Clumsy Enough to Wear Padding (or Really Glad I Carry What God Graced Me With)

You know a teenager who has recently gone through a growth spurt when you see one. They're gangly and at least slightly, if not completely, uncoordinated. They never seem to know where to put their hands and their legs are so long that their feet don't ever seem to land where they expect them to. Well, I can sympathize. Learning how to coordinate myself in this body has not been easy. I fell asleep in the body of a child and woke up in the body of a 32 year old. It's bound to throw anyone off, I'm sure, let alone someone who wasn't that coordinated to begin with.

Nothing Like the Script

Do any of you realize that we aren't following the script? What do you mean "What script?" I mean the script that follows the plot of a poorly written Hollywood movie. Don't you realize that if you have an illness, you're supposed to miraculously recover? Or, if you have hard time in your life, everything turns out perfect in the end, even if you break the law?! Or, if you have amnesia, someone comes back into your life and suddenly you remember everything and you live happily ever after?!?!

 I watched part of a movie last night that just makes me realize just how wrong we're getting it. In the movie "Overboard", a woman falls off a ship and ends up in the hospital with amnesia. A man she was rotten to finds her and pretends that she's his wife. He takes her home and hilarity ensues until her real husband comes and gets her. As soon as she sees him, she remembers everything and they leave her new life behind. In the end she leaves her husband to live the rest of her life with the man that lied to her about who she was, because in the movies it's okay to be a rotten person if in the end you love someone.

Missing

No, I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about all those opportunities that have been missed due to the messed up nature of my life. In case you are wondering, yes I am a tad bit depressed. Today is my middle son's birthday. Today I missed an opportunity to be with my child because of everything that has happened. Today he is hurting because his mother isn't there to hug him and bake him a cake and sing him the stupid "Happy Birthday" song in person rather than by voice mail on his dad's phone because he isn't with his dad, he's with his aunt, who I'm apparently not allowed to have contact information about. Yes, I'm a bit bitter and angry to go with the depression I can't seem to avoid on holidays and birthdays no matter how much I try. I'm not depressed for me, I'm depressed for them. I'm not angry at God, I'm angry at myself, at the stupid weakness that put me in a position to miss all of the important moments that are happening in my children's.

In a way, I'm still missing. I'm missing four huge pieces of my heart. They're in Michigan, where I can't be right now. They're in a household where I'm not welcome. They are my children.