"what's on your mind?"

I've posted blogs before trying to be candid about *who* this "plain ole Shealey girl" really is... {for those of you who do not know, "Shealey" is my maiden name & despite the former "Eldridge" or the current "Brooks" at the end of my name, I will *always* be a "Shealey" girl... in fact, many of my friends still call me Kayla Shealey & will never refer to me as anything else}. In fact, you can find a couple of those posts here and here. I pride myself in being an open book, but in reality- there are some things I don't talk about at all. Maybe because I don't like the way they make me look. "Since when has Kayla cared about what others think??" you're probably asking yourself. Oh, only since forever. I think that people who say that they don't care are lying. Or selfish, inconsiderate ass holes. (if you're offended by the language, I apologize. It is not my intention to offend anyone, but I do tend to use some "inappropriate" language from time to time because sometimes "butt head" just doesn't cut it) I try to just be who I am and not let what others think change that, but I do care what people think of me. I don't want anyone talking about me when I'm not around, saying ugly things behind my back (or to my face, for that matter) because I'm a sensitive person. I get my feelings hurt easily. I'm a wuss. Fine. And, ya know, maybe *every* thought I have isn't meant to be expressed, but if I'm saying that this blog was created as a journal for me... an outlet for myself... shouldn't I write about whatever is on my heart... mind... whatever?? Heck, maybe I'll find that I'm not the only person who feels the way I do. There is some sort of validation in hearing "girl, I know exactly what you mean". I suppose, when you have a blog, you're opening yourself up to criticism and you're letting people judge you. Putting yourself out on a proverbial platter... waiting for someone to accept or reject your thoughts, emotions, etc. Anyway. That's enough talking about talking about my feelings (did you get that?)... time to actual talk about them... errr, type. Whatever. Same difference.

*deep sigh* What's on my mind?? Facebook asks me that a lot. Every time I get on. I could be honest and say "Oreos." but that would just be my status. It would just say:
Kayla Brooks Oreos.
That would be it. And I'm sure no one cares that Oreos are on my mind (and they usually are. I love Golden Oreos.)... so I don't bore you guys with that sort of stuff. Usually. Sometimes I can't resist. But, those of you who know me really well know what a sickeningly hopeless romantic I am. I absolutely am addicted to the feeling of being in love. I fall fast and hard and without hesitation. It seems, to me, to be beyond my control. When I tell you I'm addicted to it, I really think I am. I think it's an illness of sorts. Of course, this makes me a wonderful partner in that I'm very affectionate and attentive and loving, but makes me a terrible partner in that I crush a lot. Usually just on "out of reach" people like {my love} Josh Wolf. But, sometimes on real-life people that I get to actually have conversations with. I've heard married people say before that once they fell for that "special person" that they just couldn't see anyone else "in that way" at all. That they weren't even attracted to any member of the opposite sex. I call bull shit. I mean, I could be wrong. (Again, this is just *my* personal rant... feelings as experienced by yours truly... please do not crucify me for calling bull shit on something that may or may not actually be bull shit.) I have a hard time believing that there is ONE person out there for everyone. That would mean that either I didn't really love my first husband or that I don't really love my current husband. Or that I won't love the next one. (ha! the next one... that was my attempt at a joke) I'm a lover. It's what I do. I believe I mentioned that.
Exhibit A: I fell in love for the first time when I was ten. Yes, ten years old. This month was the eighteenth anniversary of the first time I saw his face. I know I was a kid, but boy did he make my stomach do this crazy mexican jumping bean thing... His name was Josh (but most of you already knew that, didn't you?) and I was gonna marry that boy. At ten. We went trick-or-treating together... shared a dum-dum sucker before we had ever had our first kiss and that was *such* a big deal to me. My world revolved around Josh. He used to ride his bike to my house after school and we would walk around the yard holding hands. I heard the term "puppy love" used so many times and I seriously despised the term. We were not dogs. We were kids. But, we were kids that were in love. And that lasted far longer than anyone (other than myself) had imagined. At seventeen, we were still holding hands. I still loved that boy. But, as I have said a hundred and twelve times. Life happens. Things change. People change. And things are only good until they aren't anymore.
Exhibit B: I moved on. I loved Reuben. Oh, how I loved that boy. And then that man. We had something that people dreamed of having. No one could tell us anything. We were young and so in love... and it was going to last forever. We had a baby. Things were more difficult than we had ever dreamed, but life was still so, so good. We had another baby. Life was better. We were still young. We were still in love. We loved each other, it seemed, more and more with each passing day. Some times, at night, I would hold him while he was sleeping (cheesy, I know) and think about what I would do without him lying next to me and my heart would literally ache to the point to where I thought I would throw up. I needed him like I needed oxygen. But, life happens. Things change. People change. And things are only good until they aren't anymore. It's not like I woke up one morning and said "I'm going to cheat on my husband. I'm going to start a relationship with someone else." That's not how it happened at all. I could try my best to justify it, but the truth is- there is no excuse good enough to explain what I did. How I hurt him. How I hurt my children as a result of my actions. I think I didn't really expect the consequences as they played out. It didn't seem real. I wasn't getting attention at home. So what? I felt like he loved his stupid video game more than me. And?? I just wanted to feel loved, and wanted, and needed, and pretty, and special, and all those things that he made me feel not so many years before... Doesn't matter. Still not an excuse. But, at that time, I thought it was. I defended myself and my decisions and I had friends to back me up. I had people telling me "Girl, I don't blame you!! He deserved that. Doesn't he know that a woman has needs?? He didn't appreciate you so you found someone who would." It doesn't matter. I know now that it was just a season that we were going through in our life. It would have passed. That mantra "this too shall pass" kept me from losing my mind in the early days of new motherhood with a colicky newborn... why didn't I think of it when my marriage was falling apart? I was selfish. I believe that I thought that we would take some space- each do what we wanted for a while- and that we would both realize what we truly wanted... and that would be each other. Only, by the time I realized it, it was too late. He had filed for divorce. We were no longer separated. We were divorced. I was divorced at 23. I cried as I signed the papers. It sucked. It makes me want to throw up, even to this day, thinking about everything that I could have, should have done... but I suppose all the coulda, shoulda, wouldas in the world don't make a bit of difference now. So, I don't dwell on it. As always, I moved on....
Exhibit C: Brandon. My husband. The reason for the "Brooks" at the end of my name. Yes, he was "the other man", and as most of my friends know, it has been rocky from the start. Things are bound to be rocky when you start a relationship the way that we did- with lies and deception. Each of us hurting the people that we swore before God that we would never forsake. I can say from a place of  "been there, done that"... a person never really recovers from beginning a relationship the way we did. There will always be trust issues. Always. If he works late, some times I wonder if he's really out working... after all, that's what he said when he was sneaking off to see me. When he's working out of town and I call and he doesn't answer immediately, I wonder if some other girl is out of town with him... because I can remember driving to Columbus to spend several days with him while he was working. If he's more affectionate than usual- I wonder. If he's more standoff-ish, I wonder. Rarely do I feel so secure in my marriage that I'm not concerned about it. And, it's no one's fault but my own.
Now, in between those examples, there are exhibits A.2 (Ryan), A.3 (William), A.4 (another Ryan), B.2 (Brad), B.3 (Matt), and B.4 (John)... all guys that, for a brief moment in time, I thought coulda been "it"... and when it was over (as it obviously was), I thought that my world might end. It never did. The world keeps a'turnin'.... the sun rises the next day... despite my tear-stained pillow. And, now I'm still on friendly terms with all but one of them. I wish them all nothing but wonderful things and I can honestly say that I feel more than just a little bit silly thinking about all of the time and energy that I invested in crying over them... and, more than once, actually begging them to stick around (not my finest hours, undoubtedly)... I don't know what any of this has to do with anything. Maybe nothing. Maybe it's all just random, empty thoughts running around in my head... but I figured this was all a little much for a status update, so when Facebook asked what was on my mind today, I decided to blog it up. :)

judge away.