Obviously, I have been missing in action lately. Actually MIA might not be the right military related term. More like POW. I have definitely been feeling like a prisoner in my own life these days. Waging war on myself, my well being, my bank account... inanimate objects... pretty much anything I come in contact with.
As my last post suggests, things have, once again, taken a turn for the worst. So bear with me. Pray for me. Send me loves and encouragement. Thank you much.
On the bright side, my blog title finally makes sense again!
(Just a little eye candy! Cruz is going to be a blogger too!!!!)
In keeping with the poor-me-whiny-whiny-talk, I have a story to tell.
So I'm moving out of my apartment last saturday afternoon. Obviously it was already a bleak affair. A little bitter sweet to be honest. But, naturally, I was feeling pretty down on my luck. Things hadn't worked out at ALL like I planned. I was riddled (or is it ridden) with guilt for doing this to Cruz AGAIN. Even though I have always had the best of intention. I had to pack all the things I had just barely moved in. My relationship had completely deteriorated. But I never cried. It hurts less and less every time. Which is good...I guess. I would prefer not to have to say "every time" in reference to the demise of my relationship.
We're moving out. I get the boxes loaded and tear out of there as fast as my feet will carry me while burdened with baby and boxes. I get Cruz in, wave goodbye to my old life (tear) and drive out of the complex. Naturally, my heart is a little sad and I'm a little lost in thought, when all the sudden....my car sputters. I press the gas. Nothing. I'm slowing down. In traffic. It takes me a second to come to grips.
My f-ing car just died in the middle of traffic. During my attempt to drive away from my sad life. With my baby in the back seat. And my life in boxes. And my head in turmoil. And my stomach in knots.
COME. THE. FUCK. ON.
Luckily there was a driveway for a church building about 10 feet away. So I roll right into the driveway... only to realize that its more like a mini hill. I obviously didn't have the gas to power over it. I'm stuck on this little hill. I put the car in park and go to take my foot off the brake. We start rolling backwards. What? Isn't park supposed to make your car PARK. As in, not move anymore? Apparently not. So I put my emergency brake on and try again. No such luck. We roll a little more. F. F. F. F (I'm trying not to say the F word in front of Cruz) (But I am starting to spell it out loud because I don't even know if anyone could be mad if you heard a kid SPELLING the F word out loud. Hilarious).
So I'm stuck on a hill, with a dead car and my foot on the brake. I'm starting to panic. What if the brakes let out or something? If we rolled backwards Cruz would be in the direct line of fire. His carseat is strapped behind the passengers seat and that is precisely where oncoming traffic would plow into. F.U.C.K... So I make a risky decision. Seeing as I cant take my feet off the brake, I step down as hard as I can on the pedal and turn the top half of my body around so I am facing the backseat. I now have to stretch my upper body so that I can reach the carseat and unbuckle Cruz... without taking my feet of the brake pedal. I'm sweating. If I fuck up and my foot slips...I can't even think about the consequences. Cruz, of course, isn't making this any easier because he is freaking out (he HATES the carseat). Screaming, crying, squirming, the works. And carseats are a pain in the ass to unbuckle anyways.
After a minute of fumbling, I succeed to rescue Cruz from the perils of death. He proceeds to suck on the steering wheel, and everything is OK for a second.
I locate my phone and frantically call my brother. I try to articulate the problem while still keeping my feet on the brake and wrestling with Cruz, who has now decided to attempt to escape the entire ordeal through the window. I can't say I blame him.
After several more uncomfortable minutes of incessantly standing on the brakes (in hind sight, I probably didnt need to push so hard that I gave myself shin splints) my brother arrives with my dad and my sisters boyfriend. They push us to safety, evaluate things, conclude that I have just run out of gas (rookie move) and give us a lift to the gas station. I am ever thankful.
Needless to say, I couldn't get home and into bed fast enough. This day needed to be over.
Fortunately I made it there without further incidence. Thank God.
Things have been slightly better since the above ordeal, but not by much. I am doing my best to find joy in the good things, and breathe through the bad. I miss my old life more then I thought I would. But, it getting easier. Slowly.