It's been over a year since I blogged, or really wrote anything of any value. Facebook has served as a minor outlet to release some passive aggressive humor, some short tales of ridiculousness and even a few desperate cries for pity to aid in my bitterness.
Writing is my drug of choice, and the more anti-depressants I shove down my throat the more I crave this release. I need more space, more venting, more talking, more wondering, more joking and more crying. Facebook was a nice gateway drug for a while, but I'm happy to say I've relapsed. I can't heal with traditional western medicine. I need this, and if along the way I happen to appeal to you, your life, your story, your humor; then stay.
If I don't, then believe me when I say the internet is a big, big place. Bigger even than Texas and you have my permission to leave at your earliest convenience.
With that, let's start from the beginning. Again.
I am Erica Hoke.
I have three kids who amaze and terrify me every second of the day. My daughter Isabelle amazes me with her artistry and imagination. Her storytelling and above-average intelligence fill me with "I'm winning at motherhood!" pride. But, her fits of anger, constant moody blues and overall Wednesday Addams disposition keep me awake at night. I am going to pay a shit load on therapy for that girl.
My son Roman was born with Myelomeningocele. But, that's a hellish word to spell, so we'll call it by it's better known title of Spina Bifida. SB from this moment on. He amazes me with his sensitivity and I'm almost certain that his giggle could end wars. I'm never going to be the same because of this child; it's both a celebration and a mourning for me. His SB demanded that I grow up much faster than I wanted. His SB forced me to deal with obstacles way beyond my maturity level and his SB has been the main source of my now stronger than ever anxiety and depression. But, his SB has introduced me to some amazing people. His SB was supposed to make him weaker, but it made him stronger. His SB is teaching me wonderful and terrible and magical and haunting things.
My third is Sullivan. He's three years old so to start describing him just insert one massive eye roll followed by a string of whispered swearing. He is playful, brilliant and fears nothing. He's quirky and shy and is a total momma's boy. He can make me smile even through my rage at his three year old antics. That is to say he likes to see what pee drop is going to win in the great race down his legs. Get your bets in soon, folks.
My third is Sullivan. He's three years old so to start describing him just insert one massive eye roll followed by a string of whispered swearing. He is playful, brilliant and fears nothing. He's quirky and shy and is a total momma's boy. He can make me smile even through my rage at his three year old antics. That is to say he likes to see what pee drop is going to win in the great race down his legs. Get your bets in soon, folks.
I have a husband and a boyfriend. Well, not exactly. I'm technically still married but we've been separated for over a year. The only reason we're still married is because we're both just poor enough or just cheap enough to not want to spend the money to make it final. One day we will though, and it'll feel exactly as it does now.
The relationship I have with my ex-husband and his girlfriend bops back and forth between white hot hatred and B.F.F status. Sometimes I wonder if we're fighting just to make the public feel more comfortable.
When we fight it's not as taboo. That's what normal is, right? Most times I think we've reinvented the wheel and we're paving a new path for the way relationships can be still be relationships after they've stopped being relationships. But then the claws come out, the mistakes are made and all parties involved are reminded just how human and flawed we all are. So while we remain human and flawed our relationship will mostly likely continue to bounce and bop between "Hey, enjoy your dinner." to "Hey, go ahead and choke on your dinner." and back again. Somehow it works for us and the kids rarely know from one minute to the next if we're in hate mode or friend mode.
After my separation from Jason, I was excited to go out and party, to mingle, get my groove on. I was Stella and Westfield Pennsylvania, population: 17 might as well have been my Jamaica. I was going to work, raise the children during the week and meet new people on the weekends. I had it in my head that I would have all kinds of men texting me, and various groups of people inviting me to go to this party or that. But, there was only one guy texting me. He didn't have a job, he was at least 100 pounds lighter than me and he wore pink shirts as well as various other pastel colored polos. He liked sports, and it showed because he wasn't overweight and could flick quarters into my tip bucket at work.
Mike was the perfect escape I wanted. Nothing serious, nothing mushy, nothing that required a great deal of effort. He was addicted to breaking me of my insecurities and I was addicted to seeing him with his shirt off. A bit moley, but otherwise very cute.
He was just supposed to be an escape, but before I knew it I was feeling.....feelings. Ew.
He had his flaws and I had mine. Like, he was jobless and enjoyed wearing name brand clothing and I was working 3 jobs and was positively ecstatic for hand me down anythings. Somehow, my dark and morbid side lightened a bit and now we bet on football games. Sometimes I'll even watch Sportscenter when he's not home.
He and his side of the family have opened inside me a lust for sports I never knew existed. When Mike's son wins a lacrosse game I have to hold back my urge to pick him up and spin him around like a princess. I resist this urge for two reasons and two reasons only:
The relationship I have with my ex-husband and his girlfriend bops back and forth between white hot hatred and B.F.F status. Sometimes I wonder if we're fighting just to make the public feel more comfortable.
When we fight it's not as taboo. That's what normal is, right? Most times I think we've reinvented the wheel and we're paving a new path for the way relationships can be still be relationships after they've stopped being relationships. But then the claws come out, the mistakes are made and all parties involved are reminded just how human and flawed we all are. So while we remain human and flawed our relationship will mostly likely continue to bounce and bop between "Hey, enjoy your dinner." to "Hey, go ahead and choke on your dinner." and back again. Somehow it works for us and the kids rarely know from one minute to the next if we're in hate mode or friend mode.
After my separation from Jason, I was excited to go out and party, to mingle, get my groove on. I was Stella and Westfield Pennsylvania, population: 17 might as well have been my Jamaica. I was going to work, raise the children during the week and meet new people on the weekends. I had it in my head that I would have all kinds of men texting me, and various groups of people inviting me to go to this party or that. But, there was only one guy texting me. He didn't have a job, he was at least 100 pounds lighter than me and he wore pink shirts as well as various other pastel colored polos. He liked sports, and it showed because he wasn't overweight and could flick quarters into my tip bucket at work.
Mike was the perfect escape I wanted. Nothing serious, nothing mushy, nothing that required a great deal of effort. He was addicted to breaking me of my insecurities and I was addicted to seeing him with his shirt off. A bit moley, but otherwise very cute.
He was just supposed to be an escape, but before I knew it I was feeling.....feelings. Ew.
He had his flaws and I had mine. Like, he was jobless and enjoyed wearing name brand clothing and I was working 3 jobs and was positively ecstatic for hand me down anythings. Somehow, my dark and morbid side lightened a bit and now we bet on football games. Sometimes I'll even watch Sportscenter when he's not home.
He and his side of the family have opened inside me a lust for sports I never knew existed. When Mike's son wins a lacrosse game I have to hold back my urge to pick him up and spin him around like a princess. I resist this urge for two reasons and two reasons only:
#1) I feel like his mother would insist that all future visitations be supervised. If she doesn't think I am crazy now, that would likely be the kicker.
#2) He's a twelve year old boy and with all of his struggling to be released my knee caps would explode.
#2) He's a twelve year old boy and with all of his struggling to be released my knee caps would explode.
I love loving a kid that isn't mine. Ethan is Mike's 12 year old, he's a glimpse into my future with prepubescent boys. It's not much different than my experience with toddler boys. It's essentially just dirty hands, grabbing your junk a lot, laughing at farts and being a picky eater. But he's a fabulous kid and there is some sort of yet to be named emotion that goes along with loving your boyfriend's kid.
While this feels like a novel of ramblings to me and who knows what it might feel like to you, this is the abridged version of my life in the last year. I didn't want it to read like a Danielle Steel novel or a Jodi Picoult story of secrets and heartbreak so I skimmed the heavy stuff out. But the basic message is; I've been busy falling out of and in love again. Feeling like the best and the worst mother, being the best and worst friend, feeling on top of the world and wondering what the impact would be if I were gone. I've been busy working jobs and quitting them, showering daily and showering simply because my head was getting itchy. Busy being busy and busy laying on the couch wondering who is listening. I've been wishing on stars, breaking glass and bitching about God, the government and Avril Lavigne. I've slipped into insanity more than once, but I've always come back ready to start from the start. Again.
Your writing always touches my heart. Like one of those sappy movies that surprises you by causing you to belly laugh through sobbing without warning. Bless you, sweet and funny mommy. :)
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