Gladiators

Are we Gladiators? Or are we bitches? Ignoring of course all the issues with bitches being negative and the connotation that it carries when used again women it asks an interesting question. And one that I have been struggling with as of late. Am I going to be a Gladiator? Or am I going to bow out? Am I going to fight? Or am I going to succumb to the bullshit that other people are throwing my way.

Moving to Illinois was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I left behind MY warriors, my best friends that have fought with me, for me, and by my side through the best and worst days of my life. My Gladiators that when I didn't believe in myself and thought that I should just bow out and let the situation have gotten in my face and - in not so few words - asked me these questions? Are you going to give up or are you going to fight?

I think lately, especially in the last few weeks, I have chosen to fight. There has been so much thrown at me over the last few weeks (now 4 deaths - I'm just waiting for them to stop), nearly failing a class, not having time for my dogs, getting overworked, getting attacked while at the bar with friends, being told I had to have a root canal (and then having it and being in excruciating pain constantly) and the cherry on top being that I couldn't go home... I was stuck. I didn't want to be a gladiator... not in the slightest. I wanted to curl up under my desk and cry.

Yep... this was me. At least in my head this was me.

Actually, the image isn't far off cause I did cry. With my head on a table in the middle of the library. Talk about humiliating on my part. Not a thing.

But one of my best guy friends listened. Let me cry. Told me that my tears were justified (hence why he's my favorite human) and then told me to buck up and start figuring shit out. So that's where I've been for the last week or so - trying to figure my shit out.

Yeah... me and all my shit just kinda trying to truck through.

I'm tired of just letting life happen to me. I have made some awesome friends this year that have reminded me what if felt like to live and not just let life happen to you but I've so allowed my circumstances and the things that are happening in my life and around me weigh me down. I'm not entirely sure why (probably cause I've always done that) but I just can't let everything everyone else is doing piss me off and put a halt on the fact that I am on a track to be awesome. I am a Gladiator


So here's the deal... I'm gonna be over here being awesome and being a Gladiator

*Yep that rad looking chick that's me... I've decided*

And if you aren't on board you can be over there being.... less awesome

Okay.... maybe not 15% less awesome... that's a little extreme...

Yeah that's better! So are you a Gladiator? Or are you gonna bow out?

The Song of a Broke Heart

Things are never as easy as people say they'll be. We love and lose then people convince us to love again. I've always been one to keep myself at a distance, from friends, family, lovers, confidantes. I've kept myself at a distance from the MTM community. I've kept my life a secret from many of the people in my life never knowing how to tell them what my life is like with a brother with an unpredictable lifespan. Never knowing how to explain to others the fear and heart break that accompanies your every joy and successful milestone knowing that others won't get there, not knowing if you'll reach the next.

Last year my heart was shattered into more pieces that I could count. I was dropped, from the highest height (or so it felt) by the person I had sworn my love to. Three years of one of the most unhealthy relationships of my life and just over a year ago (a year last thursday) I got a text that said some of the harshest things I've ever been told and I crumbled, alone in a new place without friends to save me from myself. This last year hasn't been the healthiest again. Learning to love myself. Learning to mourn and overcome. Learning to live without someone I thought I'd be spending my life with. I've opened my heart and been crushed then given a second chance and had it spat on. It wasn't easy. It hasn't been easy.

Last summer I also met the most incredible little boy. My boyfriend. The sweetest face that lit up when he saw me. A smile that could move mountains. The first MTM boy that I allowed myself to feel and love and be close to. I may never know what it was about him but he stole my heart. In the hands of a mere toddler I placed a huge part of my heart. His mom becoming a dear friend, the one that sent me my first care package when I needed it most, who told me their home was there after my first breakup in Illinois, who listened whenever I blubbered about being homesick. A family that even though new to my life became such a beacon of love. A little boy, that no matter how I spun it, brought a joy to my life like I haven't felt.

That same little boy, my sweet Louie, gained his wings and I haven't been able to process it. Like it doesn't make sense. I keep having days where I think to text his mom asking how he's doing, or I'm scrolling through her facebook page looking for pictures when it hits me that he isn't there anymore. Seeing his parents last night my heart hurt and yet felt empty. I haven't know how to mourn. Seeking the chance to burst into tears and have someone hold me until there are no more tears but instead I stuff the pain, heart break, and rage of his loss further and further down hoping I can ignore it. Bursting at random into tears in my car outside of my house waiting until the tears dry to walk inside, afraid someone will ask me if I'm okay. Cause there wouldn't be an answer.

This last year my heart has shattered twice in completely different ways. I don't know how to allow myself to be vulnerable again knowing that it can be taken advantage of or that another loss can occur. It's it really better to love and feel loss than to never have loved at all? Does the heartache stop?

I am scared. Terrified even. Every single day of what the pain will feel like if a death is closer to home. I can't turn my brain off for the fear of it. I don't know how to live in the good moments and the next planned adventures when in a second a "healthy" kiddo can be gifted his wings while the left of us are left wondering. How do people do this more than once? How do parents have multiple children? How do people open themselves up again? How do you find the motivation to just keep trucking along when running around or not moving at all are the only options that seem manageable? How do I stop the moments of random crying now that my life is slowing down to a "normal" pace? When you're too busy to breathe you're also too busy to cry, so how do you do it? I'm really not sure how right now...