Back Seat Driver

I swear to myself I'll blog more, I will make a list of things as they come to mind, I'll write them down, and I'll carve out time to do so...

And then weeks later I find myself here: staring at the blank screen, having finally found the time, lost the list, and not a clue what to say.

When I blog, I typically sit down with something to say, my own PSA if you will, or a story, or a message for someone in particular. Never do I ever just ramble. Ever. Maybe I should give that a shot. Shake things up a bit.

The past has seemed to haunt me lately, things I've done, things others have done to me, goodbyes I never got to say, feelings that were never shared. I know I can't change the decisions I've made in the past, but as of late, the nightmares have returned, I hold my breath when I walk to my car, and I jump at the slightest noise. Am I scarred for life? Perhaps. But at who's fault? No doubt, my own.

Maybe one day I'll learn to just pick up a phone and call someone, tell them they were on my mind, let them know they are in my heart. I let so much time pass I don't know how to reach out anymore, I am overcome with awkward feelings and regret for not calling sooner, and I reason myself down from picking up the phone and calling, or even sending a text. I tell myself I'll do it later, I will wait until I have some important news, or when the kids aren't being so loud. That never happens, in case you were wondering. Not even when years pass you by and one of your sisters dies. Nope. Not even then. I knew it was happening and still couldn't pick up the damn phone. That's regret you live with forever, in the pit of your stomach, because you know you were a failure. I've experienced a multitude of emotions lately-jealousy, anger, guilt, and grief just to name a few. In my defense, I didn't want to remember her that way, no one does; I want the memories of her singing "Burn, baby burn! Disco Inferno!" around the campfire while wiggling a hot dog between her legs to be the memories I carry with me. I hope she understands.

Some days, I wonder myself just how I do it. How in the world did I make it through another day? People ask me all the time how I handle 3 kids, one with a chronic illness. I tell them the same thing every time, you would if you were in my position. Don't question it. There isn't time for a pity party, there isn't a free minute in my day to feel sorry for myself, because there are people out there who have it so much worse. There are days when I feel like it's not just raining, it's pouring, but those days pass. I just move on and do the best I can, because that's as good as it's going to get. Honestly, some days I cringe just thinking about what's waiting behind door number one, but I get up, I open the door, and face the day. I'll admit, I pray for a do-over, probably more than the average bear, but somehow, some way, I've made it this far. It can only get better from here.

It's no secret we're rapidly outgrowing the space of our house. Dustin and I have spent countless hours discussing the possible changes ahead of us, what we're willing to deal with and accept, and what we're absolutely against. So far, we're seemingly on the same page, no major arguments this far, so I think it's safe to say we're not making any hasty decisions. As of today, we've established that we need a bigger house to call home and...that's it. Yep, that's it. Nothing else. We haven't decided on whether or not we're staying in this city, or even this state. The possibilities are not as endless as you would think, with one child in school and two more soon to follow, that's a high ranking factor on the neighborhood we choose, as well as distance from a children's hospital. If I choose to continue to stay home to raise our children, Dustin needs a comparable job without a horrid commute. Decisions, decisions. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Cut me off, Brook. Just cut me off.

The number of days where I feel like I'm suffocating-there are far more of those than I'd like to admit. I frequently feel like I'm going to explode, self combust even. What holds me together? The people who know me better than I know myself. My friends. My family. My kids. My husband. The possibility of bigger and better things. I have a drive in me, it's so strong, so deep, so intense, it'll never go away. I have to be everything to my kids my mom wasn't to me. Not because she didn't want to be, but because she wasn't there.

The world keeps on turning, life's going on whether I like it or not. Was there a real point to this post? No, not really. But if feels good to just sit here and write sometimes. At this time in my life, I feel lost, like I'm just wandering through the woods somewhere, not sure which way is north (and just so you know, I'm horrible at directions). Maybe it's time I slip into the driver's seat, grab hold of the wheel, and take control.

Or not.

Maybe I'll just slide into the passenger seat, fasten my seat belt, and grab my camera instead. I've always been an excellent back seat driver, and I love taking pictures of the scenery when I'm on a wild adventure.