Twin boys, once upon a time.
A fellow blogger of mine wrote a post sometime ago about “The Green Eyed Monster” asking what wakes “the monster for you?”
Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re Jealous of!
I may raise my eyebrow here and there when I hear people my age have degrees. I have always wanted to go to college and “make” something of myself. School didn’t come easy to me at all. They’re lots of people in the world who are successful and it didn’t come easy. When looking back, I could have made better choices. When taking a few college classes years ago. I could have applied myself better, stuck it out, and got the help I needed at the time. Yes, it would have taken me longer than SOME but it could and still can be done. I’m not sure this is what defines jealousy?
If you look Jealousy up in the Wikipedia it’s an emotion. The word refers to negative thoughts and feelings of insecurity, anger, anxiety over anticipated loss of something reference to human connection. The word these day’s is also distinct from envy. This is my confession letter.
I want to openly share because I’m hoping to find some clarity in my writing and accept your non friendship request you made all those years ago. I want good tidings for you, instead of the opposed.
We were in our elementary years. My family and yours would get together yearly. We’d run off to the park over the green hill in our dresses into the sunshine laughing and carrying on about who would go higher on the swing. We’d swing for what seemed to be hours, we’d discuss what we were going to be when we grew up, and we were going to do it together. We were both girly, wanting the same girly things joining the dance team, hanging out together without our parents, and even discussing our future together as doctors or lawyers. Many times after our family gatherings we’d go home and call each other the next morning talking and giggling about what we did the day before. We had so much fun that sometimes we’d ask my grandma if she would bring me over the next day. she’d visit with your mom and dad while we played Barbie dolls the whole time up in your room until it was time to leave.
The gatherings lasted four or five years but the friendship slipped away year after year. Yes, we would talk but each year got different. You got different, you still wore dresses, matching little outfits, with matching bows in your beautiful long black shiny hair, you went to gymnastic, dance, and competed in one more activity, you won many ribbons and trophies, you maintained your activities just like your parents maintained their marriage, you became friends with the kids who done the exact things as you, which didn’t include me. I still called you every chance I got hoping we could continue the friendship. One time your mom answered the phone. She said you “weren’t there” but then you yelled “mom who is it”
I caught that Brooks mom!
you let me go ahead and talk to her but the damage was done
You became friends with an acquaintance of mine, I grew jealous of as well. I didn’t understand what she had that I didn’t? One time when asking our acquaintance if I could go with her to your house she informed me her father told her I was only jealous of the relationship and didn’t want to miss out on what you two were doing. Which is true. At that point in my life it wasn’t in a mean or vindictive way. She also shared with me how you were upset that I had asked to come along. I was scared of things you two weren’t scared of and would only hinder your fun. When I heard that and what her father had shared as well, it hurt my feelings. I sobbed like a baby right in front of her! that day all of you confirmed to me everything I thought I was in one day. My feelings after my grief shifted that day to anger which led to hate.
We ran into each other a couple times in our twenties. We both had are own places, you even had that law degree. imagine that! You were still as slender and beautiful as you are now. You had a few people with you, you introduced me as a “distant” friend whatever the hell that means? at thirty when my grandma died you and your mother came up to me to send regards, you told me you would like to have lunch sometime. My response was “you get a hold of me I’m in the book.” You never did which came to know surprise. The straw that broke the camels back was after my twin boys passed away your mom sent a card to me and signed you and your husband’s name. I saved all the other cards. I tossed your moms in file thirteen.
I realize it may have been a bit creepy pressing you to be my friend all those years. In writing this letter just as I assumed I realize it’s not anger as much as it’s hurt and humiliation. I can read maybe a couple of things you supposedly told someone, could possibly be a lie especially now that we’re older I see her in a different light than when we were younger. I will take this into consideration in my stinking way of thinking. These feelings are lousy, yet sit on each shoulder-blade playing tug a war with each other battling over the right and wrong (flesh and spirit.) The wrong has a strong hold on me but my soul is saying these feelings are not right. The anger built up it turned it into a fight.
A fight with myself
My whole life I believed I was trash because of what others had said to me or about my looks. I have chosen to believe them and allow everyone except myself give me an identity. Which is odd because none of you know me? I’m a thirty something year old woman. I’m married to a good man, he’s been my friend, we have a son and he’s a doll face, I have a group of friends who love me and my shaded life, my job is good and brings me joy, we don’t make much but we pay the bills, and have a bit left over to say yes to Gabe more than no. I’m just as happy as you are even if were not picture perfect, Let me save you the suspense no one is. The most beautiful family pictures are photo shopped they don’t define people or there lives, neither does money. Lots of people have looks, lots of people have money but everyone has day’s in the shade!
Do you have animals in your life? If no, why have you opted not to?
I have recently drifted from the 101, however I will eventually finish what I started. It may not be right on schedule but someday I will get it done. When I saw the prompt about our animals my mind started flooding about my dog, Murphy. He’s a Yorkie. He was mine first and foremost. My mom Linda called me out of the clear blue sky shortly after my “grams” passed away. She told me she was coming to get me we were going to go on a ride.
So let me inform y’all about my mom Linda. When she calls ya out of the blue and tells you she is on her way to pick you up, clap your hands together, keep them together swiftly rubbing them like you’re warming yourself up because something good is about to come your way. Linda is hard to catch and always on the go for the good of the family. If you ever get a chance to take a ride with her she is one train you don’t want to miss!
The trip was long. I can’t even tell you exactly where the place was. We went through five towns to get there,towns you only hear about on the weather radio. You know the ones you google and they only have like ten people living in them? uh yea, most of the driving consisted of narrow bumpy roads and lots of fields. One point on the car ride I had chalked it up that she had, had enough of my deep dark side and was going to end it for both of us. This is only a glimpse of how my imagination runs away with itself. I guess that is what I get for being a complete horror nut most of my life. My favorite seat in the house as a child was on grams lap eating sauerkraut from the jar, watching Hitchcock, Tales from The Darkside, and whatever mystery or horror grams had on. The older I got it just progressed maybe one day y’all can get a load of my nightmares.
We finally got to our destination.
An old house, on an old road, with an old farm. My mom pulled up into the driveway right next to a white utility van with no windows. The van looked to be old, It had rust in random spots, dents that looked as if during a high-speed chase they hit whatever was in their way and kept going. To the left was a cage th
[/caption]at had about five sections, each cage had three or four adult dogs in them. There was what I thought to be a chicken coop behind the cage? The house was white and it even looked as if it were lopsided. I sat in the car with my hand on the door handle observing and debating about getting out, Linda says in a firm tone let’s go! and gets out of the car quickly. I’m still holding on to the door handle. She says whats wrong? Well first of all were in the middle of no where, no one is coming outside to meet us, I’m just letting you know if we have to scream, screaming ain’t going to get anyones attention around here its going to fuel the flame. I don’t know if this is safe… My mom being my mom “Shelley get out of the car!” we walked up to the door Linda leading me, I’m trailing behind mumbling “as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.” She motions me with her hand and an a violent whisper, “get over here!” she knocks on the door, we wait for a few moments, Linda is all up in the screen doing a side to side type thing with her head trying to get a glimpse of someone or something but cannot see through all the residue on the window. This wasn’t helping the thoughts that were playing out in my head. The lady cracks the screen only sticking her nose out. “Do you have the Yorkies for sale says Linda?” The lady stepped out of the door and kid you not. You know the grandma in Texas Chainsaw massacre? Yep same physique and hair do. I could have been too far into my imagination but I was scared out of my wits! She said “follow me” you know that chicken coop we discussed earlier? We’re headed right towards it. I whispered in Linda’s ear let’s just go home? “shut up Shelley” when she opened the door of the coop the smell of dog poo took your breath away, you couldn’t escape a fly, the dogs barking and yelping sounded like human cries for help, and the medium-sized cages with more than one dog in them was an animal lovers worst nightmare.
I was in a puppy mill for the first time in my life and was over whelmed with sadness, helplessness and anger. The company surrounding me was obviously not on the same page. (I stood there as my mom walked forward with the lady from the massacre) and looked around at miles upon miles of puppies. Linda says where are the yourkies? We headed to the back to the far left corner of the coop. This particular cage sat lower than the rest and was a bit longer in size, In the corner all curled up was my dog “this is the last one he was the biggest out of the litter” and I reckon that is why nobody took him.” My mom said “he is yours if want him?” yep let’s go! My mom chuckled as the lady handed Murphy to me. She said “are you sure this is the dog you want?” are you kidding? This is who we came for and this is who we’re leaving with, he shook as he always does when he’s scared. She handed him to me, his cage was right by the door so I made a mad dash outside. When Murphy saw the light for the first time he could barely open his eyes, when I put him down on the ground he marched in one place getting used to the grass, after he did his business he walked over putting his paw on my shoe letting me know to pick him up.
My mom did the deal with the devil and we were on our way!
Murphy has always showed his appreciation of my rescue that day. He has been exactly what my mom bought him for, my grief. Through my grams, through my foster child, our twins and a few of my residents. He knows my grief cry compared to any other cry. He is patient when the grief comes, it’s almost like he knows I need that time to mourn. He will walk slowly over to where I’m lying and every time a tear falls he nestles right under my neck as if he is trying to catch every single one.
This is the one chance you have to become my friend let me tell you a bit about myself first.
My name is Shelley, I am married now six crazy passionate years we have a little boy who soon will be five he goes to pre-k and daycare when we all are home together I like to stay home with them, Let me be the first to tell you my husband and I have had our problems but were happy, I talk about my problems all the time, my husband calls me “mellow dramatic” please know he is right,I always run late, I was late for my grandmas funeral, she already new this would happen, if someone or something hurts my feelings, I cry hard of course it’s a bit more controlled in public but if it really hurt I let loose when I get home, I tend to laugh when I am not supposed to, I have been trying to work on this please forgive me in advanced, I DO NOT COMPETE, My white flag will be up every time never have I been into competition and most likely it will stay that way, however I have two people who I have been jealous of, one my whole life I am not proud of this but it’s a work in progress, I have an eating problem that stems from my past I recently detected it when talking to my mother if we become close enough friends I have no problem laying that out on the table either, I don’t have a handle on the eating thing quite yet, I take too much on and often complain about it after the fact, just so you know, I will complain about my parents and cry to you about how I just don’t feel we all spend enough time together but besides the Holy Spirit they are the voices in my head, I spend lots of time deep in thought some things I say may not make since some of the time but if you know me you will let it slide, I will get irritated from time to time and be a bit snappy but know it’s not you and as my friend Chris once said “her bark is worse than her bite” and to let you in on a little secret she is right on the money.
With all this said I am always here for you or anyone for that matter. I don’t care what you have done, what you’re going to do, what heritage you are, where you live, what happened to you, what your on, what you might be on, who your cheating on, who you love who you’re going to love, who your still in love with, if you want kids, if you don’t, all that shit don’t matter to me of course some friends are closer than others that just the way life is, let me say this.
I am thirty-seven years old and have more than a handful of good friends the kind that know all my dirty little secrets and vice of versa, the kind who will come running if your broke down on the side of the road drunk at three o clock, the kind that are just as truthful to your face as they are behind your back, the kind that support all the things you have up your sleeve ninety percent of the time, the kind that will listen to you talk about your childhood and all the bullies and understand that you have battled moving forward but hug you and let you know their sorry in some kind of way, the kind that will speak to a nurse at three am in the morning because you’re so drugged up on morphine at 23 weeks pregnant giving birth to babies whom will not be making it out of the hospital, the kind of friends who hold their tears back when you have to bury your babies because they want to be strong for you, the kind of friends who all want to be gathered around your side when you have to say goodbye, the kind of friends who hold you up so you can see over life’s crap.
So with all this said, I know what real friendship looks like. The real question is, Would you like to be friends with me the ball is in your court?
The fog has separated these last six years where I am able to see ahead of me but every so often a bit of it drifts over in front of me and me being me I pull over to the side to wait for it to clear up again and forward I continue to go but slowly.
Two weeks after my twins passed away from being born premature, I had to go in for a check up at the doctor’s office. I checked in and sat down in the waiting room.
All the new babies and beautiful bellies were popping out in 3D. I was starting to develop a lump in my throat, being in a public place where no one knows what is going on with one another except happiness of the future. I didn’t want to have a break down and steel every ones thunder. So staring dead ahead is what helped me to stay focused enough not to lose it!
A lady I used to babysit for in my yester years walked up to the desk,it had been over seven or eight years since we seen or talked to each other, I thought about saying hello and decided it was not in my best interest. I put my head down and moved further back away from everyone.
The nurse called me back to see the doctor and my tears were able to start falling. When I got into the room she was already in their waiting for me. She motioned me to sit down in the chair across from her. She put her hands on each side of my legs and asked me.
How are you feeling Shelley?
Do you want to hurt yourself?
Shelley I am sorry if I could give you a baby I would. Is there anything at all I can do to help you with your sadness?
Yes. Can you give me a minute alone in here?
She shook her head yes gave me a hug and walked out the door.
I tilted my head back on the wall, scooted down into the chair with my legs stretched straight out in front of me. I closed my eyes and pretended my stomach was full of active healthy babies kicking and rolling around the way they always did and that this was a regular visit, I pretended my due date was right around the corner and I would soon go into to full term labor, I pretended of my family uniting instead of fighting, I pretended of holding you in joy instead of this cold, dark hellish nightmare we were in and the doctor would come back in and tell me you were both doing wonderful, I didn’t want to lift my heavy head off the wall but when I did the small, empty, dull room greeted me to the truth.
I could hear all the staff chattering outside the door. I wondered what they all were thinking of me. I opened the door to my reality and what they had already known, about me. They extended their arms and apologies towards me because I am a grieving mother to two sweet boys in heaven.
My little boy has a head full of dark brown wavy hair. I keep it cut short, it looks like a fitted helmet on his head. His eyebrows are dark and bushy, his brown eyes droop with long thick curled up lashes that you can ring out when wet, his skin is light brown an as smooth as ice, he has tiny dimples, and a smile that look as if he is trying to push out further. He is a complete doll.
The past six months we have set a bedtime hour a bit earlier so we can do some activities. He has started looking forward to this time and so have we. We read stories, sing a few songs, count and pray.Tonight we asked him to tell us a story of his own the story went something like this: ” The Spider crawled up mommy’s arm (using his two little chubby fingers he steps them up my arm) the rain came down splashed out the spider up came the sun and the spider lost his legs and could not walk”
After his story my husband starts reading a book one of my boys favorite books. He goes straight into the book not reading the title. My little guy says silly dad you forgot to read “Chuck and Friends” and he takes my husband back to the cover of the book. We all laugh for different reasons it was a good family moment. It plays back in my mind as I write it out and feels my heart with joy so thankful and glad to tuck it away in my time capsule in hopes he does the same. We start our counting from one to twenty trying to reach a pre school milestone. He gets stuck on thirteen and sixteen but other than that he is doing well and enjoys learning. He has got his own little accent he does while counting and laughs at himself all the way to twenty.
Tonight he was more wound up than usual. I warned him that we would cut it short if he did not straighten up, and of course being four he blew it. We told him we loved him and we would try again tomorrow. He started screaming bloody murder and chanting count, count, count. He eventually fell asleep he was so worn out it wasn’t long. I turned off the television, sat down on the couch and reflected.
I put the pen to paper so one day he can read about this memory and what he means to me as well.
I love you and try to say it many times over in hopes the words embed into your soul. If anything was gained when I lost your brothers it would be the value of life. Most so yours my little guy. I feel as though I can embrace our moments and in my soul know what they’re worth, because I know what it is like to be empty. To come home from a hospital after giving birth and have nothing, nothing in my arms to hold, nothing in the crib to place my eyes on, no baby to put baby clothes on, and milk but no baby to feed. This is the best way for me to explain such a feeling, at the end of the night while you say your prayer. My eyes survey the room at the toys on the floor, pictures on the wall, a bed filled up, with your beautiful head of hair showing. I graze my hand over your head and tilt mine back and say Oh Lord Thank you for filling me up. To you we are so grateful.