The Secret Life of Bees

If you want to watch the movie-don't read this. I'll spoil(kind of) the ending.

Sometimes movies get you, and pull you out. This one, surprisingly, did. I say surprisingly because I am white and have no idea how it feels to endure the struggles of a black woman. But I do know what it feels like to be a young girl, standing in front of your parent, wishing they could be something other than what they are and love you.

Standing in front of my mother at the train station in Tacoma was something I try not to think about. To have this fleeting moment where we both really could escape together, just the two of us, and run away forever, only to get on the train alone was beyond devastating. She didn't cry all day while helping me pack, she didn't cry while we sat across the table from each other at lunch, and she didn't cry while we waited for the train to arrive. As my mother was consciously choosing to send me away she did not cry until I sat down in my seat across from a stranger and looked at her through the window. I was 12.

She had dragged me back with her after two months away, to return to Robert and all that he was. I was with them for two weeks. Two weeks of being locked in the apartment and staying in the "guest room" as I was not good enough to have a room, sleeping on the floor because I was not even good enough to sleep on the couch in the guest room. One day he pulled me out of the guest room and sat me at the table. While he smoked cigarette after cigarette he made me read a letter. When I first looked at it I was shocked. I had no idea what to think. That was MY writing. My writing in red ink on school paper. What did it say?...I don't remember writing this?...these are not my words...it was a story I had copied for him from Chicken Soup for the Soul or something. A story written by a young woman about how she had been harsh to her step-father growing up, how he had punished her in turn, and only later did she realize that he loved her all along. I had copied it for him while on a trip to the beach with my mother and grandparents about two months before we left him. As I sat there trying to figure out what was going on he said "eat it."

..."what?"

"You heard what I said. Eat it. You wrote that to me and I carried it around in my pocket for months, showing everyone I worked with, and it was all lies. Eat your words....oh, and while you're chewing-look me in the eyes. I want you to know what you're doing."

I turned to look at my mother who was sitting three feet behind me on the couch, but she just waved at the paper with a smile on her face. So I ate it. I ate two pages of three before he told me that was good enough and to go back to my room and read. He had given me a book by Leo Buscaglia and told me to read it before I could go on with my life. That I needed to learn how to love before I could be a part of the world again, until then-the world would go on without me.

This short two week period before moving in with my grandparents has been on my mind a lot recently and I can't shake it. I haven't spoken to my mother since July, and now I think that all of the mess is starting to surface....again. Over and over and over I will go through this for the rest of my life because of the choices she made. I have spent years in therapy, and while I have forgiven her each time I have begun to hate her again, it never goes away. I can truly and deeply forgive her, but then time will pass and the hurt comes back and I have to forgive her again. And again. And again. All the while she continues to cause more damage and hurt with what she does now...

But in this movie there is a girl just like me. Confused, broken, hurting...She feels like the loss of her mother's love has made her unlovable. Then someone will cup her cheek and tell her that she is completely lovable, that she is surrounded by love. Since leaving my mother God has always sent someone to show me love. When my Papa retired and became and alcoholic again-he sent Nathan, Peter, Travis. When my grandma got tired of me, and started to spend all of the child support on gambling trips to Vegas, Reno, Laughlin-and instead blamed everything on me and called my caseworker to put me in foster care-God sent me Margo. When I moved back in with my mother and Frank because I had no where else to go after my grandma said she didn't want me, and my mother did some irreparable damage and I started throwing up everything I ate to feel in control...He sent friends to tell my mother so she could listen outside the bathroom door after dinner, and Jason to hold me after she continued to tear me down. When Jason and I finally ended our relationship after years of him lying to my face and discovering him one day with his pants around his ankles in front of the computer-He sent me Eric Murphy. When I moved back and needed to heal-again he sent me Margo and Melissa. When I was ready to be loved with no need of it-He sent me Andrew.

God has never failed me. He has always sent someone to hold me in the ways that He cannot in this life for Him. The time that Andrew took me to the top of a waterfall overlooking the gorge, on a night with a meteor shower, I knew that it was God's gift not Andrew's. That God gave me Andrew to show me how much He loves me. I know God loves me. I know He surrounds me with love. I know I know I know I know.

But-I cannot shake that feeling of never being enough. Of absolute despair that day she gave me up. The way it only got worse when she only came to one court hearing and then gave up. How much it hurt when my birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving would pass without so much as a phone call. The day I was crying in my room and Papa just came and sat with me while I cried, when he put his arms around me and just said "you are loved." How I will never be able to put this all down in a way that is fluid and sensible enough to show them all, even my mother, that through everything I love them enough that I would die for them. I would rather die than to have my mother's life cut short before she can learn to love the Lord. I know that God had to create a heart in me like this to understand His love. For me to understand how much He loves me. To know that I have hurt Him more than my mother has ever hurt me, and He loves me the most. It's just frankly, a really shitty lesson.

I will always feel like an orphan. I think that is why I want to adopt and foster. I want to show as many children as possible that they are lovable, that they are worth it, that someone authentically and unconditionally loves them before it is too late. I have considered our life with adopted children from many different nations, most of them girls, as infants and babies. Today I had this vision of Andrew hugging our daughter from India when she comes home in high school and a boy has broken her heart. I cried because I know that she will be so lucky to have a father like Andrew, and that he will be everything a father should be. I love him all the more for it. I love God all the more for healing me through Andrew's love. Andrew's love for me, his family, our future children, and his commitment to God.

I am the luckiest girl in the world above all else.

Aaaaaand-we're praying.

Discussed my current unease with my future and the fact that I feel I'm going against God's calling and will for my life with my mother in law last night. She told me a story about one of the pastors at her church, who also is the same pastor who did our pre-marital counseling, and how he handled finding the Lord's will in his life. He and his wife Jess did not want to have kids. They were so against having babies they had declared it would downright never happen and they were going prevent (naturally, of course. The basal temperature taking way...which totally freaks me out. I'm sure I'd screw it up.) it completely.

Then God knocked. And He knocked, and He knocked...until he blew that damn door down and Chris and Jess realized they were not listening. So they committed to prayer for one year about having children, and that they would follow God's direction whatever it may be.

A year and a half later they were pregnant.

So we've committed to praying about my/our future. The minute I let go of thinking I only wanted to go to medical school, the idea of OT (occupational therapy) came back. Over the past day it has been pushing it's way into my mind with all of the reasons why it would be a beneficial choice especially when knowing God desires me to obey and be a foster parent and mother. When we adopt internationally and domestically, both will have a high probability of having some sort of developmental delay. OT would help them. OT can be done part-time. OT would connect my interest in Autism with my work...

BUT-before making plans and creating outlines like I always do, we're going to pray. I've done this too many times thus far, had an inkling and jumped at it without enough time to carefully consider and ask for truth. So if you're the praying type, once a month is all I ask. If you could pray for me and Andrew, and our future together, solidifying a path that will benefit my family and my relationship with the Lord-I'd really appreciate it.

Letting go of planning is hard for me. But learning to trust the Lord is pivotal to the purpose of my creation. I'm thinking things will quiet down in my head, and finally-after being urged to my God for quite a while now-I'll be able to actually rest. I find relief and joy in that.

Plans

We plan to travel to Europe for a year after we graduate with our Bachelors.
We plan to visit Tarah and Corin in Australia (I'm actually in the works of making this one happen for New Years.)
We plan to buy an SUV/gas saver/new car for me.
We plan to save to buy a house of our own.
We plan to love each other through it all, even if we do come upon a life path with money.
I plan to go to Africa and love, however that is, for at least 3 months. Andrew wants to go to. ;)
We plan to adopt from China and India.
We plan to have one of our own.
We plan to get involved with a house church, as soon as we can find one that isn't on Wednesday nights.
We plan to move closer to Solid Rock, whenever it is we give up the amazing house we're in now.
We plan to get a newfoundland puppy, and raise him in the water.
We plan to get Andrew a season pass for the mountain, and a surf board in summer.
We plan to come to a point where we are more sustainable, living like hippies in the summer and home made in the winter.
We plan to change the negative things about our personalities.
We plan to save for our children's college. I don't want to have more children than I can afford to send to state school.
We plan to (also) send our children to Christian school from pre-school on....which costs more than four years of state school. crap. It almost pushes me to homeschool...but we would never wish that on our kids.
We plan to be there for Nathan as he leaves for college in the fall, and to welcome his future wife into the family with open arms.
We plan to stay healthy, and have both announced our "never let me get heavier than x" weights.
We plan to run a marathon next year. Training starts as soon as the foot heals.
We plan to get many more tattoos, and are both super excited to see the other all colored on.
We plan to have a Brogan James, Capri Marie, Epic (no idea. how on earth do you follow Epic?), Reagan something, Cora Beverly, and some other girl names...we'll probably have all boys.
We plan on waiting to have children. At least five years...the number is getting smaller...quit it all you baby-pushers...it might be working.
We plan on fostering children as soon as ours are old enough, or before we have our own.

We plan and plan and plan and plan. We hope and dream and cross our fingers. Julie's sister Diane said something this weekend that really struck me, and I thought was so beautiful. While Julia was worried about not having her doctor, and not trusting the one on call, and not knowing what to expect-Diane said "yes, but you trust God. And He knew that your doctor wasn't going to be here, and He knows what to expect, and He will take care of you."

I don't trust God enough. It is hard I find to lean on God as a college student. It isn't like I can throw a bunch of majors and life paths in a hat and say "Okay, so do you prefer Biology, Psychology, English, or heck-ceramics?"

So there's that. That's where I am. But I feel my heart softening, and even though I stumble I've been making a concious effort to only do things that are loving or forgiving with my hands.

I really love Jesus, I really love His wisdom, and I really love the opportunity I have to spend eternity with Him.

exhaustion is a major pain in my tushy

All of you who read this (except Whitney...who I have magically transported with me on our practically synchronized move from xanga) are here with me. In the hospital...waiting for little Maggie to show her adorable face to the world. Julie's freaking, which btw I may have crossed over to the dark/sister side...julia may now be julie forever...we'll see...anyway-poor Julia is totally stressed about a million things. I'm by nature a fixer. This makes it extremely hard for me to not take control and fix. In this situation one must tread lightly as we have come to find that we are dealing with a very snooty and controlling specialized physician (the one who is delivering Maggie as Julie's dr. Doesn't wor weekends..lucky bastard. Please remind me when I start to practice to get his schedule..). Specialized MDs are becoming more and more tedious to deal with as the salary gap grows wider and wider betwen them and the rest of this low-life primary care physicians...making at least 100,000.00 more evidently entitles you to asshole treatment of the rest of the world.

I digress. She's in this room full of people, which you all know because YOU'RE HERE...unless you went home to sleep comfortably in your own bed-wise btw..and she's making this face of "I'm not okay." Which she makes only when something is really wrong...and I want to fix it. My relationship with Julia has grown through the years from something where I was deeply broken in need of repair from a leader to that of a mutual friendship. Julia has something I don't-real down to core meaty love you til the end family. One of four girls she has all she needs as far as female intimacy, but she makes room for me. Adam is always encouraging her to call me and spend time with me because she needs people other than her sisters...lol. Which if you have three sister you don't NEED anymore dang estrogen-trust me, but she invites me in nonetheless. We have spent years crying on the phone to each other, diving in deep to the meat, and just loving the other where the cards fall. She was there crying the moment I became a Christian, to say "oh heather...you have no idea how much this will hurt your heart" when I lost my virginity, and full of excited squeals when I finally moved bac home. When I told her adam was the one the week after she got back from that trip she laughed me off but called me crying when he proposed. Of all my girlfriends Julia is the one I don't have to hide with, my all or nothing truth when it's ugly and hair when it's dirty friend. I love her daughter and try to love her geeky husband...but he tends to be harder to reach while hanging upside down on the monkey bars with my giggle through the bad times friend.

Today she will give birth to her second baby girl. I missed watching Natti as a baby, I was in Texas. I'm excited to be there for Julia through not only the birth today, but to help when she gets tired, learn from all her successes and hold her hand through the mistakes.

All of this to say-my body is exhausted but unlike all you lucky turds I cannot sleep. One teeny cup of coffee and my hands are shaking, I can never sleep in hospitals anyway, and just in case that stupid doctor doesn't show on time I have to be ready to catch the baby....lol. Even though I am the least qualified of the hardcore vag monitors here, it is all just a part of who I am...I want to fix it and be whoever she needs me to be right now.

If there were any mis-spells, poor grammar, overly cheesy statements, or down right run-on sentences...it was due to the fact that I cannot sleep despite my exhaustion, I had to keep my hands busy doing something other than picking my nose(cause that's just gross), and hospitals excite me the way a canvas excites an artist or Coraline gets Adam.

My eyes are puffy. It's 6 am and this is the first night I've spent away from my husband since getting married almost a year ago.

I had a dream about him last night. I've been having them quite frequently lately, once every two weeks or so, but last night's was so real...in its unreality.

I was dead and nobody could see me. I was just a ghost flying around waiting to be seen by someone. So I went to where he was and I waited in his room. When he came home he didn't seem surprised to find me or upset that I had just let myself in. He had two black eyes, and he looked so sad. I asked him where they came from and he told me not to worry about it. He was about to cry and just walked toward me and I held him. HELD him. Not only could he see me but he felt me. I told him I was dead, that nobody else could see me, and he thought I was kidding. Then one of his roommates walked in and was looking right through me and he believed. He told his roommate that he wasn't feeling well, and was going to spend the night sleeping...

The thing about my dreams is I never actually experience sex in them. I just know that it happened. Kind of like in a movie where they show two people kissing and then they wake up the next day. It was like that. When I woke up I sat up and felt instantly bad, I'm married....and here's where the tricky part of the dream comes in: I was dead. The premise of marriage is "til' death do us part." My dream had pre-programmed itself to be guilt free. So he and I ran around and lived and visited people together. After we were together awhile other people could see me too until I was no longer invisible to anyone. I could touch others also and it was as if I were alive again. The only problem was-I was still dead. Our time together could not be forever, and I knew that someday I would have to let him go to find another woman to be his everything. I told him and he fought me every inch of the way.

When I woke up this morning, I tried to fall back asleep. For that-I do feel guilty.

Sometimes, I'm not gonna lie, I want to have a baby. Right now. Because everyone is doing it!...lol. But seeing everyone I know and love spawn has really made me contemplate my own plans and "readiness."

One of Julia's friends who I think I'm beginning to be quite fond of, if for nothing else girly gossip and sarcasm, Rae Ann(e?)'s sister recently had a baby. Rae built this TOTALLY AWESOME mobile to go over the crib out of little hand sewn birds of different fabrics (think quilted birds, but cooler...even if that is what they were...lol) hanging from a branch, or something that looked cool/like a branch. Because I'm immature and not ready to have babies-that mobile made me want to have a baby. So I could be a Paris Hilton kind of mom with no emotion/maturity, but at least my nursery would be cool...agh.

But the mobile was awesome, and I want one. I also want to steal her beautiful child Ivy's name...but I won't. Regardless-I am not ready to be a mommy, and will have to live through my friends right now. Andrew and I are in a fantastically selfish place where we can get up whenever we want, eat whatever we want, and are not obligated to anyone. It's fantastic and I really do enjoy it. I can say with confidence, that youth is not wasted on me. I appreciate the fact that I'm a baby myself, and that now is the time to do these things...now if only my foot weren't broken...This summer Andrew and I are in plans with another couple friend of ours to do a week long road trip down the California coast through the Redwoods and beyond. Andrew has never seen the Redwoods, and I am now old enough for wine country. Woo! And of course, because I'm a baby, I want to go alllll the way down to Six Flags and pee my pants. It's fun.

If I had chitlens, that wouldn't be possible. If I become pregnant, we will celebrate joyously. I want to be able to tell my children I graduated from college. I would prefer to tell my children that I waited to have kids so I could establish the medical practice that has then paid for our home, needs, and pretty darn near all of our wants. But the timing is not in my hands. Andrew and I are devout believers in birth control, and birth control only. Our personal feelings are prevention is acceptable, but rectifying a birth is not. As in: we don't believe in the morning after pill. That's not prevention, that's an after the facter. For US, that's what we have decided. How I feel about forcing my beliefs on other people's wombs/future lives...different convo for a different day. Needless to say, bc is not 100% effective, so as married people we are ready to assume parent titles if it so happens.

I have thought this through and thought it through some more, and it's a toughie. As a woman, my uterus keeps urging me to fill it with life, but as a rational human being with the opportunities I have available to me such as career and education (thanks to some loud-mouthed women like me and something called suffrage...lol) I want to wait.

ALLLL of this typing to say-I've thought this through, but I think about all of this every damn day. It's annoying and exhausting. I've read the Feminine Mystique and I've formed my opinions/conclusions. I've learned about the movement and all the "liberation" that was done in the 60's and 70's. I've also seen the studies and aftermath including STD rates that are incomprehensible, the absolute disappearance of family, and where promiscuous sex has really gotten us....so I'm 150% sure that when I have children-I want to be there for them. I have options that women before me never dreamed of, and while I will pursue them full force-my babies will always come first. FIRST. Not second, not an afterthought, but first. When my kids are older, heck-I'm an advocate of the social interaction present in part-time daycare, I'll go back to work if I need to or desire to.

I'm just full of opinions today(always). And I'm bored. That is all.

I feel alone. Which is bizarre, considering I'm married, but I do.

I could say that it is only social isolation, and that I am emotionally fulfilled, but I just kind of feel alone. I love my husband and I know what he needs to feel loved, so I do it and in turn he feels affirmed and needed and then treats me like a princess. So selfishly, at least I see it as selfishly, I feel alone.

I hurt the people that hurt me. Not in a random or accidental way. I purposefully hurt those who hurt me. I hurt those that hurt me and I isolate myself. Then I feel alone. Surprise. To top it all off, I am easily hurt. I play tough, and can always win a fight-regardless of what we're fighting about-but if I'm angry at all ever it means that I am hurting. Which if you know me means I'm hurting all the time....because I'm angry all the time.

My sister-in-law hates me. She hates me SO MUCH I cannot explain it. My friends tell me not to let it get to me, but here's the kicker: she's adopted. By these parents who love her, but aren't always amazing, but love her nonetheless. They bought her first car, and swim lessons which she developed into a competitive sport, and that baby grand in their living room-it's hers as soon as she has a place to put it. They miss her and call her all the time and wish she would just move back to Eugene. So she has this awesome support system, even if her mother very obviously encourages her to lose weight (which at 24 she needs to anyway...) and she hates me so much that she has manipulated my mother-in-law into "choosing sides."She plays the victim and will say one totally witchy thing to me, and then immediately call my mother-in-law crying about how I've hurt her "feelings" and how she thinks now she'll "never be able to fix it."

And my mother-in-law has totally eaten into it. Ally is "sensitive" she just "hasn't let me in" she's "really trying"....she told my mother-in-law from day one how she felt about me. From DAY ONE my mother-in-law was "there for her" and told her that if she can't find anything nice to say to me she should just pray. So when Andrew finally had enough and blew up at his mom for letting her completely ignore me and exclude me at family gatherings, his mom just told him Ally was following her advice and praying because she couldn't find anything nice to say to me.

All of this would normally be no big deal to me except this: My mother-in-law was my last chance. My last chance to have a mother and my sister-in-law hates me so much she has purposefully ruined it for me.

**And because I'm not only emotional but also confrontational...great combo...trust me...agh...I just called my mother in law BAWLING...so emberassing. And we hopefully fixed it. Kind of. Enough to move forward. Which is good. And quite frankly, a much healthier alternative to blogging. Now if only my sister-in-law were that easy...which she's not btw, I tried it once over a year ago and she kept saying "UM, I have NO IDEA what you're talking about?!?"...and then immediately called my mother-in-law and proceeded to cry for an hour about how horrible I am. Yes. Really.

That is all.