Once I was a vibrant young person, living life to the fullest, and while life posed problems occasionally, I always had the strength & perseverance to meet those problems head on. I traveled the world, indulged my dream of performing music, designed & sewed clothing, and truly enjoyed life. Now I'm 45, in the middle of nowhere, with no prospects of a creative livelihood ever again. Every day I have to face the fact that I'm probably going to be who I am right now for the rest of my life.
When Laura Ingalls Wilder was approached about writing her final book in the "Little House" series, "The First Four Years," she couldn't bring herself to do it. The memories of that time were too painful for her to remember and write about. She had to suffer through the loss of a child, loss of a farm, illness, crop failure, and many other tragedies during that time.
In no way have I suffered that much and yet I can understand how she felt. I'm struggling to keep up with home, family, finances, and the upcoming holidays through a haze of illness and pain. Keeping a brave face on for my boys becomes a harder task with each passing day. Husband is getting more and more frustrated with me as time goes on. I wake up each morning wondering if today is the day I will finally crack.
The point of all this is that I'm not blogging very much. Putting it down in words makes it all too black and white--I'm just holding on until I find a way out at this point. And no one really likes to read about other people's misery. So if you haven't seen an update from me in a while, you know why. Things will be better soon, I'm sure. I have to believe that or I wouldn't get out of bed in the morning. When I have happier things to write about I'll be back.
Thanks for listening!
Lydia
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Amazing how you can have so many ideas floating in your head and once you sit down they all scatter away.
I suppose though, as Wednesday is Veterans' Day, I should say a word about some fallen shipmates of mine. They were actually "airdales" and flew the P3C Orion. There were 26 guys who flew out on 2 aircraft for a training mission. No one knows what happened. It was almost 19 years ago and I don't remember the exact particulars, except how they pertained to me.
I was in London when the phone rang at 2 in the morning. My former roommate from the squadron, Katy, was calling to let me know they were all gone. Gone in a flash. Gone without warning. One had left his girlfriend in the hospital, expecting to return in time for the birth of their twins the next day.
I was sitting alone in the dark, phone in hand, listening to name after name. Her fiance, Warren, had been among those killed. One of my dearest friends, "Spuds," was gone. Several guys I had dated were gone. All were dear, dear friends of mine. All too young. All too soon.
Veterans' Day rolls around and even now, with men and women facing death every day in Iraq and Afghanistan, I think people consider it a holiday for old men. There are veterans of every age, from 18 and up, who need to be remembered. And I think families should be remembered too. They sacrifice as well.
I'm not very eloquent, especially on this subject, as it is hard for me to write about, but please remember all the veterans and their families this Wednesday. The job they do is hard and thankless at times and should be honored, on Veterans' Day, and every other day of the year.
I suppose though, as Wednesday is Veterans' Day, I should say a word about some fallen shipmates of mine. They were actually "airdales" and flew the P3C Orion. There were 26 guys who flew out on 2 aircraft for a training mission. No one knows what happened. It was almost 19 years ago and I don't remember the exact particulars, except how they pertained to me.
I was in London when the phone rang at 2 in the morning. My former roommate from the squadron, Katy, was calling to let me know they were all gone. Gone in a flash. Gone without warning. One had left his girlfriend in the hospital, expecting to return in time for the birth of their twins the next day.
I was sitting alone in the dark, phone in hand, listening to name after name. Her fiance, Warren, had been among those killed. One of my dearest friends, "Spuds," was gone. Several guys I had dated were gone. All were dear, dear friends of mine. All too young. All too soon.
Veterans' Day rolls around and even now, with men and women facing death every day in Iraq and Afghanistan, I think people consider it a holiday for old men. There are veterans of every age, from 18 and up, who need to be remembered. And I think families should be remembered too. They sacrifice as well.
I'm not very eloquent, especially on this subject, as it is hard for me to write about, but please remember all the veterans and their families this Wednesday. The job they do is hard and thankless at times and should be honored, on Veterans' Day, and every other day of the year.
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