Since When Is My Inner Monologue an Outer Monologue?

I just got done throwing a pan of the best peanut butter brownies ever into the oven, and found myself having a lot of really random thoughts about college, my roommates my sophomore year, of course Jason (of course!), and all of the hurt that still is buried... apparently ready to creep back to the surface at the most unexpected moment, like, for instance, when the house is fairly quiet and I am making brownies. All of this on the heels of a fabulous morning, where I managed to ride my old horse several miles to--and through--the trails at the local Metropark (which is something I've not done since before my babies were born).

I think about how much I hate the movie "Bed of Roses". My one roommate, the one that was engaged and whose mom was dying of cancer, watched it from time to time. It made me feel horribly lonely and unloved even though I thought I was in a relationship.

I feel that I owe my one roommate an apology, even after all of these years. She told my RD about a situation that had happened involving myself and two of my roommates, and when I was confronted by the RD I had to make the choice between telling the truth and potentially getting my roommates (or maybe even all three of us) kicked out of school and lying to save my roommates. It was a betrayal of our friendship, but I felt very trapped.

I remember when he called my room to talk to my roommate about something, and he didn't recognize my voice. I didn't correct his error. But that was obviously when I knew that not all things were as they seemed.

The things inside that I will likely never ever put into physical words again after having done it once and being confronted by my mother regarding it.

Missing my friends and knowing the world did continue turning after I had left the building. And now knowing that half of those people vaguely remember me, when they are all intricately etched and ingrained into my mind because they are all I have to show for life after high school and before everything else.

It sucks. I had someone say quite a while ago that wounds can't heal if you keep picking at them.... and I felt like that was wise and incredibly stupid all at the same time. Do I just close the book and walk away, never looking back? I have a son, a son that looks a lot like his father--how do I walk away? How do I forget all of that? Give it God? Well, I've done that a billion times, too. And I think that, while He's been incredibly merciful and generous, and my life is, by all accounts, amazing.... for some reason He wants me to hold onto these painful memories.

Last summer, the women of the church began a Beth Moore Bible study on Daniel. One of the first sessions talked about meeting God in Heaven, and Him greeting us individually and personally, wrapping His arms around us. I think about that and it makes tears well up in my eyes pretty much every time. Will God know and confirm the pain that has walked with me? In my mind's eye, I see us in an embrace, Him holding me and, finally I can know some peace. But I also hear Him saying, "I know, Jen. I know." and comforting me for all the things I haven't been able to put into earthly words but have hidden in my soul for so long. And I know they say there will be no tears in Heaven, but I don't know how that could possibly be, if my situation were to actually play out. I'm crying my eyes out as I type this because I realize that what I am wishing for most desperately in the afterlife is something so amazing, and it's also a level of human intimacy that I think I have put on permanent lockdown since college.

I'm a mess. But I'd like to think that I am doing much better than I have in the past. I just can't figure out exactly why this is all coming out tonight of all nights, and after the awesome day I've had.... So weird.

Penciling Me Into My Own Life

I feel a little.... grumpy.... this morning. Maybe it is just coming down from a week full of 6:30 a.m. wake-ups, maybe it is PMS, I don't know. I do know that I only got five hours of sleep Thursday night and went to bed late again last night, so I'm sure that doesn't help at all. I'm probably still recovering from Billy's eight-day-long mission trip to Costa Rice (which is the reason behind my previous post).

Had a lovely day yesterday, starting early with a nice ride on Trinity during which we were fairly relaxed, even on our wandering down the road and through the puddles. Our scariest encounter was a stump that jumped out in front of us when we turned around to go home, because apparently she only was looking out one eye at the time, and that one eye was looking the other direction.

After my ride and a little bit of T-Tapp, I went to see "The Love Guru" with my friend Faye and one of her co-workers. Mike Myers is always fun.

The family congregated at Mom's for lunch and swimming... and eventually we all headed over for a post-party bonfire at Becki & Rich's house. Somewhere along the line Billy and Jayson ended up going to the church because it had been broken into for the second time in two weeks.... so I waited up for them to get back. At that point I'd been up for probably 20 hours of my own free will.

This morning I did not get up for my 6:30 a.m. ride. I think I registered, at some point, that it was 7 o'clock, then rolled over and went back to bed. We really got up at 8:45 when I think it hit me that Hunter needed to go potty, but I'm still just sitting here, not really motivated for anything.

Billy has a big list of things he'd like to do today--mowing the lawn, running errands, a demolition derby tonight, etc., etc., etc.--and I guess that it gets me irritated sometimes because I often don't and can't make plans because I never know what his plans are. And his plans always trump mine in order of importance because usually my plans are because I need to get out and away from the house and the kids... and his are generally practical things that need to get done, but they do mean that I just done more of the same--watching kids, staying in this house that no one seems to be able to clean except for me. So when I say as much, he tells me, "Go ride!" And I stare at him almost incredulously, with my just-made breakfast sitting in front of me, and I tell him to GET OFF MY BACK!! because I want to eat breakfast, and don't want him to pressure me to go RIGHT NOW just because that's the only time I can fit into this schedule.

Okay, so I realize that is incredibly immature of me, but it's so frustrating to me to only be able to carry out my schedule (or lack thereof) when he has a free spot in his. And I realize that he is the breadwinner, and that his current work schedule is just how it will probably always be. It's just frustrating.