Fahrvergnügen: The Story of Fiona

(Fiona – January 2017 – Daytona, FL)

Fiona, the 2008 VW Passat Komfort 2.0T, came in to my life in March of 2012 from the trade of my 2006 VW Jetta 2.5T.

She was subtle.  Sleek.  Sexy.  Unassuming.

She was, to me, trick.

I love the brand.  I’m a full on VW Kool-Aid drinker.

I’m not gonna lie.

German engineering got me like…. #fahrvergnügn ❤

Those that embrace german engineering will understand this love affair and I need not explain further.

If you need an explanation you either don’t know me, don’t know the beauty of german engineering or both…

At this time, feel free to move along and abandon this post…

Unless of course…you love me and my style of writing…in which case….

….grab a snazzy glass of red, sit back and read away…Thank you for your support 🙂

***WARNING***

I’m about to get emotional because something inconceivable has recently happened (insert broken hearted emoji here)

I loved my Passat in a very unhealthy way.

It’s true.

And I admit it.

She represented so many things to me:

1. Success:  I paid her off on time and within terms
2. Freedom: She took me places; moved me countless times (whether I was prepared or not)
3. Saved me: She was a vessel to remove me from unhealthy situations and relationships
4. Ownership: She was paid off this year in May 2017 and still beautiful and pristine;  and true to the Dave Ramsey model, we had another few years together at least…me saving money and driving a car that made me happy…

Until…..

…a drunk driver made a decision for me while I was sleeping, snug as a bug with my sweetie, in the early morning hours of 19 August 2017.

I rolled over.

It was 4ish A.M.

“Why is your light still on?” I said to him.

He grunted.

The light went out.

I felt him looking for my foot.

He asked me where it was.

Did I answer?

I can’t remember.

But the crash!

That awful, crunching, shrieking sound of metal and then screetching tires….

I thought to myself… “WOW!!! That sounded terrible, I hope whoever that is, that they are ok”.

Sleepy.

Drifting.

Floating.

And then the doorbell rang….and rang again….and again….

I sat straight up in bed.

Was it my imagination???

Am I hearing things?

NO!!!!

There it is again!  The doorbell.

Being pushed…..incessantly!

Urgently!!!

The clock.

4:21 am….

….nothing good ever happens at 4:21 am.

My heart is racing…

…and the dog and the man are snoring like all get out….

HELLO!!!!  WAKE THE EFF UP!!!

I push him.

“Baby, someone is at the door!  Something is wrong!”

Now there is pounding on the door along with the doorbell being rung.

Home invasion???

Hey!  That ish happens here in Florida…I’m playing it safe….

…pulling out the gun box…and trying to wake up the man…

Load the gun…

Recon…

There are people standing around Fiona…

…and my man says…babe….we have a problem and the neighbors are trying to get your attention.

On this night, someone took my life, my livelihood and my finances in his hands…

He decided to drive drunk.

And that decision caused damage.

Financial damage.

Not only did he make a decision to take his own life in his hands, he jeopardized the property of others and the safety of those who were also out on the road at the same time.

He must have been in a terrible place emotionally.  That makes me so sad.

His choice to drive intoxicated destroyed federal property and totaled my car.

Thankfully, as far as I know, no one was physically injured or killed.

This is a true blessing!

God is GOOD!!!

It took a couple of hours before the police showed up.

It was agonizing.

My mind was racing, playing over worst case scenarios.  Looking at my now seriously banged up VW.

Shattered glass littering my driveway.

My beautiful, lush green hedges, taken out from the root and now displaying a big gaping hole.

My mind just keeps reminding me that I’ve just lost my ability to earn a living (up until that moment I was a full time Uber driver waiting for my new position to start at a local company) for the next two weeks before my new job was to start.

I was forced in to an unpaid four week vacation.

I was sick to my stomach to be back in a car payment.

And I was emotional at losing my Fiona.

My trusty steed.

My VW.

My Fahrvergnügn ❤

My freedom.

I felt anger.  Fear. Anxiety. Sadness.

Anger, again…..and again….and again.

Frustration.  Disappointment.

And then ultimately, acceptance.

Me and the man were able to get in front of the process, get prepared and ultimately, I purchased a reliable and solid replacement.

Stay tuned, because I’ll do a blog on the new whip…when the time is right.

Back to the night in question….

My neighbors were nothing short of AMAZING!

They hung out with us for several hours; not only waiting for the police to arrive to give their testimony, but long after the police left.  A few went out in search of the truck that hit my car (the neighbor 3 doors down actually witnessed the hit and run but because it was so dark and there was no way to read the plate) to see if perhaps he abandoned the vehicle in a nearby plaza or church parking lot.

No such luck.

It was a painful weekend, hoping and praying that the person who did this would come forward and take accountability so the financial outlay was as minimal as possible to me and also wishing upon all wishes that my car was repairable.

She was towed out on Monday to the appraiser….

….and official word of being totaled was delivered a couple days later on Wednesday.

My insurance company was fantastic.  I encourage you to let Esurance quote you next time you are up for renewal.  They are a division of Allstate.  Totally reputable and they took damn good care of me!

The settlement was offered and 80% was immediately deposited in to my account.

I sent loss paperwork and remainder was released.

This all took place in less then two weeks.

And with the help of family, I purchased another car.

It’s not a VW…I couldn’t afford one this time….

…but the new girl, she’s a trusty whip and I’m hoping that she will be low maintenance and be with me a long time.

The one amazing thing I can take away from this whole experience is this….

…a car is just a car.

It doesn’t care if I’m happy or sad.

Healthy or sick.

Late for work or stuck in traffic.

The car is unfeeling.

It’s a tool.

A vessel to get me from point A to point B.

As long as I do the maintenance, the car should perform.  Occasionally, it will require additional work.

But all it is, all it ever will be, is a tool.

It’s not status.  It’s not love.  It’s not my identity.

It’s four wheels on a rolling chassis.

I just pray that every night, when I get home from work and park her in my driveway, every vehicle that drives by is operated by a sober and alert driver.

I don’t think that’s too much to ask 🙂

***Disclaimer***

Please, if you have been drinking, feel like you have had too much to drink, know you have had too much to drink or question your ability to get home safely after being out and drinking….

USE UBER!!!

I repeat….

USE UBER!!!

It will be so much safer for EVERYONE!

Until next time….

Love, Jeni ❤

Coming Out of Pain

Pain.

It’s physical and emotional. Usually at the same time.

And especially at the beginning.

Depending on the cause of pain, the physical component can fade, but the emotional part can continue on for what seems like an eternity. 

Pain. 

It does not discriminate. It doesn’t care about timing. It comes in all forms like:

1. Death – the loss of a loved one
2. Break-ups – the end of a long term relationship, a marriage, or even a job
3. Physical – broken bones, cuts and scrapes, illness (chronic or terminal) or allergies
4. Emotional – depression, anxiety, anger
5. Finances (or lack thereof)

Pain. 

It’s solitary, yet can cast a wide net and affect others around you.

While you can share how your pain feels to you, no one can literally feel the pain you are feeling in the way that you feel it. That doesn’t mean people can’t or don’t feel compassion though. At least for little while. 

But, pain can be isolating, especially when it hangs on. And when it hangs on, sometimes, there are people that don’t have the ability to stay in your life and weather the storm with you and watch while you try to navigate the bumpy road of getting back to life. Back to finding joy and happiness again.

During my season of pain I lost a few friends. Relationships I would have banked to stand the test of time, last forever, all that good stuff. 

That wasn’t the case, and it’s totally okay. 

I feel sadness that the relationships, dissolved, but I also understand at the same time that we are all built with different coping skills. Not everyone has the tolerance to watch people they care about fall apart and not be able to do anything about it, because the silly, little humans we are think we can actually fix people when they are broken and in the darkest of places.

And when we can’t fix the people we love, that helplessness creeps in and it’s a terrible feeling. Rather then feeling like a stoodge because we can’t fix something or someone, we disconnect and seek the butterflies and unicorns that bring joy in our lives so we don’t have to watch the sorrow and pain in someone else’s life.

During my journey of coming out of pain I have learned that forgiveness breaks the chains that keep you captive, love is the constant that heals and hope is always in front of me, even when I can’t see it.  I have been truly blessed to have some ridiculously amazing and supportive people in my life that just wouldn’t give up on me no matter how hard I tried to push them away.

If you are struggling today. If you are thinking of doing something that will be permanent. If you need someone to talk to. Please, reach out to me. Reach out to someone you trust. Lean on your faith and remember that the darkness is temporary. 

And most importantly, that you are loved ❤️

Until next time…

Love, Jeni

Smoke, soot & cookies…not what you think.

I work for a local restoration and reconstruction company not far from where I live in Jacksonville.  For the most part, I spend my days in the office as a Customer Service Liaison…

…liaison-ing 😀

Until today, I had never been to an initial loss site visit.  I’ve been on job sites that were already in progress, but was not prepared for what I saw and experienced today.

A fire loss.

We arrived at a beautiful home in the cute, historic-ish neighborhood of San Marco.  From the outside, it didn’t seem like the damage would be wide spread.  After all, we were briefed that the loss was minimal smoke and fire damage in a few parts of the house.

This was not the case and what I saw filled me with so much sadness I could barely stand it.

With respirators on we went in to the house to document damage and contents.  Tagging items that could possibly be saved and others that were so damaged but had sentimental meaning to the Homeowner.

My job was to take pictures of each damaged room.  In this case, it was all rooms.  Fifteen to be exact, not including exterior.

It took me almost two hours to take all the pictures, and as those two hours passed, immersed among the residual smoke, fire and soot damage, seeing the loss of memories created over the course of more than 30 years, I became not only physically ill, but heartsick too.  Knowing the feeling of loss.  Understanding the finality of it.  That you cannot replace what is gone.

The Bible tells us we shouldn’t be drawn in to attachment of material “things”.  The reality is, the memory of your wedding day in a 24 x 12 frame, most likely  holds an attachment to your heart and soul.  As it should.  Now, it’s gone forever.

Along with melted kitchen appliances, computers, books, furniture, clothes, mattresses, linens, shoes, jewelry, musical instruments, carpets, pet toys, and the list goes on.

(stock photo found on Google; not actual job site)

Even though I was wearing my respirator, booties and gloves, it was not enough to keep the smell of smoke from permeating not only my hair and clothes, but also in to my eyes and lungs.  Leaving me with an excruciating headache and mild nausea.  I wanted to get out of there.  To flee from the bleakness of the situation.

And then I saw the Homeowner, slowly and methodically going through items in the Master Bedroom.  Trying to find something, anything, salvageable that pertains to his life. Moving things from one side of the room to the other.  I quietly offered my apologies and moved along to finish my pictures and giving him his privacy among the remains of his belongings.

This was a total loss.  The house will need to be gutted; demoed to the studs.  Rebuilt.  So that this family can return and fill their home with new memories as they honor the ones that were created before this devastating loss.

We wrapped up and were on our way to another location.  A mold remediation job.  I have had the pleasure of assisting this family for many weeks on the phone, through two unrelated losses.  I was really looking forward to meeting her.

When we arrived she invited us in.  Her home was welcoming and warm.  The smell of homemade cookies baking in the oven.  Heaven.  Heaven compared from where we had just come from.

The stark contrast of brightness and cookies and blackness and soot that still remained in our memory and on our clothes was not lost on us.

We conducted our business.  Signed paperwork and left with a full, warm tin of homemade, gluten-free peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies made with love and gratitude.

They were incredibly delish!  We housed almost half of the tin before we even got back to the office!  Hey, no judgement!  Besides, we shared with everyone 😉

For the remainder of the day I sat at my desk with the smell of smoke jammed up my nose and looking forward to coming home to get out of my clothes and wash the sadness and smell of loss out them.  To literally undress the memory from my brain and my body.

I ask you dear readers, please pray for this family that has lost everything so close to Christmas.  Pray for those who are struggling right now.  The homeless.  The poor.  The disadvantaged.  The lonely.  Pray for your neighbor, and even for your enemies.

Because in just a blink of an eye, it can all be taken away.  It is all so incredibly temporary.

Be kind.  Show love.  Be genuine.  Give of your time.  I promise, you won’t be sorry.

Until next time…

Love, Jeni ❤

 

Don’t Follow Your Feelings

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? – Jeremiah 17:9 ESV

“Follow your heart.”  “You only live once.”  “If it feels good, do it.”

And my personal favorite…

“Sometimes things have to go wrong in order to go right.”

Honestly, if I see, hear, or read another meme about this complete nonsense I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw-up in my mouth.  And then projectile spew green goo, Linda Blair style.  I’m expecting high marks if I can actually make my head spin around 360 degrees too, so please, have your scorecards ready.

I started following my feelings three years ago.  I chose to ignore the little voice that was warning me not to go down that road a third time.  I was in a different place.  I was living wide open.  I could only see the good in people.  I was a believer of all those ridiculous memes you see people posting on Facebook and Pinterest.  Hey, if it makes you feel good, do it, right?

But please, don’t feel the need to share with me anymore.  My heart has become dark and immune to such tactics.

For eight years, I have been living with a debilitating and incurable disease known as Graves Disease (that’s a whole different blog for another time) and it’s a full time job.  It also allows for other things to go wrong.  Which they have.  So, three years ago, when I made the worst decision of my life, I couldn’t have predicted just how terrible the ride would be for me current day.

A year ago (yesterday) the curtain dropped and the darkness moved in.  I did everything right to fight back against it.  I went to counseling.  I read, posted and subscribed 100% to those hopeless memes.  I went to church every single week; sometimes three times a week.  When I could help someone, I did.  I made plans to move again.  I took small risks that I thought would produce a positive and successful outcome.

They did.  And then…they didn’t.

Just when I thought I could see a light, a glimmer of hope that my decisions and risks were starting to pay off, feeling as everything was finally going right and I would settle down and find happiness, September arrived and with it a week long date with doctor after doctor after doctor.

Unfortunately, there was not good news….

In fact, the news required me taking a last minute trip back north for further testing.  Just to be sure.  Because one of the results came back positive.  And then the confirmation.  Cervical cancer.

In November, the week of Thanksgiving, the procedure to remove the lower half of my uterus was scheduled.  Two week recovery time.  So, it probably wasn’t very smart to go run a 5k Turkey trot four days post procedure, but hey, that’s how I roll.

Nothing can stop me.

Not Graves Disease.  Not thyroid cancer.  Not cervical cancer.

Not the complete destruction of my dreams…

These were just all pesky little buggers poking me, testing my strength.

But, when I returned home, things continued to get worse.  I was falling behind on my bills.  I constantly worried about my health and my future.  The holidays were coming. And the memories.  Those awful memories.

I started falling down the emotional rabbit hole.  Only it wasn’t all Alice in Wonderland.  There were no drugs to make the journey cool and psychedelic, just the daily meds I take for survival.  The sadness, the fear, the anxiety was suffocating me.

I became afraid of making decisions.  Planning.  Taking risks.  What if I’m wrong?  What if I lose what very little I have left?  What if?  What if?  What if?

Then, I spent Christmas and New Year with an awesome lady.  She knew I was hurting.  She knew what that felt like.  So she flew me to her for nine days.  She didn’t sugarcoat anything.  When we talked, she gave it to me with respect.  Laid it out in black and white. I was so grateful for that.  I was ready to pull my Big Girl panties up and punch 2016 in the face.  Together, we had come up with a plan.  I was going to take risks.  I was going to succeed.  I was going to believe that there were good things out there just waiting for me to grab them.

But when I got home, my car broke down on the side of a major highway.  Bad timing.  The Big Girl panties were gone.  It was two days in to 2016 and already I was getting bitch-slapped.  If I didn’t have my dog with me, I truly would have opened my car door and walked out on that five lane highway.  Goodnight.  Goodbye.

Instead.  I cried like there was no tomorrow, on the side of a highway, feeling alone and scared.  Then, with the help of my friend and my Dad, I got the car towed and repaired.

And returned to start.

Believing this was my year and good things were coming.  I got this!  I pulled up my Big Girl panties so high that I’m pretty sure I had the worlds worst camel toe.

I had interviews set up.  I was following the plan.  Dealing with one fire at a time.

There was still fear.  Still anxiety.  But there was something new.  Hope.  Just a little bit of hope and my friend beside me.  And it felt kind of good.

Then, I got great news.  I was notified that I had been selected for a spot on the Pearl Izumi Women’s Cycling Champions Team.  I couldn’t believe it!  I never thought my application would be selected from the thousands that they received.  But they chose me!  What a great opportunity!

Could it be? Things were seriously starting to look up?  Phew!

But if there’s anything I have learned on this journey in the last three years, is that when something good happens, that means something equally bad is sure to come.

And it did.

My car broke down again.  Just two days before I was to go to the meeting of a lifetime.  Four hours away.  Really.  I can’t make this up.

With the help of another amazing friend and her family, we came up with a plan to get my car to the shop and me to the meeting.  Things were going to be okay.

Just breathe Jen.  Just breathe.

But the other shoe was waiting to drop.  The shop called and the news was not good.  My faithful steed was broken.  Just like me.  The cost to fix it, almost 1800$.  Money that does not exist in my pocket these days.

I have lost everything, over the course of the last three years.  My home.  My wonder.  My positivity.  My personal belongings.  Myself.

Because of one decision.

This journey, it’s not been a good one.  This life, it hasn’t been good to me.  I wanted to believe so desperately that there was a happy ending for me.  Now, I wait for the end.

I don’t feel anything anymore.  Not happiness.  Not anger.  Not hope.  Not desire.  Not joy.  Not excitement.

When life kicks you in the teeth over and over and over, eventually, you just don’t get up.  I’ve been through enough now.  I’m tired.  Plain exhausted.

I just exist.  Each day the same as the last.  I get up, go to work.  Go through the motions.  Go to bed.  Repeat.

I cannot follow my feelings anymore, because I don’t have any.  I cannot trust my heart.  Because it’s hurt me too many times.

Please don’t be upset with me, because I’ve disconnected from you my friends.  I’ve done so to protect you.  Because I love you.

Will I ever find my way back?

I don’t know….and frankly, I just don’t care.

Until next time.

Love, Jeni

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am her daughter…

Roberta L. Starzynski Collier (Sept 21, 1933 – June 20, 2007)

Mother’s Day is tomorrow.  It’s not really my favorite day of the year.  Anymore.  Not since my Mom died.  In fact, most major holidays pretty much suck the big one for me, because the one person I want to be with the most isn’t here anymore.

Loss.  Grief.  Missing someone.  It’s a funny thing.  The process is so incredibly different for everyone.  The pain, for sure, never goes away.  You kind of just get numb.  You know the day you’re dreading (their birthday, Mother’s/Father’s Day, Christmas, blah, fucking, blah blah blah) is coming and you begin to change.  You get a little edgy.  You’re quicker to cry when the Barista at Starbucks makes your double tall, six pump, no foam, vanilla latte WITH foam!  ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!

It’s like all the emotions you’re feeling are charging at you like an angry, raging bull in Pamplona looking for the nearest, slowest runner to trample.  That would be me the last few days.

But, I digress.  Let me pull my big girl panties up now.  Sheesh!  Get your shit together already girl!

I could go on and on about how wonderful and awesome and amazing my Mom was.  I could tell a thousand stories of all the great “Mom” things she did with me and all the things she taught me.

I won’t though.

I don’t need to.

Because she’s lives in me and walks with me every day.

And tomorrow morning I will meet her along the river front in Cold Spring, like I have done every single year, for eight years on Mother’s Day since her death.  I will sit and feel the breeze that is her love swirl all around me.  I will offer her beautiful flowers to the awaiting currents of the Hudson River.  I’ll drink my coffee and talk to her about what has been going on in my life.  I’ll close my eyes and turn my face up to feel the heat of the sun and know that she is sitting right beside me, feeling all my love for her.  I always tell myself I won’t cry.  That it’s not really goodbye, because we will be reunited again in Heaven.  But the tears will come, I know.  And it will be ok, because she will be comforting me, like she’s always done, in her quiet, Mom way.

I am her daughter.  Her Jennifer Sarah.  Her Jeni Bear.  Always.

I carry her legacy inside me and as long as I’m alive, so too will her memory be.

Happy Mother’s Day in Heaven, Mom ❤

Love, Jeni

You Are Here

So, there was this female pioneer in the 60’s, who founded what we now know as the five stages of grief and loss.  You might have heard of her if you’ve been grieving and doing mass Google searches on anything remotely related to loss and break-ups.  Her name is Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, a Swiss-American smarty-pants (1926-2004).

I wish she were still alive and I could sit down and talk with her right now.  This moment.  Actually, maybe yell in her face.  Scream bloody murder even.  Because I’m stuck, somewhere in these five gosh-darn stages that she concocted, and I could use her help, her insight.

I’m stuck at a point that I can’t quite identify because it looks and feels like a lot of things, but I’m sure it could be named something appropriate.  Such as, “I Hate this Fucking Place-ville” or “Get Me the Hell Out of Here” or even, “You’re Own Personal Emotional Purgatory”.  Imagine the big red tack on a map at a rest stop along some random super highway that says, “You are here” and you’re trying to figure out how many more miles until you reach your final destination, or a Starbucks.

Shit.

I still have 3 more stages to go.

Fuck!  My!  Life!

Okay, if you’ve been reading (anything) I’ve put out, you’ll quickly gather that I’m navigating a very raw and painful breakup.  It really sucks.  In fact, it’s downright unbearable, which is why I’m choosing to rant in a public capacity, because then I don’t feel so pitifully alone…*sigh*…and it’s quite cathartic, but I digress.

So this Kubler-Ross chick, she had a pretty decent grasp on the process of grief and loss.  The original layout looks like this:

Now, you may (or may not) experience these stages in the order they are outlined in the above model, because there are stages that you might possibly skip (lucky you), and if you do skip a stage I would call you a “fast-tracker” and then possibly turn a little green.  Now, a person can spend an indefinite amount of time in each stage and in any random order.  There is no rhyme or reason, since each persons grief/loss is unique unto them, just like their fingerprint.

For me, I’d say I’m quite definitely stuck somewhere between depression and acceptance.  Or maybe not.  Maybe I’m still firmly planted in the “what the fuck just happened” stage?  Sheesh!  Some days, it’s incredibly hard to tell.  FML (again)!

I certainly experienced anger and it came very early, at the onset of the break-up really.  One, because I found out some information that backed-up the fact that the man I am in love with had been lying to me (for a long time) and two, because I couldn’t believe he would actually lie to me for so long.  I was angry because I felt like a complete and total rube.  Like I got “had”, tricked, misled if you will.  But, the anger burned out as quickly as it had set in and I eventually moved on to the depression stage and that’s where I have been ever since.

I’m not sure denial has been entertained yet, or will even enter the process.  Or maybe it has and it piggybacked on the anger and therefore went undetected?  Ah, for fucks sake.  It’s all a mess.  This emotional crap.

Anyway, after Kubler-Ross introduced the five stages of grief model, someone else came along (not sure who) and decided to add their two cents and expand upon her model by contributing the “upward turn” and “reconstruction” stages.  Ummm….okay.  Because five stages of processing all the emotional crappola wasn’t enough of a drag, someone thought it would be fun to toss in two more additional stages, just for shits and giggles?  Cruel I say.  Just downright cruel!  It must have been a man…just saying.

Well, I’m going to show him!  I’ll call your seven stages and raise you one more!  HA!

Wait!  Shit!  Did I just create more work for myself?  Well, maybe I’ll luck out and skip a stage, or three.

This is the updated model and where I currently am residing between the stages, and yes, I have added my own input (seen in blue), because I like nice round numbers.  So now, the new model has eight stages.  You’re welcome.

Emotional purgatory.

Check in.

Hang out.

Waffle for an indefinite amount of time.

It’s like you’re a cool couple of steps ahead of depression, but you feel like a fruit loop because one minute you’re all like “I’m so ready to move on” and “I got this shit” and the next it’s like you’re frantically looking for the spoon to devour an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy (or whatever flavor floats your emotionally shipwrecked boat) in the darkest closet of your house and hope the twenty extra pounds you put on during the grief process is just an illusion to you and everyone else around you.

Sigh.

You are here…

And the only thing you can do is honor that space, of “here”, and do the work and process the information.  It’s okay to defend your right to heal at your own pace.  Take your time.  You are allowed.  And when you are ready, you will move on the next phase, or, if you’re a lucky bitch, you’ll skip a couple 😀

On my journey of healing, I’m fighting to remind myself that I am NOT and will NOT be defined by my grief, but rather I’m being shaped by God to be stronger yet more vulnerable; to be more loving and to trust in my faith that I will be ok.

I’m learning to heal with a heart that is wide open…

Until next time…

Love, Jeni