The Family Of My Life Archive

The Spirit of Santa – The Spirit of Giving

Posted December 5, 2014 By kmarrs

I need help saving Christmas for 4 amazing, young boys and their father.  These boys have had a rough go at life.  Some parts have been rougher than others.  This past year has  been the roughest yet, as their parents battled for custody.  Their father, the more stable of the two, has finally won this battle, but doing so has seen his finances get stretched beyond comfort.  He had to give up his second job, and when is babysitter stopped showing up, he missed a lot of work, nearly losing his job in the process, and a lot more.  Upon hearing what was going on, I stepped in and have been hanging out with these amazing boys, aged 4-9, every day after school until their daddy gets off.  In doing so, their daddy has been able to get back to being financially stable, however, not enough so to make Christmas happen.  He’s afraid the illusion of Santa will be shattered when they realize what Christmas coming after a tax return really means.

I call bullshit.  There is too a Santa and his magic is alive! However, not being made of money myself, I can’t do this alone.  So I’m asking for your help!  This family needs some Christmas magic now more than ever.  It’s been rough for them the past year.  I think a Christmas miracle is exactly what they need to see.

Please help me give this to them.

We are aiming for a deadline of the 14th so that there is plenty of time for phase 2: shopping.


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BPD Borderline Personality Disorder and LossThis year…  To say I have lost is such an understatement that it’s almost laughable.  Or would be if I wasn’t spending my free time curled up into a tiny, tiny ball crying and raging.  I assure you I’m not laughing through my tears.

Some of this loss has been by choice  but too much of it has been by force which is, I suppose, how loss typically happens.

It might as well have been by gun point that my aunt was taken from us a couple of weeks ago.  We learned of the cancer prognosis about a month before she was taken.  No one really saw the prognosis coming and we were given just enough time between prognosis and passing to realize there was no preventing it.  Cancer, is an asshole.  But, I suppose we know that.  Knew that.

The “loss” of my best friend of 12 years in the opening months of this year was of my free will.  It was a conscious decision that I made on the spot but that I’d been building up to over the months prior.  And while her character was never much of a secret, I was made privy to its true nature over the last couple months.

You (she) will never, ever read this but I would like to say now what I couldn’t say as your relationship with my estranged husband came to an end:  I’m so very truly sorry that the timing of my mental break down was so inconvenient to you and your desire to throw your beliefs aside and get laid.  Because really, my mental break down really has been inconvenient to us all.  I suppose you’ll have to go and find another fuck buddy.  If you need help finding one, may I suggest the depths of hell where your selfish, inconsiderate, whoring soul belongs.  You’ll find your people there.  And they won’t care how truly hateful and negative your depraved existence is, inside and out.

Bitch.

Maybe we won’t add that friendship to the loss category after all.  We shall call it my escape.

The other friendship loss also wasn’t much surprise.  They say some people enter your life and are meant to stay there until the end.  Some come into your life and their role is brief.  Maybe it’s only meant to last a few weeks.  Maybe a few months.  A few years.  Or, in the scheme of life, even a decade or two might be considered brief.

N, as I shall call him out of a true respect for his desire to remain unknown to this world as a whole, I thought was meant to be a life long friend.  I still hurt over the loss of what I thought it would be.  But through my tears of the loss of a friend, I do see the role he played.  He was my secret keeper and companion in the days leading up to and following the end of my marriage.  And while he and I were only ever friends and never would have been more, I was able to examine who he was and my response to him and start to see glimpses of what it is I seek in a romantic companion.

The list is much longer than what I will say here, but for a starter, I will never, ever again find myself in a relationship with someone who doesn’t read.  My joy in sharing books with N and him sharing books with me… Him handing my books that weren’t about, “You’ve read such and such so you might enjoy this,” but was instead, “I really enjoyed this book and I’m excited to share it with someone who reads,” was, I think, one of my (many) favorite things about that friendship.

The idea of being able to add a romantic aspect to that, with someone else of course, is something I will no longer settle over.  I look forward to the day I find myself in bed with someone, sitting side-by-side reading our respective books.  Maybe we’ll even be reading the same thing so we can talk about it as we go, careful to avoid spoilers.  Both people in that bed understanding that the lights can’t be turned out until one more chapter has been read. And one more chapter is never just one.

N, I don’t really expect you’ll read these words but please know while our friendship exploded in flames and anger, I will forever thank you for the role you played in my life and the gift you gave me of sight.

I’ve already written on the end of my marriage.  The loss of tucking my children in each night and waking to their fighting each morning.  I do not wish to dwell on that here.  It’s been written about, but I can’t fail to mention it.

The loss of my fine motor skills, as I type on a computer keyboard plugged into my laptop because the keys are slightly bigger and have more space between them allowing for easier manipulation as I write, my fingers struggling to keep up with my head and heart as it is, has been the hardest to swallow.  Special pens bought for work in order to have a better, more secure, more comfortable grip.  Each of my coworkers knowing that while we are forever stealing one another’s pens, mine are off-limits.  It isn’t a matter of being my favorite, it’s a matter of me being a liability as I need to be sure and reassured I didn’t miscount the money my fingers struggle to manipulate.  I never count just once, I’ve learned to compensate, how to count it, how to manipulate it to be sure I balance each night. But my fingers, my hands, my fine motor skills are being taken from me as I fight tooth and nail to not lose it all.

As I drop my camera, not the point-and-shoot, but my darling Nikki due to a compromised grip as I simply lifted it to move it over 2 feet.  A special strap is already attached to help with grip, any photographer wanting that security no matter the state of their hands.  But who attaches a strap to move something 2 measly feet?  And Nikki fell, my portrait lens busted, and I still, months later, can’t bring myself, can’t find the will within, to learn if my beloved Nikki is still in working order.

As my fine motor skills trickle away, my sanity, stability, tumbles.

 

To Be Continued

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Yesterday’s Companion

Posted May 28, 2013 By kmarrs

I thought about posting this yesterday as well, but I didn’t want to imply that he died in service.  He was most certainly a vet who fought for our freedom.  But he outlived that war.

 

© KMarrs Photography (Me) – Rock Island National Cemetery, Rock Island Arsenal

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Ginny Rose

Posted November 11, 2012 By kmarrs

This is little Ginny Rose, whom is named for my Maternal Grandmother Virginia. Little Ginny is forever perched on my right shoulder.  Her and her books.

Years ago, my mom and sister got matching cherry blossoms. With Rachel and I having been born right outside DC, it was a way to tie my mom and sister together in a way the was meaningful to their beginnings as mother and daughter.

For awhile there, I too was maybe going to get a cherry blossom, but my sister respectfully requested that remain just her and my mom.  So my mom, ready for her second tattoo, opted to pick something new for just her and I.  With me having been old enough to remember her mother and having forged a close bond, we selected an owl which was something her mother collected and would forever tie the 3 generations even if her mother would never be inked or see ours.

I then suggested to take it a step farther and have a stack of books since we are/were all 3 known for our love of books.  Mom elected to keep hers to just the owl, and she did inverse the colors, but hers is equally adorable and forever perched on her left shoulder.

So is how am I celebrating turning 29 very very soon.  My first tattoo and a celebration of generations.

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Say It To Me Not Behind Me

Posted July 5, 2012 By kmarrs

We are best friends, but when we catch up it’s hard for me to get a word in to catch you up on my life. This wouldn’t be nearly as bad if 90% of your words weren’t negative about everyone and everything in your life. We all can say something negative about everyone we know, since no one is perfect, humans are flawed. But the ability to look past the flaws and see the remarkable is the true beauty of human interaction. And no matter what I have negative to say about my husband, family, and friends, it’s always made clear by me how wonderful I think you all really are. You say that you don’t really talk to any of your other friends. And you give all these reasons based on their annoying personality traits. But as time goes by, and it’s been 10 years, I am wondering if as you start sounding more and more superior if maybe it’s you, and not them. That hit my full force with something you said at me. Not to, but at. You, who I thought to be the 1 person who loved me fully and unconditionally for who I am, yet don’t in any way have to. (Even my husband, who does have some choice, is tied by a legal contract and 3 kids that make it harder for him to just walk away.) And now I’m left wondering: what exactly are you saying about me behind my back? Because I’m well aware there is plenty you could be. I spend a lot of time, all our time together really, listening to what you have to say about every single person in your life. No one seems to be immune. And none of what you say is positive. So I’m left doubting that I could possibly be the one exception. And I’m left wondering what it is you are saying about me. And I’m starting to think maybe I don’t want to hear about them anymore. I’m done sympathizing with you. Because, no really. I don’t think it’s them. I think it’s you. I think you are the reason a long list of friends stopped contacting you. And I think it’s because you have it in your head that you are so much better. But sweetie, you are just as flawed as the rest of us. And I guess after 10 years, and an apparent gleaming white BPD built pedestal, I’m finally realizing that.

And for the record: No 4-year-old goes to a parade to see politicians drive by begging for you to vote for them. They go for the candy their wives and friends pass out. And then get excited over the occasional fire truck and (apparently) marching bands. And no, I will not apologize for or be made to feel bad for encouraging the 4-year-old, who was glued to my side, to be more aggressive in seeking it out; when the 17 or 18 year old to our right was being all grabby grabby and not a damn candy giver missed him. I wasn’t telling my 4-year-old to push and shove. I was encouraging him to step up and ask not to be missed like a 4-year-old should and to out cute the near adult who walked away with 10 times what both my kids did combined. And no, I simply can’t just go to Krogers and buy him candy. Not like that anyways. Not when there are weeks we are counting quarters for one last loaf of bread or gallon of milk to be sure we have enough until my next payday. I may not be the most responsible person, but I’m not that irresponsible. Though maybe you think I am? Because I am the welfare recipient with 3 kids after all. As I’m starting to imagine everyone you know and talk to is well aware. But do you also tell them how hard I’m working to improve my situation in life so that I can do right by those 3 kids? Somehow, I doubt it. Because I don’t hear any of that stuff about them.

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Christmas: A Potentially Borderline Event

Posted December 27, 2009 By kmarrs

Borderline Personality Disorder and ChristmasWe had a good Christmas this year.

Thomas made out like a bandit. He got a fuck ton of transformers and remote control vehicles (airplanes from Santa, motorcycle, monster truck, hover craft, and a digger). He also got a Nerf gun that has already been properly used to torture the cat. Auntie Rachel, my sister, bought him a large pirate ship for the bath tub. It’s pretty cool. There are all these pieces that come off and can be moved around so you can design and redesign about a dozen different boats.

Luke didn’t get quite as much as Thomas got but what he did get he seems to really enjoy. His favorites seem to be his play cell phones. He got two, one for our house and one for grandma’s house. He also got a really big mega blocks dump truck. There are spots on it where you can build with the blocks, it of course holds mega blocks, and he can also ride on it. It’s pretty cool. He got lots of new books, I think we were all getting sick of the old ones. Then of course he got his mega block table from Santa.

Pat got a few good things. He got a brand new scale. We’ve been needing one around here. This one is really nice because it can handle our weight. He also got a set of really nice incense defusers.

I am pretty happy with what I got for Christmas. My mom bought me a t-shirt that reads “There are 10 types of people in the world: those who understand binary and those who don’t.” Btw, 10 is binary for 2. Now I just need the shirt that teaches you how to count in finger binary. Maybe next Christmas. I also got a new mouse for my computer. It’s a lot nicer than my old mouse. The cord is a little short but Jesse says he has an extension cord, so that will be good. Pat reactivated my WoW (world of warcraft) for me. So I can play Dygs again. This makes me way happy.

We spent the early part of the day home opening gifts with the kids. Then we headed to my mom’s house later that morning and had a gift exchange there. That afternoon Pat took Thomas to go see newest Chipmunk movie while Luke and I stayed at mom’ and hung out with my mom, sister and my sister’s new boyfriend, who I think is pretty cool by the way. After the movie Pat and Thomas came back and we had dinner. Mom made ham and turkey this year, which was pretty cool. And of course we had all the trimmings. After dinner Pat and I went home while the kids stayed at my mom’s for the weekend.

All in all it was a relaxing day.

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