The worst.

I wish I could say that the worst day of my life was the day I lost my brother, but it’s not. Don’t mistake me, it was fucking brutal and I still have no idea how I made it through that night still breathing. Until that point it certainly was the worst day of my life, but, sadly, it still comes in second. My worst came a few days later. And it came in the form of a dream.

You know those dreams that have you in a panic? The ones that you flipped your car, owe $500K to the mob, or are completely alone at work and have to do everyone’s job? Then just when you can’t take any more you wake up. Now you’re completely relieved that it was a dream, oh silly you, just a stupid dream. I want you to really think about it. Remember the relief that floods over you once you come back to consciousness, back to reality. The deep breath, the heavy burden lifted, even a slight smile. It’s such a relief, it’s not real and it’s over.

Now imagine the complete opposite. This was the worst moment of my life.

I had a dream. I was at the hospital with my whole family, for my brother. We were all in his hospital room, & everyone was crying. He was dead, he had been for a long time. While everyone was talking & crying on each other's shoulder, I was sitting next to John's bed, just watching him. He was pale (even more so than normal) & his lips were bright red, dry, & chapped. I was thinking "That must hurt.. He's hurting... He needs water..." & he turned his head, opened his eyes, smiled weakly, & asked if I could get him some ice chips. Everyone stopped, they watched him talk to me as if this was a good thing, but not surprising (hey, dreams are weird) I ran out in the hall looking for ice chips. The hallway was dark, & I was having a hard time. And while I was searching frantically, afraid that if I didn't get back in time, he'd be gone again, it dawned on me that there was a chance John was going to make it, he wasn't DEAD, he was sick, but now it looked like he was getting better! This incredible, overwhelming elation of hope filled every inch of me. I started asking nurses & random ppl in the hall if there was in fact a good chance my brother was going to be ok & they'd smile politely & say something like "It's a very good possibility" I finally found the ice chips & went back to the room. As I opened the door a flood of sunshine came in the room from the window opposite the door. My family turned to look @ me, including my brother, who was again... smiling..... I smiled back at him, my heart full of love, gratitude, and hope. My brother was alive. We were going to be ok, and I still had the chance to show him how much he meant to me. How much he was loved and appreciated. He was still here.

That’s when I woke up. There was no sunshine, it was dark... but I still had the sensation of hope & joy, & I hazily thought "He’s okay!! He’ll be just fine! If I could just get to him..." then like a crashing wave I remembered that the ashes of John's body were in a box. There was no chance of him ever coming back. It was too late.

Every ounce of me deflated every whisper of hope left my soul at that moment. I felt like I was being crushed and I couldn't breathe. I’m not sure if that’s the moment it truly ‘became real’ or what, but all I know is it was the most horrific feeling in the world. To this day when I think of that moment, and how my insides were screaming yet my body was frozen, I cry. I’m crying now as I type this.

Losing someone you love is one of those pains you will never get over. I will always miss him. It will always hurt that I couldn't save him. It will always be my biggest regret in this life.

Please, if you even think someone might be reaching the end of their rope, or you have fleeting thoughts of taking your life, get help. Please. No matter how alone or unimportant you may think you are, there are those around you who will be devastated if they lose you. I promise.

1-800-273-TALK (8255) National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

They are here to help, never to judge.

Why I'll walk.

On October 20^th I am participating in the Out of the Darkness Walk through the AFSP. My goal is to raise awareness and funding for suicide prevention.  Let me tell you why this is important to me.

Today would have been my brother’s 22^nd birthday. If I couldn’t be in Sacramento with him, I would have called, wished him happy birthday, told him to go out and have fun, and probably even had my daughter sing him “Happy Birthday.” I’d tell him I loved him.

He’d probably be taking college classes, maybe working somewhere part time, maybe he’d be pursuing something in computers. I always saw him in an unconventional job, like using his fascination with violent weather and becoming a storm chasing scientist or building robots. I would have taken him to Comic Con for an early birthday present, but would have still felt bad that I couldn’t be there for his actual birthday.

Or everything I just said could be complete bull shit. But it wouldn’t matter, because he’d be here. I’d still have my baby brother.

John took his life March 26^th, 2008; he was 17. I got the news about 9:30 Wednesday night, when my mom called me. I was 36 weeks pregnant with my daughter and after a long day at work I was relaxing on the couch with my husband, never knowing I was about to get the phone call that would shatter the world of everyone who loved him. Tim & I threw on shoes & jumped into the car to get to my dad’s apartment. I kept staring @ my phone, waiting for my mom to call me back to say she misunderstood; she could have just been mistaken….. right?.... Any second my phone was going to ring & she was going tell me that John had only TRIED to kill himself, but he was ok & they were taking him to the hospital. I waited for that call. It never came. I think I was in shock… until we got to the apartment. My dad’s unit was upstairs, in the back, & as we turned the corner, I saw the coroner’s stretcher sitting @ the foot of the stairs & my parents, my step dad, & my dad’s best friend coming down them. That’s when it really hit. That’s when I realized, there was no mistake, my mom didn’t misunderstand, John was gone. He was dead, and there was nothing I could do to change it.

He ripped out our hearts and left us here to figure out why. It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But the pain of losing him isn’t even the worst part; the worst part is knowing that he took away his own future.

The pain my  family has been through, the fact that my baby girl will never meet her uncle, the loss of one of the most interesting people I’ve ever known, the loss of potential, the loss of my brother is why this is important. This is why I’ll walk.

My fundraising page for AFSP

My baby brother...

Come to the dark side... we have cookies! :)

Who are your favorite authors? Why do you think you love them so much? 
One of my favorite up and coming writers is a woman named Gillian Flynn. I was on her website today and came across something she had written to her readers and it made me love her all the more.


Check it out- Gillian Flynn: I was not a nice little girl

Pink Cup Parenting.

Today is one of those days as a parent that you think, "Why? Why did I ever think having a kid was a good idea? Seriously. Who's bright ass idea was this!?" Layla has deemed today to be "Volcanic Meltdown Day". It hasn't been pretty.
Today we were SUPPOSED to take Tim's uniforms in to have patches sewn on, get the brakes on the car done, clean the kitchen, Layla needs to clean her room, and we are going to the DMV this afternoon. It's after 11 am and what have we accomplished? Oh that's right a big FAT NOTHING! I did dishes... that's about as far as I got.

The best part is the arguments are nonsensical. They say you can't argue with crazy, you also cannot argue with 3 year old logic. An example: "I DON'T WANT TO WEAR MY FLOWER SHIRT! 'CAUSE **MARCO'S BABY SISTER CRIES!!"
**Marco is Layla's imaginary friend that lives in the sky. While Marco is a "kid" he has a baby sister who is an elephant, yes, an ELEPHANT. Her name? "Baby Sister." Duh! And apparently said baby sister elephant cries at the thought of my child wearing a flower shirt. *SIGH* Whiny ass bitch elephant baby.

However, the inspiration for this post came from another melt down. When cleaning house I put Pandora Radio on the living room stereo and go about my day. Layla wanted the Glee Cast station, I wanted Foo Fighters. I'm the Momma. I win.
A few songs in The Counting Crow's "Hangin Around" came on. Let me start by saying I can't freaking stand The Counting Crows, and "Hangin' Around" is like nails on a chalkboard to me. The singer sounds like a dying seal. Now, the lovely thing about Pandora is I can opt to "Dislike" and skip the song, right? But in the mean time Layla comes running in demanding I change it. Uhmmm.... Excuse me? So I tell her that she's being very rude and you don't order around your Momma. She throws herself to the ground and starts screaming and crying. HELL. NO. Not only did I NOT change the song, I sat down next to her and started singing along at the top of my lungs like this was my freaking JAM! (BTW Why do you always know the words to songs you hate? lol) She eventually stopped the screaming and stared at me like I'd lost my damn mind. And, hey, let's face it, I probably have. But I got my point across. Was it the immature way to handle the situation? Yup, it sure was; But sometimes you have to throw Parenting 101 out the window and resort to alternative methods.

The whole situation reminded me of something my best friend and I discovered when we were teenagers. Several of our girlfriends babysat for the same family. They had 3 children, 2 girls and a boy, all under the age of 6. At one point or another, we all encountered the "Pink Cup Dilemma." There was a set of kid's plastic cups in all different colors, obviously one of them was pink. The situation always went the same: Kids say they are hungry. Babysitter announces she will make lunch/dinner/snack/whatever. When babysitter reaches the point of asking what the kids want to drink all three children come running, pushing, and screaming that they each want "the pink cup!" Even the little boy (because his sister's are so adamant that they get this damn pink cup). It was how each babysitter handled the situation that we joked perfectly summed up how we each saw ourselves as parents when we got older.

Babysitter #1 (Susan): "If you are going to fight about it, then I think no one should get the pink cup."

Babysitter #2 (Jamie): "*Oldest child* can have the cup this time, then *second oldest*, etc."

Babysitter #3 (Christina): "*Second oldest* asked me first, so she gets it this time."

Babysitter #4 (MOI!): "Uhmm... If the pink cup is seriously that cool, it's MINE. Problem solved. haha."

I like to think I've grown up a lot since then, but today just proved to me I still subscribe to my Pink Cup style of parenting. My kid is gonna need therapy. Whoops. :)

The long awaited 4th!!

Alrighty, we took several weeks off from the make-up trials because, well, life happens. Tim's ship has been moved to the yards and it's been crazy lately. So, tonight we have a double feautre. :) I did Layla's make up for a Princess Aurora look she asked for- it's subtle, she's THREE after all, and I am NOT a pageant mom! 

Next, we have Tim's 00's-raver-turned-hooker look. Yes. You read that right. lol It stemmed from my telling him about a "Techno Music Festival" *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* in Balboa Park.  Enjoy the cheesy  hooker duck-faces!!

Ok, actually the first one is apparently more of a Zoolander look! :)

A letter to me....

This is by no means a new concept, but it is something I've been thinking a lot about lately.

Dear 17-year-old-me,
Some of the best advice I've ever received, is something so simple and common it often gets overlooked: "Pick your battles." Some things are worth fighting for, the rest can figure itself out. Pick. Your. Battles.
That being said, Relax. No, don't be lazy. RELAX. You are too damn angry for being so young, give it up. Do some yoga. Eat a cookie. Find your peace. Whatever. Just do it. Trust me, it's so much better. You spend far too much time being angry.
Forgive your parents. They are only human, and divorce is hard on everyone.
Stop letting "No" be your first reaction to every question.
The petty-high-school games do not end in high school. They will be part of your life, everyone's life, forever. I'm sure there will be petty gossip & feuds to deal with from your wheelchair in Shady Oaks nursing home. I'm not saying condone the behavior or jump in the middle, just don't be surprised by it, and take it all in stride.
Shut up. You are not fat. You are just not skinny. Skinny is overrated. There is nothing wrong with being a size 11. So just stop stressing about it, you are beautiful. Embrace your curves and let them work for you.
Don't stop writing. Or drawing. Or singing. You are better when they are a part of your life.
Don't drop out of college. There's plenty of time for paychecks and parties, finish school.
Beware the quarter-life crisis, it's a doozy.
It never works out the way you hope with him. And that's ok. It's better than ok. The relationship may not be worth all the heart ache in the end, but the strength you find in yourself to walk away is worth every tear you'll shed. I promise, honey.
You'll meet and marry an amazing man, and Layla is more beautiful than you have ever imagined her to be....
Spend more time with your siblings. Hug John. Often. Listen more, preach less.
Laugh. Laugh at life, at yourself, at your lowest moments, through your tears... laugh.

A Reformed Little-Miss-Can't-Be-Wrong

*This is not directed at any one person, just a blanket statement.*

I really don't like passive aggressive people. If you have a problem with me, tell me. If you approach me as an adult, who knows, you may even get an apology. I'm not perfect, I make mistakes. I'm extremely impulsive and I say things that I shouldn't, and though my intentions are not malicious, I can do things that are rude or mean. This being said, if someone feels slighted by me I really wish they would just say so. Don't just slink away, or happen to "block me". If I have really done something wrong, I want to know, to either a) explain myself or b) apologize and learn from it. 

I'm a big girl, I can admit when I'm wrong. However, if you don't have the balls to have an adult conversation with me, I don't have time for you. Done.