The One where I Just Ramble While I Work Things Out

I just got off the phone with my older step-sister. We talked for an hour. This is huge....HUGE!!! We have never talked that long. Even if you put the two of us in the same room and held a gun to our heads, we would STILL have to work at filling an hour of time. In the psychology world we call this a "breakthrough".

My step-sister and I found ourselves living under the same roof when her father and my mother decided to get married. Her Tragedy Timeline is a bit different, but for me my parents' divorce was finalized on my eighth birthday (Literally. My father was served the papers for signature right as I blew out my candles) and each parent was remarried to a different person before my ninth birthday (Mom was Jan 13 and Dad was Jan 31...I stood up in both). It was a helluva year for this little broken hearted girl. Moving on...

My step-father was (is) a 'good' Evangelical which means he's white, he believes in "spare the rod, spoil the child", and votes Republican.....always, forever and ever amen. My father was (is) a narcissistic, immature man that was (is) unable to relate to anyone outside of his head...aka young, heartbroken daughters. Both men were (are) angry. Both men felt (feel) slighted. Both men were born without the 'compassion' and 'empathy' chips. And mostly, both men were (are) inept at raising children.

Que Serra, Serra. Too bad, so sad. Get over it and move on, right? Nope....not for girls. For some reason, little girls have been designed to be almost completely dependent on their fathers in order to form healthy and coherent self-images. (I'm not making this up, pick up ANY psych book printed since 1990. This is cold hard fact. Girls need Dads. Plain and simple.)

So suddenly here were two little girls only nine months apart now forced to relate to one another as sisters. In the Blaine household, the word "step" was NEVER to be uttered. Not in reference to siblings and especially not in reference to parents. As for the other halves of our families that we were no longer to identify ourselves with....well, I didn't have a Dad and a step-dad, I now had a Dad and an "Other" Dad (referring to the man who had been with my Mother the day I came home from the hospital). Amanda (older step-sis) didn't have a mother and a step-mother, she had a Mom and an "Other Mom" (referring to the woman who carried her for nine months and spent 19 hours in labor with her). That was our new life. We were to like it. We were to move on. (Apparently The Brady Bunch seemed like a realistic standard for my parents.)

So fast forward for a bit. Mandy will be finished with grad school in May. She has had a 4.0 GPA since they first start figuring out GPA's in middle school. Her younger sister is the social butterfly. I'm smart, but I'm pretty, I flirt and I enjoy the attention of guys. (Do you see where this is going?) Our parents ALWAYS compared us to each other. "Why can't you settle down and get good grades like your sister?"; "Why don't you have as many friends as your sister?"; "You are never going to achieve the things your sister will."; "You need to be more like your sister."

Needless to say. We decided to manage our heartache in different ways as we got older. Mandy became the youngest, full-time, college level debate coach in the history of Large State University. Cassie became the partying, drinking, teenage mother and placed her baby for adoption. Cassie flitted from one relationship to another without so much as an emotional scratch and Mandy fell in love with her high school sweetheart, broke up with him when he left for college and hasn't forgiven herself since. Mandy decided that she couldn't the attention of her father with her grades and since he never told her she was pretty, she started eating and doubled her weight in 3 years time. Cassie decided that she couldn't get the attention of her father with her grades and since he never told her she was pretty, she started having one night stands at the age of 16. Here's the story of two lovely ladies...

Where am I going with this? Well just today I had a one hour conversation with Amanda when she called telling me that she thought she was losing her mind because she finally contacted that long lost high school sweetheart that she hasn't moved on from.

Over the course of this hour I was able to tell her how beautiful, strong, capable, incredible, lovable, courageous, independent, and faithful she is. She cried. I cried. Her heart was so happy to finally hear all the things she needed to hear as a little girl. I didn't lie to her! She is all of those things....and MORE!! I just wish she could see that. (I wish we both could see who we truly are.)
There is still a grieving, scared, heart broken little girl inside both of us. Lame? Maybe. The truth? Absolutely. And you know what, I have learned that there is a grieving, scared, heart broken little girl inside some of the most beautiful, strongest, most capable, incredible, lovable, courageous, independent, and faithful women I know.

I realize now that because of all I've been through and have been able to overcome, I now have a burden for these women. I want to find every hurting, unloved, scared, abused and discarded woman in the world and let her know that she is precious. She is so indcredibly amazing merely because.....she is a woman!








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UPDATE: At the time of publication (aka the moment I pushed the Publish button), my Mother called having a melt-down about things going on in HER life. Screw the 'I want to find hurting women' scenario. I'm just gonna get my Master's in Counseling Psych and start charging my family $100 an hour. I'll be a millionaire before I'm 30.

The One with the Valentine's Day Presents!

THE BEST VALENTINE'S DAY EVER!!!!!

Look what was delivered to Tiny Christian University for ME!! I have never, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER received a gift for Valentine's Day, LET ALONE flowers!

I'm so happy I could just pee!!!

The inside of my ENORMOUS Valentine next to my flowers!!

The inside of my Valentine.It's so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!

"Thank you for coming into my life and making it better than I knew was possible.

You have given me hope, brought inspiration into my life and have made me a better man for having known you.

I love you with all my heart."

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!! He's such a good guy. I can't even begin to express how lucky I am. :-D

The One in Which SMF Guest Authors...And Makes Me Cry.

SMF asked if he could guest-author AND I said yes with much trepidation THEN he surprised me and made me fall in love even more.
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[[Author's note: I've beeen reading Cass's blog for as long as she's been writing and I don't think she's done a very good job letting everyone know what kind of a Girl she is. I asked if I could author a blog about her. All you REALLY need to know is that on my blog I refer to her as Girl so that's what I'm calling her here as well. I want you to see what I see.]]

Girl came to church alone. We always arrive at different times. It was just another ordinary Sunday morning. I had begun my laps around the interior searching for Girl when I came around the corner into Fellowship Hall.

There she was. It wasn't that her clothes were particularly stunning. Her make-up was rather ordinary. I had seen her hair like that dozens of times. I had gazed at that sweet face, lost myself in those endless brown eyes hundreds of times in the past, but something about her was different today.

I don't want to describe the moment with cliches. There was nothing cliche about what I saw. "She glowed." "Light shone all around her." "Colors seemed brighter." "I heard music when there was none." All these statements belittle the moment I experienced.

The best way I could describe it is...........she simply existed. Joyful. Energetic Lovely. Playful. Deep. Thoughtful. Serious. Sexy. Powerful. Sincere. Sultry. Intoxicating. Honest. Loving. Sweet. Inspirational. She was all of these things at the same time.

I realized I wasn't even really "drawn to her". I was content to just stay where I was and witness something I could never explain--feel emotions I don't have names for. I wanted the moment to last a lifetime and at the same time it was like standing next to a blast furnace, I wanted so desperately to back away from the intensity.

When I saw her standing there, chatting with our Old Crones of the church, I felt like I could read her thoughts. The smile that lit up her face was so radiant and lovely I couldn't help but smile along with her. Girl's deepest, innermost joys were written in that smile. I could feel my adrenaline start pumping as I plotted the demise of anything that might make that smile falter.

I was suddenly wrapped up in the idea of spending the rest of my life with her. I was dumbstruck with the magnitude of the challenge. God was expecting me to Care For and Understand and Support and Struggle Alongside and Make Love To and Cherish and Challenge and Have Fun With and Adore this incredibly ethreal woman....for the rest of my life.

I began to realize that I am intended to be the earthly manifestation of all the things she needs God to be for her. When she cries out to her Father in anguish I am expected to catch her tears. When she raises her hands in praise, I am expected to fall to my knees and thank God. When Girl can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, I am expected to light the lamp. When she needs a hug, I am expected to open my arms.

I was nearly crying out myself in pure terror at the idea. And just as soon as the thought had left my head, I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace. I watched as she slowly began to peel off the coat I had given her for Christmas. She unwound her super long scarf and pulled off her gloves by tugging on each finger. I couldn't take my eyes off those familiar arms as they embraced Pastor's Wife in a friendly hug. Her tiny hands held the other woman's hands gently and lovingly. I watched her deep brown eyes cloud with concern and genuine compassion as PW explained the breaking news of the Church.

Every one of her movements was so familiar, I felt I could predict each before they even happened. The way she tossed her hair when she laughed was so well-known to me, I could envision where each and every silky strand was going to land. This stunning woman had been created as my equal. She had been specifically designed to awaken these thoughts, feelings and emotions. She was, IS, the other half I have been searching for for 27 years!

To say Girl "broke the mold" the day she was created is again, an understatement. I see that God designed every little inch of this surreal woman. When I saw her in the doorway, framed in the early morning light, I knew for a fact that she was created for me.

I also realized that I was created for her. I can't say that she's ever had the same sensation I experienced, she's never mentioned any. That Sunday I understood what a precious and remarkable gift God was giving to me. He was trusting me with His most beloved creation. She is His PRECIOUS daughter! He was challenging me and I feel ready for the challenge.

The moment I just described lasted no more than five minutes; shorter than it took me to write about it. The moment was over when she looked up and caught my eyes. I can't imagine what she saw, but the smile she gave me lit up my heart and almost made me cry. All I could manage to do was move toward her. I forced my feet to move. After what seemed like the longest second of my life, I was standing next to her.

I had the overwhelming sense to wrap her in my arms, press her head to my chest and never let her go. I wanted to ravish her right then and there. I wanted to kiss her favorite spot on her forehead and smile and laugh and act like nothing had just happened. I wanted to never be away from her again.

All I could actually do was reach out and squeeze her hand. She squeezed back and I knew, in that little squeeze, that it's possible to have Heaven on Earth.

Wedding Wackoness Take 2! (Edited for Content)

The other night was my cousin's wedding. Yes, FRIDAY NIGHT!! Who does that?!?

With all the wedding stuff going on, naturally the conversations between the female siblings turned to Dream Nuptials. Each of us have our own weddings planned out (for the most part) and each girl's wedding is unique and speaks volumes about the woman she is and is going to become.

The Baby Sis dreams of an Island Diva style wedding. She wants all eyes on her and her alone. Her basic plans include very few details because she wants to be the centerpiece of every room she walks into that day. She plans on having a silk sheath dress, long flowing hair and a pink hibiscus to accent it all. She wants elegant simplicity with a touch of quirky funkiness that is uniquely her.

The Older Step Sis plans on a very quiet, private wedding. A traditional Catholic mass with only her nearest and dearest. Afterwards she would prefer a family meal together at someone's home and then a quiet departure to her honeymoon. She wants her wedding to be the celebration of a new beginning. She wants nothing more than to be surrounded by people that love her and that want to wish her and her husband the best. She wants to feel loved by and connected to each of her guests.

And then there's me.....The Princess. I believe Annie Oakley in the musical Annie Get Your Gun said it best during her duet with her love interest Frank:


"I want a wedding that's surrounded
by diamonds and platinum
A big reception at the Whaldorf
With champagne and caviar
I want a wedding like the Vanderbilt's had
Everything big not small
If I can't have that kind of a wedding
I'm not getting married at all"


That's right kidlets, the custom-made gown, the tiara, the six foot train, the flowers, the candles, the steak dinners, the flowing champagne, the men in tuxes, my groom in tails, the lush fabrics, the gold rimmed china...that's what I want people. And Special Man Friend and I will work till we're forty if we have to in order to get it!

I think I surprised my mother with how much Special Man Friend and I have planned for our wedding! SMF and I have set a goal of $25,000. That's how much the two of us are bringing to the wedding budget...each of us that is, for a combined total of $50,000! Seeing as how he has a head for numbers and I have a head for STUFF, we work well together. He's not the type of guy to think I'm silly to be looking for deals on reception sites this far out. He genuinely participates when I make him look at eleventy billion different paper options for invitations. He likes knowing all the details and even more so, he likes knowing WHERE the budget will need to go when we do finally get serious about planning.

Alright...I know. Most of you are wondering WHAT THE HELL we're going to do with 50k. Here's the deal, both of us have divorced parents who have since remarried. Each of us has EASILY 200 family members we need to invite. That number is not including our friends and co-workers.

My mother about fell on the floor when I quoted the total goal. But when she really thought about it she realized, I have always been the princess in the family. Not only is our wedding going to be huge just because of the sheer number of people that are going to be there, it's going to be huge because I've grown up with images of celebrity weddings. *shrug* That's just how I am. (I'm already talking to one of my Mom's flight attendant friends about going to Hong Kong and picking up silk swatches for the gown and Maids' dresses)

SMF and I are both on our way towards the goal, I own my own business selling cosmetics and he works for one of the biggest medical supply companies in the area. $50,000 is perfectly within our abilities.

***Here's where it starts to gets sentimental and a little heartfelt. ;-)***

We're both really excited to start our lives together, on the other hand...I'm jealous of this personal time I have and I guard it like a pitbull. I wouldn't trade any of this time I have on my own for more time in married life with SMF. I couldn't imagine starting a life with him before I had a chance to do all things I've ever wanted to do.

I plan on doing a Missions Trip to Haiti to spend some time digging wells and working in our church ministry there. I'm also doing my internship in Montana on a farm that uses horses as a therapeutic tool for abused and traumatized women and children.

But all of my futures plans are not solo, I also have many plans that INCLUDE Special Man Friend; kids, home, church...you know the deal. (Espcially the Kids part....little tough to do all by your lonesome!) SMF and I have spent many nights talking about our future life. We love daydreaming and imagineing.

Where is all this 'word vomit' going?? Essentially, nowhere. I guess I've just spent alot of time thinking about the future lately. I'm getting excited to see where Life takes me.

Today's In Class Writing Assignment

Today in Biblical Interpretations, we had an in class writing assignment. We needed to write our reaction to the book, Blood Brothers by Elias Chacour. If you have never read it, I would highly reccomend it! It's an easy read intellectually but mentally and emotionally it could put you throgh the wringer.

The prof wanted our responses straight from the heart and honest as we could be.
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The response I had to Elias Chacour’s story was tremendous. My gut reaction was that of anger, anger at my disillusionment in my country’s portrayal of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. My more secondary response to the story was my deep connection with Elias and his struggle regarding his identity in God and God’s plan for his life. Lastly I spent a significant amount of time wrestling with my own sorrow and ache for peace in the Middle East. Blood Brothers helped me realize there are ALWAYS two sides to every coin, regardless of what I had been told my whole life.

Like a radio turned on while working, the conflict in the Middle East had become background noise in my life. I have grown up with this war. Ever since I was little girl, every night on the six o’clock news, there has been some tidbit of information regarding something in the Middle East. I was quickly taught the key players in the drama and believed wholeheartedly what I was told. The Israelis were the underdog and the good guys. They were being ruthlessly slaughtered for a reason that was so miniscule there was really no reason to ever mention it. The Palestinians are the bullies, killing innocent Israelis and refusing to agree to peace. And lastly, our brave American heroes were sent in to fix all of their problems. This cast list was simple enough for even the youngest of minds to follow.

My biggest struggle with Chacour’s story began in the first few pages. My image of the ‘typical’ Palestinian had been produced for me my whole life. When he began his story with a glimpse into his family life, I recoiled in horror.

“A family?! Surely Palestinians have no family, there is nothing human about these cold-blooded, rebel terrorists!” I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I realized Palestinian people do not grow out of the ground and have parents, grandparents, and siblings like myself. After the first chapter I set the book down refusing to believe Chacour’s lies. Not only was he a Palestinian, but he was a Christian! He believed in the same Savior and God I did. This new truth stood in stark contrast to my former image and had no place in my reality. I began the hard lesson that truth and reality don’t often line up.

By the end of the story I was disappointed in my country, a feeling that does not sit well with a Conservative Republican Farmer’s Daughter. I wrestled with the truth that my government, MY true blue American heroes were in the wrong. Not only were they wrong in their approach to the problem, they were in fact PART of the problem! I began to realize that much of the conflict was surrounded in smoke and mirrors and that more disturbing was the fact that I clung to those illusionary tricks like my own life depended on it.

The first of the mirrors came down when I began to find myself relating to Elias in a very real way. I pushed against this idea and wouldn’t accept it until the last few pages of the story remained. I began to see a man relating candidly his struggles with where God was taking him and what his role was in God’s plan for his country. I have often found myself feeling as if my identity in Christ is on a continuum, it’s never set in one place and it continually grows and changes with me. I began to realize everyone experiences growing pains as they grow in their Christian identity. Certain truths are adopted easily and with very little distress to the believer. There are others that force the believer to face things in his life that are shadowy and contain many gray areas. Often times, I found that in each instance in which I related to Chacour on a personal level I was sent on a personal journey through doubt, conflict and resolution. Reading his struggles in black and white helped me realize that I do not have all the answers, nor am I ever going to have all the answers.

When it comes to answers I wish I had at least one that would sound reasonable in resolving the conflict in the Middle East. For so long I have been hearing about war and terrorism. So many lives have been lost over the years it makes my heart twist with sorrow. Israeli, Palestinian and American blood has been shed in what seems a hopeless cause. I was encouraged to see that people like Elias were fighting for peace, without picking up a gun. It is difficult to justify killing people in the name of peace. My heart hurts for the turmoil my brothers and sisters are enduring. All three militaries are war weary and ready to be done. The call for peace has been unanswered for too long and yet I see the harsh reality of the fact that there might never be peace.

Peace is a strange creature. When seeking peace, conflict always arises. As new information is entered into a person’s sphere of reality, that which aligns with a person’s personal truth is adopted. Information which contradicts or condemns, is railed against and wholeheartedly denied access to our cocoon of comfort. As truth keeps presenting itself, a person begins the long, sometimes arduous, battle for inner peace. As the battle rages on in the Middle East, peace remains a distant dream. There is hope one day the dream will be realized, but for now battle must continue.

Day 2 of Gut Spilling

This is her birthday. And yes, I was raised by a mother that believes you must have your nails done and hair coiffed before entering the hospital.

I was also lucky enough to require a scheduled C-Section which allowed me to put a call into my hairdresser and manicurist the day before I went in. I kind of skipped the whole labor and delivery thing. I just plain evicted her!





















This is one of the most recent photos I have of her.











The love I have for that little girl up there is more then I can ever hope to explain. That baby girl is the reason I am so happy and fulfilled today. When I found out she existed, I made a promise to her and myself that if she ever came looking for me, she wouldn't find a burn-out, broken, and depressed shell of a person. I vowed she would find a vibrant, healthy, happy woman.


I am well on the way to making that a reality. There are shadows of memories that trip me up sometimes, but I happily admit there are no longer DEMONS lurking in those shadows. I have conquered much but not on my own. That little girl's life led me the one I know as Lord and God.


People often ask if I'm worried about loving more babies after her. Anyone who's a mother reading this knows how silly that is! There is no way I could ever stop loving Maggie, AND there's no way the love I feel for her would hinder my ability to love my future sons or daughteres. That's the key! Maggie is my child, true, but she is NOT my daughter.


I am not the woman Maggie turns to when she needs her tears wiped. I am not the woman that loses sleep at night wondering if Maggie is going to be happy and healthy. I am not the woman Maggie will go wedding dress shopping with. I am not the woman who will rock Maggie's children to sleep.


I am the woman that gave Maggie life. I am the woman that provided nuture and love to Maggie long before she was aware of it. I am the woman that prays for Maggie behind the scenes and begs God to continue to pour blessings on her. I am the woman that has a connection to Maggie by blood.


Although, Maggie's mother and I do share some qualities. Both of lives were forever changed the moment we found out she existed. Her mother and I have an unspeakable and indescribable bond. We both love the same little girl more than any other little girl on this planet. We would both lay our lives down for the same little brunette baby. We both never want to see her cry, and both struggle with the understanding that she will.


I am deeply thankful for the experiences I have had in my life. I hit my knees every night thanking God for the hurdles I have been able to overcome with His help. I couldn't imagine my life today without those things in my past.


This song has had many meanings for me. At one time it was the one I played for Maggie. I placed the lyrics in her bassinet and sent them home with her parents. Currently, it best describes a prayer I say at night.

The Reason

I'm not a perfect person

There's many things I wish I didn't do

But I continue learning

I never meant to do those things to you

And so I have to say before I go

That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be

A reason to start over new and the reason is

You

I'm sorry that I hurt you

It's something I must live with everyday

And all the pain I put you through

I wish that I could take it all away

and be the one who catches all your tears

Thats why i need you to hear

I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be

A reason to start over new and the reason is

You

I'm not a perfect person

I never meant to do those things to you

And so I have to say before I go

That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be

A reason to start over new and the reason is

You

I've found a reason to show

A side of me you didn't know

A reason for all that I do

And the reason is

You

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I'm FAIRLY certain this is the last of the posts in this series. I'm not usually this nostalgic! It's actually been a loooong time since I've written like this about these things. (No, I'm not repressing, I pay my therapist big bucks to prevent that!! Hahaha.)


I like to think of these posts as word vomit, random thoughts and feelings organized and expressed using the English language.


This blog will soon be back to it's regularly scheduled Sassie Cassie-ness! Please stay tuned...

Another Gut Spillage

*sigh* I was hoping this emotional post wasn't going to come bubbling to the surface for a few more days, but here it is.

December 13, 2006 is an anniversary. A very important milestone in my life. If hadn't endured that day, I wouldn't be the woman I am today. In a strange concoction of life, sin and evil on the rocks with a twist of irony for flavor, I am sitting here today healthier and more at ease than I have ever been in my life.

I guess things just came to a boil tonight while I was talking with a few girls I've known for a while. I finally shared everything with them. The rape, Maggie, Joe, all the shit from the past year. Suddenly Lynne was sobbing and admitting that her sister had just been checked into a mental institution after being gang raped on Saturday. What do you say to that?!?!?!?!?!? Lynne kept telling me, "I understand how you feel"

I guess in some sick, sad way I was relieved. Finally, I had met someone that could relate to the hell I have been going through the past 3 years. (Wow. Hard to belive how long it's been!) I feel like I've been living under this dark cloud. I have always just chalked it up to depression. Depression I can handle.....shame? Well that's a different story.

I don't have many memories from my past due to the fact that I've repressed most of them after my parent's horrendous divorce. But there is one day in particular that I will ALWAYS be able to remember with the same amount of pain and anguish I felt the day it happened.

December 14, 2003.

That was the day I learned, through an AIM conversation, that I had been witnessed having sex with another guy....not Joe.

I remember how I felt when I slowly began to put the pieces together. I don't remember that. It suddenly felt like all the blood in my body had moved to my head and was now trying to escape out my ears. I would never have sex with someone else! I remember my feet feeling like they were floating off the ground. What the hell is going on?!?!?!?!? I remember looking at Joe's face and feeling like I was the worst person in the world. What happened last night? What am I not remembering?!?!?!? I remember him telling me that he was going to take me back to my dorm so he could sort through things alone. i was raped. I remember wanting to die.

A short couple months later, news of the growing Maggie came along. I tried to go back to school. I wanted to make it work. I wanted to prove to everyone that I had it all together....I could do this! I can't tell you how much time elapsed. Slowly but surely I was sliding into a dark depression. A depression that could only be detected by myself. On the outside I looked fine, on the inside I was black.

One day I woke from my stupor long enough to realize that I hadn't eaten in a week. It dawned on me that of all the people I knew, I myself posed the biggest threat to my daughter. I alone was going to be responsible for whether or not she lived. If I had kept going where I was going, I surely would have lost her. I had a developed a strange love-hate relationship. I loved her more then anything because she was my daughter....a part of me. I hated her with a blinding white passion because I couldn't hate her enough to kill her.

Sobbing, I called my mom and begged her to come get me. I told her she had to save me from this....she had to help me save my daughter.

I wish I could tell you, that after I left that enviroment, everything was peachy keen. It was far from it. As days turned into months and I began to look like I was smuggling a VW Bug under my shirt, I began to resent all the people around me. I hated Maggie for how she had ruined my life. I hated everyone my own age who got to live life normally....happily. I hated Joe for his ability to just walk away and forget it all. I hated God for hating me so much. And the hatred I felt for myself grew with every passing hour. Because I had made such reckless decisions, my daughter would never know her mother. I added her life to the long list of others that I had managed to ruin.

September 8, 2004 marked the day I became a mother. I have yet to see anything as beautiful as my daughter. I would burst into tears every time I looked into her face. The last night in the hospital, I begged the nurses to leave her in the room with me. All night I lay there with her in my arms, watching her sleep. This tiny little angel had been sent down from heaven and I loved her with my whole heart. I physically ached from the pain that I knew I was going to have to bear in the next twelve hours.

I'm glad to say that since September 11, 2004, I have never again felt as much pain as I felt that day. I watched the love of my life, my heart and soul, being carried away to a new life. A life that didn't include me. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

I remember the weight of her tiny body as I dressed her in pink from head to toe. Maggie, please don't hate me. I remember feeling her soft hair against my cheek. I love you more then you'll ever possibly know. I remember hearing the snap of her car seat straps and thinking they sounded like gunfire. I can't do this! I remember collapsing into my mother's arms as she was being carried away. Dear Lord, please don't make me do this. I remember screaming, "Oh my god! My baby! What have I done?" over and over again until my throat was raw. Please just let me die because I can't live without her. I remember crying until I passed out. Please just let this be a horrible dream...

For days I slept on the couch because I couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in my room alone. I couldn't imagine what it would be like waking up in my bed and not feeling her move around. I hated myself. I hated life. I hated everyone around me.

To this day, at random moments, my heart skips a beat and I want to double over in pain. I'll hear or say the name Maggie and for a moment I'll feel like I'm going to faint. After I came home from the hospital, I developed an eating disorder trying to control the pain that was overwhelming my days. Some days I swear I can still hear the sound of her gentle breathing, although the memory is slowly fading. I still get phantom kicks in my stomach. Sometimes I still wish I could have her back.

I've been through hell and I've made it back. What choice did I have? If I fell apart, two lives would have been lost.

A friend once said it best, "I live my life one day at a time, as depressed as I feel, I live it." That's all you can do. Failure is not an option. You press on, you deal with the consequences. I have conquered an eating disorder. I have found Christ. My sins have been forgiven. I have forgiven my rapist. I have forgiven myself. I have a relationship with Maggie's parents. I am four semesters from being handed my bachelor's degree. I have an amazing boyfriend. I have close friends. I have repaired relationships. I am so close to be being engaged I can SMELL the diamond!! ;-) Things couldn't be better.

The thing I've learned, life is too precious to walk away from. There are a lot of things ahead for me in the future. Marriage, motherhood, PhD, saving children. I have so many things too look forward to but...sometimes it helps when I look back.

The One in Which I Spill My Guts

I've been blogging for a long, long time (January 2003). It started as an escape--a place I retreated to in order to get my thoughts organized. Since that time, blogging evolved and began serving many other purposes. It became the manner in which I stayed in touch with people I loved but couldn't be near. Then blogging acted as a place to share thoughts with those very close to me in a way I was not able to in face to face situations.

Then it all went 'kablooey'! I blogged about a struggle I was having. I was beginning to depend on alcohol more and more and I began to document my battles. Some of them I won and I wrote about them. Other times I was defeated and I wrote about those times as well. Suddenly I found myself sitting across from the Resident Director of my dorm.

I was informed that I was not allowed to document my struggles. Why? Well when I entered Tiny Christian University I signed a document that bound me to a certain lifestyle for as long as I was a student. Basically no sex, drugs or alcohol. So after being told the staff "is very supportive of students stuck in sin battles," I was slapped with ONE CALENDAR year of 'Moral Probation' and sentenced to weekly meetings with a sappy, out of touch, sheltered student mentor. And once every month I have to meet with Residence Life staff to 'discuss my progress'.

I was informed that since I was a leader in the eyes of our campus community, it wasn't in everyone's best interest to see me struggling. I was told directly, "People know you! You can't be struggling with something like that!"

(Yes, I'm serious.) So what has this mess accomplished. Not a whole helluva lot. I still struggle with alcohol, I just hide it better. I finally quit writing about it and when I did that, I stopped acknowledging my drinking altogether. The meetings accomplished nothing except pushing me farther into my secret life and bringing out my depression and wreaking havoc in my own PROFESSIONAL therapy.

What did I learn? I need to write. I need to process. I need to deoompress. So here I am, hopefully somewhat hidden. We shall see.