him to.

When do I get to take leave?

This one makes no sense

I have been posting a lot of crap on Facebook lately and the other night, I sat down for two hours and wrote a letter to my husband, of which I have no intention of sending. I think I just have a lot on my mind. There's so much I want to do, so much I'm sick of, so many things I keep trying to change. I'm not sure where all this annoying self reflection comes from. Maybe it's a byproduct of having my birthday fall on the last day of the year.

It seems like as soon as I start thinking that things are unbearable, something presents itself to me that makes me realize that compared to most of the world, I have it made. What I'm suffering from is good old boredom. In the midst of a pity party of epic proportions, I stumbled upon an article about child sex slaves in South Africa and immediately felt like a shit. Here's a 14 year old girl, pregnant and dying of AIDS after being raped and forced into prostitution to make a profit for a pimp who's taking full advantage of the World Cup crowds. And then there's a staggering loss of life in Haiti. How shitty is your life if you live in Haiti, probably in what we'd consider abject poverty. And then BAM a massive earthquake comes along and wipes out like 100,000 people.

So yeah, I need to pull my head out of my ass and make things happen. Because I really am lucky. Oh sure, maybe things aren't perfect. Maybe my life looks nothing like what I'd like it to. Maybe some days I'm bored and lonely and feel like my brain is slowly leaking from both ears. But I have my baby. I have food and a vehicle and a roof over my head. I'm not worried about my physical safety. I have a few nice gadgets. Time is on my side. I have my health.

Which brings me to another point. I weigh just over 200 pounds, which is the heaviest I've ever been. I'm not happy at all with the way I look or feel. So I started a running program, Couch to 5k, I quit drinking soda, and I'm trying to cut down on my portion sizes and snacking. It's just that I hate to exercise. So I tried a new approach. When I'm on the treadmill, pounding along on that thing, probably looking like Horton Hears A Who running through the jungle, and loathing every second of it, I clear my mind of all that and picture three people.

First of all, my dad. Norman is in his mid 60's. He does not drink or smoke and doesn't take a single prescription drug. He's lost about 40 pounds by walking up and down the hills of Globe and recently began running. I know a lot of people his age who are almost falling apart. I think, if my 60 something year old dad can run, so can I.

Then I think of my mom. Now, this is dangerous territory and let me say that I love my mom and I'm not talking crap about her. But the picture of health she is not. She's a heavy smoker, she's on a lot of medication, she's had multiple surgeries on her feet and she's pretty inactive. So I imagine my mom and her choices and then I think of myself, choosing to exercise and choosing to make better decisions about health.

And lastly, I think about last month when I took Kimmy to her 2 year check up. We went to the Brooke Army Medical Center, which is where the pediatric clinic is located. This was a few weeks before Christmas and they had a big Christmas tree display in the front lobby. So after the appointment we stopped on the way out so she could look at the trees. And there he was. Couldn't have been more than 20 years old, sitting in a wheel chair with his head down, staring at something on his cell phone. He was missing a leg from the mid-thigh down and an arm. I think of that soldier who would probably give anything to be able to run again, who suffers with issues that I can't even begin to imagine.

And with these three faces twirling around in my head, I suck it up and feel thankful for so much, and keep plodding along, trying to make the best of things, trying not to feel sorry for myself anymore, and trying so hard to find my purpose. And lose a few pounds in the process.