Education Journey

I’m a senior in college. That is a sentence I would not have even imagined I would have said 15 to 20 years ago. I wanted to go back to school so badly. I had only planned to take a year or two off when I decided not to go right after high school, but life and circumstances changed. Before I knew it, I was married with three kids, and that husband was completely against me furthering my education. The thing is, the desire to grow as a person did not go away.

After each child was born, I felt a greater desire to be better in so many ways. By the time my third baby was five months old, I was starting to wonder where the girl who loved to learn went. I loved my children (and still do). I wanted them to have a better life than we were providing them, and I was starting to realize that would not happen at the rate we were going. He was working a job that we were barely scraping by on, and I was a stay-at-home mom who wasn’t even allowed to work.

One night, after going to bed, I gave him an ultimatum; either he needed to go to school or I would. I honestly thought he would let me go because he hated school and hadn’t even finished high school. That was not how it happened. He ended up going to community college. It was not what I expected, but I cheered him on as he embarked on the journey with the expectation that he would at minimum have an associate degree in the end. The goal was to better the family, right? 

About a year and a half later, I sat in a woman’s conference a had a strong feeling that I needed to go back to school while listening to President Monson speak. (I think this will always be my favorite talk because it is my inspiration to further my education.) That night, I went home and prayed about it. I even thought I knew what program would work best with the responsibilities I had at home. Then, I approached the husband with my plan. I was told I couldn’t do it. After all, who would take care of the kids while I was in school? Plus, I would obviously cheat on him if I did. (Maybe, a bit of a confession on his part…)

A few years later, I found myself needing to get a job to help support my family, and a year and a half after that, I was a single mother just trying to survive. At this point, I was enrolled in online classes, but I resented the man who told me I couldn’t go previously and had made it difficult once I did so anyway. I felt as though if he had allowed it instead of him going or even once I started begging in 2007, I would have been in a better position to fulfill the financial obligations of being the sole provider for my children.

Fast forward a few more years. I am now married to an amazing man who wants me to fulfill my dreams. I finished the degree I was working on during my divorce and thought I would try to find a way to use it. I mean, it was a degree in business management, a quite versatile degree. The government blocked that plan when many for profit schools were closed down without notice and our transcripts were destroyed leaving us in debt with a piece of paper no longer worth the thousands of dollars we still have to pay in the form of student loans. This was frustrating and left me feeling defeated once again, but once again I dusted myself off and rose to the challenge. After having the accreditation stripped from the school I received my associates degree from, my husband and I both had the strong impression that I should attend the Pathways program through BYU-I and pursue a bachelors degree. Which brings me to where I am today. 

Here I am. A senior in college. It has taken many years to get here, and I still have almost two years to go as a part-time student, but I am doing it. I am accomplishing my dream! I will be able to say I finished! 

So Many Thoughts

I am who I am, and I resent being told that this is wrong. I am proud to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. There are people who think that this is a reason to attack me or my friends. I know people that choose to attack anyone who believes in God and Jesus Christ. I find it interesting that those who do this claim it is because "all Christians are hateful." They say that we all discriminate against this broad group or that broad group. I find it interesting that these people would discriminate against a large group of people to prove a point about discrimination. 

What does this mean about how I believe? I know God, the Father, and Jesus Christ are real. I know Jesus died for my sins and suffered all that I have and will suffer. I know that he did so for each and every person who has and will grace this earth. He is not just the Savior of straight, white men. He is the Savior of all mankind. It hurts me when I hear people of any religious affiliation say otherwise. 

I was not raised to judge people based on their race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, etc. I was, also, raised a bit naïve to the issues of those who are different may have had. It wasn't until I was working in call centers and faced head on with some of these issues that I began to understand some of these issues in even the smallest way. 

I believe there is no real way for me to fully understand someone else's life or point of view. I can listen. I can try to relate. I cannot say that I know everything about them. No one can say they know everything and have felt everything about my life either. 

I am the daughter of a mother who came out in the 90s. My mom confided in me when I was 13 before she fully came out and left my dad to live with her girlfriend. It took me many years after her death to realize that this may have been hard for her instead of seeing how hard it was for me. I will always live with the abandonment issues caused by her leaving. It was not easy being an almost 14 year old told that my mom was gone, my brother and sister knew where she was, but she would not tell me where she was because I was the most likely to tell my dad. These experiences shaped me in ways that I can't really explain. 

My brother was my protector. At one time, he told me that if a dude was threatening me, I should go to him, but if it was a girl, I needed to have my sister protect me. I was seen as the weaker sibling because I was the "girly" one. I didn't take offense to this. It was just the dynamic we had. 

The summer I turned 15, he proved that he would fight for me. A man was brought into our house to supposedly help my brother with his problems. We were expected to call him our brother and treat him as such. (At this point, my mom and her girlfriend were staying in a room in our basement with the understanding they were to be in separate twin beds.) One day, I thought I was the only one home when I woke up. I took a shower and went down the hall to my room in just a towel. Out of habit, I locked the bedroom door, and I am glad I did. The man staying in our home had seen me walk down the hall and followed me. He tried to get in my room. I was holding the doorknob hoping it wouldn't turn, pressed up against the door that was bending under his weight, and screaming for help. At this point, Anthony came home from wherever he had been. He heard the commotion and ran to find out what was going on. He ran down the hall, pulled the man off the door, threw him against the wall, and punched him. He was truly my hero in that moment. A few months later, he once again had the chance to prove he would protect me. I came home from school to only the man in question being there. He had not put the bed away into the couch that day, so it was right there as I walked into the door. He grabbed me and threw me against the bed, held my arms over my head with one hand and tried to do other things to me with the other hand as he licked my face. Once again, I was screaming and crying not knowing what I could do to stop what I knew this was leading to. Luckily, Anthony came home to from school to change for work at this time. He pulled him off of me and fought him once again. We never told our parents, but I will always see my brother fist and foremost as my protector. 

Three years later was the worst year of my life. I lost both of these integral people in an instant. My mom had made some major changes in her life which included trying to heal our relationship the year before. We had been talking about me moving in with her and going to community college once I graduated high school. My bother had moved into his first apartment a few months prior to this event. I had declared that my senior year would be unforgettable. Little did I know, this would be true for completely different reasons than I had expected. August 29, 1996, I went to work in a costume my mom had made for me to make balloon animals for the customers. My mom stopped by to let me know she was leaving that night for her trip instead of the next day, and Anthony would be going with them. The next morning, I woke to my brother's dog whining and was annoyed. I said that I couldn't wait until they got back because I didn't want to have to deal with his dog that early in the morning. Later that day, my dad came to the school, took my sister and I out of class, and told us something that would change our lives forever. Our mom and brother were involved in a car accident. My mom's "roommate" had fallen asleep at the wheel. My brother was ejected, his neck broken in many places, he did not make it. Our mother had been crushed by the guardrail and had died on impact. In this one moment, as my sister and I were complaining about the annoying dog that missed her person, we had lost half of our family and didn't even know it yet. It did not matter that we no longer lived with them. It did not matter that our mom had spent the past four or five years trying to decide what she wanted her role to be in our family. It did not matter that our brother had abandoned our beliefs. They were gone, and it hurt. It still hurts.

Do not tell me that I do not understand real loss. Do not tell me I don't understand what it feels like for someone to overpower you, not knowing how to defend yourself. Do not tell me I have not seen the anguish of someone being forced into a box that did not fit them. I have experienced all of these things. They have shaped who I am and what I believe. 

People can judge me all they like. I don't like it, but I can't change it. Everyone judges others in one way or another. Those who say they don't are either in denial or lying.  

Dog Love

We really have the sweetest dogs! Aqua is often a ball of energy. She thinks that everyone who comes to visit is there for her, and she doesn’t seem to understand that they don’t want her to jump on them. We have to either send her outside or lock her in our room when most people come over. It’s not unusual for her to spend time running up and down the hall a few times a day. When she wants us to pay attention to her, she will sit in front of us smiling and do the cutest little bark. She doesn’t understand that she is a big dog, so this often is followed with her climbing on our laps. Sophie is a sweet little dog that has bonded to me so much that she hates it when I am not in the same room as her. If the door is closed, she will scratch at it until she is let in. It is not unusual for her to assume she gets to go with me. She is a bit spoiled. Dexter thinks he is the protector of the house. He barks at everybody and everything. He is harmless but doesn’t want the outside world to know. 

Yesterday, they all sensed I was sad. As I laid down in bed, they each had their own special way of letting me know they cared. Dexter laid down quietly on the floor. Aqua curled up to my side. Sophie walked across Aqua, nosed my phone out of my hand, and curled up next to my shoulder. Then, we all slept for about an hour. No one distributed us. It was just the dogs and me. I did not realize how much I needed that until it happened. 

I am feeling better today and better able to focus on helping my dear friend. I am thankful my family gave me the time I needed to be alone and the dogs who just wanted me to feel better. I am truly blessed. 

Why

 I often sit and wonder why this is my life. Why have I face so much death? There has to be a reason. I know the Lord has a plan for me. I just wish that it wasn’t filled with so much heartache sometimes. They say grief is proof that we love and have been loved. I guess that means that I love and am loved very much. 

I called my boss today because I am struggling to wrap my head around simple things that are even the littlest bit out of my daily routine. I told him about my friend, and I started to cry. He told me to take the rest of the day off. I apologized for not getting much work done today and asked if they even believe me anymore when I tell them stuff like this. He told me that not only does he believe me, I am one of only three of his employees that he does believe at face value. That means a lot to me, so why am I still lying here on my bed crying? 

My hubby thinks I just need to leave the house. Not only do I not want to right now, I don’t want to fulfill my responsibilities for the rest of the day. I just want to be lay here numb. I don’t know how else to grieve. 

I’m Sad

Yesterday was an emotional day for a few reasons. First and most important, my friend’s husband passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack. (I’m not going to identify the friend because it is not my place to do so.) I want to help her so bad, but I don’t know what I can do to help. She had me respond to another text she received about another funeral at our church. I took care of that, and I offered to take care of the Young Women as long as needed. I will not be as good at it as she is, but I can do my best. For now, that is all I can do. I am sad that he is gone. I am sad that my friend has to live with this agony. I don’t even know what I would do if I lost my husband. For me, it is one of those unimaginable pains that I hope not to feel for many years. 

Second, my children had to face the backlash of my last entry. I really didn’t see that coming. Sean was very upset that he “finally” got to speak on the phone to his dad just to be told not to come to their weekly meet up. I hugged him as he cried. I remember the feeling of abandonment when my mom would do stuff like that. I remember feelings of “why is my sibling good enough, but I’m not.” It is a pain I never wanted my children to feel, but I can’t prevent it from happening. On top of that, my daughter was confronted about it. Neither one of them knew what I had done on a hunch. I’m not going to take it down because I write for me, but I wish I had know what the backlash would have been. I don’t get many views on this blog, and unless I am writing for school, I treat this as a journal of sorts. If the ex and his wife want to continue to cyber stalk me, I guess I will take it as a compliment from now on. I must be a really interesting person. 

Today, I am sad. I’m sad my kids are hurting. I am sad my friend is hurting. I wish I could take their pain away. 

Stop It!

To my ex-husband's wife:

Stop It! Stop reading my blog. Stop taking the lies that your husband says about me and my religion and attempting to use them against me. Stop acting like you know me, my personality, my likes and dislikes, my political affiliation, etc. I have only talked to you a few times about trivial things. You have not taken the time to get to know me. You are more interested in talking crap about me than actually trying to find out what is true. Stop treating my kids like crap and talking bad about them when they are not there. 

I love my kids more than I love myself. They are my world. The main complaint my ex-husband voiced while we were married was that I ignored him to take care of the children too much. He said I was not strict enough with them, and I coddled them too much. I agree with this assessment. My current husband has said the same thing many times. 

Just so you know, I continually deal with the mental trauma he put me though for the 12ish years we were married. I do not care if you believe that he was the abusive one. I just need you to stop telling my daughter that I am a horrible person.

Thank you for being a fan of my blog. 

Rosa

P.S. I blocked you on FB because there is no reason for you to be looking me up on there so much, and I thought it was creepy. 

My Sweet Sean

Since I was pregnant with Sean, his father has made it obvious that he was not as interested in this child. He even accused me of having an affair saying the baby was not his. (Looking back, I think he was cheating and would have felt better I was as well.) This attitude continued after he was born. 

Sean's dad seemed to be excited for him to be born and went to all of the doctor appointments leading up to his birth. However, within a few hours of Sean's birth, he left the hospital to get Eric and go home. This left Sean and I alone in the hospital for the night. The next day, he brought Eric to the hospital, and I took care of both boys for a while. 

Once we were all home, I thought we were as happy as we could be with a toddler and a newborn. As I struggled to take care of the boys, he would put on a video in the mornings as Eric and I cuddled on the floor and Sean slept in the swing next to me so I could get some sleep. When Sean had RSV, the dad would take care of Eric at night if needed as I slept in a chair with my sick baby. He even worked two jobs for about the first 6 months of Sean's life to try to pay off some debt. 

During the first year or two of Sean's life, it was rare for me to be seen without him. If I tried to go out without the boys, Sean would scream the whole time I was gone. When I would get home, I would walk in to my husband at the time looking disheveled, and Sean sweating and red faced from crying for an hour or two. I would feel so bad knowing all my precious boy wanted was me, so I rarely left him behind. This never happened when he was left with grandparents.

Now, let's fast forward to the past year. I was told last summer that the kids' step-mother and step-sister were counting down the days until Sean turned 18. They had figured that Sean would stop going to their house on the weekends as Eric did not long after his 18th birthday. Instead, Sean kept going and was tagged as the reason for strife in their house. In reality, he was not going to make them miserable. He was going to try to spend time with his father. 

In January, Sean erupted in anger towards his step-brother and the friends of the step-brother that were there for a birthday party. At this point, Sean was told he did not have to return to their house. To me, Sean was kicked out. To Sean, he was finally given to choice to not have to be there. 

After this, the kids' father would only communicate with Noel about Tuesday nights (a time he has spent with the kids since the divorce). He often cancels, and if Noel forgets to tell him, Sean puts his shoes on when it is time to be picked up and paces the living room until he finally gives up and asks Noel what is going on. It is heartbreaking to watch. Even when Noel does remember to tell Sean, he is sad and frustrated that his dad does not care enough to tell him that he is canceling himself. 

Tonight, we got in a conversation about relatives with mental illness at dinner. We talked about my mom and his dad. We talked about the issues their mental illness has caused us. I mentioned how my mom leaving and not telling us where she was for a while affected me (essentially causing abandonment issues). He said he felt the same issues because he has never felt his dad actually cared about him. This broke my heart. I have been trying for all of these years to make up for what his was not getting from his dad thinking that my efforts would be enough. Apparently, I was wrong. Even with my husband and I doing everything would could to assure Sean knows he is loved, he still feels the lack of it from his father. 

I really wish there was something I could do to counteract the rejection my child has experienced since before he was born, but there isn't. Not even the love from another father figure makes up for what his biological father lacks. My mommy heart is breaking for my sweet Sean tonight.