My life as been a fairly simple one in many respects, mainly because I've not been the least bit ambitious. Lazy as my mother would put it I suppose there may be some truth to that, but it's been more to the point that I've not felt a need for ambition. I was content to let life take me where it would. Upon retrospect, I think this came more from not contentment nor laziness, but fear. Several years ago if you had said I was fearful, I would have scoffed. I didn't think I was afraid, after all, I had moved out, did well for myself in the Air Force, got married, had a son. I wasn't living a life of fear. But I was.

How odd it seems to be living a life in fear and never even realizing it. I should have known better, but being young and unwilling to listen I never paid attention to the signs that were pointed out to me time and time again. How often I turned away from challenges, how often I professed that I was happy the way I was. Don't get me wrong, I was happy enough as a child, content in my own world away from the evils of the real world. And in that lay my problem.

Looking back on the child that I was, I can see how much of the luster of innocent youth was gone. In it's place was a paranoia, small and quite at the time, but nonetheless it was there. Oh the times I played out in the front yard, hiding from approaching cars, planes overhead, playing at the fact that they were after me, but deep down I was convinced they were. The world wasn't a safe place, and on a deep level I knew it to be true. Could I have told you why at that time? I couldn't have. For I had forgotten why I believed the world was against me. It wasn't until many years later that I could come to understand how it started.

My mother fostered my paranoia, I don't believe by any conscious thought of making me paranoid, but more in the belief of protecting me. She kept from me information, she allowed me to forget things in hopes of letting me grow up normal. Intentions were good, but like all good intentions, it backfired. I can't really blame my mother, at least not for that. She was scared and scared people do unreasonable things.

Still good intentions or not, it had an impact on the way I interact with people. Only a few years ago, while talking about my son, did my mother tell me how I used to be. How carefree and cheerful and so unafraid of the world I used to be. There was a time in my life when there was nothing to fear. I don't remember that time at all it was so long ago, so eclipsed by fear and paranoia. I know there is no going back to that period, for once innocence is lost, forever is your perceptions colored by the evils you have witnessed.

Once upon a time, everyone was my friend, now everyone is a potential enemy it seems. Someone who can hurt you, and for many years I strived to keep myself from getting hurt. Consequently I didn't have many friends growing up. I didn't want let people get too close, I had learned that people close to you can hurt you. I must admit, it's a sorry way to live. But I was convinced I was happiest by myself, spending time in my room reading, or walking out in the woods alone with nothing but my dogs for company. Animals I could trust, they didn't hide their intentions, you knew whether or not they liked you.

My paranoia wasn't an all encompassing thing, at times my true nature would show forth. But at times it was like I was hiding behind it. My very nature was but a mask to cover up who I was, or what I thought I was, but that in itself was a mask as well. I had hidden myself behind layers false and real, and not from others as I used to think, but from myself. My mother was a convenient excuse, she'd get mad at me when I started being like who I was really was, because it wasn't what she was used too, and so I hid myself away again. But again, it was just an excuse, I scared myself. I didn't want to think about who I was or what I was hiding. It was like a monster inside myself, ready to attack if I let down my guard.

Drama was good for me and bad for me. It taught me a lot about masks and myself and delving into my subconscious. Meditation is an interesting thing, very calming and relaxing, but after a period of time I tend to end up spooking myself. Relax too much and the layers start dropping, and that monster as I labeled the fear in myself would rear it's head like a vicious dragon. All the terrible feelings rolled up into a conscious entity. I didn't want to look at it, I didn't want to feel incompetent, inadequate, unworthy of having friends or relationships. But yet I did, I didn't feel smart, I let my dropping grades convince me I wasn't smart, no matter what teachers and councilors said. After all, if I was smart, I wouldn't do so badly on tests and assignments would I? I was my own self-perpetuating nightmare. I let fear rule and guide me, and though I hate to admit it, I wasn't as courageous as I tried to think myself as and even worse I wasn't truthful. That thought more than anything hurt. I thought I had prided myself on being honest and truthful, but the truth of the matter was I was deceiving myself.

At that time in my life I tried to push it aside and not dwell on it, I pushed myself to get out more, to do something and in that a greater rift was created between my mother and I. I was trying to grow up, to become an adult, but she wasn't letting me. She was still scared, still holding on and because of it, I left there and in no way can I in good conscious move back. I set out on my own, joining the military as a means of supporting myself and having a place to live. Still I had yet to really grow free of myself, to come to terms with my fears. Still I was letting them guide me. Holding me back when I should have ventured forth, and venturing forth when I should have held back.

I had some very spooky occurrences in basic training and tech school, I didn't want to dwell on them, preferring instead to try and forget them or set them aside as part of an over active imagination. I think I missed out on a potentially rewarding relationship because I got spooked. Lance McNear, I enjoyed his company, his comradery and dang it all, he still owes me a steak dinner. But the thing I think really spooked me, is the time I saw a wolfs face superimposed over his. I don't remember what he said now, all I know is it spooked me. It was something his uncle I think it was or grandfather, about a wolf as well. It was a bit much for me. Another incidence was when I was hanging around with my friend Christy. It was really weird I was dozing for the most part and I had a vision or dream or something. It was so real and I wasn't asleep, at least I don't think so.

It was up in the mountains, clear blue skies, not a light color, but a darker shade of cornflower blue, like when the days start cooling down. It wasn't fall yet, it was still green, across the wide expanse. A fallen tree lay in a clearing, a den underneath it. Trees lines the clearing, some pine as well as another tree, I'm not sure if it was birch or aspen, but the trunks were small, no more than 3-4" in diameter. The bark was gray with brown. I remember seeing the silhouette of a horses head and then hearing gunfire. After that things got dark and I heard a wolfs howl, close but sounding as if from a distance.

That wasn't the only vision I had that night either, the other was a view of a cabin, tucked away next to a hill, the weather is warm, but it's fall the leaves on the trees are yellow, again whether birch or aspen I don't know but they were much like the trees in the other vision. There was a porch attached to the cabin, railing that was smooth with time, but still containing areas where small branches had been broken away. The grass had a yellow green look to it, a light breeze in the air. There was a cat on the railing. My cat I felt, though I never had a cat that looked like this one. She was a small, short haired tabby. Her face was angular and she had piercing emerald green eyes. It was those eyes that got my attention. So green they almost seemed to glow.

Both of these freaked me out big time and I stopped trying to delve into things which I was starting to think I had no business poking around. Whether or not it was just fanciful thinking, things brought on by stress or something else altogether, I know not, I do know that those images have not faded in the last 11 years and that more than anything I think freaks me out just a little.

However, it was yet just one more occasion where I turned away from it. Instead of spending more time on it, I brushed it aside and refused to have anymore to do with it. I didn't let myself get as close to Lance either as I might have liked. Which is a shame. It's so true that you tend to regret more the things you don't do then the things you have done. Though there are things in my life that I've done that I'm not proud of.

There is one thing I kind of regret. I regret getting married. Mainly because I got married for the wrong reasons, I don't think I really ever actually loved Dave, I just didn't want to be lonely anymore. I wanted someone to be with. It's a failing of mine. I know this, but still it's hard to control the way I feel. I should have waited longer anyway. 21 is just too young to get married I think, at least it was for me. And I really honestly don't believe I will ever get married again, and not just because it's a little difficult in my situation now as it is.

The flesh is weak they say, and so it is. I love to be touched, I love to be adored. It flatters me when someone pays attention to me and makes me feel like I'm important. It's sad I know, I should be stronger and be able to resist, and I can try to excuse myself by saying I was vulnerable and not feeling very loved at the time, but that still didn't give me any right to do what I did. I can't even try and blame Travis, after all, nothing would have come of it if I hadn't let myself enjoy the caresses of his feet against mine. Feet, now there is a weakness of mine. That still doesn't excuse myself. All it boils down to, again is the fact I was afraid, and here was someone who made me feel special and took away the fear. Which is kind of funny in a way. I've this fear of being picked up, I tend to panic, he could pick me up and for some reason I wouldn't panic. He could touch my head without me ducking away which was also weird. And it was all my undoing, and his as well. Both our marriages survived our transgression, but it placed in my heart a sorrow for what I'd done. It wasn't honest, and it was deceitful and it wasn't something I could hide and keep secret. As wrong as I know it was, that in itself I don't regret. I regret what happened but not what I did. I told Dave that as well. I couldn't help but be honest about it and ashamed but there wasn't any regret. I suppose in some ways I am too much of a free spirit and chafe against the restraints set upon us by society. I hurt my dear friend, but she forgave me for what I did with her husband, and that I think was wonderful of her. I don't think Dave ever actually forgave me, and I don't blame him. After all, here he finds out I cheated on him, and if I could go back and change things I likely wouldn't. I'd become an evil person in some ways. Even now I don't regret it and that makes me wonder all the more about the sort of person I've become.

I eventually left Dave, and the sad thing is, it was much the same situation. I met someone who made me feel special, who didn't scare me. Who cared a lot about me. I didn't want to leave, but I knew I had too and I went back home to Dave. Funny thing was, going back to him, I went back with open eyes, and my eyes opened up even further when I witnessed my sons reaction to him. Andrew wanted nothing to do with him, Less than a full week I'd left again. MOre because I feared for Andrews life than anything else. For once I took a leap at something that I wanted, against being scared and fearful, because I was worried about Andrew. FOr a couple of years I had been thinking about leaving Dave, probably why I was unfaithful again, not that that is an excuse. But ever since the day Dave got angry because I told him I was pregnant in December of 95, I had thought of leaving. But I was scared. I was too scared to leave. But that indiscretion gave me a place to go back too, and Andrews remarks or 'No Da' broke through the fear and allowed me to leave.

It hasn't been easy these last 6 years, but I have been happier than I've ever been. Karen's helped me get over much of my fear and insecurities, but a lot of them are still there. The angry monster in my head isn't much there anymore. I think I've confronted those fears enough to not have to worry about it again. It's still there lurking if I go digging deep enough, but there is a time to let sleeping dogs lie and go on with things. I won't say I'm perfect. I won't ever be. But I've kind have come to terms with who I am. I've become my masks, they are who I am. I am who they are. We are what we make ourselves, and I've had as much a shaping of my life as circumstances have. So no longer do I wonder I am. I may still wonder at what I'm doing or why I'm doing it. But I know I'm still an insecure person, a needy person if you will, but I try not to be too needy so I don't push my friends away. I am trying to be a stronger person to not give into the weakness of the flesh. That's hard though. As much as the thought of being with a guy scares me, some part of me wants it. That I don't think I will ever understand.

I can understand wanting to have a little fun, needing a source of release, but these last six years as taught me I don't need to give myself over to a man, that I don't have to feel that it's my duty as a wife to a husband. I don't have to feel guilty about enjoying the pleasures of the flesh, or hope that it's over with soon. But as often as I've felt inadequate being with a guy, as much as it's scared me and turned my insides into knots, as much as I feel cheapened by it, I can't understand why some part of me wants it. It all goes back to being a child I think. What exactly happened, who confronted who, and was I traumatized by the experience or what happened afterwards. I don't think I ever will know.