Category Archives: here in the blender

I’m at a loss for words…

here in the blender

I cannot believe I’m posting this. Posting as if it actually happened – and it’s not just a bad dream. Gma Rhonda died today. Some of you know her, some not…but those who do, realize how completely shocking and devastating this is. Papa Boyd called Jeremy tonight and told him. Jeremy has not shed one tear. He’s either being very stoic and grateful she’s no longer in pain, or it hasn’t really hit him. How could it have? This is the woman who taught him of Christ’s love, who took him in as her own son, even when he broke up with her daughter. Rhonda treated him and loved him as though he was her son and she was his mom. Boyd is the only real father Jeremy has ever known – and he respects him as such. Oh my goodness…I cannot wrap my head around this. Caedmon and I just saw her 3 days ago, delivering her Mother’s Day gift and pics of the kiddos. I look back over what I’ve written so far, and can’t keep the tears from falling. She’s gone.

Whoa there, pardner…

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So, Jeremy and Jonathan come home Saturday night pulling a horse trailer. My first thought? “Oh, good, something else to sit in the yard.” Once the pickup was turned off, I heard bellowing. Yes, bellowing. As in “moooooooo”. Mmhmmm….they brought home not one, but TWO bucket calves. Why, you might ask, as I was? Well, to fatten them up and sell them – duh! Apparently, Jonathan has been doing a fine job working at the dairy, so the dairy sold him 2 newborns at $20 a piece – then he’ll turn around and sell them back to the feedlot. The same feedlot that the dairy owns…like they don’t raise their own calves!!! Oh no, they have to “sell” them to Jonathan, just to turn around in a few months to buy them back at 10 times the selling price. Yeah, pretty much, they just wanted to get under my skin. And they did. Big time. Look at these pics of these stupid(cute) and annoying(adorable) little babies!!

(part 2of3) wake up maggie, i think i’ve got something to say…

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I lay awake that night til 3am, bawling. I couldn’t move a muscle, partly from fear and disbelief, partly because Jeremy was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him. All of the anger I had kept bottled up came spilling out. I was infuriated that this crap was coming up again. I was infuriated that the little bit of time I had with Dad growing up was tainted. I was infuriated that she could do these things to me and get away with it. I was infuriated that she could be hurting someone else.

For the next 3 days, I was obsessed with finding out if she had ever been convicted for her disgusting crimes. I googled her name, and felt sick when I saw it attached to my Dad’s. I tried to do a background check, showing any criminal activity. I paid for a 24 hour trial on netsleuth.com, which turned out to be a scam – I couldn’t get any information without paying additional fees. I actually found her on reunion.com, but without paying a yearly fee, or signing a montly contract, I couldn’t get past her screen name, age and location. I tried to get as much free info I could, using the alias of Kelly Smith, a 53 year old male from NY (don’t ask – it just came to me!). Finally, my obsession ended. But my disgust and anger didn’t.

I couldn’t tell anyone about this. I didn’t want to begin counseling again. So, I just dealt…til I called the IRS…

I was calling for the umpteenth time, trying to get some stuff figured out with our business and personal accounts. The lady I talked to ended up arguing with me about what could and could not be done, and I argued right back. Just like the woman on the show, this woman on the phone set off a trigger of sorts, and again I was back in my childhood hell with my stepmother. Oh my gosh! Are you kidding me? I feel sick. I’m dizzy. I have this emptiness in my gut – an abyss that has no end. I can’t do this…I’ve got to settle down. I’ve got Caedmon in the back seat. I just got to town – how am I supposed to get anything done when I feel trapped inside myself? I took care of one errand, shaking the entire way through. By the time I got back in the car, I was shaking and crying again. Are you kidding me? This is ridiculous! How old am I? I cannot believe that this stuff is bothering me again! Get over yourself! Goodness…

I did calm down eventually, after asking Deb to just talk to me about nothing in particular. I couldn’t tell her what was wrong, but she did just carry on a conversation with me about the past couple of days, her kids, her life. It did help tremendously. I felt like an ass not telling her why I needed her to talk to me, but I really felt as though I shouldn’t.

This goes on for about a month. I would be a mess by the end of some days, and Jeremy would get dinner for he and the kids while I soaked in the jacuzzi. He would rub my back for everytime I thought about her and replaced that thought with my kids and himself. I thanked him for being so supportive, and assured him I was going to get past this. He knew I had been up late one night because of crap with her, but he didn’t ask any further questions. I felt so out of control of my emotions. I would cry at the drop of a hat.

Then we started studying Hebrews 1 in substantial depth…

(part 1of3) wake up maggie, i think i’ve got something to say…

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Suddenly, it seemed as though I were out of my body. I watched from the ceiling as a man in a business suit molested my young teenage body. I stared in horror as I did as I was told. It all seemed very familiar, but entirely strange and frightening. The corner office with windows for 2 of the walls. The ficus tree. The bookshelves and desk, even the phone. Looking out I could see the escalator. I have been here before! What is this place? I remember the smell of the carpet, the vending machine down the hall, the drink that she gave me in the red plastic cup. Oh my God…

She did. She told me to wait there. I sat in that chair, drinking that red punch from the red cup. She gave it to me down by the receptionist area. I remember the marble look of the off-while floor tiles. The receptionist was young with brown hair. Pulled back. Kind of giggly. I waited near her desk while my stepmother got me something to drink. She went somewhere down the hall, past the young brown-haired giggly receptionist.

It was all coming at me so fast, I could literally feel my head spinning. My suspicions were true. I have wondered for the past few years if I was drugged – why I could only remember bits and pieces of things – why I felt as though maybe these things hadn’t really happened to me – maybe I was making up these memories. I remember things in a crooked sort of manner – actually tilted and askew. I remember dark. Tattoo. Smell of beer and urine. Looking up. Listening to the shower run. Afraid to open my eyes. Terrified to close them. Feeling someone sit on my bed as I slept. The bathtub. Pain. Indifference. Haze. Numb. Far away. Floating above my body. Hating myself.

Several weeks ago, I was watching a show in bed. Toward the end of the show, there was a woman – a bit on the trashy side, drunk, glazed eyes, cleavage hanging out of her polyester negligee. Watching her, I had this pit in my stomach; disgust that I had not felt in years. The show was over, I shut off my computer, and lay down to sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, all of these tormenting memories came to me at lightning speed. I really could feel my head spinning, as I tried so hard to stop them from invading.

I had remembered the office since I was 13. In my mind, I thought it was her office. I had wondered why I had only been there one time. I couldn’t remember where she would have worked that she had such a nice office. For years, that office has been in the back of my mind, bringing up questions that I really didn’t care about, or put much more thought into.

But it wasn’t her office. She took me there. She gave me something to drink. She left me in there. I sat in that chair and waited – and drank. And waited. The man in the business suit did horrible things to me, and I sat on the carpeted floor. I remember the smell of the carpeted floor. Kind of musty and dusty. And it wasn’t soft living room carpet. It was rough to the touch. Rough on my arms. He was wearing a business suit. The few incidents I have remembered have been in a small, dirty, white-trash house, with a heavyset woman with stringy long hair and gross teeth. A shirtless man with a tattoo on his bicep and beer on his breath. This man is in a business suit, and we are in an upscale office…

rEAD iT, yOU mIGHT bE iN iT!

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1. Sometimes, I like to be depressed. I feel most like myself when I am in the depths of those dark places my mind has created and my childhood has survived. I haven’t had a major bout of depression for almost 2 years now, for which I am very thankful…but when I’m far enough in, I don’t want to come out.

2. I am easily hurt by those I love. Not because those I love intend to do harm, but because the way I feel loved is to spend time with those I love. In today’s world, we all have seven places to be at once, and only one of us to do it. So when I don’t hear from someone in a long time, or don’t see them for longer than usual, I quickly build a wall, protecting myself from rejection.

3. Someone told me once that a very dear friend of mine called me her “diamond in the rough”. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me, and even though she has no idea I know she said it, I cherish those words with my very soul, and love her even more.

4. My husband is the epitomy of understanding and compassion. He threatened to take our son and leave, if I didn’t get help for my depression NOW. That was 9 years ago, and I love him so much for loving me enough to want to help me get better – not just for me, but for he and Jonathan. He married into a situation we had no idea was coming, and when I faced some very chilling memories of my childhood, my sanity hit the fan. He stood by me, sometimes pushed me, through it all. We sometimes wonder if anyone is as happy as we are in our marriage…

5. I love to read and write. Once upon a time, it was my life. I even went to college to major in English, so I could teach HS. Since 5th grade, I knew English was my passion. Now, 2 kids and 10 years later, I hardly crack open a book. I have about 7 books I’ve started, but I’ve not finished one in a long time. I recently read “The Golden Compass”, but only because I was asked to write an article on it. I got so sucked into the wonderful fantasy land, and wanted to rush out and check out the sequel. But life continued, and I haven’t gotten to it. Blogging is the closest I come to writing anymore. When did the passion die?

6. One of my greatest fears is losing Jeremy. I often pray that we will die together, so I never have to be without him. Even though we’ve only been married 11 years, it’s so hard to imagine what life was like without him. He cares for me, loves me, protects me, laughs with me, sasses me, and spends time with me. I don’t deserve any of it, yet he constantly gives himself to me. We found out a long time ago that marriage wasn’t 50/50 give and take – it’s 100/100 give give. The more we give of ourselves and give up ourselves for the sake of our relationship and lifelong commitment to each other and God, the more we are given in return.

7. I love my kids with a heart I never knew I had. From the time I was a young girl, I knew I didn’t want children. I think a lot of it had to do with my parent’s divorce, and the butterfly effect it had on the rest of my childhood. I didn’t like kids, felt very uncomfortable around them, and avoided them at all cost. Until I went to college, and met a wonderful woman with a wonderful family. I fell head over heels in love with her children, and I really think my relationship with those kids prepared my heart for my own. I no longer have a relationship with them or their mother, but I firmly believe God placed Tamara, Josh, Madi and Hannah in my life to show me how to love and how to parent.

8. I love myspace. Not for the typical teenage atmosphere, but for the openness of it. I have gotten to know 2 of my cousins, who I had not seen since the youngest was a baby (he’s a freshman at University of Texas at Austin now). I literally got to know Troy and A.J. via myspace, and I have stayed committed to it for that reason. Patty, the young girl I mentioned in the intro? She was Troy’s high school girlfriend, who I met once in real life, and have gotten to know since with myspace. Looooove it!!

9. I miss my best friend Shell. A lot. A lot, a lot. That’s all I’m gonna say about that…

10. My sister is the wisest (is that a word?) person I know. God has blessed (cursed) her with the gift of discernment, and she uses it so well, and so very effectively. I’m sure she gets tired of being the constant “go-to” person, but so many of her friends count her words as truth, as God-given. I am grateful that we have stayed so close, and grown in our friendship over the years. She crashed my new car when she was 14, and I still love her! There’s something special…wow, that was almost 15 years ago…I am getting so old.