Monthly Archives: August 2010

Here…

Sadly I have nothing to say at the moment, but if you need a read, read this.

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Old Guilt

So I’ve mentioned here in bits and pieces that I was very religious as a teen. Youth group, church, conventions, no drugs, alcohol or sex, the whole bit (and a bit of self-righteousness I now cringe at).

These days I’m not sure where I stand. I’m definitely not the ‘good girl’ I was in high school. I’m living in sin with my fiance (well at least I will again once his training’s done). I drink. I haven’t been to church in over a year. I swear (I did in high school too, but I tried not to).

But I’m not here to talk about all the ways that I’ve ‘fallen’. For the most part these things don’t bother me (to be honest, they bother me a little, when you immerse yourself in something so deeply as I did with Christianity as a teen, it kind of gets into your core. I still have residual guilt about things…). But something that I find interesting is this little thing that happens in conversation when I run into somebody from my past. Somebody I know only through church. It’s a very minor detail, but I always feel badly about it after the conversation’s over.

See, I live in a pretty small town. And I’ve been in the area since I was Squirt’s age. Going to church the whole time. Actively involved in youth activities for years. It’s inevitable as I go about my days still in the same small town that I run into people from my church days. And 99 times out of 100, I’ve got Squirt on my hip. So we make the small talk that you always do when you run into a ghost from your past. Of course the main part of the conversation is directed about Squirt. If they use their Facebook it’s always, ‘Wow! I finally get to meet him! He’s gotten so much bigger!’ if they don’t have one, or don’t use it it’s ‘Is that YOUR baby?’. It’s cool. We do little catch ups. ‘What are you doing now?’ ‘This is what I’m up to’.

But then Pte Goof comes up. And I tell them about the army and yadda yadda. The difference between when I’m talking to someone I knew from church and someone I knew from anywhere else. I don’t say ‘my fiance’. I say ‘Squirt’s’ daddy.

That’s a phrase I tend to use here and there as it is. But if I’m talking to someone who knew me solely through church related stuff, it’s never ever my fiance. I mean. It’s no secret. Everyone knows I had a baby out-of-wedlock. But I still say it every time. And I feel like crap when I do because I shouldn’t be ashamed. I fell in love. We had a baby. We are still deeply in love and raising that baby in a loving home. Things to be proud of, if you ask me. We just haven’t signed a paper yet.

Yet, I still feel a little ashamed. (and I’m totally ashamed that I feel that way). The Christian girl inside me who swore never to let a boy touch her there until she had walked down the aisle still feels like she’s let people down. That she’s let down herself and the plans she had. And it’s totally stupid, and all you liberal internets people likely won’t really have a reference point to this post, but I still feel that way. Not all the time. But here and there. And when I run into somebody who pulls that teenage me back to the surface.

It’s kinda funny how incredibly deeply embedded these feelings of guilt are. Part of it probably stems from my unresolved-ness about my faith. But darn it! I don’t want to refer to Pte Goof as ‘Squirt’s Daddy’ out of old shame anymore!

Highway of Heros

Every time Squirt and I go visit Pte Goof we drive down the entire length of the Highway of Heroes. You know, the highway that the bodies of all of our fallen boys are taken down after landing in Trenton on the way to the coroner’s in Toronto. It kills me every single time. I have to drive the whole length of it. Every sign a reminder that one day it could be him. I shouldn’t think this way. Inevitably I’ll spend at least part of the drive in tears. But I can’t help it. It almost seems like a cruel joke to me that there’s no way to go visit my soldier than to take this route. Thankfully Squirt sleeps most of the way so I can shed a few tears and he doesn’t hear. But my God is it a long drive for me.

It’s so stupid that my mind always does this to me. I wish I could think of other things, but every sign denoting the road has a poppy on it. Because every dead soldier travels it. I think it’s a good thing, that this road has been dedicated to the fallen soldiers. I think that people need reminders that there are men and women dying out in the world serving their country. But damn, is that a long hard drive for me.

“I Need You”

I’ve never read this blog before, but I may start. This post was passed along to me and I think it’s beautiful.

p.s. I hope to be back soon with posts that are more than a few sentences long!

One

Meanest blogger ever? perhaps!

Sorry guys! I was busy getting ready to go away when I took that test, and I was just so freaked out about it I needed a little outlet! I TOTALLY never meant to leave it hanging that long! I remembered in the car that I never posted the results, and then it was too late as I had no internet all week…  I’m very sorry!

Anyways, the test was negative, I’m very relieved and a little sad at the same time. But with our impending move to Alberta, it’s probably just as well!

Lines

I just peed on a stick. I don’t know which outcome I want more. We weren’t trying yet… just waiting to see how many lines.