And this is why I love him...

It would be too simplistic to say I'm falling in love with the BLT because he loves me. Everyone wants to be loved, to feel cherished.

But the crazy thing is, ya...that's part of it. I confessed to him my worries about us ever being able to make any kind of honest effort at this being a real relationship. I told him I want the kind of boyfriend who picks me up for dinner...not the airport every 8 weeks. I told him about my fears that he'll meet some 25 year old without all the complications and issues I have. God love him, he said, "why the hell would I want a 25 year old I can't even have a conversation with when I have a beautiful, caring, kick ass girlfriend who's REAL, who knows what she wants, who knows how to make me feel like I'm a better man when I'm with her?"

See... those are the things he says. He always says the perfect thing, he knows how make me feel like the most cherished, most desired creature on the planet. He calms me down when I'm stressed, he listens when I'm scared and doesn't judge me for my fears, and he leans on me when he needs support - he trusts me with his own insecurities and secrets. How could I possibly NOT fall for him?

So I'm sitting here in my happy little cocoon, made of promises and wishes and all I can think about is the text message I got earlier that said, "I love the picture you sent me. That is the face I want to wake up to every day." and so I'm going to put aside my worries about tomorrow and what if, and maybe someday. I'm going to try and open my heart a little wider and let this man love me. I'll worry about the future later, it's not like I need to plan the next thirty years of my life this week, or this month, or this year.

I think I'll work on sharing more, talking more, listening more, giving more of myself than I'm usually comfortable with. If the worst comes to pass and this relationship doesn't work out I'll know that I tried. I didn't put up emotional stumbling blocks, I didn't sabotage my potential happiness before I ever really gave us a chance.

So let people call me a cougar - I don't care... I'm head over heels for a hot ass musician, having the best sex of my life, and feeling amazing about myself when we're together. I'm going to enjoy this feeling and just let tomorrow work itself out.

An Age Old Question

I'm thinking more and more about the difference in age between BLT and I. Should it matter? Should it bother me? Should I worry or care what other people think? For some odd reason it does bug me - when we aren't together. When we spend time together I never think about it all. It's not like there are any physical indicators of our age difference we are both in our 30's...he's just closer to the 30 mark and I'm inching closer to the 40 mark. We enjoy the same movies and food, he makes me laugh. He makes me feel beautiful and happy. I like the person I am when we're together, the person I see in his eyes.

Then I come home. A few weeks pass, and the insecurities set in. What if the BLT wants to get married some day? What if he wants more children of his own? I don't ever plan on giving anyone the kind of power over me that marriage requires, not again. I learned my lesson. I also won't have any more children. I could, but not at my age, no thank you. The BLT could find someone in their mid to late 20's, and he would still have plenty of time to get married and start a family.

And lets be honest, physically there is no way a 30 something mother of several children can hold a candle to a nice firm 20 year old without stretch marks. No matter how in shape I am (and I do work out and take care of myself...I'm not a total hag) but I'm no nubile 20 something.

Then there are the comments from others. The "cougar" references when people find out about the four year age difference. The "dirty old lady" jokes and knowing grins. I'm not even going to lie, I appreciate the physical, shall we say, bennefits of a sexual relationship with someone slightly younger, in good physical condition, and with unusual stamina. He really is very yummy and quite skilled. But that's not the end all-be all of our relationship, and if the BLT happened to be five years older, a little slower... well I would still love all the other things about him. I would still love the way he makes me feel about myself.

SO WHY SHOULD I CARE? I can't figure out why it bugs me when we're apart. Is it just my own insecurity? Is it society reinforcing the stigma of the younger man/older woman relationship? I wish I could figure it out. I wish I could just get over it.

I really should know better...

I'm over the age of thirty, I've been around the block a time or two. Okay not really - I got married very young and didn't really "date" before that... but I am old enough to know a few things. So why am I being stupid? What is it about me that pushes me to to do things I know I'll regret?

Specifically there are a couple situations in my life at the moment. One - the former in laws. Why do I give them the power to hurt or frustrate me? These people are paying for the divorce lawyer who's sole job is to screw my children out of the resources I'm fighting for on their behalf. I'm SO frustrated with them for choosing the X over our children, but I still put myself in positions where I have to see them, where I open myself up to be frustrated and hurt by their behavior towards me and the kids. I know I can't just cut them off from their grandchildren... I understand that and I wouldn't want to do that to my kids, they're really attached to their Grandma and Grandpa. So why do I keep interacting with them in this way, why don't I just tell them how I feel and stop trying to keep everyone happy. I can't make them happy, as far as they're concerned I'm the reason their son is in jail.

Second...and here is the biggie... I'm totally falling for the BLT. Why don't I be honest, I've totally FALLEN for the BLT. A little more each day he's wriggled into my heart. His quiet support, his acceptance of me in all my faulty glory, his sense of humor, his good good soul. I told him not to fall in love with me, and all he said was, "well that's not up to you....I love you, all of you, exactly the way you are. You can either accept my love or not, but you don't get to decide for me how I'll feel" Jesus...what do I say to that? There are so many stumbling blocks in the way of this being a legitimate long term relationship.

1. He lives several states away. His friends, family, job... well his life is there.
2. He has a child of his own and a complicated joint custody arrangement
3. He is broke...beyond broke. He may never have the resources to move to the state I live in, and I can't move my kids out of state. My job is here, my kids whole support network is here, and the court decree says I can't take them out of state w/o the X's approval and that will never happen.
4. He is four years younger than I am. I'm not sure why that's an issue, but several people think I'm pulling an ol' Mrs. Robinson / cougar thing by being involved with someone years younger than myself. If he was four years older they wouldn't think a thing of it. I find that quite hypocritical actually.
5. I have a dangerous X, and he doesn't like the idea of me being with anyone but him. Asking the BLT to be a part of my life may actually put him in danger. Is that fair of me? Do I have the right to be selfish and ask someone to put their own safety on the line for my own happiness?

So here I am in love with someone inaccessible. Jeez, I know better. I've told myself a hundred times over the past 6 months not to care, to keep it casual, don't fall for this guy... walk away. And I can't. Every time we talk I get a ridiculous grin my friends have dubbed, "the look". He kisses me and I can't form a coherent sentence to save my life. It doesn't help that I have a major case of lust where he's concerned...that part of our relationship is breathtaking.

There's a part of me that knows it can't possibly work out, and that when he meets someone close to home, younger, prettier, no kids, no crazy X, no complications... well I already care enough to walk away. I can't let him know how much it hurts, and damn I know it's going to break my heart. But the thing is I want him to be happy... and once he realizes he can do better, or we just can't overcome all these obstacles I will have to let him go...

The BLT and Getting Head Shrunk

Remember the guy I was talking about in an earlier post? The one several thousand miles away that I'm pretty head over heals crazy about. Well we shall refer to him as the BLT. This is a nick name my best friend whom I shall call Ethel, as she is the Ethel to my Lucy, bestowed upon him when I told her that he gets up and makes me BLT's and lets me eat them in bed whenever I see him. Really they are the most divine BLT's with Avocado that you could ask for. A coworker once joked, "BLT, that must stand for Boyfriend with Large...." and I got a knowing grin. LOL, that's not what I meant, but hey, I doubt he would complain were I to say "yeppers that's what that stands for" insert cheesy wink here.

So the BLT and I were having a long talk and he informed me, in a firm but loving manner that it's painful for him to see me have these nightmares. He cares for me no matter what, but he really wants me to get some help if we are going to try and spend any more time in each other's beds. Not sleeping, waking up screaming... not something he wants to see me go through. Plus, that man LOVES his sleep, lmao. He joked once that I would be perfect if he could just train me to sleep through the night.

So between Ethel naggin' at me and the BLT jumping on the "get yourself some help" bandwagon I broke down and called my shrink. This is the same lady I've seen for other issues related to my divorce and struggles I've had. She knows me, and she agreed to see me on a sliding scale since I'm a broke-as-hell-oh-my-god-found-a-five-in-the-wash-and-now-I-can-get-gas kind of single mom.

I think it'll be good. I need to work all this shit in my head out. I need to find away to get control again. Ethel is right, and the BLT had several very good points, and it was all said in love, I know that.

Ugh I hate talking about my feelings... wish me luck!

Nightmares... I haz em...

I had the most horrific nightmare two nights ago. Bad enough that I was afraid to fall asleep last night in case I had a repeat performance. *shudder* no thanks! I woke the kids up screaming my head off, so there' s a little maternal guilt tossed in there for good measure.

Maybe if I write it all down, it won't seem so scary - or at the very least I'll work it out of my head and not repeat the nightmare. So here goes...

The dream starts off with the kids and I in bed, sleeping. The X has found us, and w/o me knowing it he's been watching the house. He's sitting out in a dark car just waiting for us to go to sleep.

He creeps into the house all dressed in black. I have no idea why the door isn't locked, I always double check it... but in this dream he walks right in. The dogs, greet him, they don't realize he's there to hurt us.

The next thing I know he's got me by the hair and he's pulling me down the hallway. I can feel my scalp burning and the blood starts to drip down into my ear. I can't scream... I can't make any sound I just hear my body slamming against the walls as he drags me down the hallway and my legs and arms are kicking and thrashing around.

Once he gets me to the living room he tosses me onto the couch like I'm a tiny rag doll. He still hasn't said a word and I can't make any sounds. He pulls out the same shot gun he brought to my house, he aims it at my chest, and he shoots me in the belly. I can smell the powder and my own blood...but there is no noise from the gun. While I'm laying on the couch I can feel all the blood draining out of my body.

The X brings our children into the living room, carrying them while they sleep. He lays them all out in a row on the ground. For some reason they stay fast asleep. He lays their hands over their eyes to shield their faces.

Then there is the only noise in the whole dream... He looks at me, I'm slowing dieing on the couch, and he says... "Remember, you did this, it's your fault they're dead" and he shoots all of my children in the face.

I was screaming at the top of my lungs, begging him not to kill our children, but still I can't make any sounds... and one by one he shoots them anyway. I see their brains and blood and hair shoot all over the place, I feel droplets of their blood all over my face, mixing with my own...

That's when I woke up, screaming and crying and begging...

Self Sufficiency Rocks!

I have to say, I'm rather proud of myself lately. I'm learning to take care of my own needs. No, not THOSE needs...well, ya those too *wink* lol. What I mean is the "honey do" stuff. The chores we relegate to the men in our lives. Honestly I had gotten used to having my own "I.T. Guy" on duty whenever I needed something electronic dealt with. DVD not working? Nag the X. Computer email not downloading? Nag the X. Well now that X is out of the picture I'm learning to do these things on my own.

I've managed to set up my wireless router, hook up my DVD players and the various video game systems the kids have, figure out automobile issues on my own - shoot I've even filled my very own toolbox with the essentials and dealt with minor home maintenance.

Now excuse me, I'm off to the hardware store for a wall patch kit - one more chore I'm certain I can manage on my own!

The Other Side of the Bed

I still sleep on only one side of the bed. Isn't it supposed to be some epic sign of moving forward that you either sleep on either side...or in the middle, or whatever?

Want to know what's on the other side of my bed? Laundry waiting to be folded and a neatly alphabetized box of files I brought home to work on this weekend.

I think that's one of the reasons I'm feeling so lonely these days. I have friends to talk to, my kids to keep me busy during the day, but at night - when the lights are out and house quiet - I have a king size bed for one. I feel very small, and very alone in this big bed. This giant bed is made for two. It's large, solid cherry, and made for making love, or snuggling up and watching t.v. , maybe sharing the morning paper and coffee on a lazy Sunday morning.

The crazy thing is... when I bought this bed I was married and we hardly, if ever, did any of those things. I started sleeping in another room, we never once read the paper together, we certainly didn't "snuggle" and watch a movie. So how can I so desperately miss something I never even had to begin with?

I think I miss the idea of it. The fantasy. The possibility of the lazy Sunday Morning, wearing his t-shirt, sharing a cup of coffee and slow sleepy morning sex. I miss what I wish I had in my marriage but never did... and I have to accept I may never have that.

I've already been informed that in my mid thirties with children my chances of finding another man are slim to none. The quote was..."well you might as well invest in a good vibrator and a nun's habit because you'll NEVER find another man" Sigh...

So I guess I'll mark the passage of time and growth, and "moving on" according to the two sides of the bed theory and see if I ever start inching my way towards acceptance and independence by sleeping on the other side.

If not... at least I have a place to put my clean laundry right?

Being Lonely

I'm lonely. I'm not alone, but I'm lonely. That being said, I would still prefer to be lonely and actually be alone (relationship wise) than be lonely and be married. That disconnected feeling makes you feel as though there is something wrong with you personally. If you were prettier, funnier, sexier, smarter...whatever... your spouse would shower you with attention, would listen when you talked, would want to try new things together. When you realize that you haven't said a word to each other in days you start to assume there is something fundamentally wrong with you.

I don't think there is anything wrong with me. I think there was something wrong with our marriage. I think I am fun, and pretty, and witty, and all of those other things - I just think over time the shine faded and like so many other things in our lives I got pushed aside. I was comfortable and he assumed I would just always be there, whether he paid attention to me or not. Kind of like the couch. Everyone is glad to have one when they need it - but you don't spend a whole lot of time thinking about it, worrying about it, or taking care of it.

Now I'm still lonely but at least I'm actually alone. There is someone I want to be with, but that person is a long ways away, and we see each other once every two - three months. And while I'm hoping that we can figure out a way to make a go of a relationship, it would require a move on his part. We have both said that is what we want...but what I've learned lately is that in this life we will very seldom get what we want. My desire to have him closer is no guarentee that he'll have the money to move, that'll he'll work out a job situation up here, or that my life and the complications that come with it (kids, psychotic X, living in the middle of nowhere... I sound like a real "catch" don't I?) are worth it to him.

So, it's Friday night... no dinner date, nobody to hold me on the couch and listen to the rain hit the windows, nobody to watch tv with, no warm body to curl around me in the middle of the night.

I know in my heart I did the right thing getting divorced, but that sure doesn't make this hurt any less.

And the crazy keeps on coming...

My neighbor is insane. A crazy boy child in a hairy man's body. Whenever he feels we are being too loud he resorts to pounding on the walls and stomping loudly up and down the hallway. Nuts-0 huh?

He also likes to wash and dry what sounds like landscape pavers after 11 pm at night. The same man that will curse at me and my children for watching TV at 9:3o pm on a Saturday night sees nothing wrong with doing laundry in the wee hours of the morning or singing to the Eagles at the top of his lungs. Now I have nothing against the Eagles... but really... at midnight?

We share a wall, I live in a duplex, there is going to be some cross over noise, I get that. I've never called the landlord and complained when Hillbilly Deluxe and his lady friend with tres' chic mullet start screaming at each other, or when they wash their little midnight load of rocks and gym socks, or when they park in my spot in front of my house. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let his rock-a-billy girlfiend (and I use the term "girl" lightly here...she's about fiftey years old) call my kids, "little f-ing brats" and scream at me.

We had another run in recently. I was taking my holiday decorations to the garage last night, and she's there, doing god knows what and she says, "what are you doing NOW?" in this pissy tone. I just smiled and told her I was looking for the kids drum and trumpets"

Maybe that'll give her something to worry about for a day or two.

Day 1... of the rest of my life...

Day one of the rest of my life. I would think this would have started with a bang, a proclamation of some kind, perhaps a moment of enlightenment. No, nothing exciting, or monumental happened.

I woke up this morning and realized that my life was not over. I found out two days ago that my Ex... who we shall now forever refer to as X will be a guest of our state correctional facility for the next 14 months.

This is both the ending and the beginning I've been waiting for. It's one of the last pieces of a messy, semi-tragic, puzzle that has been my life for the past six months - well really for the past fifteen years. I expected to feel this giant weight lifted off my shoulders, but instead I just felt sad.

To this day I don't wish horrible things for him. I just want him to leave me alone. I want peace, I want to be happy, I want to feel safe. I want to feel loved and respected, I want to learn to like myself again. I want to have fun, I want to feel sexy and desired, I want someone to want me - and want them in return. I'm working on it - little things here and there.

Life, as it tends to do, has plotted against my best efforts. I asked the BFF if it's possible that I have somehow accumulated so much bad Karma in a former life that there's just no hope of something good happening for me these days. I feel cursed.

Broken appliances, cracked windshields, crazy and unstable X, eviction, injury, computer problems, cyber stalking, theft, in law problems, money problems. You name it, it has come raining down upon my shoulders this year. To end my year with a bang my pockets were picked New Years Eve... about four minutes till Midnight... I rang in the new year on the phone w/ my cell company getting my stolen cell phone shut down.

I'm desperately trying to get divorced, but X won't sign. I've been semi homeless, injured, and cyber stalked beyond belief. I just feel scrubbed raw and tossed aside like an unwanted potato, sort of pale and flavorless, easily discarded.

And with all that? I know that things can only get better...right? I mean really, can they get much worse? Should I even tempt fate - that cruel bitch - and ask that question? I lay in bed last night thinking, which I do a lot. I rarely sleep, and when I do I have the most horrible nightmares. I was thinking of all the ways my life could be worse: cancer, unemployment, pregnancy, death in the family... and oddly that made me feel better.

So I woke up today and realized that my life is not over. It's not tidy. It's certainly not fun. But I'll get up, shave my legs, put on a pair of heels that make me feel fierce and face my day with as much cheerfulness as I can muster.

It's my little F-You to Karma...