It finally happened! We got our stuff back! Well, most of it, anyway.
If you haven’t read about our moving disaster, you can do so by clicking HERE.
Some time in late September I got a call from a random freight company. The lady on the other end said she had our load scheduled to get on her next truck headed toward the Midwest, and wanted to know if we were ready and able to receive it. We had plans to be away that weekend, but I said I’d arrange for someone else to be here for the delivery. She wanted me to make sure and call her the next day. When I did, she said there wasn’t room for our stuff after all. It made me angry to be “teased” when I had already accepted we wouldn’t be getting our stuff back, even though I was actively pursuing legal counsel.
Then about a week later the same thing happened. A guy called this time, saying our stuff was already on their truck and they were on their way through Chicago, and that they would be here the next day. I didn’t truly believe it that time, but still arranged my schedule so that I would be home. I let check back in with him to make sure he had the right address, and to make sure he was still on his way.
At about 7pm on October 7th the truck arrived. And the guys brought in our boxes, furniture and belongings! The guys who took the job from Sirius van lines were awesome. I’m so thankful for them. Our house was a complete disaster for about a week as we attempted to unpack, sort, organize and evaluate what was delivered. About 80% of our stuff was delivered. Of that, about 15% of it was broken or badly damaged. And I’d say another 20% was mildly damaged. The things missing were really random. Among them were: Andy’s TV, a hanging glass lamp, kitchen utensils, a few of Felix’s toys, our lawnmower, and most of my clothes.
However, we’re very thankful to receive back what we did, after 5 months of waiting, and certainty that we’d never see any of it again. It was most important to me to have the sentimentals from when the older kiddos were little.
However, I’m still saying to anyone looking for long distance movers: RESEARCH RESEARCH RESEARCH. Or just do it yourself. There are way too many scammers out there.
When I was a little kid I loved animals. My mom had a black cat named Scorpio who I took naps with and played with every day when I was 3-4 years old.
Then we moved to an apartment where we couldn’t have pets. We were three for many years. I dreamed of becoming a veterinarian one day. Once we got out of there (when I was 12), we moved to a house out in the country and had many, many pets. Dogs, a bunny, a pig, an iguana, large aquariums, ferrets…. but specifically a great many cats.
The cats were mostly all outside cats. They weren’t spayed or neutered so they just bred indiscriminately. In the spring and summer we would end up with around 40 cats and kittens. But by the end of winter we would be down to 6-8. Between the brutal Iowa winters, disease, parasites, and the highway, there was a high cat death rate. At first I was naming all of the new kittens and getting attached to them all the time. But by the end of 4-5 years of seeing them come and go, I deemed myself NOT a cat person. To me they were too “disposable,” for lack of a better description.
Fast forward to 2010. I was living in an apartment with my older 3 kiddos. One of my friends down the hall had a cat who had kittens. I picked the only orange kitten of the litter. We named her Sunny. She became a permanent member of the family.
Andy and Sunny became inseparable. She claimed him as her human. We got 10 good years with Sunny. Unfortunately she was let outside during our stay in NC and disappeared. Despite all our efforts to find her, she never came home. Out of guilt I got Andy a kitten after that. No cat can replace our beloved Sunny. But Hera has brought Andy a lot of joy.
Then I started evaluating why I didn’t like cats. Yeah, litter boxes are annoying. But if kept clean they don’t stink. Yeah cats can be assholes, knocking stuff over and shredding toilet paper. But they can be the best companions. Then I thought back to the farm life and I understood where my opposition to cats as pets came from. I just didn’t want to get attached to something that was going to break my heart.
Longer story shortened, I decided to get a kitten for myself. I started looking around and found a lady here in town with several litters. I wanted a calico kitten originally. So I went to pick one out and immediately bonded with a grey and white kitten. So I brought both her and a calico home.
Meet Sage (grey and white) and Daisy (calico).
They have been with us for just about two months now. They are both absolute terrors, and sweet little cuddle bugs at the same time. I adore them both, but Daisy is a lot more aloof with me. Sage is my buddy. She sits on me every time I’m sitting down. She gets in my face and grabs my phone for attention. It’s adorable.
These kittens have brought a lot of joy into my life. I’m so glad I was able to move past the trauma of many lost kitty lives, and learn to allow myself to be attached again. It’s been so worth it!!
This has turned out to be a somewhat long post, but just barely touches on the highlights of my thought process. I’m not comfortable going into more detail in a public forum. If you’re a close friend or family member of mine and you’d like to talk about this, please send me a PM on social media or text me and I’d be happy to answer questions or discuss things in more depth.
I have always dated and been in relationships with men. Growing up, and around the time I started understanding sexuality, all of my examples in life were straight. My mom and dad weren’t together, and they both dated. My grandparents were very happily committed (and a shining example of a loving relationship). My aunts and uncles, cousins, and family friends were all straight. I knew no different. I knew that girls were attractive to me, but rationalized it to be more of an idolization rather than attraction.
Also while growing up, being raised mostly by a single mom, she taught me never to trust men. She always taught me to be aware of my surroundings, carry car keys between my fingers while walking alone after dark, and always check my back seats in my vehicle to check or predators. Yes, all of this is good advice, even now. Especially now. But on some level it helped along the mindset that most, if not all men, are predators. This all checked out within my experiences because I endured rape and sexual abuse by adult men while I was still a child.
During my later teenage and high school years, there were a couple of girls I actually developed feelings for, one of which ended up dating one of my other female friends. I was very jealous, but never really processed it as jealousy in terms of romance. I rationalized it as jealousy because two of my close friends were hanging out and doing things without me. I was missing out. But even when I confessed my feelings to those I had crushes on, neither reciprocated my feelings. It was disappointing and it hurt, and so I defaulted to what was familiar and easy, which was getting attention from guys.
I continued throughout my entire adult life labeling myself as bisexual, but only ever had relationships with men. Nearly every relationship I’ve ever been in with a man has been either psychologically, emotionally, or sexually abusive in some way. I was never fully satisfied with the physical intimacy part of those relationships, but I continued with it to get attention, to feel loved, and to have companionship, even if those relationships were detrimental to me.
Once a few years ago I had a short-lived little fling with a female friend. It was inappropriate, so ended quickly, and we were able to salvage our friendship. However, even in that moment, I realized on some level that the feelings I had in that situation with her were more intense than anything I’d felt before with men. You’d think that would be my “aha!” moment. But I don’t learn things easily…
Right now I am married for the third time, and have been divorced twice. My current marriage to Jarrod has been far from perfect, but we love each other and we plan to stay together. We love our family, and don’t want Felix to come from a broken home. We’re happy. Nothing is planned to change about our situation… However throughout the last couple months I have been evaluating my history, the feelings and experiences I’ve had, and how it all fits together and makes sense for ME.
And you know what? I am a lesbian. I know what/who I’m attracted to. I know what causes the reaction of physical and emotional attraction, and that is women AND my husband. Ok yeah, of course my husband is (and always has been) anatomically male. But for lack of a better term, he’s been grandfathered in due to the fact that I love him. I love him, I love our family, and I love where we are in life. I don’t want that to change. He knows all about my feelings and recent self-discovery, and he loves me anyway of course.
So what does this change? Nothing, outwardly. Internally, I feel much more comfortable in my skin knowing where I stand. Its a relief to know my true self and not be in denial or hiding it from anyone. I’m no longer looking to seek approval from the male gaze (other than my husband’s), which is a very freeing feeling. I can relax and be my authentic self.