Protecting them is my job, and I am damn good at it.

But I failed them, my friends.

I failed in a very big way, and while I forgive myself for my ignorance, I will also carry the burden of that failure around for the rest of my life.

Blythe has a slight obsession with The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl, these days.  She thinks about them, and talks about them, and tells her friends about them.  Recently I asked her why she likes them so much, and she spouted off a whole list of things.  Then she said, “I like Lava Girl because she’s on fire inside.  Just like me.”

She has been on fire inside since she was two months old.  That’s when the screaming fits began, followed shortly thereafter by “pseudo seizures” where her body acted as though it was seizing, but her brain function remained normal.

She was inconsolable, for hours at a time.  Her tiny little body would stiffen, all over, and she would flinch away from my touch.  I was so afraid to hold her when she was like that, because I thought I would drop her.  So I would put her in her crib and watch her fight against herself.  Every muscle in her body would tense up, “seizing”, and then she would fling herself this way and that.  And scream.  She would scream for hours, even after her body calmed itself. 

She was on fire inside, and I couldn’t figure out why.

I can’t even count the number of pediatricians we saw, those first few months, but not a single one of them had answers. 

None of them asked if she had ever been exposed to Methamphetamines, even though I now know she was displaying signs of exposure.  As she’s gotten older, she’s shown more and more signs, and yet none of the experts assigned to her care – myself included – ever asked the question.  

The thought never even crossed our collective minds that meth exposure might have been contributing to the ever-growing list of problems with her Central Nervous System.  Even if anyone had asked, I would have told them, with complete confidence, that she had never in her life been exposed to meth.

I know differently, now…  and that knowledge changes everything.

As always, my disclaimer:

Please understand that I don’t hate him, I don’t wish him any harm, and I’m not trying to make him look like a monster.  He is getting help for his addiction and his behavior, and I hope he’s able to conquer those demons.

But this is my story.  My life.  This was my reality.  I won’t be silent.

There are things I want to write about here, heavy things.

As if the things I’ve written already have been light and fluffy, right?

I’ve hesitated about it, to this point, because I realize the majority of you are just moving along, living your lives, and do you really want to be smacked in the face, every time you come here?

But I want to write about it.  For myself, for my kids, and for people out there who are living as we lived.  It’s a story worth telling.

It won’t hurt my feelings if you choose to stay away for awhile.

Please know that no matter what I write about, I’m Ok.  My kids are better than Ok… they are thriving.  We’re moving forward, every day, and I want to thank you all so much for supporting us.

As always, my disclaimer:

Please understand that I don’t hate him, I don’t wish him any harm, and I’m not trying to make him look like a monster.  He is getting help for his behavior, and I hope he’s able to conquer those demons.

But this is my story.  My life.  This was my reality.  I won’t be silent.

Here it is, a whole new year. 

Time is marching on and life is moving forward at warp speed…

Last week, I began the training required to become a Clinical Research Coordinator (CRC).  It will take me awhile to learn the ropes and familiarize myself with FDA requirements and coding systems (not to mention pass the required exams), but I’m already incredibly excited. 

My long-term goal is to work on pediatric food allergy studies, but in the meantime I’ll be able to work in a lab right here in my little bitty town, which is amazing in and of itself.

Tomorrow, I start a new job at the gym where I’ve been a member for nearly a decade.  I’ll be working three evenings a week, and during that time my girls will have dinner, do homework, take baths, go to bed… and be completely taken care of, by someone other than me. 

I’m trying not to lose my shit, just thinking about it.  They’ll be fine.  Right??  Just nod and say, “Yes, Dre, they’ll be fine”.  Oh, good, thanks!

And because that is clearly not enough anxiety-inducing upheaval, the girls and I will be moving at the end of the month.

I’m very sad about leaving our home, but we’re not saying good-bye to it forever.  I just can’t keep up with everything by myself, and since I’m taking a step back from the businesses Jeremy and I run out of the house, it makes a lot more sense for him to live here, instead.  

I’m a little nervous.  More than a little, if I’m being completely honest.  As much as I’m overwhelmed by all of the responsibilities that go along with living and working here, it’s familiar.  I know what I’m doing, I’m comfortable, I’ve got a routine, and everything has its place, even if I’m overly stressed. 

Beyond the difficult emotions associated with our move, though, I’m really looking forward to the benefits.  Please, may there be many.   

Here’s to hoping the girls and I survive the coming weeks with minimal damage!

She chooses a quiet table in the corner and there we sit, chatting easily about the minutiae of our daily lives.

The evening wears on and I can tell she has something to say by the way she pushes the food around on her plate.  Her eyes trained on her fork, she quietly speaks.

“I didn’t think you were ever coming back.”

She raises her head, and her eyes meet mine.

I can only whisper my reply, “Neither did I.”

“I thought for sure he’d kill you somewhere out there and I’d see it on the news and we’d never find your body.  I was so scared.”

For a moment, I’m struck speechless by the pain in her eyes.  I am not the only one he’s hurt.

**********

He planned a trip to the coast for my birthday.  October 2nd and 3rd.  We’d gone to the same place on our first vacation together, exactly 12 years before.

I was afraid to go, but completely terrified of what he would do if I refused.  His behavior  had escalated to the point that I was secretly planning to leave, but I wasn’t ready yet.  I needed just a little bit more time.

I insisted upon driving the entire time, because I didn’t want to let him behind the wheel of the car.  We went to dinner to celebrate my birthday and he suggested that I have a glass of wine.  I realized my mistake as he asked for the keys, afterward.  Of course he should drive… I had been drinking.

Five miles in the dark, on treacherous, winding roads.  As the headlights swept around the curves, I caught foggy glimpses of the waves crashing far below us to the left; to the right, a solid wall of rock that seemed to stretch up into infinite darkness.

He was agitated.  Fidgeting.  There was something important he needed to say.  He was talking too fast, jumbling his words.  One hand on the wheel, leaning toward me, looking over at me instead of at the road ahead.  Speeding through one curve, slowing for another.  

Only five  miles.  Only five short miles. 

I sat completely still in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in my lap, eyes straight ahead.  I spoke to him quietly, calmly.  Stalled him.  No matter what he did, regardless of what he said, I was determined to show no fear.

**********

My hands are shaking, but I finally speak.

“I was scared, too.  He said he was ready to give me ‘The Answer to Everything,’ and I just knew that the moment he told me, he would drive us right off the cliff, straight into the ocean.  I thought I was going to die… that he was going to kill me.  But then… he didn’t.”

We sit in silence for a moment.  I smile.  She smiles.  I reach for my drink.

I’m eating enchiladas at a quiet, corner table with my friend.

I am alive.  I am loved.

And the truth has set me free.

————–

Disclaimer:

Originally I decided I wouldn’t write specifics about my current situation in this space, in an effort to avoid airing my family’s “dirty laundry” to the masses.  Please understand that I don’t hate him, I don’t wish him any harm, and I’m not trying to make him look like a monster.  He is getting help for his behavior, and I hope he’s able to conquer those demons.

But this is my story.  My life.  This was my reality.  I won’t be silent.

Last week, I took the plunge and finally got my first tattoo!

Maybe I should have gotten a tattoo of my BlackBerry?

Right after that picture was taken, he said, “Ooops, I think I squirted in your pants.”  And then we laughed a whole lot.

Ta-da!

Fluctuat nec Mergitur – Latin, meaning “Tossed by the waves, she does not sink”.

Questions I’ve been asked so far:

Why now?  A few reasons, but I chose to do it at the close of 2010 because it was an extremely painful year, and I wanted to end it with pain that was on my own terms, of my own choosing.  In short, I wanted to make 2010 my bitch, if only in my own mind.

So, did it hurt?  No, but I have an extremely high tolerance for pain (of the physical sort) and anyway, it’s the thought that counts.

Why on your belly?  Originally I wanted to get my first tattoo around my left wrist.  I’m planning a career change, though, so I thought it would be wise to choose a spot that wouldn’t be an issue if tattoos are frowned upon in a clinical setting.  The lower belly just seemed like a good fit.  And, yeah, I know it’s a popular spot for gang tattoos.  At least I didn’t get a tramp stamp.

Are you sure Fluctuat nec Mergitur means what you think it means?  What if it really means, “I like to party?”  The meaning of this particular phrase is actually quite well known, since it’s the motto of the City of Paris.  ”I like to party” is more of a Paris Hilton kind of motto.

Are you happy with it?  Yes, absolutely and completely.  It’s larger and higher up than I was planning, but once I saw the design, I knew it was perfect and just went for it.  I could not be happier.  I fondle it often.  I’m very fond of the fondling.

Will you get another one?  I’m already thinking about what I’ll get next… but I have some other business to attend to, first.

Where did you get it done?  Here by him.  If you’re in the Sac.ramento area and are looking to get inked, now you know where to go!

Also, special thanks to Kelly for going with me, being my photographer (as always) and for the party-in-my-mouth sushi we enjoyed afterward!