The Let Down

          Bethany sighed. She knew she had to stop hoping for a reply now. Now, before the rejection could really set in. She was no stranger to let down; having more encounters than she could remember. What she did remember was her continual rebound into the spiral of being used. It was almost like clockwork! A cute, funny guy would start a conversation and she would light up with joy abundant. She would dive in with no regard for her own heart.
         And then-with each of them, when they were done, when they had gotten what they wanted; the calls and texts would stop. She learned long ago not to inatiate contact after that. Bethany learned the hard way; that in doing so would only invite torment and more self loathing at her own weakness. And everytime, as she would fight back tears, she would tell herself, "I thought it would be different this time...I thought HE would be different." And her mind argues back..."you knew, you knew this would happen, So its time to move on, and forget. Stop the pain now before it gets worse. Forget it happened, and this time..Don't let it happen again."
               Her phone dings-she jumps to her feet grabbing the cell, hope shining in her eyes. ..Its not him. She sets the phone gently back down on the table, berating herself for getting excited again. For being hopeful after she just resolved to forget him. The cell dings again-she sighs and looks, almost uncaring anymore.

IT'S HIM! It's neither a rude nor rejection message. He wonders why she would think he would leave?! He's shocked, and reassures Bethany he will be here. He will still talk to her--and now he's waiting for her response....

Now the question, dear Beathany--is do you hope and spiral once more? Or do you stick to a hurt resolve, give up...and leave him hanging..just like they all left you?

Failure?

Its amazing how I can excel and do so much right. How I go out of my way to go above and beyond what needs to be done. I inspire no confidence I guess, My husband can't even see me doing something. I feel like a child, I feel terrible, I dont want a job that makes me mean, that makes me into the very salesmen I hate.  This is why I got out of the military. NO intergrity, or values, everyone is just out for themselves.

A Broken Sanctuary is a Facade, A forced Habit that no longer inspires safety. But once a sanctuary, even when broken is still the only place that you feel is safe. Even when you have to pretend that no one breaks a thin line of trust, that the unspoken rule will be followed. You will still go there, still spill every thing that flows from your mind, still trusting that it will be safe from the prying minds in the world. Even when you know its sacred secret legacy is no longer sacred. its like playing pretend as grown ups. I know its not real, i know its not safe..and still i write, i still try to hide it, and i still pretend that everything is okay.

Poetry in Motion?

When I feel so broken, I can't draw. 
When I feel so lost, I can't create.
 This is when I write. When words flow from the pen in a seemingly effortless illusion. The effort is in the feeling, in the confusion and heartache. 
 No matter the happy-joy filled tales I crave to write; these tense, depressing words are all that flow onto my paper.
 The pain that I hide, the hurt I shield from others. No suffering of mine shall be exposed on my face nor said out loud. This happy, although fake expression you see; will be plastered on day by day so that no one shall worry bout me.
 I will be your shoulder to cry on and the calm in the storm and in return I ask but one thing of you. Don't ask me if I'm ok.

Only In America...

Only in America..

• can a pizza get to your house faster than an ambulance.
• are there handicap parking spaces at a roller rink.
• do drugstores make the sick walk all the way to the back of the store to get their prescriptions, while the healthy people can buy cigarettes up front. 
• do people order double cheeseburger, large fries and a DIET coke.
• do banks leave doors wide open and then chain the pens to the counters.
• do we leave cars worth thousands of dollars in the driveway and put our useless junk in the garage.
• do we buy hotdogs in packages of 10 and buns in packages of 8.
• do they have drive up ATM machines with braille lettering.
• do we use the word 'politics' to describe the process so well. "Poli" in latin meaning many and "tics" meaning blood sucking creatures.

The meaning of "good enough"...

"Never doubt for a second that you weren't good enough for me"
Those words mean more than he could have ever have thought about. When you say someone is "good enough" for you--How do you mean it? To you, what does "good enough" entail?
When I get told that..this is what I think: Obviously I AM NOT "good enough", in every way. Either its something about: me physically, you don't like how I think about things,where I'm headed in my life or the "I don't think you'd be happiest with me".

That means you don't like my body, you're not willing to deal with our differences, you don't approve of my career or you won't wait for me and you don't trust my judgment. Obviously as for my body--if you don't like it, sorry-I won't change it just to make some guy who won't meet me in the middle, happy. If you don't like how I think about things and to you, that's enough to stop a relationship? Here's some advice: not everyone in the world thinks like you. Get over it or you will be alone for the rest of your pitiful little life. And as for my most hated..you don't think I'd be happiest with you... Well for 1. If I weren't happy with you, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN WITH YOU TO START WITH, 2. How do you know? You're not even willing to try.

In saying any of these, you just told me " You're not good enough for me. You're not good enough to wait for, you're not good enough to fight for, you're not good enough to trust or to give a chance."
So girls..if he's not willing to fight to keep you, to wait for you to come home from that war, to simply compromise with you..be glad that you're not good enough for him, you can do better.

Let's be cliche' and start at the begininning...

My name is Heather. I don't believe it fits and more people call me Momo than not. I have long thought about this "blogging" but didn't believe what I had to say would be found of any importance. However, I no longer care. If i try and fail-who will know, nor care for that matter. So here it goes.


I am married, to a rough but loving man. Hes not the kind I thought I would end up with-but I love him and he's  quite honestly-amazing. We have a wonderful little girl--Abigail Kayme. She is my light and joy in this stupid world full of idiots. She nearly always happy, and seriously really cute. And this is a proven fact since she will be featured in the book "Americas cutest babies." Boo-fleeping yah.

I did the whole Air Force thing- I worked as a mechanic for more years than I'd like and now I'm moving on..I'm thinking photography. I like to speak my own lingo-I don't like to be labeled. And really--who does??  I make mistakes..but I fight through it all cuz I've been through worse. At this point..I'm fleeping superwoman!