New Week

So everything feels COMPLETELY new this week. I'm excited that I finally have another class with my besties Erica and Theresa, but both are in the same class with me, and this teacher in particular SUCKS. She doesn't pay attention to anything and so far, I know it's only been just the one seminar, but she literally told us that she wasn't going to read the power point to us because we're more than capable of doing so ourselves yet she read the entire chapter to us as though we were not capable of reading that. She did not even bother to share her AIM screenname or office hours with us. So the entire class two people had a questions for her, and she blew them off completely, so other people asked her, and before you knew it, everyone was copying-and-pasting the questions and submitting them because even if they didn't really care about the answer, it was bothering us that she would just ignore them. But she ignored us, too. She must have just had her head in that book. Plus, by the end of class (and I know I wasn't alone, my friend Juanita even said it to me before I said it), I had a HUGE headache from not only the situation but also her voice. Which I sat and listened to for an hour, irritated. So Juanita brought up the idea to me about starting a study group, which I was thoroughly excited about, and so we got together and sent emails out to everyone in the class (which is literally almost everyone from my last anatomy and physiology class, plus a few new faces, which I'm extremely happy about), and we collectively decided on Sunday at 4 pm EST in the chat room in this class. Ok, so I was a major player in getting this together, and I wound up having to go to the ER around noon-ish because I have some problems. I have to go get a lupus test tomorrow.

I know I'm just rambling. My second class, which is RIGHT after my A & P 2 class on Thursday, is the Introduction to Health Information. I do not know a single person in there, and the books are scary as hell. I love this teacher almost as much as Dr. Marsh and Professor Tolen already though :) She could not be sweeter. I feel lucky that even though I have the worst teacher in A & P this term, I am in such wonderful company with my classmates, and that if I have to be in a class where I don't know a single person in it (and the majority of them are in their first term!!! It's a nightmare), at least I have such a wonderful teacher. She is all about making sure we're on the same page and understanding what's going on. This is the first class I've had so far where book work was mandatory, but it's all good. I have mentoring this term too, as a part of my honors requirements, but so far this term does not yet have me ripping my hair out :) lol. And, Yay for me for keeping my 4.0 last term!!! In spite of everything that happened no less...

I promise I'm going to get to the story of my mother-in-law and why we're here, especially because now I am desperately seeking some really good advice. But it will come the next time. Right now I'm going to complain about my mother. Well, the woman that gave birth to me anyhow :( See, she is CRAZY. Just before I started school last July, my husband (who had to borrow money from Checksmart to get me in here) was arrested for something crazy that he didn't have anything to do with, and was sitting in jail for a full week before he got a court date and was released. IN ANOTHER STATE. He was a truck driver, but because my brother stole our car and his wallet and got a DUI pretending to be him in Brookville, Indiana, Justin was stuck there. In the meantime, I couldn't cash or even deposit his check, and he needed clothes (we had no idea when he'd be out because they wouldn't tell him anything), paper, deodorant, etc...which all had to be new and in the original packaging, and I didn't even have enough money to get to him let alone buy him this crap. So my mom came over with some food and soda for my kids, and gave me some money. I told her that I would pay her back as soon as I could, and she clearly said "Don't worry about it, Katie...I want to do this for you and my son-in-law and my grandkids" I even asked her if that meant that she didn't want me to pay her back, and she said No, I said don't worry about it, something along those lines. So around Christmas time, she told my sisters and Daddy that she was "so pissed at Katie for not paying me back. I don't want to see her or her kids ever again." Who the hell says that?

I'll tell you who-she does. The same woman that kicked me out when I was 14 years old, the same woman that caused me to live in a tent until I was 16-when I caught pneumonia and had to be hospitalized, and was in such bad shape that I had no choice but to move back in with her when she told me too, which I found out later was so that the cops would leave her alone for child abuse/neglect/whatever it was. The same woman that caused a huge problem in her relationship with my dad, and then a huge scene at 4 am when he picked her up from work because her car broke down, which led to the police coming and telling him that he should pack his bags and move out before he wound up in trouble because she was clearly a nut. The same woman that twisted that story around when she told it to my siblings and I, by stating that my dad left because he wanted to get drunk rather than take care of his responsibilities and that he didn't want us anymore. The same woman that made it to where I was seriously screwed up in my head because she was the only (poor) female role model I had. The same one that caused the final straw for me just before our last break from school here at Kaplan by writing on my sister's facebook wall "Happy Birthday to my sweet little baby girl" on her birthday, which is the day before mine, yet not only did she not write on my wall but there was no phone call, no card, nothing at all. Now she's mad that I've deleted her off my facebook and so she goes through all of the friends I have on there and asks them what I'm doing, and tells them things about my being crazy...when I've not even mentioned it before now. I grew up knowing her ex-husband's two kids (Aaron and Jennifer) as though they were my brother and sister too (my half-brother, which is not how I see him-he's just my brother-is their brother too), but she keeps saying things like "I'm so hurt that you don't want anything to do with me, but you have my ex-husband's son as a friend on your facebook and you don't even know him!" which is completely untrue. She herself took me to their house when I was little, and my son and Aaron's daughter are best friends. And, if you think about it, she's done all of these crazy things to me my whole life and refuses to own up to anything, including not wishing me a happy birthday~she has never apologized for a single thing, and now she is trying to start fights between my siblings and other family and I. Can you divorce your mother even though you're almost 30 years old? If so, does anyone know how to accomplish this?

In all honesty, I truly think that this woman needs to be committed to a mental facility. She has been exhibiting signs of dementia for years now. But I can't keep allowing her to hurt me, or my kids, any longer. Who plays favorites with their kids and grandkids? Who treats people like that?I could go on and on about the many different ways in which I feel like she has ruined my life, but I'll spare you. She's ruined many people's lives, especially my daddy's, so I really don't want to go on. I have a family now in which I play a much bigger role than what she ever did, and I take care of my responsibilities. I learned it by doing the exact opposite of everything that she ever did. My kids love me and respect me, so it's good enough for me ;)

~Katie~

Farewell, Class :(

Well, this is the last assigned blog for this course. I can't say with confidence that I'll be able to keep up with it, but I have definitely learned the value of blogging and the difference between formal and informal writing as a result of participating in this. I will sincerely miss everyone that I do not get to talk to again after this. I hope that everyone does well through their time here at Kaplan, and I wish everyone the best of luck in their future. I learned a ton from all of you, and I am glad that I got to know everyone.

I am especially going to miss this class because I met and made some great friends here, in this class in particular. I knew Trista, but I didn't really talk to her until this term. I met Melissa, and I found out that I have a ton in common with her with both of them. I learned a lot reading everyone's blogs and discussion contributions, so thank you all so much. I know for a fact that I will keep in contact with Trista, Abbi, and Melissa, and anyone else that wishes to stay in touch, find me on facebook, ok? I can't say for a fact that I'm going to be able to keep in touch with Professor Tolen, but I am grateful that I had this opportunity because she's just awesome. I can't think of another word. Just awesome.

I am so glad that I did decide to go with Kaplan, because I have met some straight irreplaceable friends while I've been here, starting with my bestie Erica. My advisor is the bomb, and I even really like my financial aid officer. My teacher from first term, Dr. Marsh, has been my mentor this entire time. I sincerely hope that my luck keeps up until graduation, because I need this too much. Aside from having enough of always being home with the kids (as much as I love them, really, but still), I just need to be more independent. For my own sanity.

~Katie~

An Angel's Son

Today, exactly ten years ago and four days after my 18th birthday, is the day that my best friend/next-door neighbor was killed. Tristan Stephen Dennis was just shy of his sixteenth birthday when he rode his bike home from a party around 8 pm on March 3, 2000. A man named Damon Meister was driving his Jeep up the road, far exceeding the 25 mph speed limit on Flora Rd., and literally plowed right into my friend who was either bent over to tie his shoe or to fix his bike chain; we'll never know. What is known is that the man behind the wheel of the jeep should never have been driving that night, because the record of traffic convictions that this man had in the states surrounding Ohio were so excessive that if they had been all committed in the state of Ohio, Damon Meister would have never seen another vehicle ever again.

I was a senior in high school at the time, though I didn't live with my parents. I had been "evicted" so to speak on my eighteenth birthday just a few days before, and I was depressed. That day at school, Tristan walked up to me and he was clearly angry, something to do with a girl trying to steal something he purchased from a vending machine and he had been the one to get in trouble with a teacher because of a fight that ensued. He was so upset that he wouldn't talk to me, and I didn't know what happened until much later so my feelings were very hurt. My boyfriend at the time, Scott, got upset at Tristan for hurting my feelings and started picking on him-which was literally the last thing that he needed. He was so sensitive. This caused him to stop talking to me altogether, and talking smack on the bus...you know, the whole high-school-drama type of thing. The next day, Scott and I got into it, and I tried to leave the place I was staying so that I could walk to my parents' house (five miles, all uphill) and cool off. I was really going to go and find Tristan so that I could try and make it up to him, because I loved him so much and hated the fight. Regardless of whether or not it was either of our faults, I just wanted it to be over with. Scott didn't think it was safe and, after about a fifteen minute walk, I saw him creeping up the curvy hill toward me in his bright red Pontiac GrandAm. I got in, and upon returning to my new home, found my friend Jenny telling me that my parents and siblings had been calling me for over an hour and that someone was coming down to get me. She didn't know what was going on, but said that they sounded "frantic." I called my parents house and got a hold of my brother just as my mother and sister walked into the house. "Tristan is dead, Katie."

I know I blanked out at that moment. I couldn't hear anything else, I couldn't make any sense of my hand in front of my own face, the noise that came from everywhere. Everything was drained of its color. The sun was down and it was black outside, and I felt at that moment that this is how it would always be. The sun is gone.

I rode with Scott, my mother rode with my sister Clare and her boyfriend Mike, and I don't even remember who else followed. It was like a funeral procession. And as we reached the top of Flora Rd., even before making the left-hand turn to descend the street, swirling red, blue, and white lights could be seen. I could hear more coming in the distance. There was no way for me to brace myself for what I was about to see.

We made the turn and I immediately saw the Jeep. Tristan's shoe was stuck to the bumper. The cops, the paramedics, the ambulance-they were everywhere. That didn't make it hit me. There was a sheet covering a figure laying on the front lawn of the pastor's house, and that didn't make it hit me either. But I screamed so loud that even with the windows up, the people outside the car heard me. They turned to me and away just as quick, but it was the few among the crowd that made it hit me-my little brother was there, frozen in shock and horror, standing next to Tristan's step-dad Dennis.

My little brother Tony had seen it all. It became very real for me at that moment that all of the innocence and happy times in our lives were gone. All of the times that "Gut" (as we called him) threw rocks at the window of my and my sister's room, late into the night, and helped us sneak out-all the while, my parents knew about it, and thought it was hilarious because all we did was go directly next door to his house and play video games or go swimming or something (the entire time we were in the back yard, which was completely visible from my parents' house). All of the times that we would just hang out in my house or his, every time he helped save us from my abusive brother, every time he made me promise that if I wasn't married when I was 30 that I'd be his..... Everything was gone in that moment.

That couldn't have even been 1/1000 of what his mother was going through, and why she wasn't there. His mother had three babies-Heath, Tristan, and Jeremy-all a year apart in age of each other. Heath was older and Jeremy was younger. All three slept peacefully one night, and in the morning only Tristan was alive. The newspaper read that they were victims of SIDS. Her only surviving child, gone.

I can't go to my parents' house anymore without seeing the place that once was the most gruesome scene that I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing. Just next to it is a road sign announcing that the street harbors "Hidden Drives," and this is the place that Dennis sat, until months later when they sold their home and moved away, and stared into the space where the body of his stepson once lay. The spot where he had to identify his body. The spot where the sun went down forever. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpP0b_CQQi4&feature=PlayList&p=0F4A0C34EEF2E8FF&index=46 This song right here helps me through it.

Damon Meister had his driver's license back before his three month prison sentence was up. In court, he told Judge Winkler that it was Tristan's fault for riding his bike in the street, although there were no sidewalks; he also claimed that it was the county's fault because of the defective street lamps. It was everyone's fault but his own. And the city of Harrison, who were not even supposed to be there, "lost" the toxin screen that they took-so it was completely unknown now if this was a case of drunk driving. The man is long gone now, and he took my Gut with him.

**Tristan, if you some how hear me, I am so sorry for letting Scott act like a jerk to you. And I never meant to hurt you. I love you still like the day I met you, when you got your nickname for trying to fry a piece of bacon on the bus with a piece of tin foil and a cigarette lighter. I dream of those big black eyes, those deep, perfect dimples, and that thick, black, curly hair that I loved to play with when we'd get out of the pool. I miss your voice, and your stupid Charlie dog. I miss the emotion you put into everything and the fight that you held everyday for what you thought was right and good and fair. I miss the smile you gave me, and the awesome bear hugs I got everyday. I miss the sound of your voice and I miss the sound of your bike. I miss holding you when you were sad and listening to you rant about your step-brothers and your mom. I miss the way you smelled in the summer and the times that you used to sneak cigarettes to me when I was grounded. I miss you. Ten years has not made me forget anything, nor has it made it any easier. There is a huge Gut-shaped hole in my heart and in my soul where you should be. I still love you.**

I've lost a lot of people in my life, only two of them can I still not get over. My friend Mike Byrd will be gone now for fourteen years on the seventh of this month, and Tristan, Leslie, Scott, and several others are buried all around him. Justin and I named our son after him (changing the 'a' to an 'e') because he was born with those same perfect dimples that Tristan had all of his life. I would give literally anything up for just one more summer day with him, and I'd tell him everything that I forgot to and make it up to him over the last few days that he had here.

Ten years later, nothing has changed.

I Had a GREAT 28th Birthday Yesterday

Well, here are the pictures of Mikki and I with our new haircuts, Professor Tolen. I did tell you that I had planned to post them up here, and you said you wanted to see them-I've had a long several weeks recently, not to mention the "condition" I have currently.

So my birthday was yesterday (Saturday, 2/27). I turned 28-another year closer to death, I suppose. But ever since last year, I have a new appreciation for my birthday. See, I do what I can around here by being the most ridiculously unselfish person you could possibly imagine. I don't ask for anything that I don't absolutely need, and even then I do whatever I can to wait until it's affordable. I put my kids, my Mikki, and my husband first ALWAYS. But it does kind of feel really nice when I have just this one day that I can say "I'd like to go out to eat," or "I wish I didn't have to wait for the library to have this book so I could read it," or "I really wish that I could just play this game, but I have to buy it first," and, my personal favorite, "I wish that I wasn't the only person in this house that knows how to put away laundry and do the dishes" and just like that, "poof!" I have what I want. I can never sleep past five hours at a time, no matter what I do, but it would've been the only other thing that I would have asked for (to get a little more sleep!) Oh, and to have Justin be home all day rather than after five.

Last year, he spoiled me so rotten that it was ridiculous. He bought me calla lilies, got me some new dishes and silverware and an electric can opener with a built in knife sharpener, some new clothes, and this gorgeous necklace with all of these pretty charms-one said "big sister," one was a butterfly, and one was a fairy. He also got a second necklace free with the purchase of another charm, he said-so he got Mikki one that said "little sister" on it so that we could wear them together. Then he took the kids out of the house for a few hours so I could get a nap, and when I woke up the house was mostly clean and Mikki was there to babysit all three kids for us so that Justin could take me out for the night. We got an awesome hotel suite, which I never had been in more than a $30/night motel room before, so it was awesome. Jacuzzi, champagne-the whole nine. It was my special birthday, after all-I turned 27 on the 27th, and we did get a tax return the weekend before for several thousand dollars. On the one hand, I had no qualms with never returning home again after sleeping in that bed. I didn't need pain meds in the morning, and I felt so relaxed and refreshed that I thought I might no longer amongst the living. At the same time, I could never get used to that. It was nice, but it was awkward. I am not the type of person that takes this sort of thing lightly, or in stride. Do I miss that bed and that jacuzzi? OF COURSE! But I told him flat out that I don't think he should ever do that again. He understands, but he said he had to try.

This year, we went to my favorite dive for dinner-a place that is literally a hole-in-the-wall little restaurant located in a town that is not even a mile radius. This place was my kitchen when Justin was gone, driving over-the-road for some company back when it was the only way that a truck driver could make money during the winter months. Dannen was only a few months old, Tristen was just 4, and what was the point in cooking? I would call these guys up and ask them to make me something yummy, and then I'd drive down the hill (it was winter and I had two little kids with me) to pick it up. We did this at least three nights a week, and they started to get so close to us that no matter what I ordered, it was only $5-even if it was $25 worth of food-and they would send the waiter up to drop it off to me every night but Fridays. Since we haven't lived there in a few years, I didn't expect the lovely treatment that we got last night. My friend Jojo, Justin, and I went and they remembered me instantly. They charged us $15 for $70 worth of food, and the waiter that used to make a special trip for me 2 nights a week came by frequently to talk to us. The dishwasher went down to the Kroger's and got me a slice of cake and sang to me, and then because I told people on facebook that I was going to be there-well, that little dive was pretty crowded with friends well after closing time. It was my definition of the best time I've ever had-at least in a very, very long time.

And then there were all of the birthday wishes from my facebook friends and family and classmates..... It was overwhelming. I felt like a loved person yesterday. What a wonderful day!!!

Unit 8

Hello all,

Well, this blog is going to take a precedent from our assignment page this week. How do I feel about the lack of comment? The way I should, I suppose. I had been commenting on others' blogs, but the favor has not been returned-on either end. I suspect that, although just about everyone had complained about no one following them, that they didn't actually care to begin with. I think that theyare most likely just doing this to get through the class-when others obviously care about their voice, yet no one wants to play along. I have three kids, I have a husband, I have responsibilitites, I have a disease that puts me in pain 95% of the time and fatigues me until I don't want anything to do with anyone or any thing, and a strict teacher for A & P and I most recently became obsessed with a book and had a life-saving surgery as well as some serious life-alterning news, yet I found the time to check in on others and to make responses that I felt were conducive to their thoughts and hopefully inspiring them to continue. Yet the only comments I have recieved so far have come from the teacher. Is it disheartening? Yes, of course it is. That I poured out my heart a little at a time to help others in our class get to know me, and hoped to get to know them as well, only to be looked over as if I were boring them. However, can I understand that my class mates have things that they consider more important to them, that they feel it is time wasted to read me? I suppose I can.

After all, it's not easy to be me, and sometimes I wished that I didn't have to do this. I figure that it is too easy for me to allow major slips, letting everyone in on what many would consider "character flaws," such as my irritation for ignorance, my bull-headedness, my choice to be a Wiccan rather than a Christian, my complete disgust for self-induced weaknesses or lack of independant thoughts. What would they think of me then? Is it not a "weakness" to worry about what others think of you? So you see, I have tons of internal dialogue that screams at me on a continual basis, that I am weak and I disgust myself. I can always do better, so what am I doing?

I wouldn't want you to see that, would I?

Between you and me, if there were a you, what does it matter? Why is it that a tiny little blog in a see of millions can be so intimidating? Why is it that we can't just embrace the assignments, rather than just "put up" with them to make it through the class? Why are we making it so difficult on ourselves?

Here's an idea: Pick something random in your life. Anything-one of your children, perhaps grandchildren (like Kathleen's), your pet, your car, your town, your nightly dreams, your real veiws on things (like Abbi's), your pain and anguish in the unfairness of the position you are put into (like Trista's)-ANYTHING. Now, tell me about it. What, do you think I'm laughing? Didn't I just announce PUBLICLY my stepping out from within the proverbial "broom closet?" Get serious! It doesn't have to be as deeply personal or convincing as others', just something hearfelt and pure. Don't worry what others' thoughts on your own are, just do it. Then, when you're done, go to some of the links and click them-that is, your classmates' blogs-and read them. What will that take, five, possibly ten minutes? Read them, maybe two of them, and then at the end, post something for a comment. Start out with asking, "what is a nice thing to say to this person? How can I say 'good job?' " And then answer that question. That's it, quick and painless. Let someone know that you care enough about what they've said, even if you don't, to say "hey, nice job."

What if you don't think so, then? Then say it! "John, your grammar needs some work." "Jane Doe, your political views disturb me. I think..." "Mary, is this the most interesting thing you have to write about? Or are you just doing this to get by? I think you write very well-I wished that you'd try harder when I was reading...." Be enthusiastic and supportive, be honest but not brutal, and be real. I wonder if it wouldn't be so hard to do, if it were a mandatory assignment rather than a suggestion for you to encourage your classmates' work. Reciprocity has to begin somewhere, doesn't it?

Stick around, if you want-after today, this blog is about to get very real.

~Katie~

If anyone has been reading, then you'll maybe note that I mentioned that I would explain the mother-in-law situation this week. However, I'm in a good mood, so why ruin it? Really?

Instead, I'm going to talk about my newest infatuation-DO NOT LAUGH-Twighlight. Yeah, I'm going there. I recently had my appendix out and there were some, um, complications, so I had a small extended stay. And while confined to this white prison, I had nothing better to do than to read. My husband bought the first two installments of Twighlight for me from Half-Priced Books as a Valentine's Day gift, which I was delighted (don't get me wrong, I am easy to please), but I thought it was a little juvenille. My little sisters, both in high school at the time, were the ones that brought this story to my attention, giving me my arrogant attitude toward it. I should've have not judged the books by their, well, teen-aged followers.

The author of the Twighlight series, a woman named Stephanie Meyer, is an amazing talent, which (now knowing of her) I cannot imagine a world without. She definitely has an amazing imagination, a skill of drawing her audience in deeply, and a hopelessly romantic heart. The latter is something that I didn't realize how interesting it could be, because it's never been something I've cared about. I'm a pretty cut-and-dry, get to the point kind of person down inside myself. I had no idea what I was missing out on :)

The characters are so well thought out that, despite the fact that there are vampires and werewolves and a girl who is both in love with a vampire and best friends with the werewolf (yeah, like that could ever happen-we all know that vampires and werewolves hate each other, duh!) (lol), despite the so very obvious fiction, you can't help but get attached to each of the characters in some way or another. Finishing my read of the second installment, New Moon, (figuratively) killed me. It felt like I had lost contact with the very dearest of friends, with a part of my soul that I hadn't known existed. It feels like utter torture waiting for my turn at a copy of Eclipse and Breaking Dawn, the third and fourth books of the series (respectively). I cannot bring myslef to explain why, to give any sort of synopsis of this story, because I am truely grateful that no one had done that to me. It was so worth the wait.

Watching the movie was horrid, however. Both of the lead characters were just as I had pictured, but there were so many changes that it was sad. I imagine that is the way that it goes, yet I've never seen a Stephen King movie transformed in such a way. So many vital parts were dismembered, new things added that didn't belong. I have had my joy in reading renewed, thanks to this gifted author. I cannot brag on her talents enough, and what's worse, apparently no one in her circle can either.

Because I am human, and aching to know what happens next, I visited Ms. Meyer's website to find anything I could at all. This woman had posted an apology front and center of her website, citing that a person she had once trusted had taken an incomplete draft of a new book to be added to the series and posted it to the internet-one that she felt had to be written, and was now contemplating trashing it because of this. She posted this "partial draft" there on her site, and had mentioned something about how she wanted her readers to get it from her rather than out on the web someplace. Quite understandable. So I downloaded it. If you have read Twighlight at all then you know that the entire story reads through the eyes of the main character, Bella Swan. However, her main focus, Edward, had a story to tell, as well-and so she began to draft Midnight Sun for his sake. It took me two hours-TWO-to sit infront of my screen, nothing to eat or drink, no bathroom breaks. I had it read, all twelve chapters, in two hours. And, it is beyond amazing. All of the little holes in the story that I hadn't realized were there, had been filled in.

I swore that I was never going to jump on the Twighlight band wagon, that I couldn't see what all the hype was about. Then I read it. Now I'm among the millions and millions of fans that cannot be pulled away from this series. Please, no matter how much I ask-don't tell me what happens. As of Sunday, I am number six on the list from the library to be called for the copies of the third and fourth books, and it is agony waiting. In the meantime, I've found another of her novels, called The Host, which has nothing to do with my obsession, but it also has everything to do with it. It's not the books, it is the author. (That was my epiphany just now). Wow.

~Katie~

It's corny, I know-but it is Valentine's Day...

Hello all;

As I am writing this, I am back to the daily grind. I haven't had a minute for a shower or anything yet (I haven't had more than half of a turkey sandwich yet either, although I have been up since 7 am). I am still displaying the make-up on my face from last night, and the house is still a mess. But I am ok today, for the first time in a while.

Last night, Mikki did something really great for me by babysitting the kids for several hours while Justin and I "hung out." We ate at the Harrison Chipotle restaurant, we drove out to Colerain to the Half-Price Books store, where he bought us two CDs and I got Twighlight and New Moon (finally! and they were only $5 a piece!), and then we just drove around for awhile. We used to just drive, for hours sometimes, just the two of us driving around together for no other reason than "just because." We used to do a lot of things, driving being one of them. I used to get cabin fever if I didn't just "get out" and do something after a few hours or so. But ever since we had the kids, it's been different. And now, since Justin has gone back to work, I have been going to school, and we have such conflicting schedules with the kids-well, it's hard to deal with. We have not really had any sort of conversation in weeks that had any substance. We desperately needed a day to ourselves to spend some quality time together, but it's hopeless.

So we go out last night, and we both are silent for a good, long time. We both have tons of things to talk about, but where to begin? So I tell him, after about an hour of silence, "I know we have things to talk about, Justin! Why aren't we?" But I knew the answer very well.

We ground each other. We are and always have been best friends first, everything else second. And it turns out that we are both under so very much stress right now, and all we were going to wind up doing was causing each other more stress than what we needed to deal with. This was supposed to be a fun day for just the two of us, so why ruin it? That was our mentality. But the problem with that is that we didn't have anything else to talk about! So he asks the dreaded question: "Ok, well, how's school going, Katie? Tell me about it." *Sigh*

So I let loose about all of the things that are right now preventing me from being the 4.0 student that I have been since I started here. I explained to him about how the kids are driving me mad, about how I have no study time anymore, about how I miss him, and the stupid crap that his mother has been pulling on me (which I will save for my next post, there is no room for this here) and that all of this stress has been adding up to the point where if I crack open my book, I pass out. If I get to a point in which I start to understand something, or that I am in the middle of letting the information flow from my brain and into my writing project for my A & P class, I am severely interrupted. I am a wreck, and I am desperate for things to change. I am having such a hard time right now, and I don't know what to do. I am almost crying at this point, too, and I know he can tell that there is a major problem. But he doesn't speak, he just lets me do it. So I go on to talk about how he's my rock, he grounds me, and that because I have been having so many problems recently, coupled with my inability to interact with him on ANY level recently, I am falling apart right now. I am not taking calls anymore, I am not replying to emails or instant messages or anything. I am not doing any of the things I love to do or need to do, I am blowing off my chores and my responsibilities. I also think that I may be getting depressed. Then I waited for him to say anything at all.

The reason that I didn't do any work yesterday is because we made a promise to each other that we were going to spend the whole day together. This means no facebook, farmville, school, television, work, phonecalls, etc, etc. Just me and him, doing something that is anywhere but here. But it got to the point where this is all that we do anymore-he goes to work, he comes home and eats, on school nights he cooks, and then he showers, puts the kids to bed and goes to bed. I am online the majority of the day, and when I am not I have my head in my books. I stop every now and again to help my kids out with things, but I'm working. We don't talk anymore, and when we do, it is to holler to/at each other about how and why things aren't going our way today. We let it roll off to an extent, but as husband and wife-especially when you're as close to each other as we are-you cannot live your life like this. You also cannot talk to each other in this manner and then say "I love you," and all is forgiven. We know we love each other, but there has to be something there. So when I let it all out, and was done, he pulled the Blazer over nad gave me a huge hug.

He talked to me about some things that were stressing him out, too-things which I cannot divulge here, it was in confidence of course. And after that, things were immediately different. As we drove, the sky looked different and we talked about that. The cows were out at the farm down the street, and we stopped to pet them. We talked about my farm in Farmville, and what it would be like to have ourselves a real one. We talked and talked and talked, about everything and nothing, and had a blast. We went to the grocery store together for the first time in years-just the two of us-and then we went to my dad's house to get the kids from Mikki. When we got home, and because Mikki decided to stay at dad's house and the kids were sleeping, we still wound up staying up until after three am-talking more. It was the most amazing experience that I have had with Justin in so long, and I really needed it. I feel sane and whole again, like my batteries have been recharged and I can face anything again.

When he got into his accident, which I will go into detail about at a later date, I was the only one that stayed strong until he woke up from his coma. I felt like everynight, my husband was whispering in my ear telling me "Katie, I am ok, everything is going to be fine. I love you, I will never leave you. Just stay calm, relax, and give me soem time to heal." I would hear his voice every night before I fell asleep, and every morning when I woke up. As I sat as his bedside, I could feel his energy. I was 6 1/2 - 7 moths pregnant at the time, mind you-so I very well have been going crazy or something, but I prefer to see it as that we are just that close to each other. In the mess that is my every day life, I don't feel that connection often. It is important for me to have this so that I can feel like a human again, and not so much of a stressed-out robot.

So, I am going to close here. I am going to get a shower and get this make-up off of my face, and hopefully get rid of this lack-of-sleep headache so that I can get on my A & P project. I have Justin's favorite dinner waiting in the fridge to go in the oven, Tristen is getting the little things picked up so that I can do the other things like wash the dishes, vacuum, etc., and the girls are napping. I have found my balance and today, although the stressors have not changed (and maybe even gotten a little worse), my stress level is healthy and I am looking at things with a much more "can-do" type of attitude than before. I feel good.

~Katie~