GOODBYE 2012

I miss writing.  I miss you guys too...

So, since I last wrote, things have kinda sucked.  Unless you were living under a rock, you know that Hurricane Sandy hit my home state pretty hard.  What you probably don't know is that it hit my home pretty hard too...

We live on a lot with a lot of trees.  We had been listening to them come down in the backyard (nowhere near the house) half the afternoon, before the storm even got bad.  Around 6:45 we heard a weird noise outside.  Hubby ran outside with a flashlight trying to investigate.  It was nothing more than a branch that scraped along the side of the house without doing any noticeable damage.

He came back in, sat down and we resumed playing boardgames with our son. No less than 5 minutes later, we heard a sickening CRASH, BANG, BOOM!  I screamed.  Andrew cried. Hubby got up and...whatever he saw, he came back, turned Andrew around and said, "Pack a bag. You're going to your mother's."

As I walked upstairs, I saw that my living room wall had been split open.  Hands shaking uncontrollably, I hastily packed a bag, called my mother, saying no more than, "We're coming over" and packed Andrew in the car.  It was the height of the storm.  Trees and branches were down everywhere.  Wind was gusting so badly, it was blowing my car from one side of the street to the other. 

Andrew, ever the backseat driver, told me, "Don't worry, Mommy! My eyes are EVERYWHERE! I'm watching for danger."  The three minute ride to my parents' was probably the most terrifying 15 minutes of my life. 

We got inside and I couldn't even tell my parents what had happened.  I immediately ran upstairs to my room and couldn't keep the tears from falling.  I saw Andrew coming up the stairs, flashlight in hand even though the lights were still on, and heard him going into every room.  He came into my room, patted my hand and reported, "All the rooms are safe, Mommy.  We okay."  It probably made me feel even worse that my kid was comforting me instead of me comforting him.

It took another hour before Hubby gave up waiting for the police or firemen to come to make sure there wasn't a ruptured gas line.  My parents lost their power not more than 15 minutes later... They wouldn't regain it for 13 days. 

No power. No heat.  It was fucking cold!  We actually started going to movies (a lot!) because they were lit.  No one in the area had power back, so people were literally huddled around power outlets in the mall.  I heard people offering to pay Cinnabon $20 to let them charge their cell phones in the back.  One woman camped out in the center of the mall and brought out a power strip, proceeding to plug in her laptop, cell phone, iPad, iPod and probably every other electronic device in her home.

When we checked out our place, it really defied description.  There were downed trees everywhere.  Our front yard was literally covered with them.  Three trees had come through our house.  They came through our roof, collapsing the roof into the attic, pushing both through our bedroom ceiling.  It all came down on our bed.  On MY side of the bed, specifically.  I couldn't help but think that if the threes had come down either a couple hours earlier or a couple hours later, I would have been in that bed.  Andrew would have been in our bed.  *That* thought still is enough to bring tears to my eyes...

Another tree snapped in half when it hit the roof and swung through my living room wall.  As they were ripping that tree out of my house, part of the tree went through my bedroom window.  When the people came to secure the roof, they tossed the crushed dormer window off the side of the house, right onto my air conditioner.  The tree landed directly onto my satellite dish, which for a long time resided on my front lawn in a manged heap. 

So, two weeks at my parents, no heat or electricity.  Hubby's car died.  My (parked) car got sideswiped.  We FINALLY got a hotel room, spending week 3 post-storm in a VERY sketchy hotel.  It broke my heart as Andrew would ask where he was going to sleep, where his stuff was.  My dad was insane enough to stage a rescue mission into my bedroom before we knew if it was secure to get Andrew's favorite stuffed bear off my bed.  2 weeks without power at work either, which drove me damn near insane without any semblance of routine.

We've been in an apartment ever since.  MAYBE on Wednesday they'll start framing work finally.  But it'll be 3-4 months construction, rebuilding a quarter of my house before we can go home. 

This has been pretty tough to take.  People have been great, offering their help and support, places to stay, stuff for Andrew.  One of my students from when I was a TA in law school sent me a message on Facebook, telling me that there were so many people who would help me, if I let them.  She wasn't one of the people I was closest to, but she knew me well enough to know I struggled - greatly - with letting anyone help me and my family, even though we needed it.  One of my sorority sisters emailed every day just to distract me with some silly story - something her kid did, some crazy person she encountered on the way to work, anything really - just to offer me a few seconds of distraction to make me think of anything else.  A high school friend I haven't spoken to in almost 20 years hooked me up with a tree guy who was willing to come out to our house immediately, something we desperately needed so that we could get the trees out of the house and secure the place...

I've blown deadlines.  I've managed to not put out a single issue of the publication I edit.  I've neglected cases. 

Somehow, along the way, all this supposedly will have made me stronger because - hey - it didn't kill me.  And whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?

So, fuck you 2012.  I can't wait for you to be over!

I'm hoping for far better things in the new year!

Voices

I'm not perfect...

I try to be.  But at the end of the day, I'm just me.  Warts and all.

No.  I don't really have warts.  Ugh... I'm FAR too vain for that.  I spend hours on my hair and make-up until they are both just so.  I dress with care. Exercise like a fiend.  In part, that's because I'm obsessed with my body image.  But when I workout - whether it's running, yoga, pilates, or weights - it's the only time I can silence the voices in my head.  

And I do not like what they have to say lately...

The truth is, it scares me.  It's too similar to the last time.  I literally shudder at the thought.  I've worked too hard to regain control from the voices. And I will not - cannot - relinquish control again...

The first time I barely knew what happened.  I woke in my twin-sized bed. Mom was calling me to get ready for school so I wouldn't miss the bus.  My hair was still in braided pigtails. I dressed quickly in one of those horrible plaid pleated skirts and a white button down shirt.  My feet slipped easily into black patent leather Mary Janes.  As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I smoothed a hand over an imaginary wrinkle in the shirt.

To my horror, a bloody streak remained where my hand had just been.  My mouth opened in a silent shriek and in a flash, last night's dreams came back to me.  Terrible, violent images assailed me.  My mind froze on the last scene.  Me, a bloody knife in my hand, eyes crazed. 

Where did that knife go?  A searing pain flashed through my head as I struggled to remember what happened next.  Through the haze, I had a distinct recollection of seeing myself stash the knife...under my mattress? 

I barely remembered crossing the room to the bed, kneeling down on the plush carpet.  A muddy footprint - one which definitely had not been there the night before - stuck out from under the pink covers.  Tentatively, with shaking fingers, I brushed aside the lacy blanket to reveal the hilt of a weapon I had only ever seen in my nightmares.  The dagger was literally covered in dried blood.  I dropped it onto the floor and screamed...

The next memories come only in flashes.  My mom running into my room.  The sirens, wailing almost as loud as my own screams.  The flashing blue and red of the police cruisers.  The doctors.  All those fucking doctors.  Even worse, the damn lawyers.

And the whole time, virtually drowning out the sound of everything else, the maniacal laughing in my head, the taunts of voices telling me this was just beginning...

Unanswered questions

Once upon a time, she would look into his eyes and see love. Desire. Herself as the beauty he described her to be. But now those eyes were hard and angry.

She twisted a blonde ringlet around her index finger before letting the curl spring free and starting the process over again. It was a nervous gesture that she never quite broke herself of.

Waiting was not one of her strong suits...

She could hardly breathe. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She willed them not to fall as she waited in silence. The words still echoed in her head, making her wonder whether she actually said them aloud.

Forget about how you feel about me in this moment when you're so angry. All that matters is the answer to this question. Do you want to be with me?

It should have been such a simple thing to answer.
The words should have instantly sprung to his lips.
Yet the minutes continued to tick by.
He said nothing, staring angrily down at her.

The tears finally fell and her voice broke as she spoke for them both. If the answer was yes, you would have already said so. I have to assume then that the answer is either no or that you aren't sure.

He continued to stare at her without a word.

The scene would have broken her heart if it hadn't been torn apart too many times before. She knelt next to where he sat on the couch, now staring at the television to avoid meeting her pleading eyes. Here she was, just a woman asking to be loved by a man. By the man who, years ago, had been down on his knee, asking her to marry him and love him forever...

He finally spoke, voice cold and hollow. "I'm not happy. I haven't been for a long time." This wasn't news, but the next part? Those words would always remain engrained in her memory, on her heart... "I don't know whether I still want to be with you."

The words were a crushing blow, one that set her world reeling. Part of her wanted to scream. To cry. To punch at his chest. It took all her self-control to keep that part of her quiet. Instead, she looked at him with an eerie calm.

I've always wanted you to be happy, even if it's not with me. Figure out what you want so we can move forward with our lives, together or apart.

She turned on her heel and walked away. Sliding between the sheets of their bed, she never felt more alone. With absolute certainty, she knew his side of the bed would remain empty that night and probably for several more to follow. But whether he would rejoin her? She could only wish she knew how that mystery would resolve...

The Middle

This story began here and continued here...
________

"I don't know shit?" She yelled at the page. "What the fuck do you know!" Jill forced her frazzled nerves to calm. He knows plenty. Too much. That's why she was in this mess...

She tried in vain to prepare herself for the onslaught of memories and emotions that would threaten to overtake her as his words forced her back into a place she never wanted to revisit. That part of her life should still be locked firmly in the past, where it belonged. She took a deep breath and surged on.

By the middle of your story, the audience starts to lose interest. It's not your fault really. No matter how good the plot, people's minds start to wander. You need something, a little bit of the unexpected, to keep them reading.

And so, my dear readers, if you're still with me, I now give you my surprise. The beginning was meant to entice. I mean, who doesn't want to know the great Jill Flowers?

Well, you don't know a damn thing. That's the Jill she WANTS you to know. The one she cleverly crafted to hide a past she never wants to see the light of day. Let me introduce you to the real Jill. My little fleur.

Jill wasn't always the powerhouse of a woman that she is today. Back in college, she was basically a good girl from a small town going to school in the big, bad city. She was someone with very little experience, sexually or otherwise.

Fleur allowed herself to be captivated by the wrong man. She couldn't help herself, really. He was such a bad boy and the danger that surrounded him was absolutely intoxicating.

She had always played by the rules, been faithful to her boyfriends, listened to her parents, even complying with her mother's silly request that she call home every Saturday afternoon at the same time each week. It was almost too easy. But from the very beginning, he wanted to corrupt her, possess her and break her...

She fell for him almost instantly.

It was never love for him. He wasn't capable of such a deep emotion. He fucked other women, all the while telling her she was the only one. They fought passionately, half the time for the ability to have wild make up sex afterwards. During one particularly nasty fight, he dropped to one knee and asked her to marry him. Her tearful answer was nothing more than a joke to him. One which he celebrated later that night in a bathroom stall with some slut he met at the local bar...

Her emotions, that silly little weakness of hers, made her play right into his hands.

Hands which led her to the bar that night...
Which spiked her drink with a little something more than vodka...
Which led her into that dark corridor...
Put the knife into her shaky hands...
And after she came to, covered in blood and panicked, helped her to bury the body...

Oh yeah, my dear readers. Our little fleur, once upon a time, got away with murder...

Midnight Ramblings

My alarm will go off in less than 5 hours. At that time, I will try to stumble out of bed and get myself to the office by 7:30. I have to collect my client's file, as well as my witness, and get myself up to the courthouse by 10. The ride to court will suck, especially since have to entertain said witness in the car and can't listen to the music that will (somewhat) soothe my frayed nerves.

This is pretty much how I get before any trial. I can't sleep because I'm trying to mind-fuck the hell out of the case. Opposing counsel's arguments. My witness' testimony. Her possible cross-examination. Was there something else I could have done to prepare? Was there anything I may have overlooked? Did I forget to include a key piece of...anything...in my presentation?

At the end of the day, I know my case inside and out. There isn't a single argument, fact or implication I haven't considered, analyzed or figured out how to spin in my favor. No matter how hard the other side worked (and they have three attorneys on this one), they haven't - couldn't - outwork me. It's what makes me as good as I am at what I do.

But this one has me worried.

My head's not fully in the game. I don't let my personal life affect my work but this time the spill-over can't be contained. I'm too tired, too drained and it's left me too full of doubts.

So wish me luck. I may just need it this time.