Dangerously familiar

Hot mess – http://wp.me/p271pb-8U

I wrote that post about a month after I purposely swallowed a handful of pills with half a bottle of vodka. Needless to say, I still woke up several hours later. I took enough to knock out a horse and all I got was a few hours of sleep. At 2 in the morning I reached for a life line by sending a text to a friend. It was my call for help. Immediately he called and I answered the phone sobbing in shame and embarrassment of what brought me into this darkness and only admitted the truth to him because I was still drunk.

I had been on a drinking binge that last month mixed with xanax and pain pills left over from a surgery. That night the pain of what I did mixed with the rejection became too much to bare. I had built up a tolerance and needed more and more to feel relief from them. He was a recovered addict and helped guide me out. After that I weaned myself off xanax which I had taken for over 13 years, and I stopped drinking completely.

This was the result of what I refer to as my falling off the wagon. Not because of the booze and pills. It was a drug that I struggled with since I was a kid. My ex-husband whom I met at 13 and immediately was in a trans by him. We lost touch for years and I began my life with a different guy. 3 years later I was 18 pregnant with twins and alone, a friend reconnected us and I was putty in his hand.

After our traumatic 10 year marriage, I finally broke free from him. I had been “sober” from him for 8 years, most of that time living in hiding from him then relapsed back to the devil after losing my support system and best friend. This followed a 2 year severe depression and from disappointment and shame in myself, that night resulted. This was the lowest moment in life for me, all of it but the only time I actually risked leaving my children motherless. What a very selfish and weak moment and while I still have my bad days, never that bad.

I always have this whispering in my ear, reminding me how far I fell down with him. I’m terrible at making connections with people, so I fear being alone forever but I need to accept being alone to keep my strength. It’s my security. I can’t fall that hard ever again. Honestly I would rather die.

Because of him, I’m terrified to really live. I’m terrified to completely give myself to anyone, afraid I will lose the controlled and rational person I’ve become. Afraid I will never be chosen. Afraid I’m not good enough, pretty enough, successful enough, sexy enough. I know I am but he proved I was not and there was always 10 females in line trying to take my place. He convinced me that men can’t control themselves with temptations no matter how deep they love or how unattractive the woman is. Sex is sex and when the lights are off none of that matters.

He trained my brain to believe what he needed to make me stay. I didn’t stay because I was afraid I couldn’t find anyone. I stayed because I loved him deeply and I honestly didn’t think I could do better. I loved the fantasy he painted in my head. He convinced me that we were soul mates but he also tore down my self esteem. When he was mad, his words were evil and savage. And intentionally said to tear me down and tear me down it did, like a fucking battling ram. I felt unworthy, useless and unattractive. I was ashamed and embarrassed of what I had become and what I had accepted.

If we went out and men hit on me, even though I immediately shot them down and proudly pointed to my husband, I was in the wrong and I would pay for that at home. He said they wanted me strictly for sex and I was nothing to them. That no one saw me the way he did, and no one would ever love me as he did. Then when we went home he was abusive and sex was demanded. I’d cry as he forced himself into me, be it my mouth or my vagina, yelling that I belong to him and no one could ever taste or touch my pussy (his words). I was his property and I belonged to him.

Eventually I stopped fighting. I did what he said, I learned it was easier that way. When I grew frustrated with his cheating and tried to end it or even argued with him to defend myself, he’d say that it was me who drove him to cheat or be crazy. That I made him “crazy in love” because I was his and no-one could have me but him. He would kill any man who even thought of touching me if I ever left him. He always wanted to prove to me he could immediately move on even though he “didn’t want to”, it was me pushing him away with my cold demeanor that pushed him into someone else’s bed and they meant nothing. It was “just fucking” with them but he “only made love to me.” And eventually I believed him.

I was beaten down mentally, emotionally, and physically. It took most of the marriage before I learned not to fight back, it was a waste of my energy to try to make him hear me and those fights were awful. I finally got to a point I didn’t make him leave the home, I didn’t kick him out but he would not have my conversation and I would withhold my attention to him. If I gave him sex, I literally laid there while he rolled on top of me and pumped away for a few minutes. I didn’t even look at him. In the beginning I’d silently cry and a single tear would roll down my face. Eventually I didn’t cry, I was used to this. When he was done he’d say how he can’t help himself with me, he was powerless over his desire for me and no one did this to him but me. He’d kiss me, roll off and wash his dick in the bathroom sink. This was our normal.

2.5 years ago I met a man and fell in love. But you see, I couldn’t openly admit this for most of that relationship. Partly from fear of it triggering that devil’s rage to come back around, and partly because it terrifies me to love. Eventually it ends, which it did and I hate the sadness that follows losing love. Most of that relationship he was fighting his demons, hiding his struggles from me. His medication of choice was vodka. A lot of vodka.

His struggles caused him to pull away and withhold truths from me, and I read that as he didn’t really love me. That all his beautiful words were fake. He hid relationships from me, secrets and lies. My wall went up because all I saw was that he wasn’t real. I heard my ex-husband in my head “I told you that you’re not good enough and no one would love you”. I even replayed a memory with my daughters father when he told me I pushed him to drugs because I was too much.

Distance has it’s way of making you look at things differently. My anger from the lies turned into pain over losing who I thought he was. While he can be the most gentle caring person, his other behavior is too familiar of that toxic marriage. I think back when he immediately moved on with another girl during one of our breakups… “Tell me you will take me back and I’m yours, she’s not you”. “She’s sitting 5 feet from me now and I’m sitting here texting you how much I love you, tell me that doesn’t tell you where my head is, it’s on you”. He sent me a hot photo of us together when the sex was our shared drug, telling me “I still watch and touch myself to you at all times!” She was sitting with him and he was saying this to me, looking at our pictures right across from her. He didn’t care that she was with him, he repeatedly claimed “Jesus fuck I only want you!”.

So much has happened since then, but one thing has always been.

I miss him.

I saw him as my best friend so foolishly I keep trying to continue our friendship. And at first he’s back to funny meme’s and inside jokes, letting me vent. Messages when I wake up, all day long until I fall asleep. Again telling him “dude get to work!”. But he quickly comes out of nowhere for sex. And yes a part of me wants that, but it’s dangerous. This time was so clear.

He only wanted sex.

It only took a few days this time. He had no interest in our friendship. I’ve held him up on a pedestal before thinking he was genuine, just a mess and who am I to not sympathize considering my life is the definition of being a work in progress. But now the crushing blow of truth – he is no different and my ex was at least partly right.

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Dangerously familiar

Hot mess – http://wp.me/p271pb-8U

I wrote that post about a month after I purposely swallowed a handful of pills with half a bottle of vodka. Needless to say, I still woke up several hours later. I took enough to knock out a horse and all I got was a few hours of sleep. At 2 in the morning I reached for a life line by sending a text to a friend. It was my call for help. Immediately he called and I answered the phone sobbing in shame and embarrassment of what brought me into this darkness and only admitted the truth to him because I was still drunk.

I had been on a drinking binge that last month mixed with xanax and pain pills left over from a surgery. That night the pain of what I did mixed with the rejection became too much to bare. I had built up a tolerance and needed more and more to feel relief from them. He was a recovered addict and helped guide me out. After that I weaned myself off xanax which I had taken for over 13 years, and I stopped drinking completely.

This was the result of what I refer to as my falling off the wagon. Not because of the booze and pills. It was a drug that I struggled with since I was a kid. My ex-husband whom I met at 13 and immediately was in a trans by him. We lost touch for years and I began my life with a different guy. 3 years later I was 18 pregnant with twins and alone, a friend reconnected us and I was putty in his hand.

After our traumatic 10 year marriage, I finally broke free from him. I had been “sober” from him for 8 years, most of that time living in hiding from him then relapsed back to the devil after losing my support system and best friend. This followed a 2 year severe depression and from disappointment and shame in myself, that night resulted. This was the lowest moment in life for me, all of it but the only time I actually risked leaving my children motherless. What a very selfish and weak moment and while I still have my bad days, never that bad.

I always have this whispering in my ear, reminding me how far I fell down with him. I’m terrible at making connections with people, so I fear being alone forever but I need to accept being alone to keep my strength. It’s my security. I can’t fall that hard ever again. Honestly I would rather die.

Because of him, I’m terrified to really live. I’m terrified to completely give myself to anyone, afraid I will lose the controlled and rational person I’ve become. Afraid I will never be chosen. Afraid I’m not good enough, pretty enough, successful enough, sexy enough. I know I am but he proved I was not and there was always 10 females in line trying to take my place. He convinced me that men can’t control themselves with temptations no matter how deep they love or how unattractive the woman is. Sex is sex and when the lights are off none of that matters.

He trained my brain to believe what he needed to make me stay. I didn’t stay because I was afraid I couldn’t find anyone. I stayed because I loved him deeply and I honestly didn’t think I could do better. I loved the fantasy he painted in my head. He convinced me that we were soul mates but he also tore down my self esteem. When he was mad, his words were evil and savage. And intentionally said to tear me down and tear me down it did, like a fucking battling ram. I felt unworthy, useless and unattractive. I was ashamed and embarrassed of what I had become and what I had accepted.

If we went out and men hit on me, even though I immediately shot them down and proudly pointed to my husband, I was in the wrong and I would pay for that at home. He said they wanted me strictly for sex and I was nothing to them. That no one saw me the way he did, and no one would ever love me as he did. Then when we went home he was abusive and sex was demanded. I’d cry as he forced himself into me, be it my mouth or my vagina, yelling that I belong to him and no one could ever taste or touch my pussy (his words). I was his property and I belonged to him.

Eventually I stopped fighting. I did what he said, I learned it was easier that way. When I grew frustrated with his cheating and tried to end it or even argued with him to defend myself, he’d say that it was me who drove him to cheat or be crazy. That I made him “crazy in love” because I was his and no-one could have me but him. He would kill any man who even thought of touching me if I ever left him. He always wanted to prove to me he could immediately move on even though he “didn’t want to”, it was me pushing him away with my cold demeanor that pushed him into someone else’s bed and they meant nothing. It was “just fucking” with them but he “only made love to me.” And eventually I believed him.

I was beaten down mentally, emotionally, and physically. It took most of the marriage before I learned not to fight back, it was a waste of my energy to try to make him hear me and those fights were awful. I finally got to a point I didn’t make him leave the home, I didn’t kick him out but he would not have my conversation and I would withhold my attention to him. If I gave him sex, I literally laid there while he rolled on top of me and pumped away for a few minutes. I didn’t even look at him. In the beginning I’d silently cry and a single tear would roll down my face. Eventually I didn’t cry, I was used to this. When he was done he’d say how he can’t help himself with me, he was powerless over his desire for me and no one did this to him but me. He’d kiss me, roll off and wash his dick in the bathroom sink. This was our normal.

2.5 years ago I met a man and fell in love. But you see, I couldn’t openly admit this for most of that relationship. Partly from fear of it triggering that devil’s rage to come back around, and partly because it terrifies me to love. Eventually it ends, which it did and I hate the sadness that follows losing love. Most of that relationship he was fighting his demons, hiding his struggles from me. His medication of choice was vodka. A lot of vodka.

His struggles caused him to pull away and withhold truths from me, and I read that as he didn’t really love me. That all his beautiful words were fake. He hid relationships from me, secrets and lies. My wall went up because all I saw was that he wasn’t real. I heard my ex-husband in my head “I told you that you’re not good enough and no one would love you”. I even replayed a memory with my daughters father when he told me I pushed him to drugs because I was too much.

Distance has it’s way of making you look at things differently. My anger from the lies turned into pain over losing who I thought he was. While he can be the most gentle caring person, his other behavior is too familiar of that toxic marriage. I think back when he immediately moved on with another girl during one of our breakups… “Tell me you will take me back and I’m yours, she’s not you”. “She’s sitting 5 feet from me now and I’m sitting here texting you how much I love you, tell me that doesn’t tell you where my head is, it’s on you”. He sent me a hot photo of us together when the sex was our shared drug, telling me “I still watch and touch myself to you at all times!” She was sitting with him and he was saying this to me, looking at our pictures right across from her. He didn’t care that she was with him, he repeatedly claimed “Jesus fuck I only want you!”.

So much has happened since then, but one thing has always been.

I miss him.

I saw him as my best friend so foolishly I keep trying to continue our friendship. And at first he’s back to funny meme’s and inside jokes, letting me vent. Messages when I wake up, all day long until I fall asleep. Again telling him “dude get to work!”. But he quickly comes out of nowhere for sex. And yes a part of me wants that, but it’s dangerous. This time was so clear.

He only wanted sex.

It only took a few days this time. He had no interest in our friendship. I’ve held him up on a pedestal before thinking he was genuine, just a mess and who am I to not sympathize considering my life is the definition of being a work in progress. But now the crushing blow of truth – he is no different and my ex was at least partly right.

Digging deep

I am going to start EMDR with my therapist. At this point I’ll try anything to heal the deep wounds this life has given me. I want to finally eliminate my PTSD, anxiety, and depression. The weight it gives me leaves me afraid of interacting with the world. I’m trying to weaken the wall I think protects me by going around people more and getting out of the house, making memories… but honestly it’s a forced effort.

EMDR didn’t start yet because I had things on my mind. Fears of what memories I thought would come up with EMDR. I also felt she has no clue what skeletons I’ve got buried away so I decided to introduce her to my dungeon.

I knew I needed to tell her a summary of the darkness I’ve survived. So I tried to start telling her and immediately pulled my hands into my sleeves in an effort to hide. Before I could start the words I took my hands, which were curled into my dark grey long sleeves, covered my face and sobbed for about 45 seconds. Why did I want to hide? To disappear? I was about to open a locked door to another place that left me feeling damaged, broken, embarrassed, dirty and dysfunctional. A place I refused to visit because I decided long ago I didn’t want to be that person anymore. Even in the safety of therapy with a professional just thinking of the first image and knowing how that paved the way to the chaos I call my life, it made me ashamed and god the emotions that flooded my body were so fucking painful. At that moment I wanted to be invisible. I couldn’t look at her face, I’ve seen the reaction too many times and seeing on someone else’s face how awful my story is, well it’s probably more painful than the story itself. Why? Because my normal is not normal, it’s painfully sad.

I finally put my hands down and sat quiet, staring at my shoe for a moment before I could say the words. I’m not sure I even said the word “molested” or just stopped and left silence where that word should have been said. “When I was a little girl…. my brother….(tears welling up in my eyes)..I have memories of moments frozen in my mind, they’ve always been there…” I was molested by my brother when I was 5 years old-he would have been 9, which lasted for years until I finally said no more when I was about 8. I remember feeling relieved he wasn’t mad at me, even then all I wanted was his acceptance. Then catching my brother move onto my then 3-4 year old sister and the fucked up feelings it gave that 8 year old girl. Probably my first feeling of being easily replaced and rejected by a male and the jealousy that followed. This is something that took years for me to acknowledge to myself but never said to anyone until tonight. “It’s normal to feel that way” she said. “Nothing about this situation is normal” I replied clinging to my kleenex blotting my eyes.

I talked about my brother getting suicidal and being placed in a psych hospital when he was 12 or 13, where he lived for a year. During that time he was going through a court trial to testify against the man who did that to him. I didn’t see my brother during this time, I don’t think any of us did. At this point my family went from 6 kids down to 2. My (step)dad’s oldest 2 boys from a previous marriage left along with my 2 older brothers from my mom and my biological father. My mom and dad split up again so then it went to just me, my little sister and my mom-who had understandably lost her mind in this process.

My parents would fight, knock out drag out fights. Police were called, dad would get kicked out, then me, my mom and sister would move somewhere cheaper. Life made no sense until mom and dad reconciled. Then things were beautiful. Mom and dad were happy, no fighting. Life became calm during this time. But it was always short lived. This taught me about relationships. A rollercoaster ride of emotions but sometimes very happy.

This brought me to discussing my relationships. At 15 I moved in with my boyfriend and 3 years later was pregnant, at which point he changed his mind about me. He locked himself in the bathroom, called my parents to come “take me back” and threatened suicide. So here I was at 18 moving back home, pregnant with twins, alone and rejected.

Fast forward.. awful marriage to a different guy. I told about a time we were split up and in a heated argument about him with another woman when he punched me in the mouth breaking my teeth, bruising my jaw for all the world to see that I was an abused wife. I remember my mouth filled with dust which was my teeth. How it was probably just a few short months before I took him back. Why? Because the violence was normal to me and I knew when we got back to us it would be beautiful like my parents. Even if that didn’t last, I needed the temporary beauty. This relationship was so fucking abusive in every fucking way possible.

After that me and my 3 kids lived alone, no men, no dating. Just mom focusing on the kids, healing and surviving. We moved away not only from our home, but the entire area and schools. I created a completely different life and eventually we seperated ourselves from that part of our life. We lived in hiding, registered with a federal address confidentiality program. In 6 years we moved 5 times. It took years to stop seeing myself as broken and abused. So many battles and I won them all. We were in therapy for 3 years dealing with the trauma we survived from my exhusband. My daughter initially the focus as a result of sexual abuse. Then the next several years my son with uncontrollable behaviors. Behavior modification, therapy, outpatient treatment, medication, medication and more medication until we admitted him at 8 into the psych unit at a hospital. Eventually finding out his near deadly birth caused damage to his brain and resulted in a rare form of Rolandic epilepsy among other medical issues. I battled the doctors to help him, battled the school to give him a fighting chance. Then I lost my job of 12 years- this was crippling. My co-workers were my family and stability. And days later found out my other daughter had a brain tumor. Literally fml.

I lost myself completely in this process. I’m ashamed to admit I broke down and let my exhusband creep his way back for a moment. I had no one. Life was against me and I just needed to feel love, even if it wasn’t real and was dangerous. My daughter set a boundary for herself and moved out. I’ve never told her how proud I am of her for that. Or how fucking hard that had to be for her. At the time I was so lost I didn’t see it, I just felt rejection and I lost my fucking mind.

Of course the devil, aka my exhusband, just brought back the chaos and dysfunction to our life. He was great at first but it didn’t take long. Then the reality of what I did sank in, the shame, rejection.. and in that I wanted to die. It became a normal thing for me to sit on the couch, drink vodka and down my xanax while sobbing myself to sleep. Wake up, go to work and do it again when I got home. One night I swallowed so many fucking pills, anything I had with my vodka. My intent was to go to sleep and never wake up but I woke up several hours later.

In April 2015 I stopped drinking. I stopped xanax and started working on getting myself back. I met Bud that September. He was such a broken soul but I saw his beauty through it. I fell head over heels but it was such a fucking rollercoaster with his battles with his demons. My thought was “I can’t judge someone that’s broken, look at me”… What I should have focused on was he wasn’t just a broken soul. Yes, I was broken because my life was one tragedy after another, yet I still was self sufficient, provided for myself and my family more than the basics. His life was broken because of himself but that wasn’t the story he told. His ex-wife was poison and he sacrificed everything for her and their kids, that’s why at 35 he lived in his parents basement and didn’t have a vehicle. The truth? Not even close but he fooled me for a very long time. I’m seeing he is not even close to the great person I thought he was capable of being. He was just another tragic chapter in my chaotic life. Another life lesson.

Now I sit here at 41 years old crawling out of this emotional dungeon clawing to find my stability.

Dangerously familiar

Hot mess – http://wp.me/p271pb-8U

I wrote that post about a month after I purposely swallowed a handful of pills with half a bottle of vodka. Needless to say, I still woke up several hours later. I took enough to knock out a horse and all I got was a few hours of sleep. At 2 in the morning I reached for a life line by sending a text to a friend. It was my call for help. Immediately he called and I answered the phone sobbing in shame and embarrassment of what brought me into this darkness and only admitted the truth to him because I was still drunk.

I had been on a drinking binge that last month mixed with xanax and pain pills left over from a surgery. That night the pain of what I did mixed with the rejection became too much to bare. I had built up a tolerance and needed more and more to feel relief from them. He was a recovered addict and helped guide me out. After that I weaned myself off xanax which I had taken for over 13 years, and I stopped drinking completely.

This was the result of what I refer to as my falling off the wagon. Not because of the booze and pills. It was a drug that I struggled with since I was a kid. My ex-husband whom I met at 13 and immediately was in a trans by him. We lost touch for years and I began my life with a different guy. 3 years later I was 18 pregnant with twins and alone, a friend reconnected us and I was putty in his hand.

After our traumatic 10 year marriage, I finally broke free from him. I had been “sober” from him for 8 years, most of that time living in hiding from him then relapsed back to the devil after losing my support system and best friend. This followed a 2 year severe depression and from disappointment and shame in myself, that night resulted. This was the lowest moment in life for me, all of it but the only time I actually risked leaving my children motherless. What a very selfish and weak moment and while I still have my bad days, never that bad.

I always have this whispering in my ear, reminding me how far I fell down with him. I’m terrible at making connections with people, so I fear being alone forever but I need to accept being alone to keep my strength. It’s my security. I can’t fall that hard ever again. Honestly I would rather die.

Because of him, I’m terrified to really live. I’m terrified to completely give myself to anyone, afraid I will lose the controlled and rational person I’ve become. Afraid I will never be chosen. Afraid I’m not good enough, pretty enough, successful enough, sexy enough. I know I am but he proved I was not and there was always 10 females in line trying to take my place. He convinced me that men can’t control themselves with temptations no matter how deep they love or how unattractive the woman is. Sex is sex and when the lights are off none of that matters.

He trained my brain to believe what he needed to make me stay. I didn’t stay because I was afraid I couldn’t find anyone. I stayed because I loved him deeply and I honestly didn’t think I could do better. I loved the fantasy he painted in my head. He convinced me that we were soul mates but he also tore down my self esteem. When he was mad, his words were evil and savage. And intentionally said to tear me down and tear me down it did, like a fucking battling ram. I felt unworthy, useless and unattractive. I was ashamed and embarrassed of what I had become and what I had accepted.

If we went out and men hit on me, even though I immediately shot them down and proudly pointed to my husband, I was in the wrong and I would pay for that at home. He said they wanted me strictly for sex and I was nothing to them. That no one saw me the way he did, and no one would ever love me as he did. Then when we went home he was abusive and sex was demanded. I’d cry as he forced himself into me, be it my mouth or my vagina, yelling that I belong to him and no one could ever taste or touch my pussy (his words). I was his property and I belonged to him.

Eventually I stopped fighting. I did what he said, I learned it was easier that way. When I grew frustrated with his cheating and tried to end it or even argued with him to defend myself, he’d say that it was me who drove him to cheat or be crazy. That I made him “crazy in love” because I was his and no-one could have me but him. He would kill any man who even thought of touching me if I ever left him. He always wanted to prove to me he could immediately move on even though he “didn’t want to”, it was me pushing him away with my cold demeanor that pushed him into someone else’s bed and they meant nothing. It was “just fucking” with them but he “only made love to me.” And eventually I believed him.

I was beaten down mentally, emotionally, and physically. It took most of the marriage before I learned not to fight back, it was a waste of my energy to try to make him hear me and those fights were awful. I finally got to a point I didn’t make him leave the home, I didn’t kick him out but he would not have my conversation and I would withhold my attention to him. If I gave him sex, I literally laid there while he rolled on top of me and pumped away for a few minutes. I didn’t even look at him. In the beginning I’d silently cry and a single tear would roll down my face. Eventually I didn’t cry, I was used to this. When he was done he’d say how he can’t help himself with me, he was powerless over his desire for me and no one did this to him but me. He’d kiss me, roll off and wash his dick in the bathroom sink. This was our normal.

2.5 years ago I met a man and fell in love. But you see, I couldn’t openly admit this for most of that relationship. Partly from fear of it triggering that devil’s rage to come back around, and partly because it terrifies me to love. Eventually it ends, which it did and I hate the sadness that follows losing love. Most of that relationship he was fighting his demons, hiding his struggles from me. His medication of choice was vodka. A lot of vodka.

His struggles caused him to pull away and withhold truths from me, and I read that as he didn’t really love me. That all his beautiful words were fake. He hid relationships from me, secrets and lies. My wall went up because all I saw was that he wasn’t real. I heard my ex-husband in my head “I told you that you’re not good enough and no one would love you”. I even replayed a memory with my daughters father when he told me I pushed him to drugs because I was too much.

Distance has it’s way of making you look at things differently. My anger from the lies turned into pain over losing who I thought he was. While he can be the most gentle caring person, his other behavior is too familiar of that toxic marriage. I think back when he immediately moved on with another girl during one of our breakups… “Tell me you will take me back and I’m yours, she’s not you”. “She’s sitting 5 feet from me now and I’m sitting here texting you how much I love you, tell me that doesn’t tell you where my head is, it’s on you”. He sent me a hot photo of us together when the sex was our shared drug, telling me “I still watch and touch myself to you at all times!” She was sitting with him and he was saying this to me, looking at our pictures right across from her. He didn’t care that she was with him, he repeatedly claimed “Jesus fuck I only want you!”.

So much has happened since then, but one thing has always been.

I miss him.

I saw him as my best friend so foolishly I keep trying to continue our friendship. And at first he’s back to funny meme’s and inside jokes, letting me vent. Messages when I wake up, all day long until I fall asleep. Again telling him “dude get to work!”. But he quickly comes out of nowhere for sex. And yes a part of me wants that, but it’s dangerous. This time was so clear.

He only wanted sex.

It only took a few days this time. He had no interest in our friendship. I’ve held him up on a pedestal before thinking he was genuine, just a mess and who am I to not sympathize considering my life is the definition of being a work in progress. But now the crushing blow of truth – he is no different and my ex was at least partly right.

A mothers guilt

I have said those words to myself a thousand times, but typing those words out for all the world to see…(deep breath)..it stings a little…

A mothers guilt…this mothers guilt.

I can speak as a mom, and I by no means am trying to say ALL moms feel this way, or are this way, but I hope there are others who understand.

We have to make decisions that will affect our children’s lives. It will affect who they become, and there’s always going to be those stories they tell people about their memories of things, good, bad and in-between. I have stories about my mother. My mom lost her mother at a very young age, so she didn’t get the privilege (I mean that) to complain to her mom about how her own kids (one of which is me 🙂 ) were driving her crazy. Or ask her mom “how did you do it mom!” or to say what I have said a gazillion times to my mom “I’m so sorry for what I put you through”. Mostly I apologize for being a self centered, lazy teenager. And my mom smiles and says “you don’t have to apologize to me”. Yes I do. That’s how I show my mom how differently I see things now as a mother compared to how I saw them as that bratty teenager. And they are not just words to me, I truly mean it from the bottom of my heart. I’m sure my mom doesn’t want my apology because, well, because she’s mom. Mom’s understand their kids will make mistakes, lots of them in fact. Moms hope they can help avoid some obvious mistakes, but I’m learning sometimes us moms must sit back and let the rocks tumble. But when things go wrong and it hurts our kids we moms are always so hard on ourselves, that wonderful “mothers guilt”.

This is going to sound crazy, but I really got lucky with my girls. I was 18 when I got pregnant. I didn’t even know how to take care of myself let alone a baby or two!  Which meant I didn’t eat right, I didn’t sleep enough, or I slept to much, I skipped my prenatal vitamins a lot (they made me nauseous) I stressed myself to tears daily. I was unhappy. I was 18, unmarried, and my boyfriend of 3 years broke up with me after I got pregnant. I had to drop out of college, lost my scholarship. I lost my job because I got put on bed rest. I already felt the mothers guilt. I felt bad for bringing my kids into a single parent home, with no dad in the picture (at the time) and I had no money to take care of them. The depression I felt was actually my mothers guilt I’m sure.

As a kid I dreamed of a fancy future, a high paying career, I was going to be someone important! I always remember picturing myself in a loft downtown with an area for my art with paint brushes and a work in project sitting on an easel. Anyway, being an 18 year old unemployed single pregnant teen was the farthest thing from my dream. My dad was dying of cancer, my mom was in her midlife crisis and my best friend dumped me. I was a depressed wreck. But a miracle happened, well 2. I gave birth to two beautiful and healthy baby girls who brightened my world beyond my imagination. They had a few minor health issues as babies, but overall they were very healthy babies! By 6 months they slept through the night. They weren’t picky eaters, I just had to cut up the meat and hide it in mashed potatoes. They were full of smiles and giggles and they shined everywhere we went. I eventually got back to college. I didn’t think I could love anything or anyone as much I loved those girls! I was lonely sure, but I didn’t really picture myself with anyone. I accepted it was me and them girls forever. So I spoiled them, dressed them alike, gave lots of hugs and kisses, did their hair every day in pig tails, I enjoyed them because as far as I was concerned they would be my only children. Then life threw me a curve ball, well a lot of curve balls and with each of those came more guilt.

I met a guy, looking back I’m honestly mad at my mother for encouraging it. But she was just happy to see me happy again and the idea of me not having to raise my girls alone was nice. What a fool I was. I can’t express how much guilt I have locked away over this one, but it is what it is. Lessons were learned. I became a much stronger person from it all. And in 2002 I gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. It was a very, very, very difficult and long delivery. I was in labor for over 27 hours and actively pushed for nearly seven hours, mind you this after having my twins by c-section. My son was 9 pounds and he couldn’t get out. I have guilt over picking that quack doctor.

From day one Ryan had health issues. He didn’t sleep, he was always hungry but like the girl from the exorcist, he threw everything up. It was awful. Jaundice, fevers, ear infections, acid reflux (I never knew a baby could have that!) eczema, sick all the time he was. The guilt over his birth still eats at me. I was again going through another pregnancy alone but this time also raising twin four year olds. The last thing I wanted was to be raising 3 kids by two different fathers alone, going through a divorce. What a catch I made my myself! At least I had a job this time. (there’s my sarcasm) Do I need to explain where the mothers guilt fits in this part of the story? God I hope not!

Fast forward through a lot of crappy choices that came with more of..you guessed it… mothers guilt.

Let’s see, I have no idea where to start on this part… Hmm.. okay, 2004 was the first time I took Ryan in for outside help. Ryan was always so much more work than my girls were. I’m sure I’m exaggerating but I honestly remember the girls always being so easy. You said “no, don’t touch that” they didn’t touch it. Shocking I know! I mean, they’d give me a poutty face, immediately followed by a big smile and a “shake that booty..uh uh..shake that booty baby” such easy kids. Ryan is a tester, a button pusher, he likes to test the limits and push buttons. He’s honery! Anyways, 2004 fast forward through alot of mis-diagnoses, therapy, behavior modification, medical tests and hospitalizations…and the overwhelming guilt that comes with all that… Ryan actually has Epilepsy, and ADHD. He’s a great kid though. He’s funny, charming, peculiar, artistic, loving, smart, jokester, thoughtful. But he’s had a rough road, course thank god he had me and his sisters because it takes a whole lot of love to get a person through what he was.

And the guilt over all the stuff I fast forwarded through? Well there’s just so much to explain, to sum it up, I learned how to be my child’s advocate. I learned how to navigate my way through the system. The medical, the insurance, the doctors, the school, IEP’s, I became obsessed with it all. Why? My guilt. It’s silly really. Most people don’t know about this stuff, we trust the doctors and the schools to do right by us and our kids. BUT I learned a very important lesson. We must educate ourselves too, moms (and dads if they are involved) are the most important person to stand and fight for our kids.

Goofball over stats and needs to know…..

Goofball blogger

Ok so I’m just quickly adding a little something for today. I thought I’d quickly share what a total goofball I was over my blog stats this week. So the highlight of my week resulted in me freaking out with excitement when I saw I had reached 52 views in one day! For some I’m sure it’s silly to get so excited over this but for a lady that likes to be heard, IT WAS AWESOME!!  Don’t judge me! LOL!

Then I realized…..

Wait a minute…I reblogged a few blogs from others on my page. Did my total go up to 52 in one day only because it counted how many went to my page and the other blogs? Or did I really get so much attention in one day? Can anyone help me out with an answer to this?

A calm after the storm

The Storm Hit and stuck around for a bit

To sum things up, my family has been hit hard. The storm came and just stayed. It kept turning and moving and spinning. On numerous occasions I found myself dizzy from the whirlwind. Physically exhausted, mentally burnt, and wondering when it would stop hitting us with new blows. Just let up already! Hadn’t we survived enough storms?

Learning to find the Light

I’m learning to find peace and light in whatever little things I can. It’s to hard when I focus on the negative things. It’s scary and quite frankly there’s too damn many of them to think about. So I’m trying to focus on the things I’m thankful for. This doesn’t come naturally for me, I have to work at it. But I am starting to see the gifts and stay focused on them because it makes me feel better.

It’s Okay

For some reason things are okay. I say this shocked because I had “checked out” for a while. I didn’t focus on the parenting plans or behavior strategy’s. I didn’t even think about all the appointments I needed to make and all the things I needed to get done, doctors to follow-up with for my son. I just didn’t care, it was not in me. While my body got some much-needed rest, I cut myself off from the world. My kids saw that even Supermom runs out of juice. I didn’t harp on them about vacuuming, or doing their dishes. I didn’t notice if the litter box was getting scooped. I didn’t say a word when my son repeatedly left his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, right next to the clothes bin. I stopped pointing out that someone left the shower curtain open instead of pulling it straight to make the bathroom look tidy. I didn’t get up before the sun to feed the pets and start laundry and frantically run around the house before I had to leave for work. I didn’t have my usual “to do” list to remind me “don’t forget to do this today!”.  I stopped shaving my legs, I didn’t bother with painting my toes, I can’t believe how many gray hairs I really have when I don’t color my hair. I just pretty much stopped everything. My body caved under all the pressure and I physically had nothing left to give.

I felt guilty about it. I know my kids hated watching me fall down and unable to get back up. I was SUPERMOM with super powers controlling our world, not anymore. I hated knowing they had to see it, day in and day out watching me in my self-pity. We all only told a select few at first, I was embarrassed that I was now “unemployed” and without a plan. But once I got past worrying about all of it, I realized something. Something I needed to know all this time. The world didn’t fall apart. Everything was still okay!

My kids picked up the slack. Sure they all took advantage of not having to follow the rigid schedule of chores. They enjoyed mom not complaining about who did or didn’t do whatever. Who can blame them! But you know what? They knew what things were most important and what things could sit and wait. The pets got fed, but I didn’t do it! Every now and then a load of laundry was done, magically. The house was picked up, we all got fed, and somehow it didn’t matter that I wasn’t controlling it anymore. That’s when I started to breathe.

I still constantly apply for jobs, but I can even do it from my phone now. These smart-phones are amazing, just miniature computers in the palm of my hand! Instead of sitting at the computer, I played fetch with the dog. I watched a lot of junk TV with the kids. I even read a little bit. I looked at every option and decided I’m going back to college. I’m already registered. And guess what, I’m not even sure exactly what degree I want and it’s still okay! See, I’m a planner. I have to know everything in advance, schedule for it, arrange all the details. I’m learning I don’t need to do that anymore because things still work out. Even when the plan changes, it all works out.

Now when I decided to bring some structure back it wasn’t an easy task. My son is a very stubborn boy. We played “bull” for quite a few days trying to see which one of us was going to outlast the other. It was not fun and I wasn’t sure I had it in me anymore. At one point I was ready to throw in the towel and I got a call from a great lady who sat on the phone with me, reminding me how I did it before and telling me it was okay I got off track. That’s life! It was the perfect motivator and rejuvenated me, and then I realized he was throwing in the towel instead. I didn’t go back to all of the lessons and strategy’s we recently learned. I did take pieces of them though and found a way to make it work. Eventually he stopped fighting me. The power of a cable TV is pretty darn strong. I learned that’s the key, at least for my son. I don’t sit next to him constantly redirecting him to clean his room. He just didn’t get the TV until he did what I asked him to do. Slowly I realized his fights weren’t such terrible battles anymore. He was learning it was better to just get it over with and do what mom asked. I wince at typing this for fear that I may ruin the progress. (Knock on wood Heather, quickly before it’s too late!)

Today I made my dear son pick up the mess in the living room. It was his after all. I keep the remote until he finishes the job. He needed to clear his dirty dishes, pick up the wrappers and re-organize the stack of DVD’s he took out. When he asked me nicely for the remote I just calmly reminded him “Sure, once you finish picking up the living room”. There is no caving in from me, at least not today. I checked the room before I gave him the remote. Something I always needed to do before, but was too exhausted from work to follow through with. Now he doesn’t waste my time with 10 trips of me checking to see he had not done anything yet. I just calmly ask “Did you get the dishes yet? And the trash? And those DVD’s got put back in the proper cases right?” That last one took him a little while. He just kept whining and pouting how hard it is and why should it matter if they are in the right cases if they’re just his movies anyway? I just simply answered the question, calmly stating “because I said so” at the end. Eventually, after about an hour, maybe two, he finally did all the steps, properly. And he was proud of himself. (and I am proud of us both!)

I write this detailed reminder not for other parents who may read this and need the tips. I write it to remind ME why it’s working now. I’m not frantically pacing the house to get all the chores done and stressing about all those papers I still need to get done at the office. I’m not stressed out because I still haven’t had the time or energy to organize the closet. My mind isn’t racing with 30 things I need to make sure gets done at work because I’m doing 3 people’s work while they get to relax watching YouTube, frustrated at the lack of concern the owner has about his own company. I’m not angry anymore about the lack of involvement and interest he had. I’m not stewing over the fact that the owner is an unreasonable and unappreciative jerk blowing me off every time I discuss logical and necessary changes to be addressed. Sigh…I was overworked, unappreciated and undervalued which contributed to a toxic work environment, I’m not dealing with that anymore. I’m not thinking which step of the new behavior strategy I forgot to follow through with either. I’m not stressing. I’m breathing. I’m calm.

I’m still in a storm, but I’m okay, me and the kids. I understand the term “calm after the storm” and I have faith that it’s all going to work out. I just hope I’m right.

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