Guilt-Soaked Goodbyes.

Guilt. It’s a tricky little thing. Just an itty bitty five letter word, but oh how quickly it can bring you to your knees…

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I’m leaving soon; heading back home to Tennessee. I have one last follow-up with my primary care doctor next week, and then I’ll FINALLY be done with all these doctors…hopefully. As much as I would love to say that I’m cured and the headaches are gone…I can’t. Because I’m not and they aren’t. I’m still getting them on a regular basis…about every other day or so. And it really depends on the day how bad/intolerable they are. Some days I get lucky and I manage to take the meds in time either before or just as one is coming on and I catch a break and the headache’s not too bad. I’ll still have it—I’ll still feel miserable as all hell…but at least I can work through it. Unlike the bad days when I’m not so lucky and it doesn’t matter how many of those little white pills for the headaches or pain killers combined—I have no choice to suffer through it by way of hiding away in bed all day in a dark, quiet bedroom just trying to breathe through the tears and the excruciating pain that in the moment, seems endless. I refuse to go back to another ER—even on those bad days. I won’t do it. I refuse to put myself through the circus of trying one cocktail of meds after another…with only a brief, temporary period of relief—if that–and no real answers or solutions to why I’m still having these headaches—over 4 months now since the accident—and why none of the dozen or so different meds I’ve tried have worked. I don’t see the point of putting myself through that. It’s insane. Literally—it’s INSANE…the definition of insane is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. That’s what I’ve been doing. I keep going back, thinking that maybe one of these doctors will give me something for these headaches that actually works. Or at the very least, give me some kind of explanation as to why this is happening…and when I can expect all this to go away. Because the headaches will go away. Or so I’ve been told. Eventually, they will go away. I’d just like to know when, so I know how much longer I’ve got to live with the pain. Because right now, not having an expiration date on these headaches, it all just seems really hopeless. But yeah, after next week, I’m done with the doctors for a while. Other than that, I really only just need to meet with my lawyer about the case and then I can get out of New York. We were supposed to meet last week, but he was called into court the morning of our meeting and had to cancel. While I could just have him answer my questions over the phone or by email as we’ve been doing, I figure that since I’m already up here, we might as well have a face-to-face meeting at least once before I head back down to Tennessee…and I really want to get everything squared away BEFORE I go back so I don’t have to worry about any loose ends to deal with once I’m gone.

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**

Once I’m down in TN, I don’t think I’ll be coming back up to NY for a visit for a long while. A really, really long while. I love my family, I do. But these past four months…they’ve made me more certain now than ever that what I did—moving 900 miles away to Nashville—was the best decision I ever made. And this place, this town, this entire area—it doesn’t feel like home to me anymore. Which is really weird, but it’s the truth. I don’t feel like I belong here…and a part of me can’t help but wonder if I ever did, or if that was just something that I convinced myself of. I honestly never thought I’d be the one to leave. Never in a million years. I never thought I’d be happy living 900 miles away from my family…spending holidays and celebrating birthdays without them. Away from the little ones that are–without a doubt–my heart and soul. But I did find it…happiness. In fact, I’m happier in Tennessee than I’ve been in years.

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But as seems to be the case with most good things in life I’ve found–happiness is a double-edged sword. With it comes the guilt of leaving everyone and everything behind. I know that moving to Nashville was a good decision…the right decision…and I don’t for a second regret that decision. I’ve made some pretty reckless, spur-of-the-moment decisions in my life…but this time was different. I thought long and hard on the decision to move to TN before I made it. I knew going in that it wasn’t going to be easy. I also knew that I wasn’t just leaving my family and friends behind. I was leaving my old life behind. And in a sense, I was leaving the old me behind as well—the broken girl with haunted eyes and a tragic past. That was one of the hardest obstacles I had to face in moving…the letting go of who I was. But at the same time…it was the easiest, because I really didn’t like who I was…who I’d become as a result of some events of the preceding recent years. I allowed people to intimidate, bully, and mold me into someone that I wasn’t…someone that I’d always sworn I would never become…someone that I despised with every fiber of my being. I felt so unaccomplished. A failure. Looking back—at that point—there really was nowhere else to go but up.

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**

They say you can’t start over, that you can’t wipe the slate clean…but that’s exactly what I’ve done…what I’m doing. It’s easy in Nashville. Everyone is so nice and welcoming and they make you feel like you’re part of the fold…like you belong. It’s like a breath of fresh air…a huge change from how things are here in New York, that’s for sure. I’m really lucky because I’ve made a lot of really great friends since I’ve moved to Nashville, people that I really feel like I can trust, despite having only known them less than a year. I’m not lying to them or pretending to be someone that I’m not, if that’s what anyone thinks—what with the whole clean slate and all. It’s not like that. Granted, I haven’t exactly been overly forthcoming about what ALL that sent me running down to Tennessee, but I’ve been pretty open about most everything else. My guy BFF down in Nashville—Alan—he just looooves to tease me that he’s going to write a screenplay about my life one day because of all the crazy family/personal/love life/WTF-filled stories of mine that I’ve shared with him. He thinks they’re absolutely hilarious. But what’s really funny is that he doesn’t even know the half of it. Oh, the things I could tell him…but won’t. A girl has to have some secrets, doesn’t she?

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**

So that’s pretty much where I’m at right now. Excited to go back and see all my friends–my “Tennessee family”…and feeling guilty for being excited to leave…and of course, all sorts of anxious and stressed out about feeling guilty for being excited about leaving. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle. An unavoidable one, unfortunately. If I were one of those people that believed that everything happens for a reason—and I am—then I would have to say that there must be a reason why I moved to Tennessee…a greater purpose that I’m just not aware of yet. One thing I do know is that I’m happy there…and for now, that’s enough for me. In fact, right now…it’s everything. The rest…I can figure out later…

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**

xo MESSIE

This House No Longer Feels Like Home.

Right now I’d give just about anything to be Dorothy. To have a pair of my very own ruby red slippers in which I could just click the heels of three times and I’d be where I want to be. Home.

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I want to go home. Back to Nashville. I literally feel like I’m losing my mind up here and I hate it. Every day that I’m here, it just makes it that much worse. I’m tired of seeing doctors and specialists and dealing with lawyers and lawsuits and insurance companies. I just want all of it to go away. All of it. This damn accident already ruined my summer. Now it’s ruined the premiere next month in Atlanta because of this damn nerve block procedure the neurologist scheduled me for. And I’m pissed. It’s not fair. I mean, sure, there will be plenty more festivals…but I really wanted to go to this one–it being the film’s World Premiere and all. It’s kind of a big deal, you know? And now I can’t because of this. And it’s just so damn frustrating.

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After this nerve block procedure though, I’m done. Whether it works or not–I’m done. I’ve already decided. I’ve had enough being poked and prodded and trying this cocktail and that cocktail of meds and CT scans and X-rays and the never-ending wringer that is the healthcare system in this country. It’s exhausting–both physically and mentally. People don’t have a clue, the doctors especially. I hate having to even go to the ER anymore because the doctors and nurses there just make me so damn angry that if I didn’t already have a splitting headache, I could just scream. It’s always the same thing. They ask me why I’m there…I explain about the accident, the PCS, the pretty much daily headaches…and so on. Then starts our little routine of my having to explain why I’m up here in NY being treated for injuries sustained in an accident that occurred in Tennessee and then onto my listing off the dozen or so different drugs I’ve been prescribed that haven’t worked. From there its blood-work and to Radiology for a CT. Then it’s back to the room and an IV. First they try Toradol. It’s always Toradol. I don’t know why they think that’s going to work–but it never does. Then the doctor comes back and writes up an order for the first cocktail of meds. You don’t know what’s in the “cocktail”, and you don’t really care. You just want the headache and the pain to go away. Sometimes it burns going in, sometimes it tingles and makes you feel weird. Sometimes it makes you sleepy. Best case scenario–it dulls the pain just enough for you to function a bit for a few hours. But a few hours is all it lasts. Then it comes back. Sometimes it doesn’t do anything. That’s when that doctor comes back in, gives you that sympathetic look, sighs, and goes, “Well, we can try a different combination of meds this time…” But at that point, you’ve had enough. You’ve already been there for 7 hours. You’re exhausted, your head is pounding because you’ve been crying because you’re desperate for the pain to stop and no one seems to have any answers, and you just want to go home. I’m sick of it. You’d think I was the only person in the history of mankind to ever get a concussion and have concussion headaches with the way these doctors are acting. I mean, come on! There has to be some tried and true remedy/cocktail of meds that has proven successful in treating concussion headaches specifically. There has to be.

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Either way, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I want to go home.

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xoMessie

A Little Something Is Better Than Nothing…

So after three painstakingly slow and torturous weeks of this back-and-forth with the girls and worrying about how they’re being treated where they’ve been staying…and losing all faith and hope in a system that SHOULD have protected them, but didn’t…we’ve finally made some headway. Finally.

 

My grams and my sister had a sit-down with their lawyer this morning and he apparently told them that it’d be in their best interest to contact the girls’ mother and try to work out some sort of joint custody arrangement–rather than my grams take her chances with the judge and a trial…because even though we have years of evidence of her not being a fit parent and her neglect of the girls–and all the recent evidence that has since come to light–she’s still their mother. And judges in New York are wont to rule in favor of the mother or sole parent in most custody cases rather than the grandparent–even when the grandparent has been the one to raise the child or children–like in my grandmother’s case here with the girls.

 

Avie ❤

 

So, they went and met up with her tonight and worked out a deal. Custody will be shared, with the primary residence for the girls being at my grandmother’s, so that they can stay in the district for school and so Emma won’t have to go through the wringer with the special needs programs in a different district. So my grams will have the girls during the week, and their mother will have them on the weekends. It’s not an ideal arrangement…but at least the girls get to come back home and they’re somewhere safe and loved and not being abused. It levels the playing field and now my grams and their mother will be on even ground as far as the girls are concerned, which is a hell of a lot better than how it was before with their mother calling all the shots and using the girls as leverage whenever it suited her…while my grams meanwhile had to basically stand by and do nothing…and say nothing.

 

Emmie ❤

 

They still have to draw up the papers, so nothing’s set in stone just yet and the agreement probably won’t be finalized until they go to court on the 10th and get the judge’s approval…but it’s progress…and it gives us back a smidge of hope, at least. I’m just hoping she doesn’t back out or renege before things get finalized. These girls need to be back home with their family. You can tell that all of this back-and-forth has taken a toll on them and it’s only been three weeks. They’ve lost weight, they don’t talk or smile like they used to…they’re just not the same little girls they were before. And hopefully them being back home will fix that, in time. And it’s going to take time, I know. I mean, you can tell that they’re scared…and that every time they walk through the door they’re desperate for someone to tell them that this will be the time that they don’t have to leave and go back. I just hope this hasn’t caused any lasting damage on them because I miss my little Emmie and Avie J, the precocious, loud, chatterbox little nuts that I remember them being before all of this happened.

 

(Left-Right) Avie & Emmie.

 

Again, it’s not ideal…but it’s something. And something is better than nothing. At least now I can go back home to Nashville next month and not have to worry that the girls are still being used as pawns and being abused by babysitters and carted here and there with no stability whatsoever in their lives. Now I can leave with the assurance that they are somewhere safe and cared for, which people I know and trust–and that I know love them and will ALWAYS put them first. I was so worried that there’d be this long drawn out trial…and I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to leave and go back until things were settled. But now I don’t–at least hopefully–have to worry about that. Now I can get these doctor visits and clinic appointments out of the way and head back next month to Tennessee.

 

Speaking of, I can’t wait to head back. Don’t get me wrong — I love my family (well some of them and most of the time) — but with all of these doctors and everything that’s happened with the girls…I’m more than ready to leave the Land of Insanity, so to speak. It’s just been crazy. Totally and ridiculously crazy. I need the break from the drama and the chaos. I need some peace and quiet…which even on a good day, is generally a rare commodity to be found in conjunction with my family. I’m going to miss the kids and everyone, but this isn’t home for me anymore. I know that now more than ever. My heart may be here in New York, but my life is back in Nashville. Everyone keeps asking me if I’m going back, and have taken it upon themselves by just assuming that I’m not–though I have no idea where they would have gotten that impression from. It certainly wasn’t me. I neither had nor have any intention of moving back to NY. Not in the slightest. In fact, as far as intentions go, I didn’t even intend to still be here or stay up here in NY as long as I have this visit. But things got dragged out with the doctors and whatnot, so I didn’t really have a choice.

 

But I have just a few more appointments left, so I should be set to go back by mid-month next month (September). I figure that’ll give me time to settle back in and get some things taken care of before the film circuit starts up the beginning of October and things get really crazy.

 

So, fingers crossed that everything goes smoothly from here on out…

 

xoMESSIE

No Time For These Frustrations.

Today was one of those “frustrating as hell” kind of days. This whole move/apartment search thing with my friend Ryan has been nothing but headache upon headache. I’ve been looking for days, but finding a place has been absolutely impossible–especially from here. It doesn’t help that he has two dogs and doesn’t have a job lined up and is adamant against a full lease. We were supposed to meet and figure things out earlier in the week–which we did–but we got absolutely nowhere. Before I left he basically told me that he was going to leave the apartment search completely up to me because I “know the area better”…which isn’t exactly fair. I mean, yeah I know the area, but I don’t think it should just be up to me to do the hard part by finding a place. He’s going to be living in the place, too. Still, I tried. I called at least a dozen different places and browsed nearly every site I could find for an apartment…and nothing. Today I just said to hell with it. I don’t need the frustration and that’s all this search is. And to be honest, I don’t have the time nor the patience to deal with it all right now. Time especially. I mean, I’m leaving in the morning. I have to be down in Nashville by Sunday for the film’s promotional shoot, whether we find a place or not. I can’t be wasting time waiting for something to figure out or stick around here until it does. I’m under contract, so I don’t have the luxury of time to wait for something to come up. And he’s just pissing off with his “whatever, we’ll find something” attitude. He seems to think it’s so easy to find a place and expects to get a job right away when he gets down there…which is jumping the gun a bit, if you ask me. He doesn’t know if that’ll happen. He just doesn’t.

 

Having said that, I discussed it with my family and the Bestie and ultimately came to the realization that it’s just not going to work–him and I getting a place. At least not right now. Everyone I talked to agreed that I need to stop worrying about him and just focus on me. And I can’t help but agree with them. I mean, they’re right. Right now, I can’t afford to screw around. I have school, work…commitments. So…that’s what I’m doing. I found a sublet just outside of Nashville that works great for me and called the guy. He’s moving back to Florida, so I’m going to be taking over the rest of his lease. I’m getting the keys and can move in Monday. I haven’t told Ryan yet about it…I know he’s not going to be happy about it. Especially when I backed out back in January when we’d planned on originally moving down. But in my defense, this time is different. It’s not about me backing out or changing my mind. I do want him to come down…it’s just all these issues in the way that are making it impossible right now.

 

Maybe it’s selfish, but this is my life…my career and my reputation on the line. I can’t screw that up. I love Ryan to death and all, but I’ve worked too hard to get this far just to throw it all away by twisting things to fit his needs and wants. I don’t need the stress, for that matter. I’ve got more than I can handle on my plate already. Hopefully when I break the news tomorrow he’ll understand that. Hopefully…

So yeah…time for some shuteye. Got a 14 hour drive ahead of me…

xoMESSIE

Home Sweet Home.

Well, I’ve been in Nashville for officially ONE week now…and have yet to feel even the slightest bit homesick for New York. Naturally, I miss my family and friends there, but I don’t miss the place. It’s weird how that is. How you can just leave a place you’ve spent 27 years of your life in and travel to some place completely out of your comfort zone, and actually feel secure there. I love it here. I almost feel guilty for saying that, but I do. Nashville is a beautiful city with so much culture and opportunity. Things that are sorely lacking back in New York.

Tennessee line just changed my mind

And it’s MY heart I’ll follow this time…

One of the biggest differences I’ve noticed since moving here is how much faster everything moves back in New York. It’s like everyone there is rushing through the day just to get to the next. They don’t have a chance to just stop and enjoy the little things in life, the little moments, the important things. It’s not like that down here. Life is so much slower down here…in a good way. You can actually appreciate things for what they are. There’s this lake right by the Res Halls that the campus kind of frames, and I was out there this morning for I don’t even know how long. I just sat there, basking in the sun (it was a beautiful 50-something degrees out today!), watching the ripples in the lake from the breeze…and it was so peaceful. And beautiful. It felt like…dare I say it…it felt like home. Which is crazy, I know. I mean, I’ve only been here a week. I shouldn’t feel so settled here, at least not this quickly. But I do. I really, truly do. I’ve always liked to think that everything happens for a reason…and my moving here to Nashville is no exception. Something brought me here. Something made me choose this city to go to school and to live. I’d like to think that it was meant to be. That whatever it was that brought me here, it was fated. Like this is where I’m supposed to be. For so long, I felt like I’ve only been half-living, just going through the motions, not really caring what the future held in store for me. But that’s all different now. That feeling is gone. I feel alive here, for the first time in ages, and it feels good. It feels right…

Watkins By The Lake

xoMESSIE

Tales of The Tearful Goodbyes: Part One.

Well, as I imagine a gangsta might say… Sh** just got real… It’s true.

Just got back from hanging out with the bestie this afternoon. We went to lunch at this really neat, trendy new coffee shop and literally just sat there and talked for three hours straight…until we realized that it’d gotten dark and the weather outside had turned real nasty and figured it was probably a good idea to bring the little catch up session to a close and head out. She was only 5 minutes from home, but I still had an hour and a half drive back. I knew it was going to be hard, this leaving and moving 900 miles away and all, but honestly, it didn’t feel real until that moment we walked out of the coffee shop and trudged through the snow and sleet to our cars. We told each other to keep in touch, hugged, and said our goodbyes and hurried separately off to the dry, slightly warmer haven of our cars. The moment I pulled out of that parking lost, I lost it. Tears, sobbing…the works. Seriously, it was not pretty. I had to pull over at the rest area next to where I had to get on the Thruway because between my runny mascara, tears, and the blizzard-like white-out driving conditions, I couldn’t hardly see a thing.

I nearly called my sister–who had decided to stay at my grams for the night rather than take any chances or risk by driving back home on the icy roads with the twins–to talk me down. I was in “full-blown near-panic-attack, crying my eyes out, a million doubts racing through my head” mode and right then, I needed one thing: I  needed to hear someone tell me that it was going to be okay. As much as I love, respect, and trust my sister and how close we’ve gotten in this past year, I just couldn’t bring myself to turn to her. For starters, I knew that she’d be there with my whole family right there with her, and that they’d immediately go red alert on me if I called them up crying. Not only that, but they’re also the last ones I’d want to share my doubts with this move with. They’d just get all comforting and try to convince me to change my mind and stay…and I can’t do that. I’m the one that made this decision to move. It was all my crazy idea…and they’ve been against it from the beginning. If I stay, it’d be the equivalent of feeling defeat and the epitome of failure. I’ve had so many failures over the years and have humiliated myself enough because of those public failures. I want this time to be different. Hell, I need this time to be different. This time, I’m determined to follow-through. No matter what. Granted, it might not work out–that’s totally possible–but at least I’ll have the satisfaction and assurance of knowing that I followed it through…and more importantly, that I tried. I want to prove them wrong. Hell, I just want to prove it to myself.

So, instead, I called up Ryan (my best guy friend who was supposed to move to Nashville with me but then I nixed those plans and he’s now living back in Texas) and the moment he answered, I literally just said “tell me I’m going to be okay and that I’m doing the right thing”. He was on a break from work and didn’t have a lot of time to talk, but he was so nice and understanding and we talked for like a good 15 minutes or so. Well…that is, he talked and I listened…in between the occasional sob-hiccup, “I know, you’re right”. He was really honest and told me how he felt those 8-ish years ago when he left the area and moved out to Dallas. Never in a million years would I have expected him to delve that deep with me. I mean, we’ve always had this snarky, comedic friendship where we pretty much just crack jokes with each other…which is great. But tonight, I really needed more. I can’t even relay into words how grateful–albeit surprised–I felt to have him for a friend in that moment. He really stepped up today. And I love him for it. He was painfully honest and warned me that yes, this is going to be one of the biggest and hardest things I’ll have ever had to do…but that it would eventually–hopefully–be one of the best I might ever make. He asked me for what my motive behind the move actually is and I couldn’t give him a straight answer. And that’s because–if we’re being honest–I’m really not sure what my reason for it actually are. Not really. That is, and to clarify, there isn’t just one reason…there’s several. I guess in part, at least, it’s this innate assertion of independence. I feel like it’s time–well past time, in fact–that I get out in the world and make something of myself. That I make a life for myself that’s the result of my construction and not someone else’s. One that will truly bring me a whole-ness, as well as–if not more importantly–genuine happiness. Then there’s my craving-like ambition and need to achieve success. Naturally, I think we all want that…to succeed, to become an active, contributing participant in society. I want that successful career that, if luck would let it–and if this were a perfect world–makes me feel good about myself…and is something I truly get enjoyment out of. Though a little idealistic and fantastical that may be, it’s what I want. The majority of it, however, is that I’m desperate to get away from everything. I wish I could say that it’s not about me trying to run away from things…because I’d be lying if I did. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but it’s true. I am kind of doing it to run and get away from things…my old life, my regret-riddled past, the painful memories, the searing reminders and bleeding remnants of a life gone wrong….honestly, I do want to hide from it all. I want a fresh start. A do-over. A chance to do this “living” thing right this time around. I think I deserve it…and I know for certain that I’ve earned it.

I’m not sure what I was expecting would happen or how it would feel…but I certainly didn’t expect it to be this hard. I wasn’t expecting to feel this damn conflicted, but I am. It’s killing me to have to walk away like this but I have to believe the same as Ryan, that this is the right thing to do. Fortunately, it helps to know that I’m not exaggerating here and that it’s perfectly normal for me to have these doubts…and that I’m not the only one who has gone through this and struggled. He admitted that he felt exactly as I’m feeling myself right now when he first moved to Texas…that he was scared shi*tless, all the same. Which brings us to the main point here…which is how terrified I am. I’m scared of the whole damn thing. The leaving my family and friends, the moving 900 miles away from everything I’ve ever known, the not-knowing or having anyone there with me, the fear of failure and the unknown…and ironic though it might be, the fear of success and loving it more than I do here. That’s a big one for me. It makes no sense I realize, but I’m terrified that I’ll fall in love completely with the city and the people and my life there that I’ll never want to leave. The thought of becoming so disconnected from my family and friends here on account of my hard-earned happiness. I can’t explain it, but I have this feeling that everything is about to change–and I don’t mean in the typical, “yeah I’m moving to another state and completely different environment” kind of way. It’s more of a “your whole world is about to be life-changingly altered and nothing will ever be the same again” kind of way. It’s weird. I’m terrified, and yet at the very same time I’ve never wanted something as badly or ever as deeply as I want this. I know…it’s confusing, right? Yeah.

I think I have to believe that it’s supposed to be this hard. It’s supposed to hurt. After all, isn’t that what makes it worth it? I think it does. That realization notwithstanding, it doesn’t make doing this any easier. This is what it means to be an adult, I guess. You have to make hard decisions and take risks, sometimes completely on faith alone, with no reassurance whatsoever that you’ll land on your feet in the end. It sucks, but I can’t have it both ways. I can’t have what I want and what’s the best thing for me. It’s one or the other. It sucks, but that’s life. I guess I just have to hold on to something Ryan said earlier…which is that if Erin and I are truly best friends, this move and the miles won’t change that and that the people who genuinely love and care about me will always be here. You have no idea how badly I want to believe that’s true. I want to believe that I won’t lose my best friend…and yet, at the same time, I can’t shake this sick feeling that I already have…

So yeah, I think it’s safe to say that my heart is pretty much in pieces at the moment. The worst part? I’m already a wreck and this is just with the Bestie and I. If I thought saying goodbye to her was hard, I can only imagine how horrible it’s going to be come Friday and its time for me to say my goodbyes to my family. Actually…I take that back. I don’t want to imagine it. This is not going to be pretty…not at all…

xoxoMESSIE

let it snow, oh oh oh…

Well, so much for thinking I was going to miss winter in New York…it’s already here. It’s a winter freakin’ wonderland outside and freezing as all get out…wonderful. Only one day in, and I’ve already had my fill of the pretty white stuff. Yep. Spoken like a true New York-er. Don’t get me wrong, I love winter…usually. I have some of the best memories from my childhood of wintertime…snowball fights with my siblings, trudging through feet upon feet of snow just to get to the best sledding hills, building snow forts, making snow angels ’til I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes, my grams having cookies and cocoa waiting when we finally dragged our frozen behinds inside…yeah, the best memories. As a kid, I used to love winter…because of course, it usually meant snow days and no school. Oh yeah, and Christmas. I remember a couple of years we got hit by a blizzard and there was literally like 10 feet of snow outside. The cars were covered, the plows couldn’t keep up so the roads were impassable…it was a traffic nightmare, but oh was it fun. And it got us out of school for a couple of days, so we weren’t complaining.

It’s a little bittersweet when I think of all the snow day festivities I’m going to miss out on with the little ones once I leave for Tennessee. We got these sweet little sleds for the twins that chances are, I won’t even see them use…which makes me a little sad, but I guess that’s what cameras are for.

My sister was talking to me the other day about all the things we’d be doing come Summer with the boys and I had to stop her and tell her that I don’t plan on coming back once the semester ends in May. She was under the impression that this move was just about school and that when I’m finished, I’ll come back to New York…but that’s not the plan. Granted, I’ll have to see how things work out once I get to Tennessee, but at the moment, my intentions are to stay. I don’t really know how to explain it, but this move is about so much more than me finishing my degree. It’s about finding my way, is really the only way I can describe it so that it makes sense…at least I hope it makes sense. It’s not that I don’t love my family or that I’m not grateful for all that they’d done for me over the years, because I do and I am…but I need to find my niche, so to speak. I have to figure out who I am–without them. For so long I’ve had them to lean on when things got tough…and I think that’s part of the problem. They’ve always been ready and waiting in the wings whenever something went wrong and I love them for that–but it’s time I learned how to stand on my own two feet. I’m not a child anymore. I need to make my own path in life, which I can’t do here. Not with them watching my every move, waiting or even expecting me to fall so they can swoop right in and try to pick up the pieces for me. It’s time.

I spoke to my Dad last night–first time in well, almost a year actually–and he thinks that I’m doing the right thing by leaving…and that it’ll be good for me, moving away. He made the point that it’ll be good for me to finally experience the world outside the cocoon of the family. He’s not wrong. I mean, in a lot of ways, my family has sheltered me from a lot of things. I mean, growing up we were really sheltered. I’d never have known it at the time, but in hindsight, it’s true. My grams was so protective of us–heck, who am I kidding…she still is–so it wasn’t until I left for college at 18 and was really on my own that I had to learn to fend for myself. And damn, was that scary. It’s ironic because I always felt so smothered and then when I finally got away from it–I missed that familiarity…that safety net that I couldn’t see, but somehow knew was always there. I’m grateful to her for so much, but I have to accept and have faith in the fact that I was raised right and that she instilled in me all the things I need to be a successful, independent woman. Which she did. Now it’s time that I put it all to good use.

I’m scared…hell, I’m absolutely freakin’ terrified…but I can do this. I know I can. And I really do think that the timing is perfect. I’m not the same naive shell of a girl that I was five years ago. I’ve grown up. I can take care of myself. I think I’ve gone through my “rites of passage”, so to speak. I’ve seen things. Done things. I’ve made mistakes. I have regrets. I’ve known heartbreak and heartache. I’ve experienced rock bottom, and I’ve picked myself up. Me. I did that. Not my grams, not my family…me. Not that they didn’t offer their help–they did–but it was something I had to do for myself. And I did. It took a while, sure, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I did it. There were tears…a lot of tears…and a few failed starts…but I made it. I didn’t give up, though godknows I came pretty damn close a few times…but the point is, I didn’t. I’m not naive enough to think that it’s clear skies and smooth sailing from here on out. I’m well aware that there are bumps and obstacles ahead of me if I go down this path, but I think I’ll be okay. I’m stronger now. I’ve got this. Yeah. I’ve got this. 

xoMESSIE

The Little Moments…

So my sister and I took the twinnies to the pumpkin patch for their first time today…

   

It made me think of all the little things that I’m going to miss when I leave. Which of course, made me tear up…which is so unlike me. I’m not the emotional sort. At least not out in the open. I cry…a lot. I just tend to do it behind closed doors. I don’t like to show my emotions. I don’t know why. I remember even when I was little and I’d get hurt, I wouldn’t cry. When I was upset, I’d bottle it up. When I got older, the same thing. When I was twelve, I started writing in a journal. It was always a journal, never a diary. I don’t know why I never called it a diary. I guess I just always thought I was too old for that sort of thing, even then. I was always older than my years, so to speak. I swear, sometimes I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in these 27 years. But yeah. There was my journal…and some other not-so-healthy outlets that I’ve (thankfully) since grown out of.

But these days, with the boys, it’s like nonstop waterworks–all the time. Like when Ty started crawling. I just stood there in complete shock, tears running down my face for a few seconds before–naturally– I ran to get my phone so I could record the whole thing to upload for my sister to see later. I guess it’s just that I feel so grateful to be able to be here to see all of it, to be here for these firsts. I’m the one that noticed both of the boys first teeth coming in, both of them rolling over for the first time, seeing their reactions when they try different foods for the first time, their first holidays and big celebrations, Ty crawling AND standing up on his own for the first time. Ty even calls me Mom–though I somehow convinced my sister that he’s calling me “Mim” and not “Mom” (she’s super-touchy about that lol).

Gosh, and here I thought it was hard when I left for college the first time around when Angelina–my oldest niece–was a baby. I was 18 then and school was only 40 minutes away. This might as well be another continent away, for how it feels. I’m starting to feel homesick already for the boys–and I haven’t even left! I can’t imagine how hard it’s going to be when I DO leave. I feel like my heart is being torn into pieces. I didn’t think it was going to be THIS hard. I keep telling myself that they AREN’T my kids. But for all intents and purposes, they kind of are. I mean, I’ve been with them since they were born…well, almost. Since they were a couple of weeks old anyway. Every day. 24/7. I know their cries. Their sounds. Their little laughs. I know that Jakey is NOT a morning person and that Ty LOVES to be cuddled as soon as he wakes up. I love these little guys like they were my own and it’s gonna absolutely kill me to leave them. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Pictures and Skype just aren’t going to suffice. I’m going to be in Jakey and Ty withdrawal. It’s going to be soooo tough. I really hope my sister learns how to take good pictures because she’s going to have to take A LOT of them every single day. And hopefully they won’t forget me. I know they’re really little…but hopefully they’ll remember. Because I will. Either way, I’m still grateful I get all these little moments with them. Their first year. It’s not everything, but to me, it’s so, so much.