A Surprisingly Sane Blog

I’ve been married for four years today!

Isn’t is funny how some days stick out in your head so well that you feel like you can revisit them again and again and still see the events in your head as clear as when it happened?

Our wedding day was so magical.  I don’t like describing things that way because it sounds so ultra-cheesy to me, but it’s true.  I felt totally calm the whole day, and just so happy to be marrying the man of my dreams.  I remember so clearly standing in front of the huge mirror in the women’s bathroom at our church, waiting for the moment when it was time to walk down the isle.  My dress, hair, veil, jewelry, makeup- it was simple, classic, and elegant.  I felt like Cinderella for a moment.  I felt suddenly choked up when I realized it was actually happening.  I was getting married.

The door opened and my dad was waiting for me.  Seeing him put a huge grin on my face.  I love my dad.  Straight as an arrow, anal as all hell.  German.  But a complete goof at times when you think nothing could make you laugh.  Like then.  That moment.

The walk down the isle felt like an eternity.  I tried to look at everyone, but James was the one I saw.  Him and his huge, cheshire cat smile.  His warm hand holding mine.  Sitting at the front of the church together during our traditional Catholic ceremony.  It was just beautiful.

Our reception was the party of the year for us.  Great dancing, food, music.  We had an ice sculpture because we thought it was soooo cool that we had to have one.  The support we had from the people attending made us both realize how much we were loved not only by each other, but by all of our incredible family and friends.

I didn’t cry all day until our wedding night.  I was just so overwhelmed from the day and so happy to be married to James.  He was a darling- supportive and warm, holding me close and being his amazing self.

And now, four years later, I still have days when I go to bed crying from how overwhelmed I am.  And James is still there to hold me tight and tell me how much he loves me.  He is so wonderful I don’t deserve him, but somehow, God felt I do.

I could never be more thankful than I am to have him in my life.  We’ve been through some pretty tough and intense times, but we’ve always been through them together.

And every day, I feel like I couldn’t love a human more than I possibly love him.

But somehow, I always wake up loving him even more than the day before.

My childhood friend/step-cousin shot and killed himself yesterday.

He had a little girl.  He was only 25.

He dropped his daughter off at my grandparent’s house in Oklahoma yesterday, went back to his dad’s place, and shot himself.  His wife and dad found him dead.

What were the last thoughts that went through his head?  What drove him to do it?

Does your life really flash before your eyes as you die?

My time spent with him on this earth sure flashed through mine when I heard the news.  Spending the fourth of July with him and my sister and our other cousin in the back of a pick-up truck watching the fireworks.  Racing through my grandpa’s pastures on the three-wheelers.  Trying to row across one of the watering holes on a boat.  Holiday dinners.  We always had so much fun together.  My sister and I were always so happy to see him every time we visited my grandparents.

I think of all the times I’ve wanted to die.  Shit, I woke up wishing I were dead this morning.  I’ve imagined how I’d do it, how it would feel.  Would I feel anything at all?  Would I have a moment of regret just before the lights dim, wishing I hadn’t done it?

And the reason I never do it is because I know that someone I love would have to find me that way.  And I can’t imagine putting my family through that.

My mom’s brother committed suicide.  He was only 17.  My mom was the one who found him.

I had to call the police one time because my mom freaked out and started hurting herself.  She kept saying “I hate myself” over and over while scraping herself up.  She wouldn’t stop.  My dad was trying to hold her back, and I leaned forward to hug her to try to make her stop.  She bit me so hard on the arm that I had a horrid tooth-marked bruise for a month.  I panicked and called the police.  I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for calling.  No one else in my family knew how to deal with her when she came back from the hospital that night.  It was all up to me.  Dealing with the shit is always on my shoulders somehow.  I’ve never forgiven her for putting me through that trauma.

If my death weren’t without consequence, it would have happened a long time ago.  But I can’t put my family through that.  I’m just not that selfish to think my life is worth breaking their hearts.

Hearing that my cousin went through with it saddens me more than I can put into words.  I have nothing to say, but time seems to be standing still while I digest the truth.

Peace, old friend.  I miss our times together.

So I turned 27 less than a month ago.  I have the best marriage imaginable, and two beautiful girls.   We have no debt other than our house.   I’m done with school, and I’ve had the chance to work in my career field.  Life has thrown a few surprises, but hey- that’s what happens when you try to plan it all out!

And yet, somehow, everything has really worked out beautifully.  I couldn’t ask for more.  (Except maybe to be a champion dancer… but that can take a lifetime in the world of west coast swing!)

If you’d asked me ten years ago where I wanted to be in life at this point, I probably would have said verbatim what life has become.  With the exception of the few quirks God has, er, blessed (?) me with.

Anxiety.  Depression.  Constantly doubting myself.  Self conscious about the way I look.  And act.  And feel.  Never feeling like I belong when I’m with a crowd.  A tendency towards living like a total hermit.  Closing myself off from the rest of the world.  Living behind a wall (James calls it my “shell”).

What would it be like to go to a bar with friends, have a few drinks, laugh, and have a great time?  Or walk into a crowded ballroom and not have to swallow the tension and anxiety that wells up in me every time I’m faced with a noisy room?   How about not having to take a practically lethal dose of Omega-3 Fatty Acids every day to keep the panic attacks under control?

Don’t get me wrong.  There are good days and bad days.  I go for months on end where I do great.  Then there are the other months.

I think, unfortunately, I’m teetering on the edge of that “other months” category right now.  I’m doing great for just having a baby a month ago (and by the way, April is an AMAZING baby!).  I’ve actually been getting out of the house regularly, and I’ve been able to enjoy dancing again.  No signs of true post-partum depression this time through, thank God.

But I’m still struggling some.  I’ll be in the middle of the mall with my mom and sister, and I’ll get this feeling like I’m not really there walking around- like I’m in a tunnel or something.  Or I’ll be at Dim Sum on Sunday, and I feel like I’m in a dream, not reality.  The other night I had this weird, sudden burst of manic energy and I couldn’t sleep even though I was beyond exhausted.  I felt like I had to take a walk in the middle of the night, and a few seconds later, I realized I was having a panic attack.  Thank God James was there to help me through it.  I don’t know what I would do without him.  He’s so wonderful about all my unfortunate quirks.

Again, I can’t complain.  Life is good, and I am so happy with how things have turned out.  I could just do without all my own oddities.

I guess things can’t be perfect.  Something has to keep me grounded.