"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  I have been side by side with friends who have experienced this sense of nothingness. I have calmed fears and wiped away tears. I have been there when hope seemed so far away. But, never had I felt that sense of emptiness. Until now...   From the moment I knew what sex was, I was convinced I would get pregnant the moment I engaged in sexual relations. I knew I would never be able to get away with casual sex because sitting my parents down and telling them me and the man I was seeing were expecting a child...out of wedlock. That fear was mine. Granted, I kept myself for reasons other than this, but this certainly was entertained more than not.   So, strange for me, when I consummated my marriage that I came up barren. Nothing. There was no child to speak of. I was without. Eh. It was a fleeting thought of let down after many endless talks of "I could quite possibly be pregnant this time next month." Month after month... Nothing.   Two months back, I sat on the couch with

  It's a day that our nation will never forget. I will forever remember this day, as a junior in high school, feeling a deep sense of tragedy I couldn't quite grasp. Prayers to those families that still mourn the horrific images of loved ones falling from buildings and running from terror.   But this day holds something more beautiful for me. 2 years ago, I asked white boy to be my boyfriend. Sounds silly now, but that question held my entire future. Just a little over a month prior, when I told him we were over, I knew he wouldn't leave me be. I knew I had some serious soul searching to do...because when I looked around every corner, his face would be right there subtly begging me to be his.   The day I asked him, I knew one thing: I had gone all in. Almost a year before he dropped to one knee, I had given him my everything. I wasn't sure how I felt about him. In fact, tonight as we reminisced, I wasn't sure how I felt about him when he dropped to that knee. I on

  I call it "the attack of the bitch." I think science might call it the balancing out of testosterone and estrogen. Who knows. But what I do know is that it renders me helpless and emotionally vacant.   I have heard some women, while on their period, will have a high sex drive. I've heard some women, while on their period, get clingy and emotional. I get weird. I get unpredictable. I get mean.   To my own benefit, this "attack " usually only lasts one day. However, it is vicious and unrelenting. Last Friday, white boy and I went out with some dear friends. We had a great time...as always. I was on point. I was social and thoroughly enjoying myself. Just watching him play darts across the room, internally coveting his body next to mine knowing I was taking him home, had me excited. It was a great feeling. *one of my favorite parts of being married*   I woke Saturday, laid sleepily next to him just enjoying the quietness of the early morning. I felt blissful.

  For 3 years, I have been tracking my monthly cycle. I started because I was never quite sure when it would start. Granted, I am almost to the hour regular but couldn't ever calculate 28 days. So, for 3 years I have seen the balance of my body. And in a sense, I am blessed. I have friends who go months sometimes even longer without their period and the uneasy feeling that must come with that...I have never had to endure that particular unease.   Also, I have never taken birth control. Not just because I am staunch Catholic, I wasn't always, but because I heard it said best, "Birth control is the only medicine on the market that is to keep your body from working correctly." This post is not about other people and what they think about birth control. This is not about others using birth control. This is about me and me alone. I don't hold others up to any standard except that of which they are on. If not Catholic, then not to the Catholic standard. etc...   When

  Every story, whether great or small, has 3 main parts: a beginning, a middle, and an end. And peppered throughout that story is conflict and resolution. Each character in the story is his own main actor. And in every story, a representation of thousands of stories are woven into someone's single larger story. My own personal story has been twisting and turning for a long time, and just 9 days ago encountered the largest plot twist to its main storyline. I got married.   I made a commitment to a man. To another human being, I pledged my never-ending love, honour, and support. I changed a concrete part of my identity. Those who know me, know that this step is one that was perhaps never coming. It never crossed my mind as an indelible decision to marry another person.    I don't have to go into the very nature of the man I married. If that has not been irrevocably clear the last 2 years, I have failed. But none-the-less, I am now a wife, and with that comes many many changes

  Ding dong the bells are gonna chime! Pull out the stoppa! Let's have a whoppa...but get me to the church on time! I love this song from "My Fair Lady." I don't think I understood it quite as I do now. However, the difference is that my priest told me no booze. :-/ so... I'll save that for the 'morrow.   I remember just yesterday I was freaked that I had just became a fiancé. Tomorrow, I become a wife! :-O And at the moment, all I can think about is taking a nap! I am so tired and so hyped up; I am not quite sure if sleep or insomnia will win out.   I keep thinking about my state of mind when I began this blog. I had just gotten out of a relationship, and was leaving for a much needed vacation from mind, body, and soul restlessness. And tomorrow, oddly enough, all of my past failed relationship issues will cease to matter. Granted, they haven't mattered for a long while, but especially when I walk down that isle, take his hand, promise to love him forev

  I would love to write a blog about how in 2 weeks I will be married, but "Anne with an 'E'" on Netflix has my attention. I'll try tomorrow...

  A little over a week ago, I asked J if he had morbid thoughts. He asked specifically what I meant, and I proceeded to tell him I have had thoughts about what I would do if he died before we got married. He wrinkled his nose and told me, "No." I asked him what he would do if I died before we got married and he said, "I would fall apart. I would be a mess. Inconsolable."   I tried to think I would be the same if I lost him. Since Andy died, I have become quite the realist. Not to be confused with a pessimist. I see things as they are and how, at any moment, they could be. But I couldn't quite wrap my head around my reaction to losing him   I spend a great deal of my sleeping time in vivid dreaming; however, I do believe, that two nights ago was the first time I have woken up from a truly terrifying dream...and cried. I didn't wake up crying. I woke up so very thankful it was a dream, caught my breath, and turned over pulling my covers over my head. My mind

  We stood outside a bar in Manhattan dodging the rain, talking about what day we wanted to get married. Just 1 day after he dropped to his knee and asked me to marry him, we were "planning" our distant future wedding. It was a year ago he asked. It is 39 days till we say we do.    About a month ago, he and I were talking about love and how much we had for the other. We spoke about when and how we fell in love. He told me he loved me long before he told me that October day standing on the edge of the canyon. I told him that yes, I did love him, but it wasn't until much later that I fell "in love" with him.    In fact, I didn't truly believe of being "in love" till about 6 months ago. He asked me if I was in love with him when he asked for my hand. I told him no. He asked me why I said yes to his proposal. I said that I truly believed my feelings were as deep as they would ever get. For anyone. How wrong I was.   I remember sitting at home watc

  I am very close. One step closer and all will come tumbling down. A subtle puff of wind and it will topple. The tunnel vision...the black stars...the muffled sounds...all signs of imminent imploding.   Several years back, I watched a TV show with the most brilliant concept. A young girl, who recently had gone through something traumatic, was relieving stress in a room built for destruction. She stood behind a counter with a stack of cheap, glass plates. You know, the ones that you can buy for a dollar to be every day use. And she threw them. She threw them against the wall and let it go. She was able to destroy before it destroyed her.   Stress rears its ugly head in many forms and different ways in different people. In me? It presents itself as lack of patience, immediate need for seclusion, sudden leakage of eyes (some call this crying), overwhelming desire to tear out of my skin, and the paralyzing need to break...everything. I tend to get short with those that are close to me,

  I haven't written in what seems like forever. I think of something I want to say then sleep takes over, or it is time to get out of the shower. But, I figure I should. So many thoughts...so little time. Today marks 79 days till I am no longer able to mark the "singles" box on any for I fill out. Today marks 79 days till I am no longer a Dever. Today...tomorrow...forever...   I don't stress often. Or at least, I don't feel as though I do. I often feel more overwhelmed but not necessarily stressed. I always thought I handled stress well. In fact, I took a test once that was measuring stress levels. I remember answering... yes to a death (my brother) job change (fired and new job) life change (went back to school) traveling (long vacation) all within a 6 month period. The test concluded that I was stressed to the max. I specifically remember taking this test on the toilet, and thinking... huh... I don't feel it.   However, the older I get, I tend to listen to

  I have this picture as the background on my phone. It is of white boy giving his famous smirk. Mirrored, aviator glasses looking so chic. And I think, "What is it about this guy that makes him so special?"   I immediately think of his hands...so strong and calloused, a true testament to his strong and dedicated work ethic. I think of his eyes...so blue they blend in with the clear summer sky. I think of his smile...so genuine you can't replicate it. I think of his outlook on life...so mended it is pure.   In a sense, I think of many things when I look at a picture of him or even think of him. He is truly a good person. And he is mine. I don't consider myself to be a defensive or territorial person, by nature, but I know one thing...this man is mine. Granted, he alone belongs to God, but I get him next, and I have only felt that about one other being and that was my dog.   Often, J and I will talk about belonging to each other...a sense of personal entitlement

  I've heard it said that in a true tapestry there is a single thread that stands out above all others. The idea of the tapestry has always been used in a metaphor about life. The interweaving of friends, lovers, and family members that come and go in our life establish a legacy of beauty seemingly messy and unfocused less we stand back and see the grander picture.   I remember when I was at the Vatican, in Rome. I walked as quietly as I could down the Gallery of Tapestries admiring the vibrancy of single threads woven together to create scenes from the life of Christ. I walked as closely as I could noticing single threads that stood out to the naked eye. Golds, reds, royal purples...there was always one that caught my eye. It started at the bottom, the beginning, and wove itself to the very top almost aimlessly yet carefully through the entire piece.   He started on February 8, 1981; a thread of vibrant red began. A hue of crimson always standing out in the fabric of life that a

  Oddly enough, my body has been breaking out more than usual. As a 31 year old, I find it odd when my body says, "Screw you!" And pops out a new pimple. *deep breath* Stress... I equate it to that. Today, on the "hitched" countdown, I have 125 days till I am no longer a single, unwed woman bearing her father's surname. *deep breath*   And to mark this day, white boy and I had our first Pre-Cana (marriage prep) session. 165 questions...about everything. They asked about our place in line of birth, our physical comfort, our financial situation, our ideas of parenting, our religious beliefs, our responsibilities as lovers and bread winners. All the things were not left unturned.   As I sat in the room down the hall from him answering my questions alone, I couldn't help but fill in each circle with ease and joy. Granted, I think I saw my hands shake a little, and my eye certainly twitched a few times at the reality that was taking place; however, I was enjoyi

  I always tried, growing up, to see if I felt different in certain moments of time. Such as when the clock strikes midnight on my birthday or when it strikes midnight bringing in a new year. Does that one second really feel different? No. Not usually. And that one second isn't truly that significant. But seconds can be significant. In fact, in one second our lives can be completely different.   For the last few months, 6 perhaps, there has been more overwhelming hatred for 2016. It has proven to be a very hard year. I have seen the death of my grandmother, the death of others dear to my friends, rape and murder scattered throughout this world like salt on a wound, natural disasters leaving thousands dead, and the tipping point of a nation that can't seem to get it right.   And as I wax nostalgic, I cringe at the bad, shake my head at the dumbfounded, but then remind myself to embrace and celebrate the good. Because in the midst of all the not good...there is good. There wil