Broke Down Girl

Broke Down   Ive been so broke down Walking middle ground Head low feet bare Thousand yard stare Half way to hell, far from being well Broke down girl Shady secret world Bleak Gunmetal skies empty poison lies Close to damnation, little hope of salvation Highway rest stop bleak like my heart one more exit up the road maybe lessen the load Nearly empty now, take my final bow Broke down girl Hidden helpless pearl Someone will find you Brush away the black and blue Take you up from low, cup over flow Broke down girl

My Husband

I miss him so very much…

He is the love of my life….

I just want him home….just want to hold him again….

Don’t Call Me….

It’s strange to me that even in this modern era women continue to define and allow themselves to be defined by their husbands.

Haven’t we moved past this? Haven’t we become enlightened enough to realize that women can define themselves? That women are equal to and can even surpass their husbands in areas such as education and career and that regardless of education or career or the lack there of a woman is still her own and defines herself?

In many ways and in many walks of life it seems we most certainly have realized this. 

Regardless of how you feel about Sarah and Hilary… they certainly have one strong point…they are self-defined women. They see no need to look to their husbands for their definitions of self. The Williams Sisters do not seem to need a man or his career to define them…Nancy Brinker, Trudie Styler and Katie Couric sure aren’t defining themselves by the words, actions or choices made by their husbands.

 

These women come from many walks of life and have gone on to do many great things….these women are self-defined. I doubt you’ll hear Hilary introducing herself as “Bills Wife”!  Cheers to the strong, independent females and the gender at large!

Yet, there is one walk of life where women are still defined by their male partners… Do you know what I have to say to that?

 

I have a name…please use it. I have a personality…please take the time to discover it. I have an identity all my own…it has nothing to do with my husband’s job and everything to do with the person I have spent 34 years becoming.

I am worth knowing all on my own. I do not need to ride the shirt tails of my spouse in order to be great or worthy of praise. In fact I refuse to ride the swell of my spouse’s accomplishments for my own gratification. I refuse to receive accolades because of what my spouse has worked for.

Praise me for me. Ask me about my accomplishments. Talk with me about my life…not just my husband’s job.

Entertain the notion that my husband’s job is just that…a job. Nothing more or less. Realize that his job doesn’t define the man, the woman or the marriage. He is not a Service Member named Robert…he is Robert, who happens to be a service member.  I am not a Military Wife…I am Christine. We are not a military family…we are a family associated with the military.

Please do not categorize us or label us with these terms. You might think you’re being kind or offering some form of flattery but you’re not. You’re missing us….your missing me. Every time you call me Military Wife you’re demeaning Christine and all her amazing, hard won accomplishments. Every time you call me Military wife you’re telling me that the only thing about me you care to know is what my spouse does for a living. I suppose if you really don’t care than its fine…but don’t think you’re paying me a compliment.

No…I’m not a “Moto Wife”….you won’t see military stickers on my car, I don’t wear t-shirts bemoaning my lack of a sex life in public, and I don’t make military themed knick-knacks either. And that’s OK! It doesn’t mean I don’t love, honor and support my spouse…it means I have interests and goals of my own. Like so many strong, independent women do…It means I do not allow my husband’s career to dictate what I do with my time, my life or my knowledge. It means I know where to draw the line between who he is and what he does and who I am.

I am NO less dedicated to my husband for this…I am NO less proud of him. But let me set you straight. I am not proud of my husband for being a Service member…I am proud of him for being a good man, a good life partner and a good friend. I am proud of how hard he works and how he supports us. Just because I don’t wear his dog tags or carry a purse made out of an old uniform doesn’t mean I don’t swell with pride at his accomplishments.  But I’d be equally as proud and thankful for his hard work if he was a Street Sweeper or a Vet Tech.

My husband’s career is just that…it’s a job. Don’t make it what it’s not…and don’t label because of it. Don’t categorize me as someone to feel sorry for, some rank and file wifey, or as someone whose identity is defined by the uniform her husband wears.

Please don’t call me military wife….call me Christine, and I’ll be thrilled to make your acquaintance.

 

 

Time so slowly passes and the days they wander on

Watch and wait and hope and pray, the clock ticks out their song

The dark of night embraces what can not be held by him

Morning light reminds of what has been lost again

Each step she takes a victory, each night a stories end

Counting squares upon a page, a thousand grains of sand

He has her in his heart, locked away protected and divine

Waves count out a measure, remind him of his life

Yet he holds true the promise of what he left behind

And on home shores she holds a gift…a love to last all time.

Man Bashing

Makes me fucking sick and I want women to knock it the fuck off. Just because YOU have a lazy, punk ass POS boyfriend or husband doesn’t make all men that way. It makes YOU a poor fucking judge of character and a door mat.

I am not (not anymore) a poor judge of character and I am not a door mat and I can assure you that my husband does not deserve to be lumped into any stereotypical category about men. He is not lazy or cruel or thoughtless. He doesn’t use words as weapons nor does he lie or cheat. He doesn’t sit on his ass and play videos games, he doesn’t have to be asked to help around the house.

In short……he is NOT what you consider a typical man. But that’s because you have no self-worth and have no idea what a REAL man is.

So stop. STOP lumping my precious, wonderful, thoughtful and kind husband in with your POS.

Survive

This is the darkness brought by the sea
drowning, the waves wash over me

This is the bitter night on my skin
blackness like sorrow draws me in

I am the night the darkness my mate

I cry tears relief like freedom

I know you hear my call my request

I understand you can not comply

This is the dawn I reach out and hold
climbing hard to rise from the cold

This is tomorrow a promise a prize
see the survival the hope in my eyes

 

Hurt You

From sometime in 2007

Hurt you

I see your flesh in lovely shades of purple, black and blue

It gives me such great joy to see such pain in you

I listen close and strain to hear the sound of breaking bones

and such sweet reward the echo on anguished groans

Oh how I long to hurt you to turn you inside out

To beat you burn you bite you…to make beg and shout

But we both know I love you dear and couldn’t stand to see you cry

So I will be the one who hurts….the day you say good-bye.

 

 

Someone to Love

From sometime between ’06 and ’07.

Someone to love that’s what I wish for

Someone to make me his own special whore

Someone who showers me in lies and deceit

Who makes me beg and cry at his feet

A man who adores and loves only me

Who relishes each sad anguished plea

A man who knows how to touch my flesh

Someone who keeps the agony fresh….

Yes

Someone to love me………..thats just what I need.

You

From sometime in 2008…

You…

You are a warm passionate kiss

you are my always perfect bliss.

The touch of your skin the sound of your voice

now and forever you are my choice.

I simply love you for all that you are…

no ocean to deep no distance to far.

 

Likely written to my then boyfriend (now husband)

Fast Food

…is gross and awful yet denying a 10 year old his beleived quota with bring on a wrath like no other.

Good grief