PIG WITHOUT A BLANKET
Tonight I had a crazy craving for a cheeseburger. I haven't had one in a long time, and I'm thinking I must be low on iron or something because I was nurping BAD for one. I was in my pajamas because I'd stayed home from work today. I debated over whether or not to change, I mean I'm only going through the drive-thru. And then I started thinking about what happens when I wear my pajamas or other sloppy clothes...
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IT'S THE END OF THE COO AS WE KNOW IT...
Well my friends, I did it. I completed my virgin year. Sunday, March 19th was the completion of my year to reassess and get my priorities straight about men. And did I? I don't know. I had new messes brought into the batch of my life that I've never encountered, but I'm hoping to stay true to what I wanted out of all of this...to stop making stupid mistakes and wait for at least a little heart to be in it.
We went out on St. Patrick's to celebrate both the holiday and my anniversary. Many people bailed, but I still had some of my closest friends with me, and one even flew out from New York City for it. Desiree and I started at an Irish pub at 2 PM and were there by ourselves for two hours and had an absolute blast! Everyone was festive and in a great mood and even the girls in the bathroom were all talking and laughing and there was no cattiness as there can be in there. We were chatting with some guys we met who I swear were all giants hovering over Desiree and I. Of course the guy I was drawn to turns out to be married (this seems to be becoming a problem for me...attraction to what turns out to be the unavailable). A young puppy swore I was someone else and asked for my phone number, but he was a total puppy! Puppies are bad. Must stay away from puppies. And we drank Guinness and Black & Tans.
We were doing well for having been there for four hours and I managed to talk my friend Jason into sneaking in cheeseburgers from Dick's Drive-In. He was concerned of stinking like meat, but I convinced him everyone was too drunk to care. I started getting calls that the line to get in was over an hour long, so we canceled the burger run our friend was going to make, finished our beers and then headed out.
Everyone happened to make it to the same spot all at the same time, and we decided to head to the Green Room. We walked up there and got dinner and more drinks, and Chad announced to our waitress that we were celebrating my year of abstinence and she looked at me like I was crazy and said, "That's a LONG time!" We had our food and drinks and ran into my friend Amy, who was going to the show next door, and then the conversations start getting hazy.
We decide to go to Patti Summer's Jazz Bar nearby and go in and it looks totally different, but this doesn't click in my drunken state. I find out later on that the club has now changed to the Can-Can. They had these fake candles that had fake wicks and glowed as if lit. I accidentally found out that if you smack them, the light goes on and if you smack them again, they come back on. I became obsessed with this and started smacking them on the edge of the table and the fake candle apparently flew across the table and the bartender came and took it away from me. Conversations are very hazy at this point, but I apparently did some drunk dialing and talked to Tony and told him I was holding my liquor very well for having drank all day, and then called Vanessa and slurred about stuff. I apparently would not shut the hell up...what's new with that?
The night ended at the Five Point where I ate eggs benedict and dropped hashbrowns on Jason's shoe. Desiree and I don't remember walking into our hotel room, but we both passed out in our beds with shoes on, contacts in, everything, but somehow our drunk asses managed to hang up our coats????
The rest of the weekend was busy and so much fun. One thing I noticed though is that all of a sudden the flirtations started up right away. It's like these puppies can smell re-virginated coo, and it's TERRIFYING! I mean I haven't kissed anyone in a year yet alone had sex. Now all of a sudden I no longer have the dark cloud of purity hanging over my head and can do whatever I want again. But I want to be good, and even if I were to meet the man of my dreams tomorrow, I would be TERRIFIED! What if I forget? What if I all of a sudden suck in that way now? Oh God, that would be traumatic!
Arrrrggggghhhhhh!!!! The terror! The horror! I'm so freaked out! I mean what the hell does one do to get over that fear? Is there a "Welcome Back Cooter" lesson one takes? Do you start with instructional books and then after completing those, watch a certain number of pornos before you're allowed back out there? And no, I'm not just going to screw someone to get it over with like I know certain people will suggest. Been there done that and it's just empty, empty, empty.
Hmmmm. Who knows. All I know is that I am now this very free, slightly happy, psuedo virgin who no longer has to be, but is terrified of what awaits her!
I guess for now I will continue to cross my legs and smile.
We went out on St. Patrick's to celebrate both the holiday and my anniversary. Many people bailed, but I still had some of my closest friends with me, and one even flew out from New York City for it. Desiree and I started at an Irish pub at 2 PM and were there by ourselves for two hours and had an absolute blast! Everyone was festive and in a great mood and even the girls in the bathroom were all talking and laughing and there was no cattiness as there can be in there. We were chatting with some guys we met who I swear were all giants hovering over Desiree and I. Of course the guy I was drawn to turns out to be married (this seems to be becoming a problem for me...attraction to what turns out to be the unavailable). A young puppy swore I was someone else and asked for my phone number, but he was a total puppy! Puppies are bad. Must stay away from puppies. And we drank Guinness and Black & Tans.
We were doing well for having been there for four hours and I managed to talk my friend Jason into sneaking in cheeseburgers from Dick's Drive-In. He was concerned of stinking like meat, but I convinced him everyone was too drunk to care. I started getting calls that the line to get in was over an hour long, so we canceled the burger run our friend was going to make, finished our beers and then headed out.
Everyone happened to make it to the same spot all at the same time, and we decided to head to the Green Room. We walked up there and got dinner and more drinks, and Chad announced to our waitress that we were celebrating my year of abstinence and she looked at me like I was crazy and said, "That's a LONG time!" We had our food and drinks and ran into my friend Amy, who was going to the show next door, and then the conversations start getting hazy.
We decide to go to Patti Summer's Jazz Bar nearby and go in and it looks totally different, but this doesn't click in my drunken state. I find out later on that the club has now changed to the Can-Can. They had these fake candles that had fake wicks and glowed as if lit. I accidentally found out that if you smack them, the light goes on and if you smack them again, they come back on. I became obsessed with this and started smacking them on the edge of the table and the fake candle apparently flew across the table and the bartender came and took it away from me. Conversations are very hazy at this point, but I apparently did some drunk dialing and talked to Tony and told him I was holding my liquor very well for having drank all day, and then called Vanessa and slurred about stuff. I apparently would not shut the hell up...what's new with that?
The night ended at the Five Point where I ate eggs benedict and dropped hashbrowns on Jason's shoe. Desiree and I don't remember walking into our hotel room, but we both passed out in our beds with shoes on, contacts in, everything, but somehow our drunk asses managed to hang up our coats????
The rest of the weekend was busy and so much fun. One thing I noticed though is that all of a sudden the flirtations started up right away. It's like these puppies can smell re-virginated coo, and it's TERRIFYING! I mean I haven't kissed anyone in a year yet alone had sex. Now all of a sudden I no longer have the dark cloud of purity hanging over my head and can do whatever I want again. But I want to be good, and even if I were to meet the man of my dreams tomorrow, I would be TERRIFIED! What if I forget? What if I all of a sudden suck in that way now? Oh God, that would be traumatic!
Arrrrggggghhhhhh!!!! The terror! The horror! I'm so freaked out! I mean what the hell does one do to get over that fear? Is there a "Welcome Back Cooter" lesson one takes? Do you start with instructional books and then after completing those, watch a certain number of pornos before you're allowed back out there? And no, I'm not just going to screw someone to get it over with like I know certain people will suggest. Been there done that and it's just empty, empty, empty.
Hmmmm. Who knows. All I know is that I am now this very free, slightly happy, psuedo virgin who no longer has to be, but is terrified of what awaits her!
I guess for now I will continue to cross my legs and smile.
LESSONS FROM THE PLAYGROUND
Tonight Chad, Brian, Lorrel, Vanessa and I volunteered at PBS per Chad's request as his birthday present. We were all laughing and giddy, and somehow we started talking about playing handball. Once in the KCTS phone room awaiting donation calls, Vanessa and I started talking about our adventures on the playground as kids.
It's funny the life we had on the playground, the memories that stick, the labels we're given, the antics that seemed so pivotal, and we now look back on and laugh.
Vanessa was talking about how once on the monkey bars she accidentally kicked a girl in the face, and some 6th grader ran over to the injured girl and yelled at Vanessa as if she intentionally hurt her.
My sister once did the waterfall trick on the jungle gym and knocked out a loose tooth. The jungle gym was in this large gravel pit. I remember all of my friends running over and searching for her tooth in the gravel because she wanted to put it under her pillow for the Tooth Fairy. We scrambled about in the gravel and every 20 seconds someone would shout "I got it!" only to stand up and reveal one of the thousands of white rocks mixed in with the gravel. My sister would run over and yell, "That's not my tooth!" and start crying.
I remember practicing playing "Bloody Mary" where we would do the routine and a tree would be the mirror. We would scream and run away and pretend that we'd seen the urban legend. We'd then take this practice on the playground into the darkened bathrooms at slumber parties where everyone would either chicken out or cry and swear they saw her. Then there were the rare few who claimed nothing happened at all.
There were the early flirtation rituals we would blatantly perform. We would chase the boys that we liked, and once myself and two other girls grabbed a boy's shirt as he ran for dear life. His shirt accidentally ripped off when we did this leaving the poor boy running half naked into the school to escape us. We were all paddled by our one-eyed principal for that act.
Then there was the giant metal slide on the hill above the main playground. It was short and really wide. We could fit about four or five girls side-by-side and would slide down it together in stupid poses we thought would get the boys' attention. One day I convinced everyone to wear their Guinea Sax dresses that billowed out. We lined up on the slide side-by-side and did our poses as our dresses billowed out and showed our panties to the world. We got away with this for a while until the playground teachers caught us once and lectured us about being proper young ladies.
Then there was the traumatic incident that scarred many of our pure hearts. The boys were playing football on the upper hill one day at recess. Mark Rubin was running backwards to catch the football when it happened. He stumbled over something and then we heard someone scream. He stopped and looked at what had tripped him. Somehow when Mark was running backwards, a squirrel was running perpendicular to his path. The two collided and Mark accidentally ran over the small woodland creature. He stood there horrified and visibly upset. We all ran over to observe the scene. There lay a small injured squirrel paralyzed. His breathing staggered and his little puffy squirrel cheeks poofed out as he struggled to inhale. He was very injured. Someone ran to get the playground teacher. The rest of us stood there crying. Mark was crying as well. The playground teacher ran up and came to escort us away from the injured animal.
"Squirrel killer!" shouted one of the kids that had gathered.
"Yah! Squirrel killer!" joined another pointing at Mark.
The playground teacher hushed them and reiterated it was an accident and not his fault. Mark cried harder at the unfair label he'd been given. It was horrible. We later learned that the janitor had been sent to the hill to put the suffering squirrel out of his misery with a shovel, which made us all so sad. Mark was given dirty looks by some, and comforted by others. I remember some of us girls going and picking dandelions and putting them on the squirrel's final resting spot. It took a long time for Mark's squirrel killer title to be lost in the sea of impending puberty.
It's funny the things we remember from the days on the playground and how much they prepared us for life, yet we never knew it. The accidents where we are unjustly accused of wrongdoings; the camaraderie that can happen when minor tragedies strike and even when we try to fix it incorrectly, we can still stick together and help however we can; the preparations we make to face fears and the reality of facing the situation and sometimes seeing we had reason to be afraid, and other times realizing we were scared over nothing; realizing that the one we're after was not right for us and having repercussions for going after them; learning the boundaries of how much to reveal to the ones we're attracted to and trying to push those boundaries when no one is looking; and the labels that we're given in situations beyond our control and realizing who your true friends are when the shit hits the fan, seeing who will stand by your side and comfort you and who will point their finger at you and call you a squirrel killer or any other label.
Funny that we look back and laugh and just simplify the little stories we share. We take most of the lessons we learned from tragic events or relationships. We rarely look at the little things and see how these shaped us and molded us into the adults we've become. And when I think back on these things, it reminds me to stop judging, still comfort, still laugh, and open my mind and explore and push the boundaries of the grown-up version of the playground.
It's funny the life we had on the playground, the memories that stick, the labels we're given, the antics that seemed so pivotal, and we now look back on and laugh.
Vanessa was talking about how once on the monkey bars she accidentally kicked a girl in the face, and some 6th grader ran over to the injured girl and yelled at Vanessa as if she intentionally hurt her.
My sister once did the waterfall trick on the jungle gym and knocked out a loose tooth. The jungle gym was in this large gravel pit. I remember all of my friends running over and searching for her tooth in the gravel because she wanted to put it under her pillow for the Tooth Fairy. We scrambled about in the gravel and every 20 seconds someone would shout "I got it!" only to stand up and reveal one of the thousands of white rocks mixed in with the gravel. My sister would run over and yell, "That's not my tooth!" and start crying.
I remember practicing playing "Bloody Mary" where we would do the routine and a tree would be the mirror. We would scream and run away and pretend that we'd seen the urban legend. We'd then take this practice on the playground into the darkened bathrooms at slumber parties where everyone would either chicken out or cry and swear they saw her. Then there were the rare few who claimed nothing happened at all.
There were the early flirtation rituals we would blatantly perform. We would chase the boys that we liked, and once myself and two other girls grabbed a boy's shirt as he ran for dear life. His shirt accidentally ripped off when we did this leaving the poor boy running half naked into the school to escape us. We were all paddled by our one-eyed principal for that act.
Then there was the giant metal slide on the hill above the main playground. It was short and really wide. We could fit about four or five girls side-by-side and would slide down it together in stupid poses we thought would get the boys' attention. One day I convinced everyone to wear their Guinea Sax dresses that billowed out. We lined up on the slide side-by-side and did our poses as our dresses billowed out and showed our panties to the world. We got away with this for a while until the playground teachers caught us once and lectured us about being proper young ladies.
Then there was the traumatic incident that scarred many of our pure hearts. The boys were playing football on the upper hill one day at recess. Mark Rubin was running backwards to catch the football when it happened. He stumbled over something and then we heard someone scream. He stopped and looked at what had tripped him. Somehow when Mark was running backwards, a squirrel was running perpendicular to his path. The two collided and Mark accidentally ran over the small woodland creature. He stood there horrified and visibly upset. We all ran over to observe the scene. There lay a small injured squirrel paralyzed. His breathing staggered and his little puffy squirrel cheeks poofed out as he struggled to inhale. He was very injured. Someone ran to get the playground teacher. The rest of us stood there crying. Mark was crying as well. The playground teacher ran up and came to escort us away from the injured animal.
"Squirrel killer!" shouted one of the kids that had gathered.
"Yah! Squirrel killer!" joined another pointing at Mark.
The playground teacher hushed them and reiterated it was an accident and not his fault. Mark cried harder at the unfair label he'd been given. It was horrible. We later learned that the janitor had been sent to the hill to put the suffering squirrel out of his misery with a shovel, which made us all so sad. Mark was given dirty looks by some, and comforted by others. I remember some of us girls going and picking dandelions and putting them on the squirrel's final resting spot. It took a long time for Mark's squirrel killer title to be lost in the sea of impending puberty.
It's funny the things we remember from the days on the playground and how much they prepared us for life, yet we never knew it. The accidents where we are unjustly accused of wrongdoings; the camaraderie that can happen when minor tragedies strike and even when we try to fix it incorrectly, we can still stick together and help however we can; the preparations we make to face fears and the reality of facing the situation and sometimes seeing we had reason to be afraid, and other times realizing we were scared over nothing; realizing that the one we're after was not right for us and having repercussions for going after them; learning the boundaries of how much to reveal to the ones we're attracted to and trying to push those boundaries when no one is looking; and the labels that we're given in situations beyond our control and realizing who your true friends are when the shit hits the fan, seeing who will stand by your side and comfort you and who will point their finger at you and call you a squirrel killer or any other label.
Funny that we look back and laugh and just simplify the little stories we share. We take most of the lessons we learned from tragic events or relationships. We rarely look at the little things and see how these shaped us and molded us into the adults we've become. And when I think back on these things, it reminds me to stop judging, still comfort, still laugh, and open my mind and explore and push the boundaries of the grown-up version of the playground.
HIDING BEHIND THE SKIPPER
What do you do when you leave your past, but your past won't leave you? I have always tried to convince myself that I do not regret my past, that everything I have done, good and the bad, has made me who I am. While I earnestly believe this to be true, I also wouldn't mind erasing quite a bit of it.
Sometimes the past needs to be reapproached.....
I went to my ex-boyfriend of nine year's ago, show on Monday night. As mentioned before, things ended really ugly. The band he's in came through town and I went out to Tacoma to see them. It was so strange to see him, as it didn't seem like a near decade had gone by. It was really good to talk and I apologized for my behavior and how it ended back then. We had a nice conversation and he wished me well in my life. His band was great and afterwards I drove home feeling really happy and at peace. The experience made made me feel that everyone should be made to face people they've hurt after ten years or near there. Everyone's hopefully grown up by this point and can see their part and make changes from the mistakes they've made. I'm so grateful that I had that opportunity and would love to clear up more of my side of the street.
And sometimes the past is better left buried in the past.....
I had a girls' night last night and it was really great to hang out with April, Vanessa, Chad & Lorrel. People are married, getting married and/or having babies and everyone is just mellowing out quite a bit and our schedules are kind of crazy, so it's more difficult to all get together nowadays. We all laughed a lot and ate and drank a little. After we were edged out of there, Vanessa, Chad & I headed over to a trashy dive bar in the same parking lot. This place apparently used to be a Skipper's, as the door still had the port hole window, and much of the decor inside was reminiscent of the days of Skipper's restaurants. We sat at what appeared to be the only table open, which was right next to the bar. We all sat and looked around at the trashiness before us, the sweet sound of drunken, off-key karaoke being sung in the next room and then I saw him.
The man sitting at the bar right behind Vanessa was a guy who used to be one of my friends all throughout junior high and most of high school, and I slept with him. In fact, he was the second man I ever slept with, and he lost his virginity to me. It was horrible. We were both so drunk and the story need not be repeated at all, but I will just say that the experience was ugly and humiliating, as was the aftermath. I haven't seen him in 15 years, and I wish it would've stayed that way.
I sat there freaked out and my friends kept asking me what was going on, but I couldn't tell them until he and his friends left. Just getting up and going to get a beer was freaking me out. I didn't want to be in view of him at all. I didn't want him to see me or knew I even existed at all. I felt so fearful, and though this may seem really simple, it's not. My past is often ugly and degrading and this was one of the worst. It just really stirred up a lot for me. Even in knowing I am no longer that person, I felt like I met the old me last night and I didn't like it.
Recently, I discussed with some friends about the fact I was starting to feel like I was ready to stay here and settle in. My life has changed drastically this year, and I have to make sure I have insurance, so it just seems good for me to sit still while the doctor and I get my health figured out. I need to get to a point where it can improve enough to stay on a maintenance program with my medication and lifestyle. I felt that maybe staying here and doing that would be good. I felt like maybe I would be running away if I left here.
Now, I believe I have to run away to get a fresh start. The theme song from Cheer's echoes in my head at the moment, "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name..." Uhhhh. No. I'd like to go where no one knows my name, or at least no one knew it before I was 25. I need a fresh start.
And now we come back to where to go?
Sometimes the past needs to be reapproached.....
I went to my ex-boyfriend of nine year's ago, show on Monday night. As mentioned before, things ended really ugly. The band he's in came through town and I went out to Tacoma to see them. It was so strange to see him, as it didn't seem like a near decade had gone by. It was really good to talk and I apologized for my behavior and how it ended back then. We had a nice conversation and he wished me well in my life. His band was great and afterwards I drove home feeling really happy and at peace. The experience made made me feel that everyone should be made to face people they've hurt after ten years or near there. Everyone's hopefully grown up by this point and can see their part and make changes from the mistakes they've made. I'm so grateful that I had that opportunity and would love to clear up more of my side of the street.
And sometimes the past is better left buried in the past.....
I had a girls' night last night and it was really great to hang out with April, Vanessa, Chad & Lorrel. People are married, getting married and/or having babies and everyone is just mellowing out quite a bit and our schedules are kind of crazy, so it's more difficult to all get together nowadays. We all laughed a lot and ate and drank a little. After we were edged out of there, Vanessa, Chad & I headed over to a trashy dive bar in the same parking lot. This place apparently used to be a Skipper's, as the door still had the port hole window, and much of the decor inside was reminiscent of the days of Skipper's restaurants. We sat at what appeared to be the only table open, which was right next to the bar. We all sat and looked around at the trashiness before us, the sweet sound of drunken, off-key karaoke being sung in the next room and then I saw him.
The man sitting at the bar right behind Vanessa was a guy who used to be one of my friends all throughout junior high and most of high school, and I slept with him. In fact, he was the second man I ever slept with, and he lost his virginity to me. It was horrible. We were both so drunk and the story need not be repeated at all, but I will just say that the experience was ugly and humiliating, as was the aftermath. I haven't seen him in 15 years, and I wish it would've stayed that way.
I sat there freaked out and my friends kept asking me what was going on, but I couldn't tell them until he and his friends left. Just getting up and going to get a beer was freaking me out. I didn't want to be in view of him at all. I didn't want him to see me or knew I even existed at all. I felt so fearful, and though this may seem really simple, it's not. My past is often ugly and degrading and this was one of the worst. It just really stirred up a lot for me. Even in knowing I am no longer that person, I felt like I met the old me last night and I didn't like it.
Recently, I discussed with some friends about the fact I was starting to feel like I was ready to stay here and settle in. My life has changed drastically this year, and I have to make sure I have insurance, so it just seems good for me to sit still while the doctor and I get my health figured out. I need to get to a point where it can improve enough to stay on a maintenance program with my medication and lifestyle. I felt that maybe staying here and doing that would be good. I felt like maybe I would be running away if I left here.
Now, I believe I have to run away to get a fresh start. The theme song from Cheer's echoes in my head at the moment, "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name..." Uhhhh. No. I'd like to go where no one knows my name, or at least no one knew it before I was 25. I need a fresh start.
And now we come back to where to go?
A LETTER FROM MY MOTHER
Alright, not to get too sappy, but tough shit. I am. I'm allowing myself tonight as one last night to cry and wallow and feel really, really sad. I know I already wrote today, but I was reading my friend's blog and she was talking about recently coming across a letter she'd written in 6th grade, back in 1992 (you were in 6th grade in '92????), which was a letter to her future self. She shared it and posed the question of whether her past self would have liked her current self, and if her future self would like the person she currently is.
After reading this, I ran to the memory box that has been a big part of this weekend for me, and grabbed the two letters my mother wrote to me as a child on my birthday. I have not read these in about four years. I felt the urge to read them (I always forget the details) and sat and cried as I watched the Oscars and read my mother's letters. The content seemed too appropriate for what I am going through in my life right now and touched my heart. I feel the need to share this. Mom, I hope you're okay with me sharing one of the letters. And please note, we were Mormon and this was a very encompassing part of our lives back then, so it's pretty religious at times. I have eliminated some of the more churchy parts.
October 5, 1975 (Age 3)
My Dearest Little Heather,
I have wanted to write you a special letter on each of your birthdays, but I didn't follow through. This year has been such a special one for you, as well as us as a family, that I wanted to be sure to keep some record of it for you.
Last year on your birthday we had just moved into a lovely new home and things seemed to look so good for the future. We took you to the zoo and gave you a hobby horse for your birthday. You were so thrilled with it. Little did we know that within a few months you wouldn't even be able to get on your new horse.
In November we were celebrating Thanksgiving with several families in the ward. You were playing and fell in the kitchen. You weren't able to stand up the next couple of days, so we took you to the doctor. He took x-rays and said nothing was broken and that you should be alright soon. Months went by and you did not improve. You continued to limp on your left leg. We were sent to two specialists and finally to Children's Orthopedic Hospital in Seattle where it was determined (after numerous painful tests) that you had a nerve disease of some sort. At first they believed it to be a congenital nerve disease for which there was no cure. At the time your entire body was involved - not just your legs. Your head and arms, neck and hands were also losing their strength. We were very frightened for you. Through all the painful tests and hard times you were going through, you were always such a little trooper. It was difficult for me to see why our Heavenly Father was allowing this to happen to you. Your Dad helped me to see that we would all be stronger for it.
...We felt frightened that we were going to lose you to whatever this disease was.
...We later found out from the doctor that the Bishop was right. Your nerve disease was a temporary one, but would take 1 - 1-1/2 years to get over it.
Within the last month you have been able to do things you haven't done for months, like riding your trike; going up and down the stairs on your own, walking fast without falling; lifting your arms above your head and having your speech improve. Throughout all this, your loving attitude and sweet, precious spirit has been an inspiration to me.
We started you in Junior Sunday School and Primary two weeks ago. We were so proud of you. Many of your little friends were crying, but you were so happy and contented. I stood out in the hall and cried after I took you into Junior Sunday School for the first time. You're growing up so fast. I fee like you're slipping away. I want to see you grow and develop and partake of new experiences. Yet deep down I'm afraid this will all change you - and sometimes I'm frightened of that.
Yet, Heather, I'm anxious for you to change and grow. I know the spirit within you will always stay as sweet and special as it is now. I can see the things that you have encountered this past year have strengthened you.
...Heather, I earnestly hope and pray that this coming year will be a growing one for you - especially in regards to your health. I hope your love for others will continue to grow also. I pray your heart and mind will be blessed to understand and accept the things you will be taught in church as well as at home.
I pray that I'll be able to take care of your needs and desires and help you in the ways I should. I seel so fortunate to have you for a daughter and to know we're sealed for eternity. I pray our love for each other will be strengthened each year.
...I hope you will always have the beautiful child-like faith you have now...If you don't, work hard at it. I know if you've been able to get through this past year with such a kind, loving attitude, you can do anything.
Always know how precious you are to me and to your father. You are our firstborn and so very, very special.
I love you with all my heart.
Happy Birthday.
With love -
Mommy
***********
Mom, thank you for reminding me thirty years later that I can get through anything and keep love and kindness in my heart. I needed to be reminded of this so badly right now. I love you so very much. Thank you. I promise to stop whining and start being strong.
Heather
After reading this, I ran to the memory box that has been a big part of this weekend for me, and grabbed the two letters my mother wrote to me as a child on my birthday. I have not read these in about four years. I felt the urge to read them (I always forget the details) and sat and cried as I watched the Oscars and read my mother's letters. The content seemed too appropriate for what I am going through in my life right now and touched my heart. I feel the need to share this. Mom, I hope you're okay with me sharing one of the letters. And please note, we were Mormon and this was a very encompassing part of our lives back then, so it's pretty religious at times. I have eliminated some of the more churchy parts.
October 5, 1975 (Age 3)
My Dearest Little Heather,
I have wanted to write you a special letter on each of your birthdays, but I didn't follow through. This year has been such a special one for you, as well as us as a family, that I wanted to be sure to keep some record of it for you.
Last year on your birthday we had just moved into a lovely new home and things seemed to look so good for the future. We took you to the zoo and gave you a hobby horse for your birthday. You were so thrilled with it. Little did we know that within a few months you wouldn't even be able to get on your new horse.
In November we were celebrating Thanksgiving with several families in the ward. You were playing and fell in the kitchen. You weren't able to stand up the next couple of days, so we took you to the doctor. He took x-rays and said nothing was broken and that you should be alright soon. Months went by and you did not improve. You continued to limp on your left leg. We were sent to two specialists and finally to Children's Orthopedic Hospital in Seattle where it was determined (after numerous painful tests) that you had a nerve disease of some sort. At first they believed it to be a congenital nerve disease for which there was no cure. At the time your entire body was involved - not just your legs. Your head and arms, neck and hands were also losing their strength. We were very frightened for you. Through all the painful tests and hard times you were going through, you were always such a little trooper. It was difficult for me to see why our Heavenly Father was allowing this to happen to you. Your Dad helped me to see that we would all be stronger for it.
...We felt frightened that we were going to lose you to whatever this disease was.
...We later found out from the doctor that the Bishop was right. Your nerve disease was a temporary one, but would take 1 - 1-1/2 years to get over it.
Within the last month you have been able to do things you haven't done for months, like riding your trike; going up and down the stairs on your own, walking fast without falling; lifting your arms above your head and having your speech improve. Throughout all this, your loving attitude and sweet, precious spirit has been an inspiration to me.
We started you in Junior Sunday School and Primary two weeks ago. We were so proud of you. Many of your little friends were crying, but you were so happy and contented. I stood out in the hall and cried after I took you into Junior Sunday School for the first time. You're growing up so fast. I fee like you're slipping away. I want to see you grow and develop and partake of new experiences. Yet deep down I'm afraid this will all change you - and sometimes I'm frightened of that.
Yet, Heather, I'm anxious for you to change and grow. I know the spirit within you will always stay as sweet and special as it is now. I can see the things that you have encountered this past year have strengthened you.
...Heather, I earnestly hope and pray that this coming year will be a growing one for you - especially in regards to your health. I hope your love for others will continue to grow also. I pray your heart and mind will be blessed to understand and accept the things you will be taught in church as well as at home.
I pray that I'll be able to take care of your needs and desires and help you in the ways I should. I seel so fortunate to have you for a daughter and to know we're sealed for eternity. I pray our love for each other will be strengthened each year.
...I hope you will always have the beautiful child-like faith you have now...If you don't, work hard at it. I know if you've been able to get through this past year with such a kind, loving attitude, you can do anything.
Always know how precious you are to me and to your father. You are our firstborn and so very, very special.
I love you with all my heart.
Happy Birthday.
With love -
Mommy
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Mom, thank you for reminding me thirty years later that I can get through anything and keep love and kindness in my heart. I needed to be reminded of this so badly right now. I love you so very much. Thank you. I promise to stop whining and start being strong.
Heather
