This was so beautiful it moved me to quiet tears. Hope you enjoy it!

Love,
3T

From Rachel (and thank you Teri for letting me use your blog)

I’m not going to go into details but at this point I’ll take any help I can get.

My brother is missing.
He was last seen November 11th at 1:00 pm EST in Bonita Springs, Florida.
He may be driving a black Acura MDX.

He is 5’10” or 5’11” and right about 170 lbs.

If by some chance someone has seen him please contact me at rachelcdoyle@gmail.com

Please please please pass this around. I am begging you.

(Dan, if you read this I don’t care what is wrong please call me. I just need to know you’re ok)

I haven’t written here in a long while for a reason. I am overwhelmed with the uncertainty of so many things going on. None of which I can air here, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s like a cloud hanging over my head, threatening to burst a rainstorm at any minute. You know it’s there, and yet there isn’t anywhere to run for shelter from it. Run. It’s what I have always done best, when things get scary for me. Either to booze, drugs, music, new apartments, new towns or new men. Anything to escape the realities that scare or upset me.

I’m not running. I’m praying, constantly. It helps for a while. But eventually I let the fears overtake me, and I’m right back where I started from. I’m trying to be strong for him. And be there for him, when the fears overtake him. By the time I’m done giving him the words I feel are so very necessary, to keep him from sinking, I feel so depleted of my own faith. And I keep praying.

Today, I just lost all strength, and didn’t want to fall apart, so I slept the whole morning away. I thought it would pass with the morning, but it seems it only delayed the inevitable. Well I’ve always felt a good cry makes you feel better afterwards. Except there has been more than one of those over the past month. And why is it, that whenever I’m overcome with tears, I never have kleenex? Seriously. I buy it. It just is always gone when emotional trauma strikes. So I end up going through a roll of toiletpaper blowing my nose and wiping away tears. Thankfully we use charmin. Nice and soft. See, the silver lining. Yes, that’s part sarcasm.

From the beginning of our marriage we have always felt it important to not only count our blessings, but thank God for them. We did. And we do. Daily. Honestly, several times a day these days. I lose faith, and drop in prayer. He loses faith and I try and give him mine. I don’t believe I have ever seen this strong man, shaken to the core as he is right now. He has never doubted himself before. And it scares me to see him do so now. Scares me and makes me angry!

The problem with that is usually I’ll strike back like a pitbull locking my jaw and not letting go until I feel justice is served for those I love. Not this time. Reason and common sense are prevailing. But at what price? The facts are no matter how much we may feel we have control, none of us do. We’re only deluding ourselves to believe we are in control of ANYTHING. There but by the Grace of God go I. Or him. Or you.

This time, it isn’t like when he had surgery. I had enough medical background to be that pitbull. This time he has to fight this battle with little more than a pep talk from me. And lots of prayer.  For some reason we both reclaim what we try and put into God’s hands. CONSTANTLY. It’s exhausting and emotionally draining. And we see the enemy attack, and are powerless to do anything about it. It’s moments like these, when all we see is the ugliness in human behavior. And yes, I realize it’s in all of us. The ugliness. The “old nature.”

I also know that God will allow for us to go through the fire, in order to learn something he wants us to learn. Right now, I’m not seeing the lesson in all of it. I have enough faith to know there is one. But like any petulant child, I don’t want to go through the fire. Pride? Maybe. I’m leaning towards plain old fashion fear of the future, and what it may hold.

Amazing that the dark cloud is hitting in what used to be our most favorite time of year. Starting with Halloween and the pumpkin patch. Of course this year the kids weren’t into it. If that weren’t enough, we’re going to go through Thanksgiving with the doubts and uncertainty hanging over our heads the whole time. This is a case of being glad we’ll have a house full of company. We’re going to be so busy cooking and entertaining, there will be no room in our minds to dwell on the future. We’ll actually be forced to do what we should be doing all along. Living in the moment.

But this week has held enough fear and doubt to last the rest of the month. I’m hoping so anyway. To top it all off, we have to go to a benefit dinner this Saturday. To help families in crisis, whether it be financial or domestic violence. The irony there? I have a black eye. I was able to get him to laugh at that one. For a few minutes anyway. And no, this gentle man I’m married to, has never hit me. This was caused by my own stupidity.

We have a 4 ft. tall laundry basket, that was empty. The kittens were playing around it, when Paul stuck Mr. Big into it. He was sticking his adorable paws through the holes in the side, playing with his sister when I stuck my head in the top of the basket, that was sitting right next to a solid wood 4 ft. stand alone jewerly armoire. And when my adorable kitten lunged for my face, (as I could have predicted, had I been thinking clearly) I pulled myself out so hard and quickly I nailed the corner of my outer eye on the wood weapon, once known as a jewerly armoire. Coldcocked myself into next week. Tada! Black eye. He keeps saying if I can’t cover it with makeup well enough, we won’t go. Which is ridiculous.

I have always been a klutz. It’s one of the reasons my parents put me into ballet as a child. Came in handy for excuses when I was married to a beater. (Bad joke. But it’s my past, so I can joke about it if I want to) I love morbid humor, especially when I’m down and depressed. If it offends, the X-out is in the right hand top corner. bye-bye.

Well, I’ve managed to type my way right out of tears, and it only took a post the size of War & Peace.

It amazes me that as I age, the more I actually fear. When I was young and stupid, but thought I had all the answers, I don’t remember fear. A lot of partying and a few whopper hang-overs, but no fear. I don’t remember ever worrying about the future. In the words of Scarlet O’Hara (Gond w/the Wind) tomorrow was always another day. As well as, “I can’t think about that right now. I’ll think about it tomorrow.” And I let go of whatever was bothering me. Admittedly, there was usually chemical substances involved in those days. Now the thought of chemical substances that help one forget, usually brings me to the thoughts of dropping dead of a heart attack. And then I picture the obit. that my children would see, and that’s enough to make me cringe from their use, even in my youth. Oh to be young again.

For the moment, I’m at least out of tears. When talking about life and it’s many problems and heartaches, in the words of my Dad; “It’s just a bus ride.” (He’s an Intercity Transit Busdriver)

Along with the adjustments that come with a new Jr. High teen, came the end of a few of our October traditions. My teens have lost interest in going to a pumpkin patch and have no desire to dress up in costume, going door-to-door trick-or-treating. At the end of this month, we’ve come to realize that it is us, the parents, who are mourning the loss of these family traditions.

We knew this was coming, but it still didn’t take the sting out of losing these traditions. As parents, I know we’re going to have to get creative with a few new traditions in order to connect with our teens. That part we haven’t figured out yet. This year I bought costumes for our kitties, and dressed them up and snapped photos of their sweetness. For my own pleasure, here are the results.
Princess Bella
Smokey - The Bat Cat
Mr. Big - aka - Mr. Pig
Bashful Princess
The Bat Cat- Up Close
Mr. Pig did not like playing dress up.
Trick-or-Treat!
Princess Bella along with her brother Mr. Pig and Smokey the Bat Cat, hopes everyone enjoyed their Halloween, more than they did! 
Love,
3T

I love you, Paul! As long as we have each other to celebrate these special occasions, that’s all that will ever matter.

And now it’s time to crack open the champagne and toast to only what truly matters in life.

Love,

Your Wife for Life! <3

I admit to purposefully waiting to write regarding Riley and his misdeed. One, because I have a tendency to become emotionally overwrought when my teens, OK, teen doesn’t act or respond in the ways that I’ve tried my best to teach him.

When I first learn of misdeeds, I see it automatically as my failure. Maybe more so since my main function in life to date is that of a parent. When something goes wrong, when your child acts unbecoming in the ways you feel you have trained them to go, it’s like screwing up on the job. Except for the fact that as a parent, screwing up on the job can have far reaching, life altering damages. Anywhere from teen pregnancy, drugs or, in this case, a police record. All of which can adversely affect your child for years or a lifetime. THAT is scary!

I could sit and write 100 different ways I could unintentionally screw up my kids! Reaching for help, (ie; parenting books) has its own downside. Having picked up more than a couple, what I have come away with is they all contradict each other. Having known parents who have tried the lenient, spare-their-self-esteem approach, and the “tough-love” approach, what I’ve learned is you can end up with a screwed up young adult child regardless of your approach to parenting. (Saying nothing of parents who go for the blind-eyes approach. ie, if I ignore this it will go away.)

With all this in mind, and having been the recipient of Principal’s and a police officer’s phone calls, I knew enough to not make any snap decisions regarding punishment. Punishment that would have been based on my own sense of failure more than on what will communicate to Riley the possible ramifications of his actions.

Having had the opportunity to talk it out with my husband, father and wonderful friend Rachel gave me a chance to come from a more rational mode of thought other than reacting out of emotion and some sense of failure.

Consequently, there have been a couple sit-downs with Riley and punishment that would make an impact. No, I didn’t yank his X-Box Live altogether. I did yank it for 10 days as well as ground him from friends and phone calls during this time as well. I have asked for help on any level I thought might get through to Riley. From having his older brother, whom he looks up to, take him for a walk and chat on how to treat girls and anyone for that matter. His Dad talked to him, his step-Dad talked to him. Albeit all chats about it were initiated at different times and eased into conversations subtley.

The school took their own approach. Riley is near the end of his “community service” performed on school grounds. He has been assisting the janitor for almost a week after school. I’m not sure how effective this was, as he came home saying the janitor was cool and the work was fun. Riley made it seem so fun, he had kids volunteering to do his work, and when he said he HAD to, they volunteered for Community Service. Secretly I couldn’t help but smile.  Reminded of Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, and a fence that needed white-washing.

Personally, I believe my son has learned a lesson he wasn’t even aware existed. He reacted as a 5th grader might, getting back at a classmate. Which may warrant punishment, but usually doesn’t have the words “harassment” and “stalking” thrown about with words like “criminal investigation.” Unfortunately, Riley has stepped into a new realm of life, with many more expectations. (We all go through this)

Here are these Jr. High kids, whose bodies and hormones are playing havoc on their minds and actions. Actions that can lead them into places they do not belong as of yet. Starting with the whole boyfriend/girlfriend games they start playing way too young.

I understand the School’s hard line on these issues. I support the discipline that our trained professionals may feel is necessary in order to keep order in a Jr. High School. And to allow each student an opportunity to learn without feeling they are in a hostile environment. Better a lesson best learned now, than in a job when you’re fired for creating a hostile work environment.

Getting to what I consider is the core issue here is learning to take the high road. As adults we know people will come into our lives and treat us poorly. Learning to take the high road and walk away, is the lesson my young son needs to learn now. And what we’ll be working towards getting across.

A special thank-you to Rachel, Dad and Paul, for helping me to step outside my battered wife past, and see this for what it is.

Love,

3T