Soul in Yearning: Fostering & Adoption

The world that we live in is not a world that I am happy about. You would think that as a society we would be more evolved, but the truth of the matter is that we are not where we need to be. Not just in America, but everywhere. Racism is still lingering around, causing harm and pain everywhere you look. People who belong to the LGBTQ+ community are being told by others that they love that they made “the wrong choice” or that “they are not good enough.” Women are still fighting for their rights. People who are seeking asylum in “safe havens” are being turned away for not having thousands of dollars to pay to legally be there. This world is not where it needs to be. 

As a woman, I can admit that things have improved, and I can thank the women of the past who gave me the opportunities that I now have. I can vote, I can obtain birth control, I can work any job that any man can work, and I can speak my mind. (With that being said, we cannot deny that human trafficking, child marriage, and slavery is still a horrifying reality in our world.) So because of the rights that I have, I can have any career that I want. I can be a doctor, a contractor, a history professor, whatever I want. 

Now with that being said, I don’t think there was ever a time where I have wanted to run towards a certain career path. It is interesting because there are women out there who said “I can’t wait to become a nurse” who became nurses. The same with teachers, accountants, business owners, etc. That was never me. I love to write, and I am making a career out of that, but it’s not my biggest dream. Every time I publish a piece that I am proud of I do feel my self-esteem going up, but it’s not enough where I feel like I really have accomplished a dream. 

My dream has always been something that you still could consider to be a “job.” And from what I hear, it is one of the most challenging jobs around. I have always, and when I say always I truly mean ALWAYS, wanted to be a stay at home mom. I remember being a young girl and playing with baby dolls and feeling as if I were on cloud nine. I remember thinking of names and sticking with those names for years. Penelope and Oliver. I even had the nicknames picked out. I used to daydream about finding out that I was pregnant and telling my partner, and us crying for hours due to the elation that we felt. (The dramatics) To this day, I still have recurring dreams of pregnancy and birth, and my husband and I holding our child for the first time. Those dreams are starting to fade though, and new dreams are starting to come forth. And I love them and yearn for them just as much. 

I found out a few months ago that it would be highly unlikely for me to conceive and carry my own child. You would think that it would hurt. You would think that it felt as if a dagger was plunged right into my heart. But I have known that the likelihood of me having biological children was slim to none since I was a young teenager. I have PCOS, which is Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, which makes it very difficult to conceive. I have to take birth control in order to get my period every month, otherwise, I could go months in-between periods. I am not ovulating if I am not getting my period, and in order to get my period consistently, I need to be on birth control, which will prevent me from getting pregnant. The fucking irony, am I right?  My doctor said “sure, you can lose weight, but your body still won’t be able to carry a child safely.” At one point my husband and I went probably two years without using birth control or condoms, and yet here I am. Childfree. The woman who has dreamed about being a mother for her entire life, (well, for as long as can remember) can’t have children. I feel as if I am the leading character in a tragedy.

I made my peace long ago with alternative ways of expanding our family, and to be honest, thinking about those opportunities bring the same, if not more, excitement with the notion of bringing tiny humans into our world. There is a way where my husband and I could have a biological child, and that is through surrogacy. Not only will that be difficult in more ways than one, but it’s also costly. My husband and I are a younger couple, so dropping tens of thousands of dollars on something that is more likely to not work is out of the question. So then I started researching and looking into other options. Then I found my answer, and that was when my soul lit up. Adoption. Fostering. Foster to adopt. That is the answer. That is what I have spent my entire life looking for. My flame came back and it was brighter than ever, and I deep dived into what that world would be like and what kind of parent I could be to my child(ren.) Then I started daydreaming of new moments. I started daydreaming of the moment when Stephen (my husband) and I received the phone call that we were matched with a child. I started thinking about learning everything that there is to know about them, including their dreams and aspirations. I started to think about how I can teach them about values and morals, and how I would show them that it is okay to stand up for what you believe in, including yourself. I want to show them that this world isn’t perfect, but it sure is beautiful. I envision giving them everything that I have just to watch them smile for a few moments, and my heart starts to melt. 

I feel like I love a child that I don’t even have yet. I don’t wake up at the butt crack of dawn to wake my child up for school. I don’t hear “mommy” yet. I have five furchildren, and I know that they love me and my heart is so full because of them, but I want to be a mother to human children so, so, so badly. Instead of pregnancy dreams, I dream of a young boy. Ten to be exact. And I see him in the dead of night multiple times a week every week. And then I think about him all day long and I yearn for him. I know my son is out there in the world just waiting for me to find him. Little does he know, he is already so loved. 

For years I warned my husband that there was always a chance that we would never parent biological children, and he always would say “Don’t worry Bebe. We will be parents no matter what.” But I think he held on to hope despite his encouraging words. I think this because of his tone after my gynecologist appointment a few months back. You could hear the shock and the sadness after I told him what my doctor had said. For me, it was important to focus on how Stephen was feeling after hearing that information rather than placing focus on myself. I had already worked past that painful information. I was able to embrace our new reality with open arms and accept that we will be parents, just not through blood. Stephen, as much as he was always supportive of the idea of adoption, still was hoping that there would be a medical miracle and we would conceive. I asked him what he needed from me, I tried to comfort him the best that I could, and I gave him time to process the information before bringing up the next steps. I wanted him to work through his pain, and I wanted to help him the best way that I could. 

A few months went by and we started talking about when we should start the process of fostering. Our goal is to foster to adopt, but we are aware of how difficult and lengthy of a process that can be. It doesn’t matter to us what ethnicity our children are, it doesn’t matter to us if they are apart of the LGBTQ+ community, we will welcome any child that needs and wants a loving home. Our goal is for adoption, but we are more than happy to foster and open our home to children who need one. For a little bit, we stalled on starting the process of becoming parents simply because we didn’t know when the right time would be. The reality is there never will be the perfect time to become parents. All we know is that we are ready now, and we are willing to do whatever it takes. 

So we filled out an inquiry with DCFS, and now our journey has officially begun. I am so unbelievably filled with excitement, eagerness, anxiety, and nerves. The only fear that I have is that Stephen and I won’t be approved, but I know that we will be okay. I keep telling myself that in eight to twelve months, all of this will be in the past and I can officially enjoy the present. I can’t wait to see my children, and I can’t wait for this phase to begin. 

I love the fact that women are being so open with infertility these days. I love the fact that I don’t feel ashamed for not being able to have biological children. I want to be able to share and document this process because I don’t want anyone to feel helpless when it comes to being infertile. Also, I think it is important to know what going through the process of fostering and adoption is like. 

Whatever faith you belong to, or even if you don’t belong to any religion, could you please send out positive vibes and energy, prayers, or phrases of manifestation for us? It would be the greatest gift that you could give Stephen and me. I truly believe that one day very, very soon we will be parents, but a little extra boost would be extraordinary. 

Anyways, hearing the news that you can’t have biological children shouldn’t devastate you to the point of giving up. Depending on your perspective, it could actually be really beautiful. Your child, no matter who and where they came from, was destined to be yours. Your souls were meant to find and be with each other. Just remember that the soul of a human being is superior to blood.

Breathe

I died on August 27th,1862. My wife held me as I took my last breath, while still attempting to save my life by holding her hands over my stab wounds. The last thing I heard her say was: “John! No, God no give him back to me! John!” I closed my eyes, saw black, and then that was that. An unknown amount of time later, I woke up, remembered that I had died, and then broke myself out of a wooden casket that was laid to rest six feet under the ground. It was difficult breaking myself out of the box and digging myself out from under the earth, but not needing to breathe made things a bit easier. 

According to a newspaper that I later saw lying on the ground, I arose on the date August 27th, 1863. I walked towards things that were familiar. Everything looked the same. The sun was starting to set, and the moon was ready and willing to take its place. The crickets were having their nightly conversations, the rats were running around scavenging for sustenance, and the locals were gathered at the town pub for their daily ale and drunken shenanigans. It appears that life never halted when I died, but I never would have expected it to. 

I walked the uneven cobblestone road until I found my desired location. Home. It was nothing to be proud of, for it was a humble dwelling, but it was home nonetheless. I stood there just looking at it. It was exactly the same as it was the last time I saw it. Well, with one exception. If you peered through the front window a year ago you would have seen a married couple in complete bliss. We would have been dancing to the sound of nothing, just to our bliss. We would have been sitting in our chairs near the fireplace reading the daily paper while listening to the wood crackle and the flames turned it to ash. You would have seen me unexpectedly grab her and ever so gently kiss her forehead, cheeks, nose, and then her lips. We had love in that house. Now all I see is pain and agony. I see her sitting by the fireplace, but there is no fire. There is no daily paper. All she is doing is sitting in what used to be my chair with what used to be my blanket just staring at nothing. Watching a home that used to be so lively now feeling so desolate of any form of happiness was something that I could no longer bear to witness, so I started to walk up to the front door. 

I knocked. Although this used to be our home, this was her home now. The wait for her to open the door was the most anxiety I have felt in a long while. I haven’t felt this on edge since August 27th, 1862. I could hear her walking to the door, with each creak in the floorboards telling me she was one step closer. Then the door was suddenly open, and I saw her for the first time in a year. 

We just stared at one another. There was shock, grief, doubt, and confusion in her eyes. All I felt was the need to hold her. 

John?” She said with an immense amount of disbelief. 

“Yes, my love. Oh, how I have missed you…” I took a step forward to her, and with my arms reached outward ready for an embrace, she took three steps back. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, this would be her initial reaction. Her dead husband, alive a year after his fatal stabbing. 

“I don’t know what magicks you have used, but if you think I am going to fall for this trick you surely are mad. Get out of my house. NOW.”

At this point, I could see the fury in her eyes. She was sobbing, shivering from this overwhelming emotion. What am I supposed to say to her to convince her that it was truly me? 

“Hazel, my dear, I cannot imagine what the sight of me must have you feeling. Believe me when I say when I woke up in that wooden box beneath the earth I was struck with a profound sensation myself. What can I say to you to help you? What can I do? What do you need from me?” I was desperate at this point. I just wanted her to know, and believe, that it was truly me. Resurrected from the dead. I found myself on my knees, just pleading for her to listen. She just stood there. Looking at me in terror. 

“My John died one year ago today, right here, in this very room. A rabid woman came in and stabbed him in the chest more times than I count with a rusty old knife. His blood was everywhere, in fact, the stains are underneath this rug. I felt his last breath leave his lungs as I tried to hold his wounds shut with my bare hands. I laid there, on top of his corpse, for hours until the coroner forced me to back away so that they could take his body away from our home. I lived through his death. I have grieved his passing, and I have spent countless hours talking to him at his grave. And you have the audacity to come into my home with your magicks and pretend like you are my dead husband back from the grave? You disgust me.” She was hysterical at this point. She was full of rage and had tears rolling down her face. She spat at me and then walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. 

“I will not tell you again, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!

And so I left, not saying a word, feeling lost. I don’t know what I expected, but surely that was not it. In the life before my ultimate death, I was never the most clever man, and it appears that that fact about me has remained. 

I walked to the pub, where I could still hear cackles of laughter. As a dead man, I had no money, but certainly, someone would take pity on me and help me out with a place to sleep. It was dark now, and the dimly lit streets were a pathway to hopefully some sort of comfort. I reached the pub, opened the door, and walked in. 

I saw familiar faces laughing, embracing, eating, and reading. Life truly has kept moving forward in my absence. As I kept striding my way through the pub to who I believe is the innkeeper, I started to hear whispers.

Is that… That can’t be. No that can’t be John, can it?”

Don’t be daft, John has been in the ground for a year now at this point.”

Who is that foul man?”

“Excuse me, stranger, who are you?”

I turned around and saw a face that I had forgotten about. Many years ago I worked with this man as a farm laborer.  We hadn’t worked together long, just long enough to put seeds in the ground for harvest. Back then he was a man of few words, and I hope that he was also a man of few memories. 

“Just passing through, thanks.” 

“What is your name, sir?” 

He just wouldn’t give up. Do I lie? Do I come up with a false identity? 

“My name is John.”

“And your surname?”

“Listen, sir, as I said I am just passing through. I have been traveling for some time now and would like to just a moment to myself if it isn’t too much to ask.” 

All I heard was a “hmph” come from him, and I knew that my wish of solitude had been granted. I finally made my way to the back of the pub to who I believed was the innkeeper. 

“Excuse me, hello are you the innkeeper?” 

“Yes, what do you want?”

“Yes, thank you, my name is John and I was wondering if you had an extra bed?”

She looked at me up and down with a look of disgust on her face. I had a gut-wrenching feeling that this was not going to go well. 

“Yes, I do. Have you got any money?”

“No, I am afraid that I used the rest of it at the last inn.” A little white lie wasn’t going to hurt anyone. 

“Ahhh I see. So that innkeeper got paid for their services, and I am expected to just give away handouts? No money, no bed.”

“Yes well, perhaps we can work something out. Do you need help with dishes? Cleaning up a bit? I can do labor in exchange for a bed.”

“Once again, no money, no bed. Get out of my pub.”

I left with disappointment. I had no idea why I was back again, and now I have nowhere to stay for the night. I decided to head back towards where I came from, the cemetery. As I was walking I contemplated why I was here on this earth again. Was it God? Was it a medical miracle? Was I never really dead, just asleep? I tried to think about what was going through my mind when I was in the ground, but there was nothing. It was black. So why was I here?

I was close to the cemetery when I started to hear footsteps behind me. I started to pick up my pace, but when I did that the person started to follow my pace. I stopped, hoping that maybe the innkeeper had a change of heart, but when I turned around I was surprised to see who was following me.

“Who do you think you are coming into my town and not answering my questions as to who you are?” He was livid. I could smell the ale radiating off of him, and I could sense that something terrible was about to happen. 

“I told you who I am.”

“Yeah, John. But what is your surname? Where are you traveling from? Why are you here?”

“I am afraid that I am going to have to excuse myself. Have a good night.” I started to turn around when all of a sudden I felt a sharp, familiar pain in my left shoulder. 

“No one walks away from me, stranger.” 

I felt something slice into me over and over again, and I could do nothing about it. After the initial stabbing of the shoulder, I tried to push him off, but he was much stronger than I was. He had flipped me onto my back and started stabbing me in the chest. My last thought before my eyes closed was: 

This feels like it did one year ago…” 

And then, blackness. 

I wonder if the world can guess what day I woke upon. If you guessed August 27th, 1864 then you would be correct. 

The pub was still deafening with laughter, the insects were chirping, the rats were scavenging, everything was still the same. It had been one year since I had last seen my beloved, and although our interaction was less than desirable I just knew that I had to try again. 

So I followed the uneven cobblestone to the home that was oh so familiar, yet so different. This hasn’t been my true home in two years now, but it is the only home that I have ever had or will ever have. Other than the cemetery of course. 

I approached the home and just stared at it for some time. There were candles that lit the rooms and doorways. There was a small fire blazing in the fireplace. And there she was, in her rocking chair with a book in her hand. She was beautiful. Then again, she always was so this was not a surprise. As I was watching her I noticed a hand grab her shoulder. My defenses immediately went up and I was prepared to barge into the home in order to protect my wife. But then I saw her grab the hand, and not in self-defense. It was in a gentle, loving way like she could have expected someone to touch her. She kissed the hand while it was still in her grasp, and then he leaned down and gave her a loving kiss on her forehead. I couldn’t help but notice that they both were wearing gold bands around their marriage fingers. Is my wife no longer my wife?

I thought about leaving for just a moment. If tonight is like the past two nights that I was alive I will surely perish at some point. Do I need to put her through that again? Especially with how blissful she seems to be now? The answer was easy for me to determine. She may belong to someone else, but I have no one else to go to. I need help. I simply cannot keep living and dying this way. 

This was going to be painful for me to see her living her life with another man, but at least she is happy. Maybe he can help her help me. I walked up to the front door and knocked three times. I heard footsteps approaching at a casual rate and then, the door opened.

“What is this? John? Who are you?” The man asked with confusion taking over his face. 

“May I ask who you are?” I sternly asked.

“My name is Stewart, and I am the man of the house. What business do you have here?” 

“Stewart, hello. My name is John. May I speak to Hazel please?”

Ahhhh. Hazel. I see. This is some sort of trick. Hazel told me about how last year some demon claiming to be her John entered this home. This is a nasty trick. How dare you continuously put that woman through this pain…”

“Hello, John.”

And there she was. Standing right in front of me. She patted Stewart’s shoulder to let him know that he can back off, and so he did. She was so close to me that I could smell her. She smelled of lavender, her favorite fragrance. Stewart stood right behind her, but it mattered not to me. There she was. 

“Hello, Hazel.”

“I know what day it is. August 27th. A day hasn’t gone by where I haven’t thought about the events that happened exactly one year ago today. Surely you could understand my reaction, although I wish I would have listened more. You see, I thought you were some demon or warlock using magicks to play a nasty trick on me. But I have had this little voice inside of my head that maybe there was more to the story and that I needed to look into it further. There were talks of some stranger being stabbed to death the night that you visited me last year. Interestingly enough, I found out by the women who like to gossip that the sheriff noticed that the placements of the stabbing were identical to a murder thas he has seen before. Your murder, John. So I traveled to a seer, someone who could help me understand what was happening. I described in great detail to her about that night. The original night. And then what happened a year ago. She looked unphased by everything that I was saying to her, to the point where I was questioning my very own sanity. But then she said something that changed my life.”

She paused. I just kept staring at her, with my eyebrows furrowed together. Did she already know what was happening to me?

My dear, how you have felt so much pain. I can feel the agony that you are feeling. My whole body feels like it is being torn to shreds. But I am afraid if you want the answers that you are looking for then the agony will just become more unbearable. Do you truly want your heart to suffer more than it already has?” 

“Please. Tell me what I need to know. Is it John’s ghost? A demon? A warlock? How do I make this slow torture end!”

“My sweets, you were not the only woman in John’s life.”

“How dare you! That is impossible! John and I were in love, he would never run into the arms of another woman…”

“There is a woman in the town right next to yours that loves your John. In fact, the love that she felt for him drove her mad. She knew that he could never truly love her the way that he loved you, and she tried convincing herself that what he gave her would be enough, but the more he started to detach from her the fonder she grew on him. The thing about love, and the reason why so many consider it to be deadly, is because love can easily morph into something complicated. It can morph into an obsession. A lot of times this happens when one has never experienced the feeling of love before, so they almost become addicted to it. They crave it. They must have it and if they don’t then they want to make sure that the person that they want it from suffers. My dear, she loved your husband, but she ultimately became consumed with him and the idea of them having a life together. It wasn’t until your John told her that he didn’t want her and that he only wanted you was when she decided to enact something so heinous, so vile, that she could herself expect to meet the Devil himself upon her death. You see, she worked with magicks, and she has worked with them her entire life. Hazel, you must listen to what I am about to tell you. There is no such thing as light or dark magick. There are people out there that can choose how they want to use their magicks, and although this woman usually chose to only use her magicks for the greater good, this time she was mad enough to cast a curse upon your John. That rabid woman who stabbed your John on that night was a random woman, oh no. She was his ex-mistress. A woman who knew how to use magicks and wreak havoc onto one’s life. I have seen the curse that she put onto your husband. The curse is that every year your John will die the same way he has died all the times before. In a fatal stabbing. And this will continue for all of eternity unless he himself is able to free himself from the curse…”

“How? How can he free himself?” 

“He must stab the woman the same way that he has been stabbed. She must die by his hand and his alone. If she dies and John wasn’t the one that killed her then his fate with this curse has been sealed and he will live this way for all of eternity.”

“So John needs to kill the woman the same way that he has died. We can make that happen.”

“Never underestimate someone who works with the magicks, my love.”

“What is her name?”

“Deary, before I tell you, are you sure you want to help him?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? Someone should suffer for all of eternity like that.”

“Sweets you just found out that he strayed away from you and into the arms of a madwoman!”

“Be as it may, no one should have to go through this. Sometimes mercy is easier than hate.”

“I see. Well, her name is Elda. I wish you the best of luck, my dear. If you need me you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Seer. What can I offer you to make up for your help?”

“My dear, just help your husband. Don’t worry about me.”

“So, John, despite your wandering eye and your infidelity I have decided to help you. I loved you, John. We had what I thought was heavenly matrimony, and although you found comfort in her, even if it was just for a short time, it made it easier for me to move on. I love my Stewart. Stewart loves me and although it is a different relationship and it took some time getting used to I feel so at peace. And now I want the same for you.” 

I just stood there, staring at her in awe. I never wanted my Hazel to know about Elda. I have no idea why I did what I did. I have never in my life felt a love like the love that I shared with my Hazel, so I never understood why I also wanted Elda. 

“Hazel…”

“It is okay, John. I have made my peace with what you did, and now it’s your turn. Now. Do you remember where that terrible woman lives?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. I have taken it upon myself to fetch a couple of blades that should do the trick. Remember what the seer said, only you can kill her and reverse this curse.” 

“Hazel…”

“Yes, John?”

“Did the seer happen to say what will happen to me once I kill Elda?”
“She did not. One has to assume that you will continue living out your days until you naturally perish.”

“Or I could die and stay dead…” 

“Yes, John. There is also that possibility.”

Stewart, Hazel, and I all jumped on horses and started making our way to the next town over. I, of course, lead the way. It brought up so many emotions while we were taking the path to Elda’s house. I always thought that the way to Elda’s was so mystical. Overhanging trees. The sounds of the wind. The crisp scent of the air. The greenery alone who have anyone stop dead in their tracks and marvel. With that being said, I could also feel the emotions that I used to feel. Guilt, self-hatred, confusion, just to name a few. It was a path that I never saw myself riding on again, and yet here I was. On my way back to Elda’s. 

I could see Elda’s cottage. It was covered in ivy, alone in the woods. If you weren’t looking for it you would never know that it was there.

“See that cottage up ahead? That is where she lives.”

Then, we all stopped. The horses started to make noises of terror, and all of the blood that used to sit at our cheeks vanishes. We heard this cackling. A type of cackling that screams danger. It was Elda.

“John. HA. I have been spending the past two years wondering how long it would take for you to figure out what has happened. I must admit, I thought it would take you much longer. I am impressed.”

“It wasn’t John that figured it out, you daft witch. I figured it out!” Hazel’s voice was already starting to tremble in rage.

“It wasn’t you, you tortured sow. It was the seer. You made little effort to help our poor, sweet John. No wonder why he came my way. You’re PATHETIC.”

Hazel stayed atop her horse, but the worry that I felt for her was starting to increase by the second.

“Elda, I know what I must do in order to reverse this curse.”

“Oh, do you now, John? You could never kill me, John. You might have been able to break my heart, but you would never be able to steal my life.” 

Elda was smirking. She was playing a game that she was certain she was going to win. 

“Do you remember those nights that we spent together, John? Our moonlight walks. Our dances in the sitting area. Our gentle kisses and our passionate lovemaking? We shined brighter than the brightest star on the clearest night. We were meant to be together. You loved me, I know that…”

And then Elda fell to the ground. I was stunned to see who had been standing behind her.

“Hazel! What have you done!” 

“I tried to stop her, John. I tried! But she got me.” Stewart was holding his shoulder, while blood was dripping down his hand. It appears that while Elda was speaking to me Hazel jumped off of her horse in order to attack Elda but then Stewart got in the way when he attempted to stop her.

Hazel then screamed and continued to stab Elda the same way that I had been stabbed. Blood was gushing out from the wounds that Elda received. Her lifeless eyes just stared at me, like she was trying to say “I love you” one last time. And that was when I felt it. The sharp pains that felt all so familiar. 

“This is what you get for coming back, John! This is what you get for driving my Hazel to murder madness!” 

Stewart took what I thought would be my final breath…

I woke up on August 27th, 1865. Everything was the same. The pub was filled with loud heckles. The insects were chirping and the rats were scavenging. The cobblestone leading up to my home was still uneven. 

There they were. Both Hazel and Stewart. Both looked absolutely dreadful as they sat in their chairs in front of the fireplace. There was one measly candle, leaving the house mostly pitch black. 

I knocked on the door and heard both Hazel and Stewart walking towards me. When the door opened, they looked unsurprised to see me standing there before them. 

“Welcome back, John.” 

Hazel’s welcome was less than enthusiastic. I couldn’t help but just stare at her. Usually, I stare at Hazel in admiration, but this time I couldn’t believe that it was actually her. Her hair was knotted and not kept, her teeth were yellow and rotting, you could see her bones underneath her grey skin and her eyes were sunken in with deep darks circles underneath. Stewart looked quite similar to Hazel. 

“Hazel, Stewart, what happened?”

Hazel started to open her mouth, but then she abruptly closed it. She then turned around and went back to her chair and just sat there looking at the fire. Then Stewart started talking. 

“When that woman, Elda, was speaking with you, her taunts drove our Hazel mad. When she jumped off of her horse I knew what she was going to do, so I tried to stop her, but her rage made her stronger than me. Then, the next thing I knew, she stabbed Elda until she died. Then something came over me. Like I was in some sort of trance. I just wanted you to die. So I stabbed you. And I killed you. We didn’t know what would happen to you. We didn’t know if you were going to come back or stay dead so we went back to that seer. We told her everything that had transpired, and to our dismay, she informed us of your fate. Since it was Hazel that killed that vile human being and not you, you will spend eternity dying. There is nothing to do be done. There is nothing to rectify. This is your fate.”

I just stood there, in disbelief. Eternity?

That is when we heard the scream.

“Just remember, I love you both.”

And that was when we watched Hazel take the blade that Stewart stabbed me with and slit her own throat. 

The End.

Divorce

My parents separated when I was in second grade, and their divorce was one of the best things that could have happened. I don’t remember much from when they were married, but the memories that I do have are not that great. I just remember constant fighting, and a feeling of unhappiness that filled the home.

I still remember the day that my parents officially separated vividly. I don’t really think about it that much anymore, because it was a day that I try not to recall. It was the day that my family was no longer a family, and it was the day that I watched my dad leave. Although he was not too far away from me, he no longer lived with us, and it tore me apart. It was a really intense day, and it will be one that I know I will always remember.

The divorce made a huge impact on my childhood. As in most divorces, my parents kept a lot of things from my brother and I in order to protect us. I don’t really remember my parents ever talking bad about each other, but there were a couple of slip ups made by both of them. A lot of the information that I have about their divorce and the causes behind it actually came from family members on both sides, which looking back at now, was wildly inappropriate. Something that still really bothers me is that a family member told me something that completely changed my view of my parents when I was in second grade, and if they would have done the adult thing and kept that information to themselves it would have saved me from a lot of emotional torment. I have come to notice that people are selfish in divorces, and sometimes they don’t care what the aftermath looks like as long as they can hurt the other person. I am sure that the family member who told me that information thought they were helping my parent that they are related to, but they ended up doing more damage to my brother and I than anyone else.

The divorce made me feel like I was living in a world of pure toxicity. I felt loyalty to my dad and I felt guilty that I still loved my mom. My dad never made me feel like I couldn’t have a relationship with my mom, so feeling guilty about wanting that was my own issue. However, as I got older, and as other people felt it necessary to tell me more things about my parents and what their relationship was like, I started to separate myself from my mom. When you’re a teenager, your hormones and emotions are all over the place, and the stuff that was said to me caused so many issues for me. I started to hate my mom, and that hatred was like drinking poison. I felt so disgusting inside, like my soul was rotting away from years and years of toxic waste that has just been piling up. I was an emotional wreck, and every thought I had was about my mom and my dad and the past. Those years where I couldn’t forget about the divorce were eating me alive, and no matter how much therapy I had I just couldn’t let go. It was as if the divorced handcuffed me to a life a resentment and hostility, and no matter who tried to help me they couldn’t break the cuffs. It was awful, but the worst part of it all was that I was the one that allowed that hatred to consume me.

I think it was in junior year of high school where I kind of had an epiphany. I just remember thinking about my parents divorce and how it had affected me, and I realized that by me holding on to this anger that I was torturing myself. I also thought about what my life would have been liked if my parents stayed together. It would have not been a good life, it would have not been a stable life, and it wouldn’t have been a life that would have resulted in my brother and I having success. My mom remarried and had another son, and I absolutely adore and love my step dad, Jeff, and my brother, Logan. My dad never remarried, but he has been with his partner, Tina, ever since I was in seventh grade. Tina has always been incredible to my brother Nicholas and I, and I will always be appreciative for that. If my parents had stayed together, all of these people that I love so much wouldn’t be apart of my world, and a world that they aren’t apart of is a world that I don’t even want to think about. After thinking about all of this, my world and attitude completely changed. It was like I inhaled in my last breath of toxic air, and when I exhaled, every negative thought about the divorce left my soul. I forgave the events that I hung on to, I became appreciative for the life that I was living, and most importantly, I invited my mom back into my life.

I know that my parents did everything that they could to prevent my brother and I from feeling the pain from the divorce, and as much that they tried, that pain was invited in by other people who couldn’t obtain self control. A lot of pain could have been avoided if people were respectful and kept what they wanted to say to themselves, but hopefully this was as much of a learning experience for them as it was for me.

My advice to parents who are going through a divorce is this:

  1. Don’t talk bad about the other parent in front of your kids.
  2. Don’t allow others talk bad about the other parents in front of your kids.
  3. Your kids can and will pick up on what you are feeling, so try to keep as much negativity away from them as you can.
  4. No matter what your kid tells you about how they feel about the divorce, put them in therapy. It will only be beneficial in later years.
  5. When you decide to separate, have a respectful sit down conversation with your kids to explain what is about to happen.

This list is just a couple of things that could help your kids during the process of divorce. As a child that went through this, I know that this could have helped me cope with my parents divorce a lot faster.

Now that I am twenty four, I have an amazing relationship with both my mom and my dad, as well as my step-parents. I am able to see my mom for who she is, and I am able to appreciate everything that she has ever done for me. It does make me feel upset that a relationship with her was robbed from me in the past, but that is why I cherish every conversation and hangout session now. My dad is still the dad that I have always known and loved, and I still treasure him as much as I did back then. At the end of the day, I am grateful for my parents divorce. I hate the way it happened and I hate the person that it temporarily turned me into, but all of our lives are better now because of it.

Marriage- Part Two

When you are in a committed relationship, you are constantly learning how to compromise. Although Stephen and I have been together for a decent amount of time, we still have to work at our relationship every day. There are things that he does that bother me, and there are things that I do that bother him, so learning how to find that balance can be a little bit of work.

One of the things that we are constantly trying to work on is communication. I grew up in a family where we always spoke up about our feelings. My family is very touchy feely, and we really don’t have any boundaries. My family knows mostly everything about me, because I don’t really find it  necessary to keep anything from them. Stephen grew up a little differently than I did. It was actually pretty comical when he met my family because he was kind of taken aback by how talkative they all were. Stephen said that when he was growing up nobody really talked about feelings or opened up about much, so when it comes to communication we come from two different backgrounds. Because we grew up differently in that aspect, it has definitely made an impact on our relationship. Anytime I do something that annoys Stephen he is always reluctant to bring it up, but the thing that I am slowly trying to get him to realize is bottling up things like that is not healthy. Eventually he could start to resent me, and it will ruin our relationship. I want him to have open communication with me so that we can work on the tiny issues so that they don’t become big issues, and luckily he is starting to feel more comfortable with that. Expressing emotion doesn’t make you a weak person. A part of humanity is feeling things, and in my opinion, it is better to talk about what is on your mind rather than letting things stew.

Another thing that I want to talk about is sex. To me, sex is so important for a relationship because it brings that added connection. Sometimes in a relationship, one partner may have a higher sex drive than the other partner and that can cause an issue within the relationship. Other issues that come with life such as finances, family issues, and stress can also affect your sex life, but it is still important to try to make time for each other for that activity. Stephen and I have had talks about what we both need from our sex life, and when we have had those talks we not only worked on our sex life but also our communication. After we had those talks we understood each other better, and it allowed us to work on that aspect of our relationship.

Like I have talked about in the past, Stephen is a very calm and laid back person. He would be perfectly content with staying home and just chilling on off days, whereas I am always looking for an adventure. I don’t mind staying home for the most part, but there are times where we will be sitting on the couch and I am bored out of my mind. We usually end up doing something fun at least once a month, and I feel like that is a good compromise for the both of us. I still get to do something different with the person that I love, and Stephen can still have his free weekends to do whatever he pleases. We absolutely love going for walks. We have found one trail in particular that we tend to gravitate to, and it feels great to get out and just enjoy being outside. We also are always looking for activities to get us out of the apartment. We usually go to the Dallas Arboretum and the Dallas Zoo four or five times a year, but we recently found out that the Fort Worth Arboretum has a free admission, so we have taken advantage of that. We go to malls and walk around, and somehow we always end up browsing the aisles at Target. Just getting out and doing something together always boosts our mood.

Something that I have had to put a lot of effort in is talking to Stephen in a respectful manner when he does something to make me angry. I used to yell, I used to name call, and I would let my anger take over me. What used to upset me is how we both handle our anger. I am the type of person that pretty much knows what I am going to say and how I am going to say it immediately, but Stephen needs a little bit of time to process what he had just heard. I used to find that annoying because I would want a response right away from him, but I have learned to give him a minute or so to figure out how he wants to respond. I used to take the time that he needed to process as a gesture that he didn’t care about what I was feeling or what I had to say, but in reality he didn’t know how to respond. The longer you are with someone, the more you can learn about who they are as a person, and you can make adjustments that will be better for both of you. Now when Stephen and I have arguments, I can better control my anger to get my point across better, and it allows Stephen to have better responses so I know that I am being heard.

Marriage isn’t all fun and games. When you are combining two lives from different backgrounds, sacrifices are going to have to be made from both parties. Even though you may not always be happy with the compromises and adjustments that you have had to make with your significant other, it always ends up being worth it because you create your own beautiful life together. When I look back at my life with Stephen, we both have helped transform each other into better people, and I have come to love Stephen for all that he is, because he is pretty fucking incredible.

Marriage

Marriage, to me, has never been about a piece of paper. It has never been about legally connecting two souls together, it has never been about taxes, it has never been about anything other than love. Stephen and I didn’t have a formal proposal, it was more of a mutual decision. One night, as we laid in bed, we discussed our plans for the future, and we both knew that marriage was something that we both wanted. We never really wanted a wedding, we just wanted something small where the day would truly be about us and our love for each other, so on March 11th, 2016, we went to the courthouse and got married.

The day was perfect. Our appointment to get married was in the afternoon, so we had the whole morning to do whatever we wanted. We spent most of the morning doing laundry and other chores, and the rest of it relaxing. It only took me about a hour to get ready, and off we went. I wasn’t nervous heading to the courthouse, in fact, I was excited. Stephen and I had already been together for six and a half years, and we had lived together for about three, so it already felt like we were married. Along with being excited, I was also in disbelief that we were actually doing this. We had been talking about marriage for quite some time, and the fact that we were going to be married within the hour was a feeling that is indescribable. When we arrived at the courthouse, there was a staircase that lead to the area where we would say our vows. While we were walking up, another couple was walking down with their friends and family, and the bride asked if we were getting married. After I said yes, she grabbed my hand, and said congratulations. I, of course, said congratulations back, and as odd as this may sound, it was probably one of my favorite moments of that day. Even though she was a complete stranger, I found it to be an incredibly powerful moment between two people who didn’t know each other. Plus, you could see the genuine joy that was radiating off of her, and I felt so happy for her. Seeing her in that moment also was a reassurance for what Stephen and I were about to do. Once we made it to the top, we had to pay for ceremony and then we just waited for the Justice of the Peace to come and get us. We sat in a waiting room, talking and giggling and looking at Facebook, waiting patiently for the man who was about to change our lives.

When he finally came and got us, I was surprised  by his demeanor. I thought that he wouldn’t really care that much about Stephen and I because I am sure he does dozens of marriages a month, however, he was incredibly happy for us and was asking us a bunch of questions about our relationship. He always had an authentic smile on his face, and he really gave off a peaceful vibe. After a couple of minutes of pleasantries, it was time to get married. So there we stood, and while Stephen and I held hands, we said our vows. I thought that once we were pronounced husband and wife it wouldn’t feel different, but it was a lot more powerful than I had anticipated. I felt a rush of emotion rush through my body, and although I didn’t cry, I was just overwhelmed with happiness. This man, who I love with every ounce of my being, was my husband and I was his wife. We were partners in life, and it was a beautiful feeling. Our first kiss was magical, and it felt like the official seal of our marriage.

After the ceremony was over, we spoke to our parents to let them know that we were officially married. Our parents were happy for us that we were finally married, however, they were all disappointed that they weren’t there to see it. I think that Stephens parents were especially disappointed because they were actually coming down to Dallas the following day, but as much as we love our family, we wanted this day to be just for us. It was so special, and we really wanted to enjoy our first day as husband and wife with just each other.

The rest of the day was pretty laid back. We went back home after the ceremony and hung out for a little over a hour, then we went out to dinner. After dinner we went back home and spent time together. To others, how Stephen and I got married probably sounds boring, but to us, it was perfect. We were given the opportunity to really just appreciate each other, and there is not any part of me that wishes that we did things differently.

The next day, Stephens parents, my new in-laws, came down to visit. That was also the day that our marriage really hit me. We went to a mall to do some shopping, and I wanted to get an iced tea from Teavana. There was a coupon on my phone, which Stephen had, and that was the first time that I actually acknowledged Stephen as my husband. All is said was: “oh whoops, my boyfriend, I mean my husband, has my phone with the coupon.” Let me tell you something about that. It may not seem like that big of a deal, but it felt fucking crazy saying that. I don’t really know how to describe it, but at first it didn’t feel natural to call him my husband. I don’t know if that’s bad or not, but it was just something that I had to get used to.

After a couple of months, being married was our new norm. Saying that Stephen was my husband did become natural, and life kind of fell back to what it always was. Then, one day, my mom expressed to me that she really wanted to have a reception for Stephen and I. At first, Stephen and I were slightly reluctant. We loved our wedding day and we felt like we didn’t need anything more, but after thinking about it we thought that it would be special to celebrate our marriage with the people that we love. Also, I am my parents only daughter and Stephen is his parents only son, so we thought that we owed it to our parents to do something. After Stephen and I agreed to have a reception, my mom took off full blast on planning it. The reception was in northern Illinois, and I was in Dallas, so I didn’t see anything until the day of our reception. My mom would consult with me about the decisions that she was making, but even if she didn’t I knew what my mom was capable of and I knew that it was going to be gorgeous. And boy, I was not wrong.

We held the reception at a local winery in December, so it was breathtaking. The winery had decorated for Christmas, so along with the decorations that the winery provided as well as the decorations that my mom had purchased it was mind-blowing gorgeous. The night was perfect, with the exception of the major snow storm that prevented some relatives from being able to attend. That night we ate food, we conversed with everyone that we don’t get to see that often, and we had the time of our lives. By then end of the night, we were exhausted. Stephen and I decided that we were going to stay with our friends that night because that was the only night that we were going to be able to see them, so we had a long drive back to their place. Once we arrived, I realized that I was starving. I, unlike Stephen, hadn’t eaten much of anything that night. So as I ate left overs from the reception, Stephen and I went through the cards that we had received. After making our list of thank you cards that we were going to need to send out, we passed out. I slept so hard that night, but boy, it was the end of a perfect day.

I still do not regret getting married the way that we did. And even though our parents weren’t exactly thrilled with our choice to get married with just the two of us there, we were still able to celebrate with our friends and family. A wedding is not a marriage, so it won’t make a difference what kind of wedding you have as long as the love that you and your partner share is strong.