Are you proud of yourself?

When vising with the GAL last week I was presented with this question.  Stated very straight forwardly...

"Are you proud of yourself?"

For a moment there I just looked at Dr. Britt with what I can only assume was a bewildered look on my face.  You see we were about 2/3 of the way through our two hour meeting and I had confessed through her probing questions about the terrible mistake I made getting and staying married to an emotionally abusive man.  I had also been very honest about the affair I had two weeks before the X and I decided to get divorced.  I had told her that after my X brought that gun to my house my children and I were essentially homeless, living off the generosity of my parents and Ethel's family. 

My answer was, "No - I'm not proud of myself.  Mostly I feel foolish, and weak. I know I didn't handle things the best way possible at the end of my marriage and my children and I all suffered horribly."

Dr. Britt cut me off there and said, "No, I mean... you SHOULD be proud of yourself.  You survived  something really terrible and traumatic, and you've come out at the end of all this doing really well for yourself.  Your kids are, from everything I can gather, healthy and happy and well adjusted.  You didn't let this define you or stop you. You went on with life and built something really good for yourself and your kids.  So I ask you again.... Are you proud of yourself?"

And you know what...  I AM!  I AM PROUD OF MYSELF, MY FAMILY, MY KIDS, AND MY LIFE! Wheww...you know it feels pretty damn amazing to say that out loud.  I don't think I've ever done that before.

God I can be a judgemental ass sometimes

I have a confession to make. I can really be a judgemental jackass sometimes. I don't mean to, and when I catch myself doing it I try to step back and look at my judgements/assumptions/feelings more critically and kindly.  Sometimes I fail though...  it's a flaw I'm working on.

Case in point.  TNT has made a friend I'll call Baby.  Baby and her younger sister seem quite nice, very pleasant kids and they've been over before for play dates.   TNT and Monkey Pants have been to their house for play dates.  I've met Baby's mom on several occasions- and here the judgemental part of me rears it's ugly head.

See Baby's mom has facial piercings, crazy, perpetually disheveled hair, and neck tattoos.  I have no moral objection to any of these things - but I admit the pierced tongue, eyebrow, and lip really creep me out, I just REALLY dislike facial piercings.  *shudder*  The whole package just screams to me, "I MAKE BAD CHOICES!"  Baby's mom is very pleasant though.... she seems friendly and is kind to my kids.  But she gives off  haphazard party girl vibe that makes me leery.... 

Last time I dropped her girls off at her house there was a big ol' Vodka bottle propping up the garage door.  Okay....my first thought...  "lush".  Not nice, I know I know.  I backtracked and had a little talking to with myself, "hey listen, I have no idea how long they had that bottle, if it was a gift, or from a big celebration.  Don't be so quick to judge. I have no proof she drinks too much!"

On another occasion TNT was invited to stay for dinner, and when  I picked her up she mentioned casually that they had noodles.  "oh Spaghetti, or Lasagna or something like that?" I ask.  "No, just noodles and salt, sometimes at the end of the month they don't have much food in their house."   Certainly not a crime, we struggle here too, to be honest, and frequently we resort to inexpensive dinners once a week of scrambled eggs and toast, or soup and biscuits.   But the last time I was over there they had a brand new flat screen TV on the wall...  do you hear the judgemental voice I'm trying to control?  I really am trying.  It's not my business how they spend their money, but Vodka and TV's seem odd choices if you're eating plain noodles - know what I mean?

So I've promised myself that I'm going to continue to be polite, and the kids like each other so there is no reason why they can't play together.  However if money is that tight I can't let my kids eat over at her house.... they need to use their resources for their own three kids. That's only fair and right. I won't make a big deal about it, I'll just make sure if she's invited that we have something else we have to do.  That way nobody has any hurt feelings.  

In an effort to help out a little I am taking a winter coat over that my 12 year old out grew. It's too big for TNT, and Baby is much taller and broader - so while it's going to be a size or two too big I think she'll be able to use it. It's a very good quality coat. 

I am going to refuse to let my inner cynic convince me that there is something wrong here unless or until I have all the facts.  I mean, I know I'm making judgements based on appearances, and on only having a small amount of interaction with this family.  That's growth right?  Being aware of my own short coming and acting differently?

Growth...  I'm working on it....

Things I've learned this week

This was a ... hmm...  odd week.  Odd sums it up.  It was stressful, and busy, and we've all been a bit cranky.  We've had some personnel changes at work that were difficult, and we're all pulling a few extra hours to cover our collective asses.

This week I've learned the following:

1. My father can be a passive aggressive ass.
2. One should do everything in their power to never sneeze while brushing their teeth.
3. A certain government agency will not only do their job incorrectly and blame you for it, but they'll instruct you in a very snotty way as to how YOU are responsible for their screw up, and what steps you should take next time to ensure they do their job correctly... so as to save them all some aggravation with you...
4. If your purse is stolen, and your concealed carry permit is inside of it, it will take a small mountain of paperwork to replace it.  It only took one form to get said permit the first time... but replacing it, due to no fault of your own, takes an act of congress.
5. My mother can be a passive aggressive she-devil in response to the above mentioned passive aggressive father figure.  The maternal unit, however, is more creative.  She haz skillz... and thus 35 years of happily married co-existence continues.
6. A bulldog with gas can clear out a room in less than 5 seconds. 
7. No matter how much you love a very expensive pair of silk panties... if the elastic at the waist gives out you have to toss them.  No way to save em, don't try... just bid them a fond farewell and toss em.  Otherwise you're playing Grip and Wiggle all day as they shift, shimmy, slip, and reorient themselves in uncomfy places.

*Sigh...*  So that was my week. 

Tell me what YOU learned this week!

Fool me once...

Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.  Isn't that how the saying goes?  I have nobody to blame for my current predicament except myself.  See, someone I trusted lied to me. They had the best of intentions at the time, and I would like to think they honestly believed what they were saying... but when push came to shove they caved under pressure and sided with my X instead of doing what is right and standing firm. And by going back on their word to me they've put my kids in danger.

I should have known better.  This person did this once before. They laid out an edict that said, "I don't support him, I won't let him live in my house unless he does X, Y, and Z... etc and so forth." But when the time came they didn't keep their word.  They caved...  standing firm was too hard in the face of my ex and all my former in laws (and their money).

Knowing this I let this person back into my life... I listened to their promises.  I believed them. I shared and was honest and vulnerable with them, and I made declarations to the court in a legally binding statement because of the information this person gave me... and now I look like a liar.  I look like a fool.  I look like the kind of person that makes up things.  I look like a flake.

I am hurt and I feel betrayed, not only by this person - but by myself as well.  I didn't listen to my little inner voice that was shouting "don't trust... don't believe."  I'm very scared of going to court tomorrow.  I haven't seen my ex since that night when he brought the gun to my house. I'm afraid of what's going to happen.  I'm afraid if things don't go our way that my girls will feel like I let them down. I feel like we've lost another member of our family to this disaster - because, no matter what the outcome is I'll never be able to trust this person again.  I'll never let them close to us again.  There's too much at stake.

And worse of all... I feel like my kids are in danger.  If my X has half a chance I absolutely believe that he'll make good on his threats to steal my children in order to punish me.

We will be in court at 1:30.  If you're so inclined, say a little prayer for my children and their safety and let the judge see all the lies and excuses for what they are.

It Wasn't All Bad

I am not afraid to admit that I'm firmly in the ex-husband bashing mode. Not enough time has elapsed for me to forgive and forget everything he put me through, and with his release from prison coming up soon I'm focusing on working on my PTSD symptoms and getting myself emotionally healthy so that I can deal with the reality of his release.


It's the truth, but I'm not overly proud of it. I would like to be the kind of magnanamous person who can have inner peace, and see things from his point of view, or have compassion for him in some way - but I'm not.


I will however acknowlege (as a part of my healing process) that the whole 15 years of our marriage were not a total misery, or a total disaster. Obviously I have four amazing kids that I wouldn't trade for the world, but beyond that I have good memories. I had the opportunity to quit my job at the age of 22 and not return back to the workforce until my oldest child was 12 years old. That alone is an absolute blessing.


We traveled. We celebrated. We shared moments of grief. We laughed. At one time there was affection and shared goals. I can't say that I ever loved him - because I think I was too young to fully understand and appreciate what that means. As an adult woman who has found herself truly and deeply in love for the first time I can see that I had no business getting married at the age of 19 without having any deep feelings for the man I would spend the next 15 years with.


The beginning was hopfull, the middle was challenging, the end was ugly. That's the reality of it, but I have to be honest with myself and admit that there were good times in there, and that all it - good and bad - have made me the woman I am today, and I like that woman.

Simple Pleasures

A hot shower, home made Sheppard's pie for dinner, a soft kiss on my neck from the man I love, a good book, warm flannel pajamas, and tired muscles from a good workout.

Simple pleasures.

The past couple of weeks have been really emotional. Really hard. I get caught up sometimes in this big ocean of anger, guilt, and stress that I'm swimming in and I lose focus on the small things that give me such pleasure.

I don't want anyone, especially my kids and BLT, to think that I don't recognize or appreciate my blessings. I do, I honestly and truly do. If there is anything the past year has taught me it's that "things' are transitory and unimportant. I had a 400K dollar home. I had new cars, fancy vacations, expensive jewelry - even a housekeeper for awhile. None of it made me happy.

Now I have my little blue cottage, my kids, the love of a good man, and a job I'm proud of. I have the support and love of family and friends and I'm surrounded only by the things that are near and dear to my heart.

Vintage table clothes, a comfy garage sale chair, jeans that fit just right, Chef's chocolate chip cookies. Simple pleasures and someone to share them with. That's all I really need.

Men are so much simpler creatures

I honestly believe that. I think men have simpler needs and are better about asking for what they want. As a little girl we're taught to be nice, to consider other people's feelings. We are groomed from a young age to be nurturers and peace keepers.

"Don't make waves."
"Play by the rules"
"Don't be demanding"

Last year I was the queen of "Don't Make Waves" during my separation I agreed to move away from my family and my comfort zone to make it easier on the X to commute to work - as he was still the primary bread winner. I didn't want to make a fuss and I figured I could find work anywhere. I spend weeks separating out and packing up our belongings into boxes marked HIS and HERS. I killed myself for weeks and he didn't pack a single box. I let him bully me into having a say on where I would live, I let him threaten to take my children away, I let him manipulate me even when I knew he was following me and scary cyber-stalking behavior was going on. When the X started talking about dreaming of killing me I was told by my friends and family to get a restraining order. I was told by HIS therapist that it would make things worse...so I didn't do it... and we see how that worked out for me.

Why was I so intent on being the good girl? Why couldn't I stand up for myself, take care of my needs and tell him to go screw himself? Why would I let myself be bullied, harassed, and threatened into behaving as someone else wished? Why was I so weak?

It seems that we have a whole different set of rules for men. Growing up little boys are encouraged to be competitive and even a mild amount of regulated aggression is smiled upon. Boys are told to be leaders and to speak up.

"Don't take crap from anybody"
"Don't be a baby"
"Go get em' Tiger!"

I heard a female comedian once talk about what men need to be happy. Something along the lines of beer, boobies, and a full belly. Simple wishes. They dream of finding a woman who wants to cook them dinner and jump their bones when they're done. Can it really be that basic?

A male friend once told me that if his woman had sex with him on a semi regular basis then he felt pretty damn good about himself and he assumed their relationship was on track. If she had sex with him frequently then he knew he was a total stud. If she cooked for him, didn't nag him too much about the toilet seat, and knew how to not talk his ear off while he watched t.v. then she's probably going to be his wife someday. Simple wishes.

Women - myself included - need validation. We need to talk about our feelings, we need to feel connected. We want romance apart from sex. We want him to WANT to spend time with us, to like our friends, to hold us when we cry for no apparent reason. We are complicated.

How do we meet in the middle? How do we manage to get our complicated emotional needs met and not suffocate the man we love? How do we feel sexy, powerful, cherished, nurturing, and independent all at the same time?

How do I make sure, every day, that he knows I love him. I love him with a deep and passionate love that's new and scary for me. I love him with a comfortable, easy, gentle love that's soothing to my damaged soul? How do I ask for what I need so that I in turn know, on a daily basis, that he loves me truly and deeply as well?

Sometimes, "I love you" doesn't say enough... What are the words? Or do I, as my friend implied, accept the fact that since I fill his belly, and warm his bed on a nightly basis he's content? Is looking for something deeper a wasted effort?

I think this love business should come with an owner's manual. There are so very many ways to screw it up. One thing I do know - I'm done with not asking for what I want. I'm done allowing ANYONE to bully me. I won't keep the peace at the sake of my own sanity. This past year has taught me a lot - especially about myself. What I can survive. Whom I can depend on. What I need to be happy. These are hard learned lessons.

I love it when he...

Sings out loud in car.
Washes my back in the shower.
Talks about his daughter with total love and devotion.
Unconsciously pulls me towards him in the middle of the night.
Holds the door open for me.
Puts things into perspective.
Tucks my little ones in for the night.
Tells me that I'm beautiful.
Cooks with me.
Slides his tongue across my bare shoulders.
Helps me clean the house without complaining.
Listens to the stories of my past and doesn't judge me.
Lets me sleep in.
Opens up and tells me his most personal and intimate secrets.
Makes me laugh when I need it the most.

In so many ways he's the man I've always wanted in my life. He's not perfect, but he's such a good, strong, loving man. Sometimes I find myself looking for problems. I look for the imperfections because deep down I know he's the only man I've ever given the power to break my heart, and I get scared.

Things I learned this week

Just some little kernels of knowledge to pass on....

1. Do not ever, EVER, try to run four miles in a thong. Just don't.

2. Grown women should not wear any of the following: Betty Boop apparel, sparkly red "Dorothy" shoes, over sized hair bows, bedazzled blazers, or pants with appliqued pink flamingos on them. Yes, I saw all of these in the past week or so...and yes, each one was horrifying. I repeat, Just Don't Do It.

3. Big girls excel at Roller Derby. Hip-Check anyone?

4. I am not a nice person when you take away my sugar. I hope my children and co-workers survive the 2 week low carb/low sugar diet I'm on to kick start my metabolism and try to shed some of this last 10 lbs. If nobody hears from me for a few days I'm sure someone bonked me on the head and stuffed me in the trunk of my car.

5. Don't borrow a 10 year olds iPod to use when you run unless you really love hearing every Hannah Montana song ever recorded, and few renditions of those songs by the Chipmunks just for good measure. This technique will however increase your run speed since you desperately want to get home and make it stop!!

6. Sometimes when you ask for help you actually get it. Who knew?!

7. Yes, one person may have the power to royally fuck up your life....but another person, with three little words, "I love you", can make it all feel right again.

8. Sometimes children see a situation so clearly, and accept it as such in an uncomplicated way. Things we adults have to muck up and complicate with ulterior motives, second guesses, and our own personal baggage. I want to be more like my children sometimes.