Jack Thomas Biehslich was born on 8-15-09 at 3:30 p.m. He passed away on 8-15-09 at 5:39 p.m. I don't have words. I cannot imagine what Becky is going through right now. I wouldn't begin to know how to deal with this.
I feel as though I lost a member of my family. I did not get to see him. I never said hello, or goodbye. But I am grieving for my best friend and her husband. And I am beginning to question everything I have ever been taught in my life.
My dad is an ordained minister. I was brought up in church and until recently went every time the doors were open, and sometimes when they weren't. But this weekend I think my faith was tested to the point that I don't know what or who to have faith in anymore. Yes, to be blunt, I am questioning God. I am questioning how something like this happens. How an innocent child, who was brought forth in love, can be taken from his parents without a touch, without a whisper. I've never been this close to something that I don't understand. The only thing I have are questions. Questions as to why a merciful God looks down on his beloved and whisks away part of their soul.
I don't need anyone to answer this blog with a sermon. I know my beliefs and I know my heart, and I am saved and going to heaven, and, and, and. This is something that I must work through on my own. It's between me and God. And since we haven't been on good terms for the last few years anyway, I'm just not sure what to think right now. There are no straight lines anymore. Those lines have been blurred by tears and frustration.
God obviously isn't going to give me an unbreakable heart, so I wonder what's the point?
Monday, August 17, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
I got friends in low places . . . maybe.
My best friend, who you should know by now to be Becky, is pregnant with her first child. The miracle as he will always be known because he was conceived two weeks before she was going to start invetro. As of last week, he is, and will be, perfect.
Except Becky has been really sick and is having some medical problems with the pregnancy. The doctor put her to bed and told her "no traveling". She used to stay the night just about every other night at least, and most every weekend, and now she can't even leave her house. She is struggling with some things and won't really let go to me like she usually does. We don't talk everyday anymore. But, I think I know why . . . and I think it equates to one of the very reasons we became friends. Becky and I always had this connection because we both had fertility issues and both of us were tired of being lonely.
My own fertility smacks me in the face every time I think about this new baby. I will love him as if he were my own, but the fact remains that I may never have children. I read other friends blogs and rejoice with them over accomplishments of their children, and then I sit back and have my cry over the accomplishments that I might not ever get to experience. Sometimes I can't even write comments to them because of the hurt that I feel. Not any hurt that they have unintentionally caused, but just that overwhelming urge to jump off a cliff, or drive my car into the bridge abutment. (And no, I don't intend to do this, but you get my point).
And, since Becky is now pregnant, and sick, and trying to take care of her own problems, I have nobody. I used to be able to express my feelings to her because she was in the same boat. But not anymore. Now, I'm on my own. And feeling low by yourself just adds insult to injury. I love Becky dearly and she will always be my best friend. We will always take care of each other and will continue to remain as close as sisters.
Except now, Garth Brooks seems to have the right idea. I need a friend for those times when I am in low places.
Except Becky has been really sick and is having some medical problems with the pregnancy. The doctor put her to bed and told her "no traveling". She used to stay the night just about every other night at least, and most every weekend, and now she can't even leave her house. She is struggling with some things and won't really let go to me like she usually does. We don't talk everyday anymore. But, I think I know why . . . and I think it equates to one of the very reasons we became friends. Becky and I always had this connection because we both had fertility issues and both of us were tired of being lonely.
My own fertility smacks me in the face every time I think about this new baby. I will love him as if he were my own, but the fact remains that I may never have children. I read other friends blogs and rejoice with them over accomplishments of their children, and then I sit back and have my cry over the accomplishments that I might not ever get to experience. Sometimes I can't even write comments to them because of the hurt that I feel. Not any hurt that they have unintentionally caused, but just that overwhelming urge to jump off a cliff, or drive my car into the bridge abutment. (And no, I don't intend to do this, but you get my point).
And, since Becky is now pregnant, and sick, and trying to take care of her own problems, I have nobody. I used to be able to express my feelings to her because she was in the same boat. But not anymore. Now, I'm on my own. And feeling low by yourself just adds insult to injury. I love Becky dearly and she will always be my best friend. We will always take care of each other and will continue to remain as close as sisters.
Except now, Garth Brooks seems to have the right idea. I need a friend for those times when I am in low places.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Thinking about things that I don't think about.
Have you ever stopped to think about the million things that you do in a day (or don't do) that you would never really think about?
Like -- how many times a week you go to Wal-Mart? You skip that one time without really thinking about it, only to lay down your head at 11:00 p.m. and think -- hmmm, guess I won't wear underwear tommorrow because I don't have any clean and I didn't go to Wal-Mart to buy detergent to wash them with. Or, I didn't go to Wal-Mart and buy more underwear. . . .
Or -- Hey, I am almost to the Carlisle County line, only 15 more minutes to Bardwell -- hmmm, how long will it take to drive all the way back home and get my cell phone and then get back to the Carlisle County line? (10 minutes if you are in the car with me!)
And even -- There is no reason I need to print out that stuff for work on Sunday night even though I always do it, because I know I'll have absolutely no trouble getting all that stuff ready tommorrow . . . hmmm, it's 4:30 a.m., and I have 12 people in jail in 3 different counties and NONE of the printers work in ANY of the offices!
Maybe I need to set a reminder to remind me to think about those things that I don't usually think about. Hmmm . . . that's just confusing.
Like -- how many times a week you go to Wal-Mart? You skip that one time without really thinking about it, only to lay down your head at 11:00 p.m. and think -- hmmm, guess I won't wear underwear tommorrow because I don't have any clean and I didn't go to Wal-Mart to buy detergent to wash them with. Or, I didn't go to Wal-Mart and buy more underwear. . . .
Or -- Hey, I am almost to the Carlisle County line, only 15 more minutes to Bardwell -- hmmm, how long will it take to drive all the way back home and get my cell phone and then get back to the Carlisle County line? (10 minutes if you are in the car with me!)
And even -- There is no reason I need to print out that stuff for work on Sunday night even though I always do it, because I know I'll have absolutely no trouble getting all that stuff ready tommorrow . . . hmmm, it's 4:30 a.m., and I have 12 people in jail in 3 different counties and NONE of the printers work in ANY of the offices!
Maybe I need to set a reminder to remind me to think about those things that I don't usually think about. Hmmm . . . that's just confusing.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
To all the boys I've loved before
I have regrets.
As I sit in bed with my laptop pondering what to write about today, I have images flashing in my head of things I've done in the past that I want to do over. I want to go back to first grade and not pee down the slide because the teacher wouldn't let me go to the bathroom during recess. I want to go back to sixth grade and get rid of the glasses, braces, and the fat girl in the funky dress that nobody would dance with. I want to go back to high school and make the boy that I loved then still be the one that I love now. I want to go back to college and figure out that there was more to life than working all the time to get ahead later.
But, second chances don't come without price. A quote that is always with me -- "Yesterday is history, and tommorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift, that's why it's called the present." Yet I don't see a gift. I only see an unhappy, 32-year-old person who isn't where she thought she'd be, or wants to be.
I want to stand in the front yard and yell "Do over!" I want my first chances back so I can make them worthwhile. I vow to make my next first chances better. Because I don't want to be sitting in this same place at 60 years old, tears in my eyes, wondering "what if?"
There shouldn't be a what if. There should only be a Frank Sinatra -- I did it MY WAY. And yes, it was the right way.
To all the boys I've loved before . . . it wasn't really goodbye. It was just "see ya later."
As I sit in bed with my laptop pondering what to write about today, I have images flashing in my head of things I've done in the past that I want to do over. I want to go back to first grade and not pee down the slide because the teacher wouldn't let me go to the bathroom during recess. I want to go back to sixth grade and get rid of the glasses, braces, and the fat girl in the funky dress that nobody would dance with. I want to go back to high school and make the boy that I loved then still be the one that I love now. I want to go back to college and figure out that there was more to life than working all the time to get ahead later.
But, second chances don't come without price. A quote that is always with me -- "Yesterday is history, and tommorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift, that's why it's called the present." Yet I don't see a gift. I only see an unhappy, 32-year-old person who isn't where she thought she'd be, or wants to be.
I want to stand in the front yard and yell "Do over!" I want my first chances back so I can make them worthwhile. I vow to make my next first chances better. Because I don't want to be sitting in this same place at 60 years old, tears in my eyes, wondering "what if?"
There shouldn't be a what if. There should only be a Frank Sinatra -- I did it MY WAY. And yes, it was the right way.
To all the boys I've loved before . . . it wasn't really goodbye. It was just "see ya later."
Saturday, June 20, 2009
My Metallica Phase.
As you are already well aware -- I am a Guitar Hero goddess. Last weekend I bought the new game out that is based on songs from Metallica and other rock heros. So started my hard rock phase.
There are only two songs on the entire game that I know -- well, three, but the third one doesn't count because it is boring to play -- Enter Sandman & The Unforgiven. I have played them over and over and over and over, and I'm not tired of them yet. In fact, the next time I go to Best Buy I'm gonna buy a Metallica greatest hits just so I can listen to those two songs over, and over, and over, and over again!
I will leave you today with a bit of my Metallica phase . . . .
"What I've seen, what I've known, never shined through in what I've shown. Never free, never me, so I dub the unforgiven. You label me, I label you . . . so I dub the unforgiven." -- 1991
'Nuff said.
There are only two songs on the entire game that I know -- well, three, but the third one doesn't count because it is boring to play -- Enter Sandman & The Unforgiven. I have played them over and over and over and over, and I'm not tired of them yet. In fact, the next time I go to Best Buy I'm gonna buy a Metallica greatest hits just so I can listen to those two songs over, and over, and over, and over again!
I will leave you today with a bit of my Metallica phase . . . .
"What I've seen, what I've known, never shined through in what I've shown. Never free, never me, so I dub the unforgiven. You label me, I label you . . . so I dub the unforgiven." -- 1991
'Nuff said.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
They are trying to kill independent Jessica.
Just out of curiousity . . . is this really the life I signed up for? I think somebody mixed up the paperwork at the hospital when I was born, 'cause I'm sure my destiny was supposed to be a mixture of happiness, sunshine, and ponies that eat skittles and poop rainbows.
I am living in a world of chaos. I feel like I work, and work, and clean house, and work, and go here, and work, and clean house, and do laundry, and go there, and work, and, and, and. . . . in the process I have lost my identity. I am no longer the fun, skinny, entirely interesting girl I once was. I am now the overweight, frumpy, undesirable housewife. I did NOT purposefully sign up for this life.
My husband seems to think that every room in our house is his closet and/or the dirty clothes basket and/or the sink, dishwasher, or wherever a normal person would put things that go in those places. I'm extremely tired of "doing it all". I don't even have children, and there is no possible way on this earth that I could do what I do every day with a child in tow. Kudos to those that can. I think my children must be the 40 year old man and the 8 year old dog that sleep in my bed.
Kids. . . that's another story for another blog.
So, to recap, there are two Jessica's . . . there is relationship Jessica and there is independent Jessica. A Jessica divided against itself cannot stand . . . and they are killing independent Jessica.
I am living in a world of chaos. I feel like I work, and work, and clean house, and work, and go here, and work, and clean house, and do laundry, and go there, and work, and, and, and. . . . in the process I have lost my identity. I am no longer the fun, skinny, entirely interesting girl I once was. I am now the overweight, frumpy, undesirable housewife. I did NOT purposefully sign up for this life.
My husband seems to think that every room in our house is his closet and/or the dirty clothes basket and/or the sink, dishwasher, or wherever a normal person would put things that go in those places. I'm extremely tired of "doing it all". I don't even have children, and there is no possible way on this earth that I could do what I do every day with a child in tow. Kudos to those that can. I think my children must be the 40 year old man and the 8 year old dog that sleep in my bed.
Kids. . . that's another story for another blog.
So, to recap, there are two Jessica's . . . there is relationship Jessica and there is independent Jessica. A Jessica divided against itself cannot stand . . . and they are killing independent Jessica.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
One must make their own destiny . . . .
I am bored. Completely, unequivocally, and to-the-point bored. I'm tired of this, that, and everything else. I'm tired of being home alone all the time. I'm tired of being at work all the time. I'm tired of missing my best friend because she is sick all the time with her pregnancy. I have no energy -- I have no gumption -- I have no other alternative but to write a blog about nothing.
I'm just tired of being tired. And bored of being bored. Other than to whine and complain, I have nothing to blog about. So instead of boring others with my boring life, I haven't blogged in quite awhile.
I've been working in Paducah for the last couple of months, day shift. I get home by 4:00 p.m. and I have no idea what to do with myself. I drove 5 hours to Richmond on Monday, sat in an 8 hour class on Tuesday and drove 5 hours home. Talk about a long day. And, it was boring. And I was tired. But, I will have to become a member of the real pretrial world again and travel to the river counties for a few weeks, working am and pm shift and going to court. And thinking about that makes me tired.
I mowed the yard today. I wanted to start walking every day because I'm out of shape. Well, round is a shape, but not the shape I'm looking for. And, it wouldn't hurt Deuce to walk off some of his fat belly either. But, thinking about it makes me tired. And walking might be boring by myself with only Deuce to keep me company. He carries on pretty boring conversations.
Maybe my problem isn't boredom. Maybe it's loneliness. I feel like I'm in a hole. A rut. An endless abyss of nothingness where I just keep falling and falling and, in the spirit of the Mario Bros game that I play on my Nintendo DS, I can't find a safe mushroom to land on. I need to find myself. But, I've looked in the closet that I cleaned out and in the empty laundry basket where all the dirty clothes were that I washed, and in the dishwasher, and I just don't see me.
If anybody has any suggestions of where I should look next, let me know. Otherwise, in case you need me, I'll be that lump under the covers. The other lump is Deuce, who is tired of being bored too.
I'm just tired of being tired. And bored of being bored. Other than to whine and complain, I have nothing to blog about. So instead of boring others with my boring life, I haven't blogged in quite awhile.
I've been working in Paducah for the last couple of months, day shift. I get home by 4:00 p.m. and I have no idea what to do with myself. I drove 5 hours to Richmond on Monday, sat in an 8 hour class on Tuesday and drove 5 hours home. Talk about a long day. And, it was boring. And I was tired. But, I will have to become a member of the real pretrial world again and travel to the river counties for a few weeks, working am and pm shift and going to court. And thinking about that makes me tired.
I mowed the yard today. I wanted to start walking every day because I'm out of shape. Well, round is a shape, but not the shape I'm looking for. And, it wouldn't hurt Deuce to walk off some of his fat belly either. But, thinking about it makes me tired. And walking might be boring by myself with only Deuce to keep me company. He carries on pretty boring conversations.
Maybe my problem isn't boredom. Maybe it's loneliness. I feel like I'm in a hole. A rut. An endless abyss of nothingness where I just keep falling and falling and, in the spirit of the Mario Bros game that I play on my Nintendo DS, I can't find a safe mushroom to land on. I need to find myself. But, I've looked in the closet that I cleaned out and in the empty laundry basket where all the dirty clothes were that I washed, and in the dishwasher, and I just don't see me.
If anybody has any suggestions of where I should look next, let me know. Otherwise, in case you need me, I'll be that lump under the covers. The other lump is Deuce, who is tired of being bored too.
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