Identity Crisis

I used to have dreams.



I have, variably, aspired to be a novelist, poet, chef, jeweler, marine biologist, storm chaser, meteorologist, Coast Guard, and on and on. I have failed, miserably, at them all. My day consists of trying to make it through the day at work, trying to understand my relationship, and trying to be a good mother. That is one thing I desire more than anything not to fail at.



Don't get me wrong about my job. I love my job. I think that, with the exception of maybe secretary or transcriptionist, it is the job I was born to do. I consists of a lot of research, a lot of knowledge, and a lot of typing, so... It's right up my alley.



The thing is, I am 8 months pregnant, and it is getting harder and harder to sit in that chair for a few minutes, much less 10 hours. I try, though, because I love the work, and, well, honestly, I am getting to that point where I go to work to escape my problems.



When I gave birth to Nicholas, I was young. I was young, recently married to his father, and broke. I stayed home for two months after having a c-section, but then went back to work with a vengeance. I worked my regular 40 hour work week at my regular store, then also 40 extra hours at another location that needed help at the time. (This was a different job than the one I have now.) I started moving through ranks, too. I moved from cashier to assistant manager to manager, always willing to work overtime or go to other stores to help out.



By the time Nicholas was five years old, I was a manager of my own store, working anywhere from 60-70 hour weeks, always working 6-7 days a week. I would go in early, around 5am or earlier, and get out in the afternoon, sometimes as late as five pm. It was an abusive job in every way you can think of. I was losing my sanity, my health, my family. After five and a half years I put in my two weeks' notice, went home early the day I did, and prayed like hell for another job.



In fact, the very day I did, I was on my way home crying and praying that I had not condemned my family to the loss of everything because I did not have any applications or interviews. No jobs lined up. But, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Not ten seconds after I stopped praying I got a call from a place I had never heard of working as a telephone banker. I had no experience. The last time I worked for a call center it had been hell. But they were offering me a job when I needed one, and I had not even applied. So I took it.



This job has turned out to be a blessing in so many ways. From the people who helped me through emotionally after my separation from my husband of seven years, to the company standing behind me as I took six months to recouperate from a horrendous accident, to moving me to another location closer to home when we acquired it, I could not have asked for more in a job.







So why the discontent?







After the accident, I lost myself. Everything I had not been I became. Everything I had been, I lost. And the guilt and regret of how I had lived my life up until that point became nearly unbearable.



Where I had once been independent and nearly insensitive, I became clingy, needy, and scared.



I realized my son was seven years old, and all I had were patchwork memories of highlights. He didn't really know me. I didn't really know him. I had spent his life working, trying to make sure that we had what he needed...shelter, food, water....and then some. He had so many toys it was unnatural. But that's been my life. His father worked when he could, but after he hurt his back, he stopped living. He was still bringing money in through short term disability, but not as much. And it was difficult to see his lapse into depression because I had not been there. Not yet.



I can't say much has changed. I still go to work. I try to get overtime when my health allows. But I don't know what I am doing when it comes to parenthood. Now with my second child only a month from being born, I am terrified. All I can think is, how am I going to love this child like he needs to be loved while somehow showing Nicholas that he is still my baby? I don't want him to feel like I am giving this child the love that I never afforded him, because I love Nicholas dearly.



I cry sometimes thinking about all the things I missed, all the things I am still missing, and how distant of a parent I have been to a wonderful kid who has already gone through the anguish of divorcing parents.



God help me.







Then I look at my relationship with John and wonder who I have become.



I used to get angry when Nick's father would cry. He used to tell me I was insensitive and cold because when we fought I would shut down and become distant, aloof. I remember getting into arguments with him because he would get upset that I would not cry when we were arguing.


While I don't go quite that far - I would not like to see John cry - I can understand where Nick's dad was coming from, because sometimes it feels like my emotions hit a brick wall with John. Like it offends him to see me cry or if I tell him something he said or did hurt my feelings.



Of course, I am 8 months pregnant.









So that brings me to my identity crisis.





How do I bring this child into the world and guide him and care for him and love him and nurture him, when I can do none of those things for myself? I am still needy and clingy and scared. Whether it is post-traumatic stress crap from the accident or the divorce or my own self-realization or my past relationships or a combination of the four, I constantly feel at a loss. Like I am losing John, like I can't trust him, like he's going to disappear one day.



I am still coping with and recovering from all the health issues that ensued after the accident. I can walk without a cane sometimes, but not for very long, and not without fear of my knee or leg or ankle giving out from under me. And being pregnant, I cannot afford the risk.



And last but not least and probably most importantly, how do I fix my relationship with the son I already have and at the same time be the mother I could not be to him, to my new son?





And where do I go from there?

The Princess and the iPad

People are funny to watch and listen to. I am sure I am no different.

She acts like a ditz and it is amusing to see her put on the airs of a princess and parade herself around the males. She even calls herself Princess and has a tiara on her desk. I used to be annoyed by her, then aggravated. Now she's become dull if not amusing white noise.

He bought an iPad. He showed it to me from across the cubicles. In less than a second I went from mildly jealous to wildly amused at how much he paid for it ($800) to a cross between the two. It came with a keyboard. If I were going to pay $800 for a piece of electronics, it would be (if not a dslr) a very good laptop with all the trimmings. $800. Cheez. Maybe if I played with it, I would think differently. I must get to a store and find out what would prompt someone to pay that much for anything.

She talks like a pure bred country girl, acts like (she thinks she is) the Queen of England, and is one of the few people on the planet than continually annoy me without bias. Generally, even if someone annoys me on a regular basis, sympathy or empathy regulates my agitation with their existence so as not to be a flat line of aggravation. Not with her. Everything about her screams fake, even the fact that she accuses other people of being fake.

I don't understand how the people around her get any work done because all she wants to do is talk.



I suppose I am in a foul mood because I am 8 months pregnant, my back hurts, I am tired, and I have severe heartburn.

But still.

Got to love watching the masses.



One of them commented on me the other day, saying I never say anything.
I do. I have a lot to say. I have worlds to say. I just don't say it out loud.

When Conflicting Feelings Don't Compute

They are not compatible.

I love him so much, but he is mean sometimes and makes me feel worthless and like he does not love me back. But he can be so nice, too. It's like....I'm only worth his time when things are sunny and cheerful. The moment there's conflict, he turns to ice stone cold and unfeeling and downright cruel.

I love my son and the son on the way and I love him, too, but....I'm being driven to the point where I hate myself.

How does this compute? The conflicting feelings are incompatible and I feel like I am going to go mad.

Almost There

I am due March 21, 2011. It's going to be a boy. His name will be John Michael Burchett, Jr.

This pregnancy is so unlike my first it's almost scary. I don't remember having THIS much heartburn, aches, pains, morning sickness, sleeplessness or even moodiness with my first pregnancy.

But that's okay. I made it past the five week mark, I made it past the 3 month mark, I am in my final trimester a little over a month from having him, so I am good.
I like my baby bump. :)

I also bought a body pillow this pregnancy. It has helped a lot. The huge difference is that my first (full term) pregnany was when I was 21 and before the car accident. This is almost 8 years later....after all the broken bones.

Explanation (JMB)

"Why do you wake up crying?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why?"

"Hmmm." :: thinking ::

"Because I wake up remembering everything I go to sleep to forget. Because it takes a moment for consciousness to catch up with existence and realize that everything that is breaking my heart has already broken it, and there's no reason to cry, because I've spent decades crying over it all."

:: silence ::




Why I Love Him

When I was a child, I saw my parents argue. Every. Single. Day. I swore I would never end up like them.

My first relationship was with a man who left me because I refused to have a threesome between him and my best friend, then also declined a threesome between him and his best friend. The next guy "took his birthday present" while I was passed out at the birthday party (21st) that I threw him, spend over a thousand dollars on. The subsequent years, I was physically, mentally, psychologically, and emotionally abused so much that by the time that I had my miscarriage, The man I married promised me 3 things. 1. That we would never end up like my parents. 2. That we would always love each other like the first day. and 3. That I would never need protection from him. He broke all three promises. I was beyond repair.

Or so I thought.

John had already been in my life. I had put out a request for guys to contact me about a poll I was holding for my blog Girlfriend Etiquette. John was one of a number of guys who contacted me willing to answer my questions (anonymously).

After I added him to my MySpace in order to get the answers, he started contacting me almost daily every time I logged online and asking me how I was doing. I would do the polite thing and say "I'm fine, how are you?" Then I would (as) discreetly (as possible) log off.

Well, about a week or more after the miscarriage, when I finally lifted myself off the ground (couch) and tried to get myself back to life, I logged online, and guess who was waiting to ask me how I was doing?

I literally told this guy off, asking him if he really didn't realize that I had been blowing him off. He said yes, but he was there if I ever needed a friend.

Over the course of the next few weeks, we developed a stronger friendship, which eventually turned to months and a beautiful relationship.

He was one of the only people there for me during the darkest days of my life. In fact, with the exception of Ted, no one else called me, contacted me in any way, or came to visit me. I am eternally grateful to Ted for caring enough to call.

John was there every single day, ready and willing to talk to me. Every. Single. Day.

We have an enormous amount in common, and I know my closest friends are worried about me, thinking that I may have rushed in to this too quickly. But, I've spent four months by myself. That sounds trivial to some of you. But those four months were the first months that I have ever, ever spent alone. I have NEVER been on my own. I have always lived with my parents or a boyfriend/husband. I have never been alone. It's given me a lot of room to grow, to learn, to cope, to grieve, to understand, and most importantly, to forgive.



I know there are some of you who still think I should have given myself more time. But this man is everything I have ever dreamed of, and more. He's been my light in my darkest days. He's stood by my side during the most brutal months of my life.

I still wake up crying, expecting my parents to be screaming and arguing and being violent towards one another. I wake up thinking I am going to be in trouble for something and be thrown against the wall or down the stairs or trapped in some place or another. I wake up afraid that I am going to be worthless. That I am in the hospital, still, bones broken everywhere, lungs collapsed and punctured, burns, glass, fractures... Afraid that my missing clothes are the result of someone's self-proclaimed "birthday present," that I am in trouble afor something and will be thrown against the wall or down the stairs. That I am completely and utterly alone and that no one thinks I am worth the trouble.

But when reality sets in, John is on my mind, and I realize that I am worth more than they or anyone or even myself ever gave me credit for. John probably gives me more credit than I deserve, but I adore him, and I can't believe that he gave me the time of day, even though he says the same thing about me.


He's amazing. We have almost the EXACT same taste in music. The only real difference is that I listen to rap, and he doesn't. But everything else is parallel. He listens to old country, rock, rock'n'roll, and even Leonard Cohen. He is very competitive, so I anticipate many nights playing board games with him and Nicky. He is going to take us camping and fishing. He doesn't write poetry or stories, do art, he's not a musician, and he's not emo. He watches sports, a first for me. Ever. He knows how to work on cars, and he used to buy houses and fix them for a living, so he knows how to fix everything. He doesn't work on computers (a HUGE plus), in fact, he barely knows anything about computers. He is very family oriented, even though he has never been married or had any children. He loves playing cards. And most of all, he makes me feel that regardless of what I've been through or the fact that I am scarred like the bride of Frankenstein, I am beautiful, inside and out.

I love him.

♥John Micheal Burchett♥

Drunk on Coffee

Think I am exaggerating? Have you ever been to IHOP on a Friday with good friends, a great waitress, and unlimited coffee? Drunk on coffee? Oh yeah.

Tonight was an epic WIN. Yes. Ted & I get there first, then came Mike, then Xavier, then Sable, and finally Bryan. Bryan made a courtesy appearance. Turns out that he and Sable know each other from a previous job.

It's a small world, after all! It's a small world after all!

Yes, we sang Kumbaya.o__O NOT.

So we swapped stories. Of course, Ted had to tell of our drinking adventures. Mwah ha ha. :: blush ::

Everyone got along really well, which is, in and of itself, an epic win, because I am sure everyone knows what happens when you get random people together and it just doesn't click. That's always an epic fail.

So, our waitress was Mike's replacement (if you don't know who Mike is, he is the waiter who served Steffi & I on numerous occasions, and who I am pretty sure we traumatized. Anywho, someone thought it was a good idea to give him a gun & handcuffs & make him a security guard. Way to go), and she was awesome. Didn't get her name, but she was also a win.

Unfortunately, I think some of her customers were being dickheads and she came out of the bathroom crying. I gave her a free hug. :) I also think she made a full paycheck from our tips. Hahahabanana. Yes.


So, John calls me around 12:45am my time, and at that time, we were all pretty sloshy on food and coffee, and I figured we'd be leaving soon. Nope. We got a coffee refill and started talking Food Network.

There was a lot of Bobby Flay and Martha Stewart bashing, and lots of love for Alton Brown. Iron Chef (the original and Iron Chef America) were talked to death, but still, it's like a phoenix, reviving from ashes. You can never have enough Food Network conversation.

We didn't leave until almost 2am. So. That is why, even though I have to be at work at 1pm tomorrow for a ten hour shift, I am here, blogging at 3am. Actually, closer to 3:30.

Thank you, everyone, for a wonderful night.

I love you, John Burchett, and I cannot wait for you to meet my friends. We are dOrks, but we are awesome. (What's that song...)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYws8biwOYc

Crazy

So, me & a couple friends hit up Buffalo Wild Wings on 1604 & 281 after work tonight. My first drink had a fly in it (which was pointed out to me only after I drank it), and the waitress offered a free drink.

This drink was followed by a shot of rum and then a Wild Punch which had like five different liquors in it. Nice. I passed my drink around for my friends to taste, and when it got to Chris, well, I am not sure what happened. Either I let go before he had it or something. He said the glass was slippery. That drink spilled all over me.

So the waitress comes over and Chris is offering to buy me another drink and she goes back to get it and then comes back and says that the manager told her to come talk to us and for appearances she had to tell us that generally they don't replace spilled drinks.

Hello? No one asked for a free drink because of the spilled drink. We knew that was our fault.

Let me tell you, Chris is a little firecracker. I thought he was going to set that place on fire. So, after 3 drinks (and a sip), we left, smoked a cigarette in the parking lot, and went our separate ways.

Now I remember why I stopped going drinking out. Oh wait, that sentence was supposed to come later.



I'm on my way home, and I see flashing lights behind me. I am 100% positive there was not enough alcohol in my system to inhibit my drinking (obviously, since it's not enough to inhibit my spelling), but for one horrifying moment, I pictured myself being arrested and losing everything.

But the cop tore past me and screeched to a halt next to a truck that was stopped at the light. Then she pulls in front of the truck (which is already back saddled by another cop), gets out of her car, and they proceed to start banging on the windows of the truck. She then pulls out her stick (what is that thing called? billy stick?) and bashed the window in.

I so wish I knew the story behind that.

Oh. Now is the sentence.

Now I remember why I stopped going out to drink. Yes. Don't get me wrong, my friends are awesome, but all I feel right now is that I wasted $20 and pretty stupid for doing what I said I would never do again: drive after drinking. Add that to the fact that I live 42 miles away, and that equals a pretty stupid Jessi.

But I've been living by myself for going on 4 months now, and this is the first time in my life that I have lived by myself, so I suppose I am entitled to one stupid mistake, and thank you, God, it didn't cost me.

I am sitting here, writing this blog, wishing I had just come home and talked to John on the phone because now he's sleeping and I miss him like hell and I just can't wait until he comes home because then I'll never be lonely again.

I've learned a lot in the last year and half of my life. A lot about life. A lot about myself. I wouldn't trade anything with the exception that my son was hurt in the accident, I wish it had all been me and he had walked away unscathed. Hell. I would have broken all the bones I did three times over if it had meant he didn't have to go through what he did. But I can't change that.

I think that after the miscarriage, it was good that I was alone, because I have had time to grieve. I have had time to get to know myself and understand who I am without a man defining me. But it is going to be great to come home and crawl into John's arms and know that these tragic, sorrowful, broken days are behind me.



On a weird note, my eye is still twitching. I don't know where the twitch came from, but it's driving me mad. I can feel it on the bottom part of my eye where the lashes are. Twitching twitching twitching.

I am listening to POE's Haunted, pondering the meaning of my life, looking forward to Friday, May 14, 2010, like it's the beginning of my life.

I am literally shaking with breathless anticipation. No matter what I've done in my past, no matter what has been done to me, I drop all my regrets and bitter remorse and forgive all and hope all has been forgiven and pray I can be everything to the man who saw me through the darkest days of my life.



♥John Burchett♥