Today is the anniversary of the day.
The day I sat in front of my laptop, weeping.
The day I felt you slip from my fingers.
The day I rubbed my eyes until they itched relentlessly, warm and raw.
The day I realized I'd never truly call you my "husband," no matter how much I believed my heart and soul to be yours.
The day you said to me, "I realize I haven't made you a priority these past few weeks, and I should have... but it's never going to be better than how it is now for you. There will always be someone else."
The day I realized everyone else had been right all these years.
The day I knew that my conscious decision to disbelieve their warnings had cost me my heart.
Today is the anniversary of the day.
The day I began to reclaim what it was like to be "Jess" sans anyone else's opionion, tagline, or possession.
The day I began to learn to smile again, to smile so hard that my dimples ached and my cheeks turned red.
The day I began to accept compliments from other men, and to realize I was worth their words and more.
The day I remembered what it was like to truly put my faith in God, that he would provide for me-- not you.
The day I got my groove back, my life back, and my heart back, though a little bruised and torn.
To you, I have only one thing to say in remembrance of this day:
Thank you.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
And we interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...
...to bring you this update from the lowest, deepest depths of the rumor mill at my job.
Ok, ok, ok... so I know that I had promised a blog about disability pride as the next issue on my agenda, BUT I have a real treat for you today. One that you will not believe, because my own ears are still ringing in shock from the news.
PREFACE
I don't believe I've ever mentioned here that I work in an office where the staff is 90% female... and as stereotypical as I'm about to sound... just take my word for it when I say that the majority of females like to gossip. The ladies with whom I share my work are no exception to this general rule.
Knowing the affinity for gossip held by these ladies who lunch -- upon whom I bestow this title because the majority of their gossiping takes place between the hours of 12 pm and 2 pm at the long rectangular lunch table just outside my cubicle-- I have chosen to confide in only one person in the office. The person with whom I share my deepest thoughts and secrets, despite being female, does not lunch with the aforementioned ladies.
___________________________________________________________________
So imagine my surprise today when my good friend comes to me and tells me she has heard a rumor comprised of the following information:
1. I am pregnant.
2. Baby Daddy is a guy who I met online and have mentioned in my blog before (see first entry). I'd only ever mentioned this person one time at work (in passing) and I have in all actuality never been in the same phsyical location with him in order to say hello, let alone conceive a child.*+
3. My parents would be upset, because this child would be of a mixed heritage.**
Once my friend had approached me with this rumor-- which she prefaced with an "I'm sure this isn't true, but..."-- we had a good laugh at the expense of the ladies who lunch, and remarked on the crazy soap opera that my life had apparently become in their hands.
I wondered what could possibly have prompted this person to spread such a rumor (I wasn't told who she is, but I am fairly certain I know). It reminds me of high school in a way. Back then, I was much more generous with the information I'd divulge about myself, because I was still under the impression that most people were genuine and good at heart, and would never tell untruths about me for no reason whatsoever.
I'm not saying that I was a perfect little girl; I wasn't. I was a normal teenager, and while I was a truthful person, an exaggeration or embellishment of events here or there had been known to cross my lips. This was mostly because I was looking for the same thing every other teenager in Podunkville, KY--and in Every City, Everystate-- was looking for. Acceptance.
In a town where there was little to do and even fewer places to go, the topics of conversation were usually sex and livestock, though they were not often discussed simultaneously. People from my past will tell you that I graduated high school with a litany of half-truths surrounding my relationship with the person I'd classify as my high school sweetheart. Some of them I knew about; some of them I didn't. It wasn't until I graduated high school that I learned from my mother a series of bizarre (untrue) rumors surrounding certain activities in a janitor's closet had actually gotten back to her.
In my adult years, I have learned to be a bit more choosy about the people to whom I open myself and truly let inside. My lack of a poker face and the frequency of my Facebook updates may make it seem as though I'm an open book, but the majority of my emotion bubbles below the surface, and can only be tapped by a select few of my closest confidants. I can count these people on one hand.
With that said, I laugh heartily in the face of this most recent crazy story, told by a person who doesn't know me-- a tale full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
_______________________________________________________________________
*And if I had been in the same physical location as this person and had the opportunity to conceive a child, it would not have happened, as I believe in (a) monogamy, (b) marriage before children, IF children are to be had, and (c) knowing the middle name of anyone who could potentially father my offspring.
** This would never be the case. The person who started this rumor does not know me and certainly does not know my parents. This, other than one rather crude comment made about me to my friend, which I am choosing not to include here, was the most disturbing part of the rumor to me.
+ To Baby Daddy--
A. If you're reading this, it seems you owe me some child support. Pay up.
B. Which of us is to be the first to contact CNN/FoxNews/MSNBC about the second immaculate conception? There is money to be made and perhaps a Lifetime Movie Network deal to be signed, possibly eliminating the need for the aforementioned child support payments.
C. What's your middle name?
D. Hope your girlfriend doesn't mind.
________________________________________________________________
Ok, ok, ok... so I know that I had promised a blog about disability pride as the next issue on my agenda, BUT I have a real treat for you today. One that you will not believe, because my own ears are still ringing in shock from the news.
PREFACE
I don't believe I've ever mentioned here that I work in an office where the staff is 90% female... and as stereotypical as I'm about to sound... just take my word for it when I say that the majority of females like to gossip. The ladies with whom I share my work are no exception to this general rule.
Knowing the affinity for gossip held by these ladies who lunch -- upon whom I bestow this title because the majority of their gossiping takes place between the hours of 12 pm and 2 pm at the long rectangular lunch table just outside my cubicle-- I have chosen to confide in only one person in the office. The person with whom I share my deepest thoughts and secrets, despite being female, does not lunch with the aforementioned ladies.
___________________________________________________________________
So imagine my surprise today when my good friend comes to me and tells me she has heard a rumor comprised of the following information:
1. I am pregnant.
2. Baby Daddy is a guy who I met online and have mentioned in my blog before (see first entry). I'd only ever mentioned this person one time at work (in passing) and I have in all actuality never been in the same phsyical location with him in order to say hello, let alone conceive a child.*+
3. My parents would be upset, because this child would be of a mixed heritage.**
Once my friend had approached me with this rumor-- which she prefaced with an "I'm sure this isn't true, but..."-- we had a good laugh at the expense of the ladies who lunch, and remarked on the crazy soap opera that my life had apparently become in their hands.
I wondered what could possibly have prompted this person to spread such a rumor (I wasn't told who she is, but I am fairly certain I know). It reminds me of high school in a way. Back then, I was much more generous with the information I'd divulge about myself, because I was still under the impression that most people were genuine and good at heart, and would never tell untruths about me for no reason whatsoever.
I'm not saying that I was a perfect little girl; I wasn't. I was a normal teenager, and while I was a truthful person, an exaggeration or embellishment of events here or there had been known to cross my lips. This was mostly because I was looking for the same thing every other teenager in Podunkville, KY--and in Every City, Everystate-- was looking for. Acceptance.
In a town where there was little to do and even fewer places to go, the topics of conversation were usually sex and livestock, though they were not often discussed simultaneously. People from my past will tell you that I graduated high school with a litany of half-truths surrounding my relationship with the person I'd classify as my high school sweetheart. Some of them I knew about; some of them I didn't. It wasn't until I graduated high school that I learned from my mother a series of bizarre (untrue) rumors surrounding certain activities in a janitor's closet had actually gotten back to her.
In my adult years, I have learned to be a bit more choosy about the people to whom I open myself and truly let inside. My lack of a poker face and the frequency of my Facebook updates may make it seem as though I'm an open book, but the majority of my emotion bubbles below the surface, and can only be tapped by a select few of my closest confidants. I can count these people on one hand.
With that said, I laugh heartily in the face of this most recent crazy story, told by a person who doesn't know me-- a tale full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
_______________________________________________________________________
*And if I had been in the same physical location as this person and had the opportunity to conceive a child, it would not have happened, as I believe in (a) monogamy, (b) marriage before children, IF children are to be had, and (c) knowing the middle name of anyone who could potentially father my offspring.
** This would never be the case. The person who started this rumor does not know me and certainly does not know my parents. This, other than one rather crude comment made about me to my friend, which I am choosing not to include here, was the most disturbing part of the rumor to me.
+ To Baby Daddy--
A. If you're reading this, it seems you owe me some child support. Pay up.
B. Which of us is to be the first to contact CNN/FoxNews/MSNBC about the second immaculate conception? There is money to be made and perhaps a Lifetime Movie Network deal to be signed, possibly eliminating the need for the aforementioned child support payments.
C. What's your middle name?
D. Hope your girlfriend doesn't mind.
________________________________________________________________
Thursday, May 20, 2010
"May I speak with Ms. Hunt, please?"
My office is not often a very Jessica-friendly place to work, and someday, I plan to blog about everything, if for no other reason than for posterity. Today is not that day though. Instead, I write to describe a small scene from yesterday, which played out in a somewhat funny, somewhat disturbing manner.
NB: My usual description filled full of frivolous detail will be spared for this entry as I don't want to provide any qualitative information that might identify any of the parties involved.
I was in charge of a mediation yesterday between two parties, one civilian, one military. I have been communicating with both of them by phone and e-mail for the past month and a half to coordinate and schedule the mediation. I have introduced myself as Jessica Hunt each time and signed my e-mails with the same name.
The parties enter our office yesterday; I introduce myself as Jessica and point them to the room where the mediator is already preparing for the day's festivities. I have a somewhat lengthy conversation with the military individual.
Fast forward to around 1 at the conclusion of the mediation: I have drafted settlement terms for the parties to look over and sign and a co-worker takes them back to the parties because I am called away to do something else.
The co-worker comes back and says, "(Insert name of military individual) would like to see you."
I walk back toward the parties; the individual in question sees me and asks, "If possible, could I speak with Ms. Hunt?"
"I am Ms. Hunt," I say, watching an awkward, confused, embarassed wrinkle creep its way onto his brow.
He says, "I didn't realize...."
After showing the parties out, I walk back to my desk, somewhat taken aback. I explain to my co-worker what had just happened.
He exclaims, "What?? That makes no sense." I gave him a quizzical look. He continued, "He asked me to see Ms. Hunt, and that's why I sent you back."
Then I begin to wonder. If this individual didn't think I was Ms. Hunt, the case manager for this mediation, despite being given every indication that I was, who did he think I was? And why didn't he think I was Ms. Hunt?
At first, I assumed that maybe it was because I look young for my age. I was dressed very professionally, wearing a nice shirt, slacks makeup and earrings. Maybe he thought I was an intern??
Then I thought that maybe the crutches were throwing him off. I don't usually like to have that sort of chip-on-my-shoulder, me-against-the-world internal dialogue. But after three years of being in this environment, the majority of people with disabilities in my building do not have jobs that would allow them to interact with the Army population on a day-to-day basis. Maybe he didn't expect to see me in that role?
This thought process brought me back to a conversation that I had while at a Youth Leadership Development Conference in Atlanta last week. The most difficult thing to change about the way society treats people with disabilities are the attitudes society has toward disability and the inability many people have to see the person first.
If you have a developmental disability (one acquired before you reach the age of majority) then it becomes difficult for you not to internalize what you hear other say about you or how you see them reacting toward you because you grow up hearing negative things from various people about your disability from a very young age(who those people are really depends on your individual life experiences) . Even if you were born with the thickest skin in the world (figuratively speaking) it would be very difficult for you to go through life without ever internalizing one negative thought or action executed by another person, because of or in regard to your disability.
That's why it's important to teach young people with disabilities a sense of pride (confidence) and a strong sense of self-- a self that includes and embraces their differences. Young people should learn to be proud of their disability, in that they can grow up to become people who see their disabilities for what they are and accept them, but who are also cognisant of all of the positive opportunities, characcter traits, and unique abilities their disabilities have allowed them to contribute to society.
Which is a great segue into next time's topic: "What's with me and all this disability pride stuff?"
NB: My usual description filled full of frivolous detail will be spared for this entry as I don't want to provide any qualitative information that might identify any of the parties involved.
I was in charge of a mediation yesterday between two parties, one civilian, one military. I have been communicating with both of them by phone and e-mail for the past month and a half to coordinate and schedule the mediation. I have introduced myself as Jessica Hunt each time and signed my e-mails with the same name.
The parties enter our office yesterday; I introduce myself as Jessica and point them to the room where the mediator is already preparing for the day's festivities. I have a somewhat lengthy conversation with the military individual.
Fast forward to around 1 at the conclusion of the mediation: I have drafted settlement terms for the parties to look over and sign and a co-worker takes them back to the parties because I am called away to do something else.
The co-worker comes back and says, "(Insert name of military individual) would like to see you."
I walk back toward the parties; the individual in question sees me and asks, "If possible, could I speak with Ms. Hunt?"
"I am Ms. Hunt," I say, watching an awkward, confused, embarassed wrinkle creep its way onto his brow.
He says, "I didn't realize...."
After showing the parties out, I walk back to my desk, somewhat taken aback. I explain to my co-worker what had just happened.
He exclaims, "What?? That makes no sense." I gave him a quizzical look. He continued, "He asked me to see Ms. Hunt, and that's why I sent you back."
Then I begin to wonder. If this individual didn't think I was Ms. Hunt, the case manager for this mediation, despite being given every indication that I was, who did he think I was? And why didn't he think I was Ms. Hunt?
At first, I assumed that maybe it was because I look young for my age. I was dressed very professionally, wearing a nice shirt, slacks makeup and earrings. Maybe he thought I was an intern??
Then I thought that maybe the crutches were throwing him off. I don't usually like to have that sort of chip-on-my-shoulder, me-against-the-world internal dialogue. But after three years of being in this environment, the majority of people with disabilities in my building do not have jobs that would allow them to interact with the Army population on a day-to-day basis. Maybe he didn't expect to see me in that role?
This thought process brought me back to a conversation that I had while at a Youth Leadership Development Conference in Atlanta last week. The most difficult thing to change about the way society treats people with disabilities are the attitudes society has toward disability and the inability many people have to see the person first.
If you have a developmental disability (one acquired before you reach the age of majority) then it becomes difficult for you not to internalize what you hear other say about you or how you see them reacting toward you because you grow up hearing negative things from various people about your disability from a very young age(who those people are really depends on your individual life experiences) . Even if you were born with the thickest skin in the world (figuratively speaking) it would be very difficult for you to go through life without ever internalizing one negative thought or action executed by another person, because of or in regard to your disability.
That's why it's important to teach young people with disabilities a sense of pride (confidence) and a strong sense of self-- a self that includes and embraces their differences. Young people should learn to be proud of their disability, in that they can grow up to become people who see their disabilities for what they are and accept them, but who are also cognisant of all of the positive opportunities, characcter traits, and unique abilities their disabilities have allowed them to contribute to society.
Which is a great segue into next time's topic: "What's with me and all this disability pride stuff?"
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Playlist for Running
Because I'm "running" 3 races so far this summer, this blog entry is fortunately (or unfortunately) dedicated to my running playlist (read: certainly more for my benefit than anyone else). I wanted to have a central place to refer to the playlist I have been steadily creating for race day use. If anyone has any additions or or thoughts on how to improve my selection, please let me know.
Kanye West,Stronger
Aerosmith, Love in an Elevator
Lil Wayne Got Money
Lady Gaga-- Paparazzi
Bad Romance
Rihanna-- Disturbia
Breaking Dishes
Pink-- Why Did I Ever Like You
Christina-- Get Mine, Get Yours
Aguilera Dirty
Outkast-- Hey Ya
Def Leopard- Pour Some Sugar on Me
Britney-- Piece of Me
Yeah Yeahs-- Heads Will Roll
We The-- Check Yes Juliet
Kings
Spill Canvas-- All Over You
Reckless Abandonment
Appreciation and the Bomb
Plain White-- Hate (I Really Don't Like You)
Ts Our Time Now
Kings of Leon-- Sex on Fire
Ting Tangs-- That's Not My Name
Sugarcult-- Stuck in America
I Wanna Be Sedated
Beyonce-- Single Ladies
Young-- Bedrock
Money
Evanescence-- Bring Me To Life
Going Under
Reliant K-- Who I Am Hates Who I've Been
Owl City-- Hot Air Balloon
VV Brown-- Shark in the Water
Lifehouse-- Halfway Gone
To Be Continued....
Kanye West,Stronger
Aerosmith, Love in an Elevator
Lil Wayne Got Money
Lady Gaga-- Paparazzi
Bad Romance
Rihanna-- Disturbia
Breaking Dishes
Pink-- Why Did I Ever Like You
Christina-- Get Mine, Get Yours
Aguilera Dirty
Outkast-- Hey Ya
Def Leopard- Pour Some Sugar on Me
Britney-- Piece of Me
Yeah Yeahs-- Heads Will Roll
We The-- Check Yes Juliet
Kings
Spill Canvas-- All Over You
Reckless Abandonment
Appreciation and the Bomb
Plain White-- Hate (I Really Don't Like You)
Ts Our Time Now
Kings of Leon-- Sex on Fire
Ting Tangs-- That's Not My Name
Sugarcult-- Stuck in America
I Wanna Be Sedated
Beyonce-- Single Ladies
Young-- Bedrock
Money
Evanescence-- Bring Me To Life
Going Under
Reliant K-- Who I Am Hates Who I've Been
Owl City-- Hot Air Balloon
VV Brown-- Shark in the Water
Lifehouse-- Halfway Gone
To Be Continued....
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The Waiting Game
It seems I'm waiting for a lot of things in life these days. I'm waiting for the DC Bar to finish my character and fitness check, even though it's been over a year since I submitted the last "correction" to my application. I'm waiting for an acceptance/rejection letter from Georgetown. I'm waiting to find a better job opportunity than the one I have (I've been waiting on that one for quite a while.) This past week, I waited all week to hear back from someone who I thought would call me.... and he didn't.
I've discovered that all this waiting does nothing but allow me to focus on what I don't have... and that is not healthy. It is hard to legitimately tell myself that I will stop letting the "waiting game" play me as much as is has lately. I'm somewhat of a chronic worrier, and I think that telling myself I will worry less would be making a promise I couldn't keep. So instead, I'm more cognisant of when I let my waiting worries get me down in the dumps... and am repeating an old practice that I started back in high school.
Every time I start to worry, I repeat Matthew 6:33 over and over in my head. "Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and all these things shall be added unto you." It would be unfortunate if I actually posted the number of times I've had to repeat this verse to myself in just one day... but participating in this exercise always drives home to me the truth. That I wait... and I worry too much about waiting.
Justin and I fought about this often, because when I would want to talk about my worries, he would always get frustrated and ask me what kind of Christian was I who couldn't just put my faith in God at all times that He would give me what I need. Even though at the time I saw it as him just attacking the imperfections in my Christian life, he had a point. I don't doubt God outright by thinking that He won't give me what I need, but I dislike feeling that I'm so "out of control" in some areas of my life. I should be more willing to just trust that He is in control and let be what must.
I can't control when I am sworn into the DC Bar.
I can't control whether I find a good job.
I can't control whether I get into one of the best schools in the country.
I can't control whether a man who I really like feels the same about me.
I'm always going to be worried about what I can't control in my life.... because I am human and that is one of my flaws. So, my new goal, other than endlessly repeating Matthew 6:33 under my breath, is to focus on what I can control.
I can control how I treat others.
I can control how Godly I act.
I can control what I can do to improve situations for myself and others.
And I can control what I do and say each day to improve my relationship with God.
After all, I know that I must seek Him first to achieve anything.
I've discovered that all this waiting does nothing but allow me to focus on what I don't have... and that is not healthy. It is hard to legitimately tell myself that I will stop letting the "waiting game" play me as much as is has lately. I'm somewhat of a chronic worrier, and I think that telling myself I will worry less would be making a promise I couldn't keep. So instead, I'm more cognisant of when I let my waiting worries get me down in the dumps... and am repeating an old practice that I started back in high school.
Every time I start to worry, I repeat Matthew 6:33 over and over in my head. "Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and all these things shall be added unto you." It would be unfortunate if I actually posted the number of times I've had to repeat this verse to myself in just one day... but participating in this exercise always drives home to me the truth. That I wait... and I worry too much about waiting.
Justin and I fought about this often, because when I would want to talk about my worries, he would always get frustrated and ask me what kind of Christian was I who couldn't just put my faith in God at all times that He would give me what I need. Even though at the time I saw it as him just attacking the imperfections in my Christian life, he had a point. I don't doubt God outright by thinking that He won't give me what I need, but I dislike feeling that I'm so "out of control" in some areas of my life. I should be more willing to just trust that He is in control and let be what must.
I can't control when I am sworn into the DC Bar.
I can't control whether I find a good job.
I can't control whether I get into one of the best schools in the country.
I can't control whether a man who I really like feels the same about me.
I'm always going to be worried about what I can't control in my life.... because I am human and that is one of my flaws. So, my new goal, other than endlessly repeating Matthew 6:33 under my breath, is to focus on what I can control.
I can control how I treat others.
I can control how Godly I act.
I can control what I can do to improve situations for myself and others.
And I can control what I do and say each day to improve my relationship with God.
After all, I know that I must seek Him first to achieve anything.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Shameless Plug: Race for the Cure
Global Race: June 5th 2010. National Mall.
Visit my site to help me reach my fundraising goal!
http://globalrace.info-komen.org/site/TRC/GlobalRaceForTheCure/GlobalRace?pg=peditor&fr_id=1370&px=6854875
Visit my site to help me reach my fundraising goal!
http://globalrace.info-komen.org/site/TRC/GlobalRaceForTheCure/GlobalRace?pg=peditor&fr_id=1370&px=6854875
In my head...
I've had a lot to think about lately. Natural disasters. Earthquakes. Coal mines. Health care. Despite my crazy, erratic Facebook posts, which usually depend more on my mood than what's actually going on in my head at the moment, I do keep up with current events. In fact, yesterday was the first day I had been home late enough in the morning to watch part of a morning news program.
Usually, I leave home for work so early each day that the only things playing on the television are Nick at Nite, Dora the Explorer, and those really creepy "The-Shining"-like infomercials about teaching your 3-month-old to read. Yesterday, I learned about a father who rescued his drowning baby James-Bond-style after she fell from a sightseeing ship, a guy who shot a high schooler after the kid's ball accidentally grazed his car during a game of touch football, and a California seismologist who assures me that we have 13 more earthquakes to look forward to this year, as our yearly total is normally around 17. With the exception of the baby-saving story, it was all pretty depressing.
I wish there could be some sort of program that gave us all the depressing news and then told us what we as individual viewers could do to help rectify or address the situations. I know that prayer always works wonders and that if I'm ever unsure of what to do to help someone in need, I can pray. At the same time though, part of me wanted to send a card to the fallen high schooler's family; another part of me wanted to do more to make sure those I know are well-prepared in the event of a natural disaster (earthquake, tornado, whatever.)
I realize that sending a card wouldn't really do much to ease the pain for the kid's grief-stricken family and that there is really only so much preparing for a natural disaster one can do, but sometimes, I think doing a little bit of something is better than doing a whole lot of nothing.
Usually, I leave home for work so early each day that the only things playing on the television are Nick at Nite, Dora the Explorer, and those really creepy "The-Shining"-like infomercials about teaching your 3-month-old to read. Yesterday, I learned about a father who rescued his drowning baby James-Bond-style after she fell from a sightseeing ship, a guy who shot a high schooler after the kid's ball accidentally grazed his car during a game of touch football, and a California seismologist who assures me that we have 13 more earthquakes to look forward to this year, as our yearly total is normally around 17. With the exception of the baby-saving story, it was all pretty depressing.
I wish there could be some sort of program that gave us all the depressing news and then told us what we as individual viewers could do to help rectify or address the situations. I know that prayer always works wonders and that if I'm ever unsure of what to do to help someone in need, I can pray. At the same time though, part of me wanted to send a card to the fallen high schooler's family; another part of me wanted to do more to make sure those I know are well-prepared in the event of a natural disaster (earthquake, tornado, whatever.)
I realize that sending a card wouldn't really do much to ease the pain for the kid's grief-stricken family and that there is really only so much preparing for a natural disaster one can do, but sometimes, I think doing a little bit of something is better than doing a whole lot of nothing.
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