The sun had passed through mid of sky.
My words were few and fumbled.
But in the moments after that,
Twas when I began to stumble.
I felt the world shake 'neath my feet,
The aftershock and tremors,
This feeling that I'd not felt before,
But will always remember.
Were they butterflies I felt,
Or merely my heart's flutter?
To think, to even speak to you
Had first caused nervous shudders.
As time passed on my walls came down,
And my heart opened up.
And now with each day that has passed,
You've overfilled my cup.
Sweet good mornings flood my soul
With feelings I can't hide,
And now the last thing I desire
Is you here by my side.
With each good night, I dream of you,
Of your head next to mine,
Of listening to your heart beat,
As we drift into night.
I've waited all this time,
This quarter-century for you,
And for you I would wait
Another quarter, too.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Tripping, Stumbling, Flipping, Fumbling...
With a love of literature that started very early on, one would assume I'd be much better with words. In fourth grade I read Julius Caesar for the first time. Then Macbeth. My love for Shakespeare started early one and fueled that literature love. In sixth grade, I dove into Dickens and purged through A Tale of Two Cities, and found it wonderful. Eighth Grade led me to tackle Of Human Bondage which, purely because of lack of time, I did not finish, but will eventually now that I've remembered it. (Queueing it on the free e-reader on my phone as I type this.)
In middle and high school, I excelled in English class. Especially in high school once we'd finally left behind tedious spelling and grammar lessons that I'd grown tired of long before my peers who would have happily continue writing sentences and having spelling tests instead of diving headfirst into Beowulf, Gulliver's Travels, Huckleberry Finn, Great Expectations and the tales of King Arthur. I began to do extra work for my English teachers. Grade papers, review essays. Even the teacher whom I despised my freshman year of high school commended me for my writing ability.
When I first went to college, I thought my love of drawing and painting would fair well for me as an art major, to be an art teacher. I was wrong. I hated it. With a passion. And my professors and their arrogance. Not all, but the majority of my art professors were far too aware of just how awesome (they thought) they were.
When I realized my are major was not what I wanted, I thought of what other thing I loved as much, and English was there. I had been enjoying my classes in English composition for my core, so why not? For three years I worked towards my English Major. I was done with my core, my Junior year left with nothing but classes towards my major and I was loving them. Arthurian Legend, Shakespeare, Young Adult Literature. The only class I was unsure of was the actual education course I was taking. I was also doing work as a substitute teacher. I did not enjoy it. Seeing how much people did -not- want to be in school made me realize how much the passion I had for literature was not shared.
I began to question my major. Perhaps I couldn't be a teacher, but I could instead, stay in and turn my bachelor's into a master's. I could go on to be a professor instead. Then the people in my classes were paying good money to be taught. Many of them would be there because they wanted to be there and not just to meet a core requirement. Eventually, I made the silly mistake of dropping out of college when my now ex husband thought it better for me to work full time so we could get married. The love of English and literature, however, has never faded.
I've given this background for a reason. First of all, to share that that is why I write here and now. This blog provides an outlet. But also to say that with the compliments I often receive that I am "eloquent" and "intelligent" or knowledgeable of words and word use, you would assume I'd be far better at putting word to my emotions. Alas, this is not the case. Unless I've been given time to sit and reflect, my words are jumbles, especially if I try to speak them. My heart overflows with feelings, some which have no names, but my mind spills and sputters fears and worries. The two together bind my tongue and I am left flustered and often on the verge of tears praying I find a way to say what I want to so badly. Instead, I often remain silent.
I have all the world's words before me, but if I can not speak them, they are just that: words with no meaning.
In middle and high school, I excelled in English class. Especially in high school once we'd finally left behind tedious spelling and grammar lessons that I'd grown tired of long before my peers who would have happily continue writing sentences and having spelling tests instead of diving headfirst into Beowulf, Gulliver's Travels, Huckleberry Finn, Great Expectations and the tales of King Arthur. I began to do extra work for my English teachers. Grade papers, review essays. Even the teacher whom I despised my freshman year of high school commended me for my writing ability.
When I first went to college, I thought my love of drawing and painting would fair well for me as an art major, to be an art teacher. I was wrong. I hated it. With a passion. And my professors and their arrogance. Not all, but the majority of my art professors were far too aware of just how awesome (they thought) they were.
When I realized my are major was not what I wanted, I thought of what other thing I loved as much, and English was there. I had been enjoying my classes in English composition for my core, so why not? For three years I worked towards my English Major. I was done with my core, my Junior year left with nothing but classes towards my major and I was loving them. Arthurian Legend, Shakespeare, Young Adult Literature. The only class I was unsure of was the actual education course I was taking. I was also doing work as a substitute teacher. I did not enjoy it. Seeing how much people did -not- want to be in school made me realize how much the passion I had for literature was not shared.
I began to question my major. Perhaps I couldn't be a teacher, but I could instead, stay in and turn my bachelor's into a master's. I could go on to be a professor instead. Then the people in my classes were paying good money to be taught. Many of them would be there because they wanted to be there and not just to meet a core requirement. Eventually, I made the silly mistake of dropping out of college when my now ex husband thought it better for me to work full time so we could get married. The love of English and literature, however, has never faded.
I've given this background for a reason. First of all, to share that that is why I write here and now. This blog provides an outlet. But also to say that with the compliments I often receive that I am "eloquent" and "intelligent" or knowledgeable of words and word use, you would assume I'd be far better at putting word to my emotions. Alas, this is not the case. Unless I've been given time to sit and reflect, my words are jumbles, especially if I try to speak them. My heart overflows with feelings, some which have no names, but my mind spills and sputters fears and worries. The two together bind my tongue and I am left flustered and often on the verge of tears praying I find a way to say what I want to so badly. Instead, I often remain silent.
I have all the world's words before me, but if I can not speak them, they are just that: words with no meaning.
Monday, November 5, 2012
I Walked With You Once Upon A Dream...
I have found when I read a book, much like when I hear of happenings in lives of those around me, I personalize the story. I take into account the feelings of all the characters, and different times in my life, when i re-read the same book, I might see things differently and the character may be shed in a different light than the last time I read the book.
For instance, presently I am reading The Awakening by Kate Chopin for what is probably the dozenth time. When married, I read this book, and found it detestable that she should act so callously towards her husband. When my marriage fell apart, I saw the demons the author portrays in him so much more clearly. And now, a year after that, I reread it again, and I find that I see devils and angels in both characters. I see them as human and feel sympathy for both.
I see how he stifles her and stunts her emotional and personal growth, but I also see that he dotes on and adores her. He sees her flaws, but loves her. Then I see her struggling to be the wife she wants to and should be, but knowing that the "too little, too late" attitude has already overtaken her, it she can't be swayed from her mindset now to move on and carry on with her infidelity and plans of leaving him. I see her become selfish and forsake both her husband, her children, then her friends and family because of this person and because of her choices and not just the choices themselves, but instead how she chooses to go about enacting them.
I see how her dreams become muddled and she loses sight of her virtues and focuses solely on selfish desire.
I am still reading, perhaps by the end of the book my opinions will shift again.
For instance, presently I am reading The Awakening by Kate Chopin for what is probably the dozenth time. When married, I read this book, and found it detestable that she should act so callously towards her husband. When my marriage fell apart, I saw the demons the author portrays in him so much more clearly. And now, a year after that, I reread it again, and I find that I see devils and angels in both characters. I see them as human and feel sympathy for both.
I see how he stifles her and stunts her emotional and personal growth, but I also see that he dotes on and adores her. He sees her flaws, but loves her. Then I see her struggling to be the wife she wants to and should be, but knowing that the "too little, too late" attitude has already overtaken her, it she can't be swayed from her mindset now to move on and carry on with her infidelity and plans of leaving him. I see her become selfish and forsake both her husband, her children, then her friends and family because of this person and because of her choices and not just the choices themselves, but instead how she chooses to go about enacting them.
I see how her dreams become muddled and she loses sight of her virtues and focuses solely on selfish desire.
I am still reading, perhaps by the end of the book my opinions will shift again.
Friday, October 19, 2012
There's Only One Thing To Do. Three Words For You...
There is a saying I have heard often in life:
"Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."
The saying is an excerpt from a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, and truth be told, my response to this was always, "How stupid can you be? That's ridiculous. There is no way I'd rather get hurt than just remain ignorant."
That is, until recently.
I have loved before, and I have been in love before. Clearly this is true, or I would never have been married.
But I believe wholeheartedly that in life, we love many, but only one love can make you feel a deep, inner fire. It burns, but not in a roaring flame. Fires that roar and flare fade quickly as they use up all they have. No, this fire is a soft, warm glow. It is warm and soothing. It lights the way, but burns softly and lasts. It stays with you. The wood doesn't ash away, but is instead a charred remain so that if somehow the fire were to fade away, it would leave the scars of what had been.
I have a happiness as of late that I have truthfully never known. My life is in the most downward, depressing situation I have truthfully ever been in. I feel trapped. As if I am drowning. The optimism I always seemed to have was disappearing and the shadows of depression seemed to be dashing out each ray of sunshine that tried to find its way through. But for a time now, I never stay down long. It's as if the sadness that comes on me is washed away almost as quickly as it falls upon my shoulders and I am up and ready to carry on again.
I have never had this happiness...this inner joy...
Never have I been so open with my parents, especially my dad, about someone. I'm very...private. I keep most things that currently are happening in my life to myself. Things that have happened and are in the past are one thing, but current goings on, I always feel, are my business and I don't want to involve anyone else in it. Especially because I am so used to things coming up, then going away, whether for the better or the worse, so it seems a waste of time to involve others in my matters.
But my heart is bursting. This isn't the giddy, school-girl, puppy love. This is something I've never felt. There is passion, but there is also compassion. There is a desire to be happy, but more so to see him happy. There is fear, but not in him, instead in myself. And there is, instead of the attitude of "This is me, take me as I am," an attitude of "I am me, but will always be the best me for you I can be and ever strive to be better so that I, perhaps someday, may be good enough for you."
I hear his smile, his laugh, and I am overwhelmed with indescribable feelings. Even a passing thought of him or a reminder of something he has said causes a smile from ear to ear and a soft glow around me.
I do not know where this will go. I know I have had dreams of him. I know not a moment goes by that he doesn't cross my mind.
I am scared, but only because there is a lot of unknown that comes with this. I think all things in life have fear attached to them. This is one of them, but I know the fear isn't enough to stop me from feeling this way...even if this may not have been the best approach for telling him how I feel...I know that I think he knows me well enough by now to know that sometimes me and words...well, when they come together with my emotions, they don't always come out smoothly.
And I know that I finally understand that I would rather have known this feeling...felt this love for another person...than to have never had this at all.
"Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."
The saying is an excerpt from a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, and truth be told, my response to this was always, "How stupid can you be? That's ridiculous. There is no way I'd rather get hurt than just remain ignorant."
That is, until recently.
I have loved before, and I have been in love before. Clearly this is true, or I would never have been married.
But I believe wholeheartedly that in life, we love many, but only one love can make you feel a deep, inner fire. It burns, but not in a roaring flame. Fires that roar and flare fade quickly as they use up all they have. No, this fire is a soft, warm glow. It is warm and soothing. It lights the way, but burns softly and lasts. It stays with you. The wood doesn't ash away, but is instead a charred remain so that if somehow the fire were to fade away, it would leave the scars of what had been.
I have a happiness as of late that I have truthfully never known. My life is in the most downward, depressing situation I have truthfully ever been in. I feel trapped. As if I am drowning. The optimism I always seemed to have was disappearing and the shadows of depression seemed to be dashing out each ray of sunshine that tried to find its way through. But for a time now, I never stay down long. It's as if the sadness that comes on me is washed away almost as quickly as it falls upon my shoulders and I am up and ready to carry on again.
I have never had this happiness...this inner joy...
Never have I been so open with my parents, especially my dad, about someone. I'm very...private. I keep most things that currently are happening in my life to myself. Things that have happened and are in the past are one thing, but current goings on, I always feel, are my business and I don't want to involve anyone else in it. Especially because I am so used to things coming up, then going away, whether for the better or the worse, so it seems a waste of time to involve others in my matters.
But my heart is bursting. This isn't the giddy, school-girl, puppy love. This is something I've never felt. There is passion, but there is also compassion. There is a desire to be happy, but more so to see him happy. There is fear, but not in him, instead in myself. And there is, instead of the attitude of "This is me, take me as I am," an attitude of "I am me, but will always be the best me for you I can be and ever strive to be better so that I, perhaps someday, may be good enough for you."
I hear his smile, his laugh, and I am overwhelmed with indescribable feelings. Even a passing thought of him or a reminder of something he has said causes a smile from ear to ear and a soft glow around me.
I do not know where this will go. I know I have had dreams of him. I know not a moment goes by that he doesn't cross my mind.
I am scared, but only because there is a lot of unknown that comes with this. I think all things in life have fear attached to them. This is one of them, but I know the fear isn't enough to stop me from feeling this way...even if this may not have been the best approach for telling him how I feel...I know that I think he knows me well enough by now to know that sometimes me and words...well, when they come together with my emotions, they don't always come out smoothly.
And I know that I finally understand that I would rather have known this feeling...felt this love for another person...than to have never had this at all.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Fathers and Mothers.
Parent. That word is a tough one. Dictionary definitions, though I have checked plenty of them, simply do not seem to fit it.
A parent is more than just the person who birthed you, adopted you, or fostered you. They are more than the person who provided you with a place to live as a child or who was responsible for you and your screw ups. They're not the person who signs your progress reports. (Ask my cousin, I used to do that for him so that my mom and dad, who he lived with, wouldn't see the grades he really got!)
A parent is so much more than obligatory things. A parent goes more than just one step past those things. They take leaps and strides to be there for their children. Not to spoil them, but to be a shoulder for them to cry on, arms to hold them up when they are weak, a hand to help them when they fall.
My situation is not an ideal one. Not by far. When I was 18, I was in school, had a job, and saved money to get a car. When I was in school full time, I didn't work, when I was on breaks, I worked. I never was without income or without a car a day since turning 18 until I was forced to quit both school and work to have surgery. Surgery was a life or death necessity for me. My parents knew this, and took me back into their home and helped me during surgery and during recuperation. They did not pay my bills for me, but they gave me somewhere to stay, food to eat, and love and care I needed during a life-altering moment in my life.
After surgery, I tried to get back into school only to find out the school had decided me almost dying wasn't a good enough reason to drop the semester, and so to go back to school I'd have to pay them for the remainder of the semester. I didn't see how I'd ever save the money to go back. Income tax time came around, and my parents put me in the car with them and drove me to my school and wrote a check to pay off my debt. I re-enrolled and picked up where I had left off. I was so thankful for their sacrifice and that they would give up so much for me.
Now, as I feel my life has been reset, I see myself again as the 20 year old girl. Scared because life has been turned upside down, and though I am not dying, I feel like I am drowning. For the first time since being 18, I have no car for myself. I lost it because of a selfish decision by my ex husband. I have no job. Diligently looking and applying since February of this year has gotten me nowhere. I have no health insurance. I have bills coming in, and no way to pay them because the same selfish ex has decided to break court order and not repay me for the bills he ran up or for the car I gave away so that he could let our new one be repossessed.
And again, in the toughest time in my life, I have my parents. I have the people who provide me with anything they can. The people who, if they had the nickels and dimes to get me a car, would have. The people, who if they could pay off the bills I have so that I could stop crying, stop feeling sick to my stomach over each day that passes and draws closer to a due date on a bill, would do so in a heartbeat. Not to spoil me. Not because they want something easy for me. But because they love me. Because they care and they see the struggle, they see me each day and know what I do and what I struggle with. They know everything that has happened, that happens each day, and they know me better than anyone else.
I have wonderful parents. They have been here for me through thick and thin, and they continue to support me through everything. They bend over backwards for me and love me and do all they can for me. They have proven time and time again, they would give up for themselves to help me because I am their child.
That is why they are my parents.
That is what makes a parents.
Selfless, unending, undeniable love. Charity. Grace. Forgiveness.
I am thankful for my mom and dad.
A parent is more than just the person who birthed you, adopted you, or fostered you. They are more than the person who provided you with a place to live as a child or who was responsible for you and your screw ups. They're not the person who signs your progress reports. (Ask my cousin, I used to do that for him so that my mom and dad, who he lived with, wouldn't see the grades he really got!)
A parent is so much more than obligatory things. A parent goes more than just one step past those things. They take leaps and strides to be there for their children. Not to spoil them, but to be a shoulder for them to cry on, arms to hold them up when they are weak, a hand to help them when they fall.
My situation is not an ideal one. Not by far. When I was 18, I was in school, had a job, and saved money to get a car. When I was in school full time, I didn't work, when I was on breaks, I worked. I never was without income or without a car a day since turning 18 until I was forced to quit both school and work to have surgery. Surgery was a life or death necessity for me. My parents knew this, and took me back into their home and helped me during surgery and during recuperation. They did not pay my bills for me, but they gave me somewhere to stay, food to eat, and love and care I needed during a life-altering moment in my life.
After surgery, I tried to get back into school only to find out the school had decided me almost dying wasn't a good enough reason to drop the semester, and so to go back to school I'd have to pay them for the remainder of the semester. I didn't see how I'd ever save the money to go back. Income tax time came around, and my parents put me in the car with them and drove me to my school and wrote a check to pay off my debt. I re-enrolled and picked up where I had left off. I was so thankful for their sacrifice and that they would give up so much for me.
Now, as I feel my life has been reset, I see myself again as the 20 year old girl. Scared because life has been turned upside down, and though I am not dying, I feel like I am drowning. For the first time since being 18, I have no car for myself. I lost it because of a selfish decision by my ex husband. I have no job. Diligently looking and applying since February of this year has gotten me nowhere. I have no health insurance. I have bills coming in, and no way to pay them because the same selfish ex has decided to break court order and not repay me for the bills he ran up or for the car I gave away so that he could let our new one be repossessed.
And again, in the toughest time in my life, I have my parents. I have the people who provide me with anything they can. The people who, if they had the nickels and dimes to get me a car, would have. The people, who if they could pay off the bills I have so that I could stop crying, stop feeling sick to my stomach over each day that passes and draws closer to a due date on a bill, would do so in a heartbeat. Not to spoil me. Not because they want something easy for me. But because they love me. Because they care and they see the struggle, they see me each day and know what I do and what I struggle with. They know everything that has happened, that happens each day, and they know me better than anyone else.
I have wonderful parents. They have been here for me through thick and thin, and they continue to support me through everything. They bend over backwards for me and love me and do all they can for me. They have proven time and time again, they would give up for themselves to help me because I am their child.
That is why they are my parents.
That is what makes a parents.
Selfless, unending, undeniable love. Charity. Grace. Forgiveness.
I am thankful for my mom and dad.
Monday, September 17, 2012
When You Say Nothing At All...
Silence.
The loudest sound you will ever hear when you want to hear it least. But, when it slips into place comfortably and soothes the heart and mind with an echoing of hearts, it is the sweetest symphony.
Absolute silence is near impossible. Between two people, silence can not exist.
You will hear the beating of their hearts, the breaths they breathe, the sighs of happiness. Any small noise is magnified ten thousand fold and they fill your ears and then your mind.
Your mind races, soon behind it, your heart follows. Your pulse increases. That light-headed and fuzzy feeling fills your chest. A flutter of a hundred small butterflies moves from your toes to your head, taking its time through your stomach and chest.
An experience for the entire body, and no sound, no touch, no taste has caused it. Only feelings from the assurance someone is there for you as you are for them.
Sweet, comfortable silence.
The loudest sound you will ever hear when you want to hear it least. But, when it slips into place comfortably and soothes the heart and mind with an echoing of hearts, it is the sweetest symphony.
Absolute silence is near impossible. Between two people, silence can not exist.
You will hear the beating of their hearts, the breaths they breathe, the sighs of happiness. Any small noise is magnified ten thousand fold and they fill your ears and then your mind.
Your mind races, soon behind it, your heart follows. Your pulse increases. That light-headed and fuzzy feeling fills your chest. A flutter of a hundred small butterflies moves from your toes to your head, taking its time through your stomach and chest.
An experience for the entire body, and no sound, no touch, no taste has caused it. Only feelings from the assurance someone is there for you as you are for them.
Sweet, comfortable silence.
Monday, September 10, 2012
And I Know You're Shining Down On Me From Heaven...
Sorry for the impromptu hiatus. I has my tonsils out, then healed up, got my divorce finalized and then went to my cousin's wedding. I'm home now, with the flu, it appears. I took medicine last night before bed and now I'm regretting it, as I had sleep deep enough to dream, and the dream was not an enjoyable one.
For those who do not know, someone very dear to me was murdered April 28, 2012. His name is Taylor, and he called me his sister and I called him my brother. According to the police officers who came and retrieved me from my sister's home the morning of the 29th, and took me to the precinct to sit me down and tell me what happened, I am the last person Taylor texted that night. To know I am the last person Taylor cared about that he spoke to still eats away at me. To know the things we said that night that others won't know and to know I had the feeling I should say some things I had never said, but did not know why...I'm thankful I said them, but I still will always wonder what he thought. He was on his way to come and see me and another person at the bar we frequented when he, being the generous man he was, offered a ride to the wrong people. They took his gun from him, shot him and left him to die alone in his car on a secluded corner.
As I fell asleep last night, I thought of Taylor as I had just spoken with his mother...and then the dream started. The dream was vivid. Full of color. I can see Taylor's smile in it like it was any day I'd seen him make that big goofy smile...I'd somehow stumbled upon some sort of Time Control mechanism and I could replay days to try to alter them. For some reason, the last day with Taylor would progress differently each time. Never the same, none the way that day had actually happened. But each time the day played through, it would come down to that final hour and no matter how I tried to change what happened, I could not save Taylor. I couldn't stop what happened to him no matter how the day passed by. Multiple times I'd restart the day with the device, but it would end with the knock at the door to tell me he was gone. Or worse, one time when it replayed, I found him and saw him in his final moments.
I have had dreams about Taylor since he passed, but just short flashes of his smile. Short moments of him passing through. Nothing like this. Nothing so vivid or so heart-wrenching. The final time I replayed the day, I finally must have grown to know I wouldn't be able to stop what happened, and so I placed myself there to be with him so he wasn't alone. I held onto him as the moments passed away slowly, and I saw him smile the final time.
I woke up to the sound of a text message that jerked me out of the dream, wiped the still-hot tears from my face and laid in bed for a while.
I know I have blamed myself repeatedly for not insisting Taylor go out with us that night.
I have blamed myself for not just staying at the apartment with him.
I have blamed myself multiple ways for not somehow stopping what happened.
Maybe this dream was God's way of reminding me that I couldn't have stopped it because it was supposed to happen this way...
I'll ask Taylor when I see him again.
ILY&IMY, TB. Never forgotten.
For those who do not know, someone very dear to me was murdered April 28, 2012. His name is Taylor, and he called me his sister and I called him my brother. According to the police officers who came and retrieved me from my sister's home the morning of the 29th, and took me to the precinct to sit me down and tell me what happened, I am the last person Taylor texted that night. To know I am the last person Taylor cared about that he spoke to still eats away at me. To know the things we said that night that others won't know and to know I had the feeling I should say some things I had never said, but did not know why...I'm thankful I said them, but I still will always wonder what he thought. He was on his way to come and see me and another person at the bar we frequented when he, being the generous man he was, offered a ride to the wrong people. They took his gun from him, shot him and left him to die alone in his car on a secluded corner.
As I fell asleep last night, I thought of Taylor as I had just spoken with his mother...and then the dream started. The dream was vivid. Full of color. I can see Taylor's smile in it like it was any day I'd seen him make that big goofy smile...I'd somehow stumbled upon some sort of Time Control mechanism and I could replay days to try to alter them. For some reason, the last day with Taylor would progress differently each time. Never the same, none the way that day had actually happened. But each time the day played through, it would come down to that final hour and no matter how I tried to change what happened, I could not save Taylor. I couldn't stop what happened to him no matter how the day passed by. Multiple times I'd restart the day with the device, but it would end with the knock at the door to tell me he was gone. Or worse, one time when it replayed, I found him and saw him in his final moments.
I have had dreams about Taylor since he passed, but just short flashes of his smile. Short moments of him passing through. Nothing like this. Nothing so vivid or so heart-wrenching. The final time I replayed the day, I finally must have grown to know I wouldn't be able to stop what happened, and so I placed myself there to be with him so he wasn't alone. I held onto him as the moments passed away slowly, and I saw him smile the final time.
I woke up to the sound of a text message that jerked me out of the dream, wiped the still-hot tears from my face and laid in bed for a while.
I know I have blamed myself repeatedly for not insisting Taylor go out with us that night.
I have blamed myself for not just staying at the apartment with him.
I have blamed myself multiple ways for not somehow stopping what happened.
Maybe this dream was God's way of reminding me that I couldn't have stopped it because it was supposed to happen this way...
I'll ask Taylor when I see him again.
ILY&IMY, TB. Never forgotten.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
We'll Walk This Road Together, Through the Storm, Whatever Weather, Cold or Warm...
fear: noun [feer] a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid
I don't remember the last time I was truly afraid of something. I mean there are always spiders. Creepy little eight legged hell-spawn beasts that the world would be better off without. My world would, at least. Anyway. Point being: I'm not usually scared of much. I'm fairly laid back. I voice my opinions, but for the most part I'm the sit back and watch the world come to me type.
However, my life is taking a new turn. My divorce will be finalized sometime soon, most likely. That's enough fear on its own, but on top of that, within the last month I was told by two doctors (my primary care provider, and now an ENT,) that I need to have a biopsy done because they found "an abnormality" behind my right tonsil.
I'm not a doctor, so when people ask "what sort of abnormality" my response in my head is "Oh, let me pull out my big book of doctor crap since, you know, I'm a doctor." But instead I simply say "I don't know. That's what I'm waiting to find out." I've got surgery scheduled to have my tonsils taken out. My biopsy will be done when they send my tonsils off, and they will let me know what happens.
I constantly resist the urge to Google tonsil biopsies and relates searches. I have decided that I have no desire to instill more fear in myself. Once I am done with my divorce, I won't have health insurance anymore, so I see no point in worrying about it.
There is a lot of fear, but I'm fighting to overcome the fear with despondence and a pinch of hope.
My optimism hangs by a thread some days anymore, and I don't need help to weaken that little grasp it has left.I've adopted an attitude of numbness to a lot of things, and it doesn't make me happy, but sometimes it makes things less hurtful and less stressful.
I suppose that atleast if I feel fear, I feel something
I don't remember the last time I was truly afraid of something. I mean there are always spiders. Creepy little eight legged hell-spawn beasts that the world would be better off without. My world would, at least. Anyway. Point being: I'm not usually scared of much. I'm fairly laid back. I voice my opinions, but for the most part I'm the sit back and watch the world come to me type.
However, my life is taking a new turn. My divorce will be finalized sometime soon, most likely. That's enough fear on its own, but on top of that, within the last month I was told by two doctors (my primary care provider, and now an ENT,) that I need to have a biopsy done because they found "an abnormality" behind my right tonsil.
I'm not a doctor, so when people ask "what sort of abnormality" my response in my head is "Oh, let me pull out my big book of doctor crap since, you know, I'm a doctor." But instead I simply say "I don't know. That's what I'm waiting to find out." I've got surgery scheduled to have my tonsils taken out. My biopsy will be done when they send my tonsils off, and they will let me know what happens.
I constantly resist the urge to Google tonsil biopsies and relates searches. I have decided that I have no desire to instill more fear in myself. Once I am done with my divorce, I won't have health insurance anymore, so I see no point in worrying about it.
There is a lot of fear, but I'm fighting to overcome the fear with despondence and a pinch of hope.
My optimism hangs by a thread some days anymore, and I don't need help to weaken that little grasp it has left.I've adopted an attitude of numbness to a lot of things, and it doesn't make me happy, but sometimes it makes things less hurtful and less stressful.
I suppose that atleast if I feel fear, I feel something
Monday, July 23, 2012
Do you wake up on your own, and wonder where you are? You wake up with all your faults....
I have said it before, and I will say it again. As funny as the statement sounds, I mean it wholeheartedly:
Something about having a vagina makes this gender take life way too seriously.
So many women nitpick, overanalyze, pick apart and overthink each and every thing another person does. There is no "innocent until proven guilty," instead its "guilty and sentenced until you've got one hell of an appeal."
I'm thankful I'm not normally this way. Admittedly, we ALL have our moments, but until there is something truly worth taking note of and it included a stack of evidence I can't ignore, I'm pretty much down to pull the hat back over my face and go back to napping on the porch swing.
As a previously married woman, I've been in or around enough groups of women discussing their marriages woes (which 90% of the time are more like marriage whines) to know that women are extremely critical of their spouses and especially their spouses interactions with others of the feminine species.
Newsflash, ladies: Men are almost completely oblivious that a woman is flirting with them until her clothes are coming off.
(Link to the full image here.)
Moral of the story: Don't be a crazy person. There are something you just need to let slide. If something really is up, it will become apparent, but digging, prying, and making somethings out of nothings only leads to dissension. Trust, love, and grow. Don't be silly.
Something about having a vagina makes this gender take life way too seriously.
So many women nitpick, overanalyze, pick apart and overthink each and every thing another person does. There is no "innocent until proven guilty," instead its "guilty and sentenced until you've got one hell of an appeal."
I'm thankful I'm not normally this way. Admittedly, we ALL have our moments, but until there is something truly worth taking note of and it included a stack of evidence I can't ignore, I'm pretty much down to pull the hat back over my face and go back to napping on the porch swing.
As a previously married woman, I've been in or around enough groups of women discussing their marriages woes (which 90% of the time are more like marriage whines) to know that women are extremely critical of their spouses and especially their spouses interactions with others of the feminine species.
Newsflash, ladies: Men are almost completely oblivious that a woman is flirting with them until her clothes are coming off.
Therefore, they don't care that Secretary Slutty and PFC Bimbo are flirting with them. They don't notice, and they don't care. They're at work. Working. And when they get home and check Facebook or email or their phone? Men aren't like us. They don't think "Whoa whoa WHOA. Why is this person adding me/messaging me? What are their motives? Huh? HUH?!"
Nope. Thaaat's just us. This is my artistic rendering of what I see happening:(Link to the full image here.)
Moral of the story: Don't be a crazy person. There are something you just need to let slide. If something really is up, it will become apparent, but digging, prying, and making somethings out of nothings only leads to dissension. Trust, love, and grow. Don't be silly.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Chances Thrown, Nothing's Free, Longing For What Used To Be...
This blog is a little jumpy and short, but forgive me. I've been pretty sick and I'm a little scatterbrained. Bear with me..
The idea of being a stay-at-home mother, for some reason, seems to be looked down on heavily anymore. I'll be honest: I can think of nothing I would rather be.
For those who don't know, I have no children. I don't even have a husband anymore, really, unless you count the guy that, for some reason, doesn't want to be married to me but still doesn't sign divorce papers...but I digress.
I want to have children. I want atleast 2, and sometimes I have moments where I think "the more the merrier."
I want to be able to be home with my kids, though. I think their are some fundamental benefits to being home with your children before they are of school age and then being with them or there for them when they are in school.
I want the ability to make them breakfasts, pack them lunches, have after-school snacks waiting, and make them dinner, put them to bed everynight. I want to be their homework-helper and their confidant. I want to be able to go and have lunch with them during the day if they ask me to, or go on their field trips with them. My parents were never the chaperones, but I always felt lucky to be friends with the kid whose parent was. We got to have more fun. We felt like we were on our own trip.
I want to know what is going on in the lives of my children. I want to be more involved and be there when they are sick. I don't want to have a child who I have to catch up with when I'm home from work.
And most importantly, I remember the years when my parents both worked and I came home to an empty house. I was lonely, whether I admitted it or not, and of course I wasn't allowed to go out and do anything until they were home, so I felt like I missed out. I had to grow up faster, which I never regret, but occasionally I wonder if I missed things.
If my parents could live with eight children on one income, and they are all the more happier for how things happened now, 30 years later (almost 31) then I have full faith I could do the same.
There are sacrifices that happen either way, but I'd rather sacrifice the newest toys and gadgets than sacrifice crucial times in the developmental years of my children.
The idea of being a stay-at-home mother, for some reason, seems to be looked down on heavily anymore. I'll be honest: I can think of nothing I would rather be.
For those who don't know, I have no children. I don't even have a husband anymore, really, unless you count the guy that, for some reason, doesn't want to be married to me but still doesn't sign divorce papers...but I digress.
I want to have children. I want atleast 2, and sometimes I have moments where I think "the more the merrier."
I want to be able to be home with my kids, though. I think their are some fundamental benefits to being home with your children before they are of school age and then being with them or there for them when they are in school.
I want the ability to make them breakfasts, pack them lunches, have after-school snacks waiting, and make them dinner, put them to bed everynight. I want to be their homework-helper and their confidant. I want to be able to go and have lunch with them during the day if they ask me to, or go on their field trips with them. My parents were never the chaperones, but I always felt lucky to be friends with the kid whose parent was. We got to have more fun. We felt like we were on our own trip.
I want to know what is going on in the lives of my children. I want to be more involved and be there when they are sick. I don't want to have a child who I have to catch up with when I'm home from work.
And most importantly, I remember the years when my parents both worked and I came home to an empty house. I was lonely, whether I admitted it or not, and of course I wasn't allowed to go out and do anything until they were home, so I felt like I missed out. I had to grow up faster, which I never regret, but occasionally I wonder if I missed things.
If my parents could live with eight children on one income, and they are all the more happier for how things happened now, 30 years later (almost 31) then I have full faith I could do the same.
There are sacrifices that happen either way, but I'd rather sacrifice the newest toys and gadgets than sacrifice crucial times in the developmental years of my children.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
24 Oceans with 24 Hearts, 24 Symphonies with 24 Parts, Life is Not What I Thought It Was 24 Hours Ago...
Yesterday was my last day being a 24 year old woman. Yep. That's right. Ol' Fae Fae's got a quarter century under her belt.
Today was very sobering. Everything within the last year sort of played through my mind. There was so much bad, but the good things from it I am clinging tightly to and looking to God to keep my spirits up and trust that He will never give me more than I can handle, though I question sometimes why He seems to think I can handle so much. I don't think I can, but I haven't broken yet, so as usual, He is right and I am wrong.
Over the course of a year, I have lost my home, my car, my husband, my job, all of my furniture, a lot of my dishes, anything I'd had to celebrate holidays. All of the important things I have are tucked away in storage that I constantly fear I may never retrieve. I was forced to move away from the friends I had made and the place I had come to love. My entire life has been altered. Additionally, after having to move home, I lost one of my closest friends who called me his "sister" and whom I called my brother because two punk wanna-be thugs wanted to know what it was like to kill someone.
My heart has been toyed with, bounced around and broken. My strength has faltered, and the person I used to be has begun to fade into someone who's a little more rough around the edges. True that I'm walked on less, but I miss the innocence I used to have when I entered into relationships with people.
Thankfully, the silver linings in this have been able to keep me going:
I still maintain friendships with the important people I met in New York.
I have a new sister-in-law.
I went on a cruise for the first time. Saw the Virgin Islands and the Bahamas.
I tried foods I had only ever dreamed I'd actually get a chance to try.
I made closer friends, and realized the ones I could do without.
I finally met me nephew, Justus.
I loved and lost, but lived.
I finished school.
I am alive.
Hello, 25. I'm here now and I am ready for you. Bring on this near year of my life. I've got this.
Today was very sobering. Everything within the last year sort of played through my mind. There was so much bad, but the good things from it I am clinging tightly to and looking to God to keep my spirits up and trust that He will never give me more than I can handle, though I question sometimes why He seems to think I can handle so much. I don't think I can, but I haven't broken yet, so as usual, He is right and I am wrong.
Over the course of a year, I have lost my home, my car, my husband, my job, all of my furniture, a lot of my dishes, anything I'd had to celebrate holidays. All of the important things I have are tucked away in storage that I constantly fear I may never retrieve. I was forced to move away from the friends I had made and the place I had come to love. My entire life has been altered. Additionally, after having to move home, I lost one of my closest friends who called me his "sister" and whom I called my brother because two punk wanna-be thugs wanted to know what it was like to kill someone.
My heart has been toyed with, bounced around and broken. My strength has faltered, and the person I used to be has begun to fade into someone who's a little more rough around the edges. True that I'm walked on less, but I miss the innocence I used to have when I entered into relationships with people.
Thankfully, the silver linings in this have been able to keep me going:
I still maintain friendships with the important people I met in New York.
I have a new sister-in-law.
I went on a cruise for the first time. Saw the Virgin Islands and the Bahamas.
I tried foods I had only ever dreamed I'd actually get a chance to try.
I made closer friends, and realized the ones I could do without.
I finally met me nephew, Justus.
I loved and lost, but lived.
I finished school.
I am alive.
Hello, 25. I'm here now and I am ready for you. Bring on this near year of my life. I've got this.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Little Man You're Nothing Like Me, Lying Cheating So Deceiving, I Trusted You, Broke Me Down, And You Screwed Me Over...
Marriage. Defined in one of the many definitions from the Random House dictionary, is defined as follows: "the legal or religious ceremony that formalizes the decision of two people to live as a married couple"
However, sadly, divorce rates in our country are obnoxiously high. Over 50% of all marriages end in divorce. From what I can gather, there are two main reasons for this.
First of all, we are part of the "Have It Your Way" generation. Thanks to BK for the title, its a generation of give-me-give-me and takers. We are out for ourselves, and other people fall by the wayside to our own wants and selfishness. And, as children, more-so they our generation and these after mine have been taught that no doesn't really mean no. It simply means you should keep asking until you get what you want because someone will give in when they feel sorry for you.
Little Timmy's green race car with the flashing lights and noises isn't working anymore? It could be a quick fix...but I'd have to pull it apart or look up how to fix it or get help fixing it. I'll just go spend the 20 dollars to pick up a new one on the way home.
That same attitude is too often thrown about in relationships. Instead of putting in the effort to fix our problems, we abandon the life-partnership we agreed to. Counseling is hard. It takes time. And feelings. Who wants to go through that? Its quicker just to go pay a few hundred (or thousand) dollars and divorce the old battle axe and move on to greener pastures.
The second problem, recorded on divorce filings as the reason for approximately 20-30% of all divorces: Marital Infidelity. (For those of the "Kronk no like big words :(" Club, that means cheating.)
Statistics from research in 2009 show that 37% of men and 22% of women admit to having affairs. Experts believe this number to be much higher, but believe the shame and guilt attached to the act cause them to hide it even in anonymous polls. They also believe that those admitting their affairs are only admitting the the affairs that they deem in their minds to be legitimate affairs. For men, physical encounters of a sexual nature are seen as an affairs, whereas less than 50% of men acknowledge online affairs as a form of adultery. Women admit more freely to emotional affairs being part of the equation.
Men seeking extramarital affairs most often note never having an intention of pursuing a lasting relationship with their mistresses, as can be indicated by statistics showing that less than 2% of extramarital affairs lead to marriage, and 70% of the relationships that are products of affairs, including the time of the affair, last one year or less. And in the 2% who do marry? 75% of these marriages end in divorce.
Now then, I say all this not to defend cheating at all, but instead to point out that its become something that society seems to want us to all lay down and accept. I read recently on a discussion on Facebook where someone said "Divorce is a part of marriage." My response: What a load of crap. If divorce is a part of marriage, can someone please explain to me why it is that for centuries, divorces weren't handed out like Halloween candy like they are today? Oh. I know. Because people didn't just get them so easily, people were encouraged to keep true to their spouses, to be kind and loving partners to their other half, and divorces actually required reasoning and work to get. You couldn't just walk in, sign a paper and scribble down "because I don't like him/her anymore" as your reasoning for destroying something you promised to keep sacred for a lifetime.
The problem is, that people enter a marriage with the facade of wanting to live for another person and to join together as one and truly love and honor and cherish, but in reality, they just want the perks. I have yet to truly understand why it is that my ex decided it would be a good idea to get married if it wasn't really what he wanted, however, I am sure of one this: I feel no sympathy for ending my marriage to him for his infidelity and his lack of desire to fix our marriage.
"Don't you feel bad for them?"
"You loved them. You're still married/you were married to them."
"I feel like I owe him/her."
"I don't want them to suffer or struggle."
"I feel bad for...."
Please. Give me a break. I'm about to go ice queen here for a second, so bear with me.
I never wanted to go through a divorce. I entertained, for quite some time, the idea of remaining single in order to avoid divorce. I even confessed this to my ex when we first got together. He said he felt the same. That his mother's infidelity to his father had ruined his family and his outlook of women and marriage. Somehow, however, we both grew to want that together. We both entered the marital contract together. We stepped into it. Became a married couple and agreed to act as such.
Some time after that, apparently for one of us the lines became blurred. My husband chose to act as a single entity, with no regard for myself. He severed his matrimonial bonds in his mind and heart to me, and thus declared himself single.
This, therefore, is my true feelings, perhaps a theory, on how I feel I am allowed to feel as are others, when this happens:
Your ex, in taking action to act as a single person, ended your relationship/marriage. They chose to act as a single individual, and thus, your responsibility to that person as the other half of that relationship is severed. You owe them NOTHING.
I hear over and over these tales of people sticking it out and helping with bills or a cell phone or a car that their ex now uses to call other people, see other people, or live with other people. Why are you helping them? Why are you hurting yourself more by aiding them in what originally caused the end of your marriage/relationship? Are you dense?
While spitting fire in rage once, I am quoted as saying this: I have NO sympathy for my ex husband. If he were dying of thirst, I wouldn't have my boyfriend ejaculate in a cup for him to drink to quench his thirst.
Yeah. I went there. Take that visualization and enjoy it. Someone who has no disregard for the callous disposal of a loved one and the life they built together is of no use to me. Statistics don't make it acceptable, they simply point out that more people do wrong than right.
Be the exception, not the rule.
Be the minority.
However, sadly, divorce rates in our country are obnoxiously high. Over 50% of all marriages end in divorce. From what I can gather, there are two main reasons for this.
First of all, we are part of the "Have It Your Way" generation. Thanks to BK for the title, its a generation of give-me-give-me and takers. We are out for ourselves, and other people fall by the wayside to our own wants and selfishness. And, as children, more-so they our generation and these after mine have been taught that no doesn't really mean no. It simply means you should keep asking until you get what you want because someone will give in when they feel sorry for you.
Little Timmy's green race car with the flashing lights and noises isn't working anymore? It could be a quick fix...but I'd have to pull it apart or look up how to fix it or get help fixing it. I'll just go spend the 20 dollars to pick up a new one on the way home.
That same attitude is too often thrown about in relationships. Instead of putting in the effort to fix our problems, we abandon the life-partnership we agreed to. Counseling is hard. It takes time. And feelings. Who wants to go through that? Its quicker just to go pay a few hundred (or thousand) dollars and divorce the old battle axe and move on to greener pastures.
The second problem, recorded on divorce filings as the reason for approximately 20-30% of all divorces: Marital Infidelity. (For those of the "Kronk no like big words :(" Club, that means cheating.)
Statistics from research in 2009 show that 37% of men and 22% of women admit to having affairs. Experts believe this number to be much higher, but believe the shame and guilt attached to the act cause them to hide it even in anonymous polls. They also believe that those admitting their affairs are only admitting the the affairs that they deem in their minds to be legitimate affairs. For men, physical encounters of a sexual nature are seen as an affairs, whereas less than 50% of men acknowledge online affairs as a form of adultery. Women admit more freely to emotional affairs being part of the equation.
Men seeking extramarital affairs most often note never having an intention of pursuing a lasting relationship with their mistresses, as can be indicated by statistics showing that less than 2% of extramarital affairs lead to marriage, and 70% of the relationships that are products of affairs, including the time of the affair, last one year or less. And in the 2% who do marry? 75% of these marriages end in divorce.
Now then, I say all this not to defend cheating at all, but instead to point out that its become something that society seems to want us to all lay down and accept. I read recently on a discussion on Facebook where someone said "Divorce is a part of marriage." My response: What a load of crap. If divorce is a part of marriage, can someone please explain to me why it is that for centuries, divorces weren't handed out like Halloween candy like they are today? Oh. I know. Because people didn't just get them so easily, people were encouraged to keep true to their spouses, to be kind and loving partners to their other half, and divorces actually required reasoning and work to get. You couldn't just walk in, sign a paper and scribble down "because I don't like him/her anymore" as your reasoning for destroying something you promised to keep sacred for a lifetime.
The problem is, that people enter a marriage with the facade of wanting to live for another person and to join together as one and truly love and honor and cherish, but in reality, they just want the perks. I have yet to truly understand why it is that my ex decided it would be a good idea to get married if it wasn't really what he wanted, however, I am sure of one this: I feel no sympathy for ending my marriage to him for his infidelity and his lack of desire to fix our marriage.
"Don't you feel bad for them?"
"You loved them. You're still married/you were married to them."
"I feel like I owe him/her."
"I don't want them to suffer or struggle."
"I feel bad for...."
Please. Give me a break. I'm about to go ice queen here for a second, so bear with me.
I never wanted to go through a divorce. I entertained, for quite some time, the idea of remaining single in order to avoid divorce. I even confessed this to my ex when we first got together. He said he felt the same. That his mother's infidelity to his father had ruined his family and his outlook of women and marriage. Somehow, however, we both grew to want that together. We both entered the marital contract together. We stepped into it. Became a married couple and agreed to act as such.
Some time after that, apparently for one of us the lines became blurred. My husband chose to act as a single entity, with no regard for myself. He severed his matrimonial bonds in his mind and heart to me, and thus declared himself single.
This, therefore, is my true feelings, perhaps a theory, on how I feel I am allowed to feel as are others, when this happens:
Your ex, in taking action to act as a single person, ended your relationship/marriage. They chose to act as a single individual, and thus, your responsibility to that person as the other half of that relationship is severed. You owe them NOTHING.
I hear over and over these tales of people sticking it out and helping with bills or a cell phone or a car that their ex now uses to call other people, see other people, or live with other people. Why are you helping them? Why are you hurting yourself more by aiding them in what originally caused the end of your marriage/relationship? Are you dense?
While spitting fire in rage once, I am quoted as saying this: I have NO sympathy for my ex husband. If he were dying of thirst, I wouldn't have my boyfriend ejaculate in a cup for him to drink to quench his thirst.
Yeah. I went there. Take that visualization and enjoy it. Someone who has no disregard for the callous disposal of a loved one and the life they built together is of no use to me. Statistics don't make it acceptable, they simply point out that more people do wrong than right.
Be the exception, not the rule.
Be the minority.
These Foolish Games Are Tearing Me, Tearing Me, Tearing Me Apart...
Admittedly, I've had a lot of ups and downs over the last year. Seems a lot more downs, but I'm an eternal optimist, so my brain keeps telling me to shut up and quit whining.
I had dating profiles up for a while after my separation. I was encouraged to give a few different sites a shot. For those who have tried these sites and had success: Truthfully, I am happy for you. But for myself, I think I've had bad experience after bad experience. I've had three scenarios, though the first two are most common.
Scenario 1: Man says he is looking for a serious relationship, talks to me briefly, then immediately begins firing off what I assume he believes to be clever sexually-aimed questions and soon makes it clear how "important sex is to a relationship" and how "physical intimacy is a must" yadda yadda, and admittedly, I'm very sexually-oriented myself, but please. I wasn't born yesterday, and when you're trying to get me to tell you how I like sex the first day we talk, you can go away. Far away. Forever. *blocked*
Scenario 2: Really nice guy. OVERLY nice guy. Wants to buy me things (which makes me feel awkward) and take me places (also weird) and clings super fast. Mentions marriage day one. Then again day two with me definitely being part of the equation. And then when I stop texting, he starts getting needier and a little creeper-ish, then suddenly picks up on the creeper hint and ends things with first, an apologetic I'm-a-creeper text, followed by an angry text if I don't respond to the admittance. *blocked*
Then there is scenario three. I've had this 3 times now. I think this one seems to effect me the most.
It starts out with a normal guy. Sweet, but not overly. Funny, intelligent. Attractive and seems to think I am too, which I am thankful for. Things start off slowly then pick up. The mutual attraction is there, the flaws are noted, but don't outweigh the good for either of us, and we seem to click. We talk more and more, and talking or seeing each other becomes a sweet addiction. Its sort of like I get this momentary boost, this glimpse into something I have wanted all along and truly do want now more than ever. It all seems like its falling into place and I'm happy, but before too long, something happens and I realize it was all a fallacy and I put my heart out there and its handed back to me like change from a cashier. Whatever was left that they didn't need, they tossed back my way.
And I guess the problem is now, its like a knee-jerk reaction. I see a small hint that that scenario might be coming, and I just start to shut down. To pull away. I put the M&Ms back and decide to keep my dollar instead of the M&Ms. Those are temporary, they don't leave me fulfilled, and I don't want to keep carrying around change. I'd rather just keep the dollar.
I want scenario 3 to work out, but it feels like it never will. Just feels like I'm a temporary fix until the good stuff comes along. I'm putting dollars in the piggy bank to invest, but I don't see that the other side of the piggy bank, they've smashed in and are using the dollars to buy their own dreams and leave me behind.
I'm tired of being a backup plan. I want to be the master plan.
I had dating profiles up for a while after my separation. I was encouraged to give a few different sites a shot. For those who have tried these sites and had success: Truthfully, I am happy for you. But for myself, I think I've had bad experience after bad experience. I've had three scenarios, though the first two are most common.
Scenario 1: Man says he is looking for a serious relationship, talks to me briefly, then immediately begins firing off what I assume he believes to be clever sexually-aimed questions and soon makes it clear how "important sex is to a relationship" and how "physical intimacy is a must" yadda yadda, and admittedly, I'm very sexually-oriented myself, but please. I wasn't born yesterday, and when you're trying to get me to tell you how I like sex the first day we talk, you can go away. Far away. Forever. *blocked*
Scenario 2: Really nice guy. OVERLY nice guy. Wants to buy me things (which makes me feel awkward) and take me places (also weird) and clings super fast. Mentions marriage day one. Then again day two with me definitely being part of the equation. And then when I stop texting, he starts getting needier and a little creeper-ish, then suddenly picks up on the creeper hint and ends things with first, an apologetic I'm-a-creeper text, followed by an angry text if I don't respond to the admittance. *blocked*
Then there is scenario three. I've had this 3 times now. I think this one seems to effect me the most.
It starts out with a normal guy. Sweet, but not overly. Funny, intelligent. Attractive and seems to think I am too, which I am thankful for. Things start off slowly then pick up. The mutual attraction is there, the flaws are noted, but don't outweigh the good for either of us, and we seem to click. We talk more and more, and talking or seeing each other becomes a sweet addiction. Its sort of like I get this momentary boost, this glimpse into something I have wanted all along and truly do want now more than ever. It all seems like its falling into place and I'm happy, but before too long, something happens and I realize it was all a fallacy and I put my heart out there and its handed back to me like change from a cashier. Whatever was left that they didn't need, they tossed back my way.
And I guess the problem is now, its like a knee-jerk reaction. I see a small hint that that scenario might be coming, and I just start to shut down. To pull away. I put the M&Ms back and decide to keep my dollar instead of the M&Ms. Those are temporary, they don't leave me fulfilled, and I don't want to keep carrying around change. I'd rather just keep the dollar.
I want scenario 3 to work out, but it feels like it never will. Just feels like I'm a temporary fix until the good stuff comes along. I'm putting dollars in the piggy bank to invest, but I don't see that the other side of the piggy bank, they've smashed in and are using the dollars to buy their own dreams and leave me behind.
I'm tired of being a backup plan. I want to be the master plan.
Monday, June 25, 2012
I Kinda Always Knew I'd End Up Your Ex-Girlfriend...
For those of you who haven't been in the dating world for a while, let me forewarn you: It is a scary, annoying place that makes you want to do crazy things like drink to make dates more bearable, keep friends on back-up to call you to get you out of emergency situation (thank you, Sam V., you are a lifesaver,) and consider punching grown men much larger than you in their big stupid faces for some of the comments they let fly.
I'm no good at this, to be honest. I've always been the girl with the back up. I know that a lot of people don't understand that or are like "whaaaat?" but it's true. When I was in high school or college, I'd break up with a guy and then there was another I'd know before I broke up with him that there was another I could start dating if I broke up with the current. Thing is, when I got married, I didn't need a back up. He was my forever. I didn't need someone else because I was his and he was mine and it was going to be a life-long devoted love...'cept he didn't get that memo. Whoops? He had lots of backups but broke the cardinal rule of having a back up. You don't touch them until the current is gone. Again, I say, whoops? Dumbass. Anyway.
So I've been tossed, less than gently, back into the world of dating. I sort of feel like I'm running an obstacle course. There are easy parts of rest between where I meet someone and I talk to them and things are easy because we're just getting to know each other. Then we jump into the mudpit. Normally, I make it out, but they get swallowed up by the mud on the way through. I trudge on, climb out, and down I go under the barbed wire. I lay low, belly to the ground, and crawl through and pick up my next teammate on the way, but when I make it out the otherside, I look back to see them caught up in the briars and I shake my head. I grab the rope and stick my feet firmly to the wall and start to climb, someone gives me a gentle push and I turn to thank them and see them climbing with me, but when I reach the top, they're still at the bottom realizing they have a fear of heights. By now, I wonder if anyone is going to stick this out. I drop off the other side, see the end is near, hear the bangs and see the flashes, so I drop down and low crawl across the live fire, finally I see that someone else has made it this far, they're crawling beside me, they are gonna make it to the end with me, and then... he stand up before we're clear of the firing. Sigh. Oh well. I finish the course alone. Break time.
I'm not sure what it takes to find the guy who is right for me and who wants me and wants to stick it out with me, but I wish I did. There are so many who talk a big game about wanting to have a wife and get married and have a family, but the problem is I don't think they realize that means that they have to overlook the flaws that come with some women just like we over look the many, many, many flaws of the men we care about.
Someone told me once that every girl falls off the ledge, and when they fall, the right hero swoops down to catch them.
I guess my problem is that I see a lot of heroes talking about their capes and how cool they are and how fast they can fly, but I get closer to the concrete with every second they spend at the top of the building talking.
"Think like a man of action, act like a man of thought."
--Henri Bergson
"A man who has to be convinced to act before he acts is not a man of action. You must act as you breathe."
--George Clemenceau
I want a man of action. Talk is cheap. Words come easy. I want the man who says what he means, and means what he says.
Before me lies a sea of faces, but who among them will stand out?
I'm no good at this, to be honest. I've always been the girl with the back up. I know that a lot of people don't understand that or are like "whaaaat?" but it's true. When I was in high school or college, I'd break up with a guy and then there was another I'd know before I broke up with him that there was another I could start dating if I broke up with the current. Thing is, when I got married, I didn't need a back up. He was my forever. I didn't need someone else because I was his and he was mine and it was going to be a life-long devoted love...'cept he didn't get that memo. Whoops? He had lots of backups but broke the cardinal rule of having a back up. You don't touch them until the current is gone. Again, I say, whoops? Dumbass. Anyway.
So I've been tossed, less than gently, back into the world of dating. I sort of feel like I'm running an obstacle course. There are easy parts of rest between where I meet someone and I talk to them and things are easy because we're just getting to know each other. Then we jump into the mudpit. Normally, I make it out, but they get swallowed up by the mud on the way through. I trudge on, climb out, and down I go under the barbed wire. I lay low, belly to the ground, and crawl through and pick up my next teammate on the way, but when I make it out the otherside, I look back to see them caught up in the briars and I shake my head. I grab the rope and stick my feet firmly to the wall and start to climb, someone gives me a gentle push and I turn to thank them and see them climbing with me, but when I reach the top, they're still at the bottom realizing they have a fear of heights. By now, I wonder if anyone is going to stick this out. I drop off the other side, see the end is near, hear the bangs and see the flashes, so I drop down and low crawl across the live fire, finally I see that someone else has made it this far, they're crawling beside me, they are gonna make it to the end with me, and then... he stand up before we're clear of the firing. Sigh. Oh well. I finish the course alone. Break time.
I'm not sure what it takes to find the guy who is right for me and who wants me and wants to stick it out with me, but I wish I did. There are so many who talk a big game about wanting to have a wife and get married and have a family, but the problem is I don't think they realize that means that they have to overlook the flaws that come with some women just like we over look the many, many, many flaws of the men we care about.
Someone told me once that every girl falls off the ledge, and when they fall, the right hero swoops down to catch them.
I guess my problem is that I see a lot of heroes talking about their capes and how cool they are and how fast they can fly, but I get closer to the concrete with every second they spend at the top of the building talking.
"Think like a man of action, act like a man of thought."
--Henri Bergson
"A man who has to be convinced to act before he acts is not a man of action. You must act as you breathe."
--George Clemenceau
I want a man of action. Talk is cheap. Words come easy. I want the man who says what he means, and means what he says.
Before me lies a sea of faces, but who among them will stand out?
Monday, June 4, 2012
You Love Me But You Don't Know Who I Am, So Let Me Go, Let Me Go...
I had a dream last night about my soon-to-be ex-husband. I had a dream he had, for some reason, come down to where I am to visit and hang out and was in complete denial of ever receiving divorce papers. He was shocked to see me without my wedding ring and instead wearing a ring on my right hand that, for some reason in the dream wasn't the eternity ring my biological mother gave me, but was intead a ring promising to move on and he somehow knew it. He grabbed my hand and tried to look at it and I pulled away and asked him not to touch me, and then left an envelope with divorce papers for him and he cried, and though I felt sad for him, I kept walking away.
That's how I felt last week when some of his friends made me aware he supposedly sits at work staring at the divorce papers all day. I am sorry for him, but not because I'm leaving. Not because I am sad I am leaving, but because I am sad it took him this long to realize I'm not coming back. It took until now to realize he can't give his heart and body to other women and then still expect me to stay around and wait and hope he will realize he is wrong. He's dragged my name through the mud. He has tried numerous time to hurt me since this all started. He has done all he can to be hateful, spiteful, mean, and malicious, but I am apparently supposed to play the fool and still take him back.
There are bridges that could never be repaired. His lies to his family are so far gone, they'd never accept me, and after how some of them treated me, I'd never want to be a part of their lives again. His new friends, without knowing me and only knowing the lies he has filled them with, have aided him in his cruelties and his harassment, and so I'd never want to be around them.
But those things aside, looking into his eyes when he came home for R&R and blatantly lied to me about the girl he now calls his girlfriend. Knowing he could look me, as his wife, in the face and try to tell me she was just a girl who meant nothing, just a person to spend time with since I wouldn't let him touch me when I'd found out, just a girl his friends introduced him to. Knowing, after I found the receipt for condoms in the car, the hand written directions to her house on the envelope to the card I bought him, the address of her house written on the back of a torn piece from a letter I'd sent him over deployment... And then to look me in the eyes and say he never touched her, but see the only two remaining condoms from a box of twelve fall from his things...and then me picking them up, handing them back, scooting away from the table and getting my things and going to the car.
I offered to go to counseling. I offered to stick around, if only he would stop. If only he would give me time to heal. If only...but I did not mean enough to wait. I waited eight months, but I was not worth two weeks.
I am worth an eternity to someone.
So sign the damn papers, and let me go.
That's how I felt last week when some of his friends made me aware he supposedly sits at work staring at the divorce papers all day. I am sorry for him, but not because I'm leaving. Not because I am sad I am leaving, but because I am sad it took him this long to realize I'm not coming back. It took until now to realize he can't give his heart and body to other women and then still expect me to stay around and wait and hope he will realize he is wrong. He's dragged my name through the mud. He has tried numerous time to hurt me since this all started. He has done all he can to be hateful, spiteful, mean, and malicious, but I am apparently supposed to play the fool and still take him back.
There are bridges that could never be repaired. His lies to his family are so far gone, they'd never accept me, and after how some of them treated me, I'd never want to be a part of their lives again. His new friends, without knowing me and only knowing the lies he has filled them with, have aided him in his cruelties and his harassment, and so I'd never want to be around them.
But those things aside, looking into his eyes when he came home for R&R and blatantly lied to me about the girl he now calls his girlfriend. Knowing he could look me, as his wife, in the face and try to tell me she was just a girl who meant nothing, just a person to spend time with since I wouldn't let him touch me when I'd found out, just a girl his friends introduced him to. Knowing, after I found the receipt for condoms in the car, the hand written directions to her house on the envelope to the card I bought him, the address of her house written on the back of a torn piece from a letter I'd sent him over deployment... And then to look me in the eyes and say he never touched her, but see the only two remaining condoms from a box of twelve fall from his things...and then me picking them up, handing them back, scooting away from the table and getting my things and going to the car.
I offered to go to counseling. I offered to stick around, if only he would stop. If only he would give me time to heal. If only...but I did not mean enough to wait. I waited eight months, but I was not worth two weeks.
I am worth an eternity to someone.
So sign the damn papers, and let me go.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Oh, Whoa, Oh, It's The Sweetest Thing...
Here's a tad bit of history, for those who know me less-than-well: I was adopted by my grandparents when I was ten months old. That gives me a sort of dual-role in my family. I am seemingly relate-able to both the grandchildren-aged group and the child-aged group. I'm 24, soon to be 25. My "brothers and sisters" are ranging in age from 37-43 (not counting my one biological little sister, who is 21) and my "cousins/nieces/nephews" range in age from 14-25. I am closer to the age group of the "grandchildren" but closer in how I see myself to the "children." Its a bit of an awkward situation and confusing for anyone who's first introduced to our family.
Anyway, I give this history to make a point. Minus the 3 who are still in middle school or high school, I am the only of my family to have no children. I was married for over three years. Unfortunately, I technically still am because for some reason the man who felt it so necessary to tell me he didn't love me anymore and felt so strongly about this that he proceeded to sleep with anything that spread its legs, still hasn't signed divorce papers. But I digress. Though married over three years, I still have no children of my own.
I didn't want any at the time. I truly didn't, and perhaps that was God's way of making sure I didn't have a permanent connection to this man. The idea of having a child right now having to go through this struggle with me...I'd feel horrible. I repeatedly said while I was married that when I could walk through the baby aisle at Wal-mart and get more excited there than I do when I walk through electronics, I'd know I was ready. I meant that. Honestly, I still do. However...
With everyone around me having children, with everyone around me creating these beautiful little miniature versions of themselves, I can feel the tug at my heart strongs. I can feel the burn in my heart, throat and behind my eyes asking myself if I am ever going to have that.
"To be a wife and a mother," is always my answer when someone asks "What do you want most in life?" Not "to be rich" or "to have a huge house." Just to be a wife and a mother. I know that I am "only 24" but being "only 24" and seeing the whole world around you seem to be moving on towards the thing you want most, and some of them not even appreciating it... It's like a quick subtle swipe of a nice along my side. I don't realize it happens until i feel the sting, and the more cuts, the more it bleeds and stings.
I'm terrified of motherhood someday, and I'm in no rush to be one now...but I do want it someday. I do want to know what its like to have someone look into my eyes and call me "mommy." And I do want to have the life back where I wake up next to a husband everyday, but this time one who says "I love you" and when he says it, he means it. I want forever to mean forever, not "forever or until something better comes along." And I want to plan goals and dreams and work for them to make them come true.
Anyway, I give this history to make a point. Minus the 3 who are still in middle school or high school, I am the only of my family to have no children. I was married for over three years. Unfortunately, I technically still am because for some reason the man who felt it so necessary to tell me he didn't love me anymore and felt so strongly about this that he proceeded to sleep with anything that spread its legs, still hasn't signed divorce papers. But I digress. Though married over three years, I still have no children of my own.
I didn't want any at the time. I truly didn't, and perhaps that was God's way of making sure I didn't have a permanent connection to this man. The idea of having a child right now having to go through this struggle with me...I'd feel horrible. I repeatedly said while I was married that when I could walk through the baby aisle at Wal-mart and get more excited there than I do when I walk through electronics, I'd know I was ready. I meant that. Honestly, I still do. However...
With everyone around me having children, with everyone around me creating these beautiful little miniature versions of themselves, I can feel the tug at my heart strongs. I can feel the burn in my heart, throat and behind my eyes asking myself if I am ever going to have that.
"To be a wife and a mother," is always my answer when someone asks "What do you want most in life?" Not "to be rich" or "to have a huge house." Just to be a wife and a mother. I know that I am "only 24" but being "only 24" and seeing the whole world around you seem to be moving on towards the thing you want most, and some of them not even appreciating it... It's like a quick subtle swipe of a nice along my side. I don't realize it happens until i feel the sting, and the more cuts, the more it bleeds and stings.
I'm terrified of motherhood someday, and I'm in no rush to be one now...but I do want it someday. I do want to know what its like to have someone look into my eyes and call me "mommy." And I do want to have the life back where I wake up next to a husband everyday, but this time one who says "I love you" and when he says it, he means it. I want forever to mean forever, not "forever or until something better comes along." And I want to plan goals and dreams and work for them to make them come true.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
I'll Give You My Heart, I'll Treat You Nice, and the Only Games That I Play Have Twenty-Sided Dice...
Video games. In 2010, vizworld.com did a study of gamers in the United States. According to respondents, 65% of American households claim to be "gaming" households. I can honestly say, I hypothesize that number has increased since then and will continue to do so. The study, however, delved further to distinguish the sexes playing, the consoles they played, etc.
Now, as a female who plays games, I often hear, and even jump in on the "girl gamers don't exist" jokes, however, this study goes to show that isn't actually true. According to the statistics, two of five games are female. Yes, boys. That's almost half. That means if there are two sexy dancing night elves dancing on the fountain in Stormwind, there's a chance one of them -really- is a female, though her looking like a tall, sexy piece of Avatar-like Barbie ass is slim to none, but hey, in your dreams, right? And atleast she doesn't have a penis! w00t!
But on a serious note, I bring this up for a reason. As a girl who plays/played video games, I liked having a significant other who did as well. He understood my desire to play and to raid. I understood his desire to do the same. Wife aggro was not a term needed in our home (and thankfully, neither was husband aggro.) As I grew out of my desire to game, I was understanding because hey, I used to play. However, I heard the plight of many a gamer friend about how he wished I'd talk to his girlfriend or wife and convince them to play.
Try as I might, it never helped. The fact is that some women (or men, but sorry ladies, its usually us) just don't like games! And try as I might to convince them to play with you, they won't like it and even if they do, they won't stick with it. The next best things I could do was try to explain to these women that the same way cooking, cleaning, shopping, etc are priorities to them, the game is a priority to their men. It didn't hold much water, however, and I lost many a friend to the wiles of their women persuading them to give up the game, and later, the resentment of being forced to give up something the truly enjoyed always caused animosity.
On the other hand, however, gentlemen, may I remind you. Video games aren't real. Sure, there are social aspects to a lot of them now, but the real-life female sitting next to you, or the real-life friends who want to come over and hang out but you're too busy raiding to see them? They're going to disappear if you don't learn to pay a little bit of attention to them.
Relationships are give and take. Some shared interests are great, but we all need our own thing to do as well. If gaming isn't something you both enjoy, it doesn't have to be, as long as you're willing to put down the controller, push away from the keyboard, and breathe some fresh air. You know, and get laid on occasion.
Now, as a female who plays games, I often hear, and even jump in on the "girl gamers don't exist" jokes, however, this study goes to show that isn't actually true. According to the statistics, two of five games are female. Yes, boys. That's almost half. That means if there are two sexy dancing night elves dancing on the fountain in Stormwind, there's a chance one of them -really- is a female, though her looking like a tall, sexy piece of Avatar-like Barbie ass is slim to none, but hey, in your dreams, right? And atleast she doesn't have a penis! w00t!
But on a serious note, I bring this up for a reason. As a girl who plays/played video games, I liked having a significant other who did as well. He understood my desire to play and to raid. I understood his desire to do the same. Wife aggro was not a term needed in our home (and thankfully, neither was husband aggro.) As I grew out of my desire to game, I was understanding because hey, I used to play. However, I heard the plight of many a gamer friend about how he wished I'd talk to his girlfriend or wife and convince them to play.
Try as I might, it never helped. The fact is that some women (or men, but sorry ladies, its usually us) just don't like games! And try as I might to convince them to play with you, they won't like it and even if they do, they won't stick with it. The next best things I could do was try to explain to these women that the same way cooking, cleaning, shopping, etc are priorities to them, the game is a priority to their men. It didn't hold much water, however, and I lost many a friend to the wiles of their women persuading them to give up the game, and later, the resentment of being forced to give up something the truly enjoyed always caused animosity.
On the other hand, however, gentlemen, may I remind you. Video games aren't real. Sure, there are social aspects to a lot of them now, but the real-life female sitting next to you, or the real-life friends who want to come over and hang out but you're too busy raiding to see them? They're going to disappear if you don't learn to pay a little bit of attention to them.
Relationships are give and take. Some shared interests are great, but we all need our own thing to do as well. If gaming isn't something you both enjoy, it doesn't have to be, as long as you're willing to put down the controller, push away from the keyboard, and breathe some fresh air. You know, and get laid on occasion.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Living Just Isn't Hard Enough, Burn Me Alive Inside...
I believe wholeheartedly sometimes that indifference is a blessing. The ability to decide not to care about something is great. The miracle of being able to reach inside to where the Give-A-Damn is located and turn it off and on is something I will not take for granted, especially not now.
I don't know why it is that somehow when you are already in the middle of one of the, if not the, most stressful situations of your lifetime that people decided to toss a few more logs on the fire. Let me explain something: When there is a towering inferno before you and you choose to throw a little accelerant on it, don't be so surprised when you get sucked in then blown back out as a mess of melted flesh and ash.
With all life's daily reminders, I am constantly on edge when I know things have gone sour. He's been gone all this time and things aren't how anyone expected. All the months I waited, not in fear for what happened, but instead with the constant fear of his life, but also of his mental and emotional capacity to handle everything he had seen. The last thing I was thinking about was how he had forgotten about the wife sitting at home and waiting for him. The same wife sending him love and care packages, waiting around the clock for his messages or for him to show as online. Waiting anxiously and excitedly on edge for R&R to come. But then the world came crashing down around me, and I'm hurt, sure, but that hurt is a boiling pit of anger inside of me, and I can feel it there beneath the surface all of the time and then this need to stifle it takes over because i have no desire to take those emotions out on people who don't deserve it or hurt their feelings or distribute my toxic hatred.
Its hard to make people understand sometimes that I have my own issues, my own problems, and though they don't seem significant or important to you, they are to me. To me, my life is on reboot, but keeps kicking back to the loading screen instead of visibly moving forward, and telling me how many more things need to be done on the computer when it loads isn't helping me load it, it's just making me more angry and more frustrated that the thing isn't loading.
I am a big kid. I am fully aware of what needs to happen for my life to more forward from here. Guess what? I'm trying. I am working on it. I am doing what I can, and maybe I'm not sprinting toward the finish line, but that's because someone came up and kicked me and knocked all the wind out of me. I need to walk it off and catch my breath, have a drink of water, and then when I'm back and ready to run again, I will. I just need the time and the space and the support. Sometimes the best support isn't constant reminders of what I need to do, but instead a kind word saying "I know this sucks, but you're going to be fine."
I don't know why it is that somehow when you are already in the middle of one of the, if not the, most stressful situations of your lifetime that people decided to toss a few more logs on the fire. Let me explain something: When there is a towering inferno before you and you choose to throw a little accelerant on it, don't be so surprised when you get sucked in then blown back out as a mess of melted flesh and ash.
With all life's daily reminders, I am constantly on edge when I know things have gone sour. He's been gone all this time and things aren't how anyone expected. All the months I waited, not in fear for what happened, but instead with the constant fear of his life, but also of his mental and emotional capacity to handle everything he had seen. The last thing I was thinking about was how he had forgotten about the wife sitting at home and waiting for him. The same wife sending him love and care packages, waiting around the clock for his messages or for him to show as online. Waiting anxiously and excitedly on edge for R&R to come. But then the world came crashing down around me, and I'm hurt, sure, but that hurt is a boiling pit of anger inside of me, and I can feel it there beneath the surface all of the time and then this need to stifle it takes over because i have no desire to take those emotions out on people who don't deserve it or hurt their feelings or distribute my toxic hatred.
Its hard to make people understand sometimes that I have my own issues, my own problems, and though they don't seem significant or important to you, they are to me. To me, my life is on reboot, but keeps kicking back to the loading screen instead of visibly moving forward, and telling me how many more things need to be done on the computer when it loads isn't helping me load it, it's just making me more angry and more frustrated that the thing isn't loading.
I am a big kid. I am fully aware of what needs to happen for my life to more forward from here. Guess what? I'm trying. I am working on it. I am doing what I can, and maybe I'm not sprinting toward the finish line, but that's because someone came up and kicked me and knocked all the wind out of me. I need to walk it off and catch my breath, have a drink of water, and then when I'm back and ready to run again, I will. I just need the time and the space and the support. Sometimes the best support isn't constant reminders of what I need to do, but instead a kind word saying "I know this sucks, but you're going to be fine."
Sunshine, Won't You Be My Mother? Sunshine, Come and Help Me Sing...
Things are so simple as a child.
I look out the window in front of me to admire the bright sunshine oozing in and feel the cool breeze from all the wind outside. Yesterday it was so dark and grey and stormy, but the winds remain today even in the sunlight.
I think to myself that a walk to the park and some time on the swings would be nice, but then I think it may feel breezy in here, but outside I can see the wind whipping the branches and tree tops around. I realize I will be cold and the wind will blow my clothes and my hair around. Any car that passes will add to that and if I am gone after dark, I will immediately regret the decision as I walk faster home because I will be shivering. (I am always cold.)
But then I see past the tree to the children down the road in their front yard playing. Are they worried about any of those things? Of course not. Did they have a second thought? No. They threw their shoes and shorts on and ran smiling into the sunlight. No regrets, no concerns. They simply wanted to enjoy the sun as opposed to the confinement they faced yesterday to their home that felt like a prison of no fun as the hail beat down on the siding and shingles.
Maybe we should all take advice from the children and run smiling into the sunlight sometimes.
I look out the window in front of me to admire the bright sunshine oozing in and feel the cool breeze from all the wind outside. Yesterday it was so dark and grey and stormy, but the winds remain today even in the sunlight.
I think to myself that a walk to the park and some time on the swings would be nice, but then I think it may feel breezy in here, but outside I can see the wind whipping the branches and tree tops around. I realize I will be cold and the wind will blow my clothes and my hair around. Any car that passes will add to that and if I am gone after dark, I will immediately regret the decision as I walk faster home because I will be shivering. (I am always cold.)
But then I see past the tree to the children down the road in their front yard playing. Are they worried about any of those things? Of course not. Did they have a second thought? No. They threw their shoes and shorts on and ran smiling into the sunlight. No regrets, no concerns. They simply wanted to enjoy the sun as opposed to the confinement they faced yesterday to their home that felt like a prison of no fun as the hail beat down on the siding and shingles.
Maybe we should all take advice from the children and run smiling into the sunlight sometimes.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
If We're Adding To The Noise, Turn Off This Song...
Technology, loose morals and the constant need for the next best thing is erasing childhood memories faster than ever.
When I was a kid, I remember watching shows on Nick at Nite that my parents had watched. (I Love Lucy, Bewitched, The Andy Griffith Show.) Of course there were newer shows too, but those classics were on nightly and it was something that bonded our generations. Wholesome television my parents didn't mind us all watching together and nothing they worried about me watching.
My childhood was also filled with cartoons like Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake, David the Gnome and The Lil' Bits. A healthy mix of Nick Jr. and Disney. (Back in the days when my parents had to pay extra for Disney for me.) And after school? Lamb Chop's Play Along and Full House.
However, when I was singing The Song That Never Ends randomly a while back, a kid asked me where that song came from. They knew it, but were too young to have seen Lamb Chop. It hit me. The younger generations don't know Lamb Chop. The next ones won't even know the songs. A small part of my childhood innocence was crushed with this knowledge.
Care Bears and My Little Pony Tales have been remade into moronic loud brash cartoons without the original themes of caring for others and generosity and honesty. Now they're just like the rest of the garbage Cartoon Network cranks out on whims. Even Cartoon Network used to have some shows of quality. Now its all the Adventure Time nonsense that I don't even intend to allow my children to watch! Some of it is massively inappropriate for children to be watching. I don't like it.
I'm realizing all the time that I'm going to be that parent who no one wants to go to their house to sleepover because my kids won't be allowed to watch the crap that people think is alright to show their kids now. It just won't happen.
I can remember the first time I heard the word "crap" in a cartoon on Nickelodeon. Helda said it on Hey Arnold, and I was so shocked by it and then I realized if my parents new that a cartoon said crap I'd never be allowed to watch it again.
Nowadays I hear the words crap, fricken, etc in cartoons or ass and bitch thrown around freely on sitcoms that come on all hours of the day and night that I fear what it will be like by the time I have children.
It may be a wise investment to keep buying my Disney DVDs and seasons of the shows I watched as a kid. I have a feeling thats what my kids will be watching. Not Hannah Montana and ICarly.
When I was a kid, I remember watching shows on Nick at Nite that my parents had watched. (I Love Lucy, Bewitched, The Andy Griffith Show.) Of course there were newer shows too, but those classics were on nightly and it was something that bonded our generations. Wholesome television my parents didn't mind us all watching together and nothing they worried about me watching.
My childhood was also filled with cartoons like Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake, David the Gnome and The Lil' Bits. A healthy mix of Nick Jr. and Disney. (Back in the days when my parents had to pay extra for Disney for me.) And after school? Lamb Chop's Play Along and Full House.
However, when I was singing The Song That Never Ends randomly a while back, a kid asked me where that song came from. They knew it, but were too young to have seen Lamb Chop. It hit me. The younger generations don't know Lamb Chop. The next ones won't even know the songs. A small part of my childhood innocence was crushed with this knowledge.
Care Bears and My Little Pony Tales have been remade into moronic loud brash cartoons without the original themes of caring for others and generosity and honesty. Now they're just like the rest of the garbage Cartoon Network cranks out on whims. Even Cartoon Network used to have some shows of quality. Now its all the Adventure Time nonsense that I don't even intend to allow my children to watch! Some of it is massively inappropriate for children to be watching. I don't like it.
I'm realizing all the time that I'm going to be that parent who no one wants to go to their house to sleepover because my kids won't be allowed to watch the crap that people think is alright to show their kids now. It just won't happen.
I can remember the first time I heard the word "crap" in a cartoon on Nickelodeon. Helda said it on Hey Arnold, and I was so shocked by it and then I realized if my parents new that a cartoon said crap I'd never be allowed to watch it again.
Nowadays I hear the words crap, fricken, etc in cartoons or ass and bitch thrown around freely on sitcoms that come on all hours of the day and night that I fear what it will be like by the time I have children.
It may be a wise investment to keep buying my Disney DVDs and seasons of the shows I watched as a kid. I have a feeling thats what my kids will be watching. Not Hannah Montana and ICarly.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
I Believe Love Is The Answer, I Believe Love Will Find A Way...
I am a firm believer in optimism.
What I mean by that, is that I have often felt that even when you are in the worst of situations and everything seems to be falling apart, you can always find a positive. I make myself remember that someone somewhere is going through much worse. I remind myself of anything remotely good thats been brought about by situation. I do my best to dwell on the good, not the bad.
When you spend your time wasting away wallowing in your own self pity and letting all of the sadness, anger, depression or all other negative feelings of your situation consume you, you begin to drown in your sorrow. The smallest bit of hope or optimism can act as the life preserver that brings you back to the top to keep you afloat.
The problem is, in all of our lives, we have encounters or may still have that one person in our lives who can never seem to keep that floatie around. They popped theirs a long time ago and while they've decided to sink, they start flailing and trying to take you down with them in their misery when you're already sinking in your own.
I believe wholeheartedly that there are people in the world who are content to be miserable. I, however, am not one of those people, and if you intend to shit rainclouds on my day, you can keep your depression diarrhea to yourself. I don't need or want it.
I am insistent on making people smile and laugh. Its what I do. its how I handle stress and manage pain, and when someone is so determined to be down that the combat everything I say, my attitude turns to "Ok well, enjoy your self-pity then. I'm going to be over here not wasting my life."
I get it. Its harsh. Maybe it could be handled better, but its such a waste of energy with some people to keep pouring in emotion and love for them when all they really want is to just be unhappy. If I can't make you smile because you're so determined to frown, then frown away, emo kid. But remember: You're not starving to death. You're not dying of cancer. You're not going home every night facing an abusive home life. You're not destitute or impoverished. When you are any or all of the above, you can tell me how hopeless you feel. But when you have people who love and care for you, you have a job, you have a home and you have all your basic needs met, try to find those things to be the positives for you.
Live your life to the fullest and thank God for each day you have.
What I mean by that, is that I have often felt that even when you are in the worst of situations and everything seems to be falling apart, you can always find a positive. I make myself remember that someone somewhere is going through much worse. I remind myself of anything remotely good thats been brought about by situation. I do my best to dwell on the good, not the bad.
When you spend your time wasting away wallowing in your own self pity and letting all of the sadness, anger, depression or all other negative feelings of your situation consume you, you begin to drown in your sorrow. The smallest bit of hope or optimism can act as the life preserver that brings you back to the top to keep you afloat.
The problem is, in all of our lives, we have encounters or may still have that one person in our lives who can never seem to keep that floatie around. They popped theirs a long time ago and while they've decided to sink, they start flailing and trying to take you down with them in their misery when you're already sinking in your own.
I believe wholeheartedly that there are people in the world who are content to be miserable. I, however, am not one of those people, and if you intend to shit rainclouds on my day, you can keep your depression diarrhea to yourself. I don't need or want it.
I am insistent on making people smile and laugh. Its what I do. its how I handle stress and manage pain, and when someone is so determined to be down that the combat everything I say, my attitude turns to "Ok well, enjoy your self-pity then. I'm going to be over here not wasting my life."
I get it. Its harsh. Maybe it could be handled better, but its such a waste of energy with some people to keep pouring in emotion and love for them when all they really want is to just be unhappy. If I can't make you smile because you're so determined to frown, then frown away, emo kid. But remember: You're not starving to death. You're not dying of cancer. You're not going home every night facing an abusive home life. You're not destitute or impoverished. When you are any or all of the above, you can tell me how hopeless you feel. But when you have people who love and care for you, you have a job, you have a home and you have all your basic needs met, try to find those things to be the positives for you.
Live your life to the fullest and thank God for each day you have.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
I Found The Reason For Me, To Change Who I Used To Be, The Reason To Start Over New...And The Reason Is You...
I openly and earnestly admit that I am far from perfect. I will be the first to admit this to anyone. I'm pretty fond of myself, however. I have a great personality. I tend to be pretty damn hilarious. I love people and I love to make them smile and laugh. I love to do things for other people. My counselor says this makes me a people pleaser. He says contrary to it sounding good in theory, it isn't. I have an inner need that, though it is to please others, is also self-sacrificing and self-harming. I bend until I break. I fold to others in order to make myself not have to deal with hurting, angering, upsetting, or even slightly displeasing the people around me.
Or atleast I did.
Don't get me wrong, I still do, however, a new me has emerged with this one. I'm not as fond of her, but its a truth I must admit that she is there.
I have no trust in men now. I've always been far more trusting of the male friends and family in my life than the females. Women turn on one another so quickly and over such petty matters, that I was always more comfortable with the men who, if they had a problem with you, told you. Women were nice to your face, then cut you to shreds behind your back.
But now? No. The new part of me that is blossoming has her own views on things, and she will express them now:
Men aren't to be trusted. Men lie. They want you for selfish reasons. Sex isn't necessarily the only selfish motivator as one might assume. There are others. Some men want mothered. Some want spoiled and pampered. I'm not here for those things. I'm not here to do that anymore.
Men will get what they want from you, and then they will move on to bigger and better things. (Or atleast what they perceive to be bigger and better.)
Sure, on rare occasion you might even find a man who likes you a lot and does sweet things for you and appreciates all that kindness you show, but eventually, it wears off. The newness of you wears off, and all that you do for them is taken for granted. You're no longer a hot commodity, you're an indentured servant and its expected of you. When you don't do those things you do out of love, gratitude and kindness, you'll be interrogated, belittled or beaten down emotionally. You'll be deemed useless and no longer of need to them because they'll decide you aren't doing anything that special anymore. What used to make them feel adored and show them how dear they are to you, they now feel entitled to.
So its easier to keep them away. Hold your arm straight out and keep them at your fingertips. Does it make you cold? Yes. Does it make it easier? Nope. Does it allow you to heal? Not really. But does it hurt less? Hell yes.
That's the new me. The one I've been fighting to keep away. That's how my heart is trying to harden itself, and part of me feels it almost make sense. The logic is there. The words make sense when I see them and reread them and hear myself in my head saying them. Hell, I can even feel my heart saying "No pain? I'm down for that." But I know better. I know not all men can be that way, don't I? I know men who are good men. They're married and still love and care about their wives. They might slip up and make a mistake every once in a while, but clearly they aren't these monsters I keep finding right?
I'm in a battle with myself all of the time trying to find a way to heal, trying to stop hurting and trying to keep from hurting others. I want to remain true to myself and to my heart, but sometimes the easier road with less bumps and bruises feels more like the decision I wish I'd take.
Or atleast I did.
Don't get me wrong, I still do, however, a new me has emerged with this one. I'm not as fond of her, but its a truth I must admit that she is there.
I have no trust in men now. I've always been far more trusting of the male friends and family in my life than the females. Women turn on one another so quickly and over such petty matters, that I was always more comfortable with the men who, if they had a problem with you, told you. Women were nice to your face, then cut you to shreds behind your back.
But now? No. The new part of me that is blossoming has her own views on things, and she will express them now:
Men aren't to be trusted. Men lie. They want you for selfish reasons. Sex isn't necessarily the only selfish motivator as one might assume. There are others. Some men want mothered. Some want spoiled and pampered. I'm not here for those things. I'm not here to do that anymore.
Men will get what they want from you, and then they will move on to bigger and better things. (Or atleast what they perceive to be bigger and better.)
Sure, on rare occasion you might even find a man who likes you a lot and does sweet things for you and appreciates all that kindness you show, but eventually, it wears off. The newness of you wears off, and all that you do for them is taken for granted. You're no longer a hot commodity, you're an indentured servant and its expected of you. When you don't do those things you do out of love, gratitude and kindness, you'll be interrogated, belittled or beaten down emotionally. You'll be deemed useless and no longer of need to them because they'll decide you aren't doing anything that special anymore. What used to make them feel adored and show them how dear they are to you, they now feel entitled to.
So its easier to keep them away. Hold your arm straight out and keep them at your fingertips. Does it make you cold? Yes. Does it make it easier? Nope. Does it allow you to heal? Not really. But does it hurt less? Hell yes.
That's the new me. The one I've been fighting to keep away. That's how my heart is trying to harden itself, and part of me feels it almost make sense. The logic is there. The words make sense when I see them and reread them and hear myself in my head saying them. Hell, I can even feel my heart saying "No pain? I'm down for that." But I know better. I know not all men can be that way, don't I? I know men who are good men. They're married and still love and care about their wives. They might slip up and make a mistake every once in a while, but clearly they aren't these monsters I keep finding right?
I'm in a battle with myself all of the time trying to find a way to heal, trying to stop hurting and trying to keep from hurting others. I want to remain true to myself and to my heart, but sometimes the easier road with less bumps and bruises feels more like the decision I wish I'd take.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
I Am Enough.
I will never be tall,
But the right man will love me for my shortcomings.
I will never look hungry,
But the right man knows the way to his heart is through his stomach.
I will always have scars,
But the right man knows that the bumps and scrapes in life have given me experience and made me who I am.
I will never have perfect teeth,
But the right man will always make me smile.
I will never have straight hair,
But the right man will like that my unruly hair matches my personality.
I will always have a heart that forgives too easily, loves too quickly, and is leaps and bounds ahead of me,
But the right man will chase it and me until he catches us both and never lets us go.
I will always be me,
And for the right man that will always be enough.
But the right man will love me for my shortcomings.
I will never look hungry,
But the right man knows the way to his heart is through his stomach.
I will always have scars,
But the right man knows that the bumps and scrapes in life have given me experience and made me who I am.
I will never have perfect teeth,
But the right man will always make me smile.
I will never have straight hair,
But the right man will like that my unruly hair matches my personality.
I will always have a heart that forgives too easily, loves too quickly, and is leaps and bounds ahead of me,
But the right man will chase it and me until he catches us both and never lets us go.
I will always be me,
And for the right man that will always be enough.
Friday, February 24, 2012
She Told Him That She Believes In Livin' Bigger Than She's Living Now...
The dollar. It is quite the motivator of the lives of each and everyone one of us in everything we do each day.
Whether we see it that way or not, it's the truth. Our lives are motivated by the necessities we have, and those necessities are only attained through monetary means. Being born is free, but from that moment on, everything we do, even dying, costs us money. (And technically, being born is only free to the person being born. It's still costing other people money!)
I say all this because I am unemployed now. I wasn't, but with my divorce and relocation, unfortunately my job had to be given up. During the last year, I attained my training for my Medical Administrative Assisting certification as well as a certification as a Medical Coding and Billing Specialist. Tacked in with those two certifications comes training towards certification in the use of Microsoft Office, which seems silly to most people since probably the majority of Americans with computers use Microsoft Office, but the certification in use of the program can make you more desirable to an employer.
Humorously enough, however, I've found that some of the people in the positions working the jobs I'm trained for are not trained in what they're working as! At the clinic I previously went to, one of the women I spoke with said she had graduated high school and simply applied for the job and gotten it. Then at the clinic I most recently visited, the woman working as a medical assistant had no front-medical-office training, but was instead a laboratory technician whom had been asked to fill in with some of the administrative work and trained on the job.
My question then is this: Are college degrees really as necessary as they seem? Can you work a job and still live life without one?
I won't use examples of the famous, multimillion dollar executives or inventors of various companies who came up with a brilliant idea and excelled, nor will I use actors, actresses or musicians. Let's look at real life people.
I know of a couple who, when both were working, lived well withing their means and still had very nice things. The wife worked the same job since she was sixteen, rose in the ranks and was making nearly twelve dollars an hour with absolutely no college degree and actually, no formal management training. Her husband had no college (has since attended but not yet completed) and worked his way up through the ranks of the military. Even now with her no longer working and him being sole financial supported, they're still fine AND they have a child now. Rock on, guys.
For a non-military example, since so many civilians seem to be under the impression that military members are paid well (FYI: Gross Income on our taxes for 2010 was around 17000,) I will use another couple. With the income of one adult working for a cable and internet service provider and the other as a stay-at-home mom to their teenage child, a family lives in a three bedroom home, renting to own it, live on approximately .3 acres of land, has a work vehicle as well as a family vehicle, have been able to afford home improvements (cosmetic and otherwise) and still afford all of their personal needs and have money to go and have dinners, lunches or slip the teenage girl spending money for movies, the mall or the skating rink.
I understand that not everyone is this blessed, the economic outlook is bleak and unemployment is at an all-time high. However, my question is, is going to college necessary to aide in finding a career? And if college is something you have always wanted to complete, then is a traditional four-year school the only option? Can the training you desire be achieved through a vocational school (averaging degree completion in two years versus four) or perhaps even a certification program (which can take anywhere from six months to a year) or must it be the four year route? For certain degrees, a four year school is non-negotiable. If your goal is to be a teacher, expect to put in the time, effort and money to attend a university for four years. If your goal, however, is to be an RN or LPN, then there are other methods to achieving that goal in a faster way.
For me to be a medical assistant, there were 2 and 4 year degree options. I had previously attended a traditional private university and completed all of my core classes (the humanities, English, Science, Math and History) and was working on the classes of my major at the time. However, when my soon-to-be ex-husband and I were working on getting our own place and getting married, the idea of dropping out was presented, I did so, and was out of school for two years. When I decided to go back, I wanted to just get my degree, and when researching, decided that an accelerated program from an accredited university seemed the best option for me. (Please note the word" accredited." Jose's College of Kokomo calls and offers you a degree, politely take their information, then give it to your nearest Better Business Bureau!)
I use all of the same books as a student in a four year college, I studied, I had professors, I had quizzes, tests, and exams! It was just like college, but faster. I worked at my own pace, I got help when I needed it, and I'm very well versed in my material. My schooling cost a total of $2650.00. That's nearly 80% less than the average loan debts of a college graduate right now. Additionally, my schooling held no out of pocket costs, whereas in addition to student loan debts, the average college student's credit card debts have been even higher than usual at over $3000.00.
Meanwhile, those grads with nearly $30,000.00 in debt are still part of the increasing unemployment rate. The rate of unemployment for college graduates has risen percentage-wise in equivalence to that of those without a degree, so in this case right now, I don't see the advantage.
I want to be clear that I, in no way, am telling people they should or should not go to college, but what I am saying is that not going to college isn't something to be ashamed of. It just isn't for everyone. And debt up to your eyeballs isn't something that sounds appealing to me, so I took the road I felt was best for me. I am happy with my choice. I am happy to be debt-free and done with a certification that is practical for me and that didn't require me to take a class doing trigonometry when it would be irrelevant to my job.
Besides, I like Wal-Mart, and uppity college grads who think they're too good to work there aren't who I want helping me find the Sour Punch Straws at 2AM anyway.
Whether we see it that way or not, it's the truth. Our lives are motivated by the necessities we have, and those necessities are only attained through monetary means. Being born is free, but from that moment on, everything we do, even dying, costs us money. (And technically, being born is only free to the person being born. It's still costing other people money!)
I say all this because I am unemployed now. I wasn't, but with my divorce and relocation, unfortunately my job had to be given up. During the last year, I attained my training for my Medical Administrative Assisting certification as well as a certification as a Medical Coding and Billing Specialist. Tacked in with those two certifications comes training towards certification in the use of Microsoft Office, which seems silly to most people since probably the majority of Americans with computers use Microsoft Office, but the certification in use of the program can make you more desirable to an employer.
Humorously enough, however, I've found that some of the people in the positions working the jobs I'm trained for are not trained in what they're working as! At the clinic I previously went to, one of the women I spoke with said she had graduated high school and simply applied for the job and gotten it. Then at the clinic I most recently visited, the woman working as a medical assistant had no front-medical-office training, but was instead a laboratory technician whom had been asked to fill in with some of the administrative work and trained on the job.
My question then is this: Are college degrees really as necessary as they seem? Can you work a job and still live life without one?
I won't use examples of the famous, multimillion dollar executives or inventors of various companies who came up with a brilliant idea and excelled, nor will I use actors, actresses or musicians. Let's look at real life people.
I know of a couple who, when both were working, lived well withing their means and still had very nice things. The wife worked the same job since she was sixteen, rose in the ranks and was making nearly twelve dollars an hour with absolutely no college degree and actually, no formal management training. Her husband had no college (has since attended but not yet completed) and worked his way up through the ranks of the military. Even now with her no longer working and him being sole financial supported, they're still fine AND they have a child now. Rock on, guys.
For a non-military example, since so many civilians seem to be under the impression that military members are paid well (FYI: Gross Income on our taxes for 2010 was around 17000,) I will use another couple. With the income of one adult working for a cable and internet service provider and the other as a stay-at-home mom to their teenage child, a family lives in a three bedroom home, renting to own it, live on approximately .3 acres of land, has a work vehicle as well as a family vehicle, have been able to afford home improvements (cosmetic and otherwise) and still afford all of their personal needs and have money to go and have dinners, lunches or slip the teenage girl spending money for movies, the mall or the skating rink.
I understand that not everyone is this blessed, the economic outlook is bleak and unemployment is at an all-time high. However, my question is, is going to college necessary to aide in finding a career? And if college is something you have always wanted to complete, then is a traditional four-year school the only option? Can the training you desire be achieved through a vocational school (averaging degree completion in two years versus four) or perhaps even a certification program (which can take anywhere from six months to a year) or must it be the four year route? For certain degrees, a four year school is non-negotiable. If your goal is to be a teacher, expect to put in the time, effort and money to attend a university for four years. If your goal, however, is to be an RN or LPN, then there are other methods to achieving that goal in a faster way.
For me to be a medical assistant, there were 2 and 4 year degree options. I had previously attended a traditional private university and completed all of my core classes (the humanities, English, Science, Math and History) and was working on the classes of my major at the time. However, when my soon-to-be ex-husband and I were working on getting our own place and getting married, the idea of dropping out was presented, I did so, and was out of school for two years. When I decided to go back, I wanted to just get my degree, and when researching, decided that an accelerated program from an accredited university seemed the best option for me. (Please note the word" accredited." Jose's College of Kokomo calls and offers you a degree, politely take their information, then give it to your nearest Better Business Bureau!)
I use all of the same books as a student in a four year college, I studied, I had professors, I had quizzes, tests, and exams! It was just like college, but faster. I worked at my own pace, I got help when I needed it, and I'm very well versed in my material. My schooling cost a total of $2650.00. That's nearly 80% less than the average loan debts of a college graduate right now. Additionally, my schooling held no out of pocket costs, whereas in addition to student loan debts, the average college student's credit card debts have been even higher than usual at over $3000.00.
Meanwhile, those grads with nearly $30,000.00 in debt are still part of the increasing unemployment rate. The rate of unemployment for college graduates has risen percentage-wise in equivalence to that of those without a degree, so in this case right now, I don't see the advantage.
I want to be clear that I, in no way, am telling people they should or should not go to college, but what I am saying is that not going to college isn't something to be ashamed of. It just isn't for everyone. And debt up to your eyeballs isn't something that sounds appealing to me, so I took the road I felt was best for me. I am happy with my choice. I am happy to be debt-free and done with a certification that is practical for me and that didn't require me to take a class doing trigonometry when it would be irrelevant to my job.
Besides, I like Wal-Mart, and uppity college grads who think they're too good to work there aren't who I want helping me find the Sour Punch Straws at 2AM anyway.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Spinning 'Round in Circles...in Circles...in Circles...
So I know I've mentioned him before, but for those who don't know, I'm an avid fan of Philip DeFranco. His sarcasm, cynicism, intelligence and brutal honesty are refreshing and, to be honest, remind me of myself. Plus I think he's sexy...
But moving on. Philip DeFranco is known fairly well among his fanbase for adamantly disliking Chris Brown. Now, for those of you who do not know, here is a little back story. Chris Brown is a musician (as I say that word, by the way, part of me cringes) who, circa 2009, was in a relationship with the musician Rihanna. The two were dating seriously, had recorded and performed together. February 28, 2009 these pictures of Rihanna flooded news stations, internet and tabloids:
These pictures are not the works of a man. They are the work of a monster. Chris Brown beat Rihanna so badly that she was hospitalized. The reasons behind the argument that accelerated into this are still unclear, though its been highly speculated that in involves Rihanna's confrontation of Brown over his all-too-friendly relationship with singer Leona Lewis.
The reasoning, however, I don't find to be very important. What I find far more important here is that, according to both Brown and Rihanna, she never raised a hand to him. He flew into a blind rage that "is a blue" to him and beat her profusely and slammed her face into the window of his automobile. Rihanna was noted to have lacerations on her face, temples, her lips were split nearly to gum/bone and her hands, where she tried to defend herself by pushing Brown away, were marred with bite marks. Bite marks from a grown man. Are you kidding me?
Regardless, after being arrested and charged with domestic assault and criminal threats, Chris Brown had the balls to plead not guilty. Finally, on advice from his lawyer, he took a plea deal and ended up with 5 years probation, 6 months of community service and on year of domestic violence counseling.
For those who don't know, domestic assault is a FELONY. It isn't supposed to be solved with a slap on the wrist. This spineless animal should have been in prison getting pounded on by men much larger than him, but instead picked up garbage for a few weeks along the highway.
Regardless, I am getting off topic. The punishment for Chris Brown was far too light and set a terrible example for people. His fans are loyal supporters who scream "Leave Chris Brown alone!" and say he's served his time, but has he? Two years after the event, he was set to be on in an interview with Good Morning America, but the second the issues with Rihanna and what had happened were mentioned, he stormed off to his dressing room, ripped his shirt off, started screaming and throwing things, one of which broke a window over Times Square in New York City. Oh yeah. Sounds like he's all better to me!
And most recently, and coming full circle now to my point, he was scene out publicly and is supposedly recording new music with Rihanna.
Is that a joke? Did I read that right? Oh. Wow. I did. WTF, over?!
Philip DeFranco and his fellow comrades over at SourceFed have a pretty clear opinion on Chris Brown and his disrespect and irreverence for women. The light tone of their videos still make it very clear how they feel about what he has done and the fact that he was in no way properly punished for what he did. And my disappointment with him, his fans and Rihanna was made fairly clear in my comment on PhillyD's Facebook post about it:
It is very hard for anyone to admit and come to terms with the fact that they are being abused, especially when admitting that means admitting the person we care about is the person who is hurting us. If you feel you may be a victim or domestic abuse, whether violent or otherwise, The Hotline is an amazing website to help you. They even have a page to help you ask yourself "Am I being abused?"
Please do not let yourself become a part of a cycle that can have detrimental effects on your life, your health and your emotional well-being. If you need help, do not be afraid to seek it.
In closing: If you ever had any thoughts of playing Chris Brown's music in my car, I recommend against it. I find that they make lovely highway reflectors, so I throw them out the window. Maybe he picked up a few of them while he was "serving his time?"
But moving on. Philip DeFranco is known fairly well among his fanbase for adamantly disliking Chris Brown. Now, for those of you who do not know, here is a little back story. Chris Brown is a musician (as I say that word, by the way, part of me cringes) who, circa 2009, was in a relationship with the musician Rihanna. The two were dating seriously, had recorded and performed together. February 28, 2009 these pictures of Rihanna flooded news stations, internet and tabloids:
The reasoning, however, I don't find to be very important. What I find far more important here is that, according to both Brown and Rihanna, she never raised a hand to him. He flew into a blind rage that "is a blue" to him and beat her profusely and slammed her face into the window of his automobile. Rihanna was noted to have lacerations on her face, temples, her lips were split nearly to gum/bone and her hands, where she tried to defend herself by pushing Brown away, were marred with bite marks. Bite marks from a grown man. Are you kidding me?
Regardless, after being arrested and charged with domestic assault and criminal threats, Chris Brown had the balls to plead not guilty. Finally, on advice from his lawyer, he took a plea deal and ended up with 5 years probation, 6 months of community service and on year of domestic violence counseling.
For those who don't know, domestic assault is a FELONY. It isn't supposed to be solved with a slap on the wrist. This spineless animal should have been in prison getting pounded on by men much larger than him, but instead picked up garbage for a few weeks along the highway.
Regardless, I am getting off topic. The punishment for Chris Brown was far too light and set a terrible example for people. His fans are loyal supporters who scream "Leave Chris Brown alone!" and say he's served his time, but has he? Two years after the event, he was set to be on in an interview with Good Morning America, but the second the issues with Rihanna and what had happened were mentioned, he stormed off to his dressing room, ripped his shirt off, started screaming and throwing things, one of which broke a window over Times Square in New York City. Oh yeah. Sounds like he's all better to me!
And most recently, and coming full circle now to my point, he was scene out publicly and is supposedly recording new music with Rihanna.
Is that a joke? Did I read that right? Oh. Wow. I did. WTF, over?!
Philip DeFranco and his fellow comrades over at SourceFed have a pretty clear opinion on Chris Brown and his disrespect and irreverence for women. The light tone of their videos still make it very clear how they feel about what he has done and the fact that he was in no way properly punished for what he did. And my disappointment with him, his fans and Rihanna was made fairly clear in my comment on PhillyD's Facebook post about it:
Domestic Violence is a serious issue. Abuse of any kind is to be taken seriously, however, because an abuser is rarely one type of abuser. As time goes on, without help, the abuse becomes more severe, not less. Lenore Walker, during the 1970's, created a diagram to demonstrate the "cycle of abuse." Though not always the same with each relationship, this cycle is predominantly accurate and with each revolution in the cycle, the incidents tend to grow worse. Breaking the cycle is not easy, especially because it first requires that the victim admit that they are just that: A victim."You are being more than fair to Chris Brown. (Who beats women, btw.) The fact is, he never had to truly be sorry for what he did. He's still making millions off the morons who support him and believe he is changed, but his childish tantrums on television or on his twitter just further justify the beliefs of those of us who feel he's in no way reformed. And I am digusted by Rihanna spending time or making music with him again because all it does is reinforce cyclical relationships and the cycle of abuse and show women that its ok to go back to their abusers. I am disgusted by both and plan to no longer support Rihanna's career by purchasing her music either."
It is very hard for anyone to admit and come to terms with the fact that they are being abused, especially when admitting that means admitting the person we care about is the person who is hurting us. If you feel you may be a victim or domestic abuse, whether violent or otherwise, The Hotline is an amazing website to help you. They even have a page to help you ask yourself "Am I being abused?"
Please do not let yourself become a part of a cycle that can have detrimental effects on your life, your health and your emotional well-being. If you need help, do not be afraid to seek it.
In closing: If you ever had any thoughts of playing Chris Brown's music in my car, I recommend against it. I find that they make lovely highway reflectors, so I throw them out the window. Maybe he picked up a few of them while he was "serving his time?"
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
I've Been Keeping My Eyes...Wide...Open...
So. For those who can't read dates, its been...hmm... over 8 months since my last post. You see, somewhere around the time of my last post, my life began to slowly fall apart. My (soon-to-be ex) husband, Erik, lost his second wedding ring since we've been married. He began accusing me of cheating on him. He began making me feel bad over anything he could whatsoever. I refrained from throwing back accusations at him. I refrained from holding up the "Hello, second wedding ring lost?"-card. I even caught myself before the "May I remind you that you have only called me -once- your entire deployment?" slipped out of my mouth. I essentially tried all I could to take all the blame. I separated myself from my male friends. I dove further into my studies and the constant verbal chastisement from the person who was supposed to be building me up began breaking me down. I finally broke down and sought help. I began to see an MFLC (Military Family Life Counselor.) It was the first time in my life I'd opted to talk to someone about how I was feeling. When I was in middle school and high school, because I was in the gifted programs, they'd sort of just spring them on you. But this time, I was the one making the call. I was the one admitting I felt like I was drowning.
So I went.
Two sessions in, I had uncovered our relationship from beginning to end. All the things I kept wrapped up. All the things I pushed to the back of the closet in order to remain loyal, faithful and loving to him and to keep people from thinking anything of him other than that he was the perfect husband. I found out, though it hurt and was hard to swallow, that I was in a cycle of emotional abuse and controlling behavior. I found out things about myself as well. I am a people pleaser. I bend and bend until I break or someone breaks me, and even then, broken, I still try to pick the pieces of and bend them too. My MFLC, Dave, was very worried for me because apparently my personality and that of an abuser often lead to cyclical relationships where I would repeatedly take my abuser back no matter what had happened because I would want to believe they had changed. I realized very quickly this must be atleast partly true because the longest relationship of my lifetime was with someone who had these same qualities and I did just that. Repeatedly bent to his will, took him back, and did whatever he wanted.
The problem with wanting to see people happy is that sometimes you forget about yourself. You forget that you also need to be happy and healthy. I recalled through counseling, the deeper we dug, the times I'd forgotten that I'd given something up or turned something down in order to appease. I forgot all of the times my feelings were disregarded and I was told I was being ridiculous or over-emotional even when I wasn't. And suddenly all the signed pointing to huge issues in my marriage were becoming all too clear. Why didn't the man I loved take time to call me when deployed? Why did he have time to reinstall WoW and play, but not to Skype with me? Why was I sending 3-4 boxes a month, sometimes more, and yet still being told I was doing nothing to show I care?
I admit, even now, I still ask these questions. I wonder many times, if I could have done something differently, but I realize in my heart it was not me. It was his dissatisfaction that led to what happened next.
I will spare you the gory details, but after 17 hours in a car, then 2 hours of sleep, I awoke to find out that the person I'd been with the last three years, married for 2.5 of them, had been cheating on me. More and more women were piling before my eyes, more and more evidence, and with each one, I was more sick to my stomach, more angry, more tears burns in my eyes and more hurt was building in my heart. Finally, I snatched the dogtags off my neck, the ring off my finger and I hurled them across our house.
Blatant lies, excuses, and a flood of nasty emails came my way, then they'd follow soon after with apologies and "I Love You"s and I'd realized it was all happening. The cycle. I wasn't going to put myself through it. I made one offer: See your family for R&R. I can not see you. I'm hurt. I'm angry. Go see them, and then when you're home for good, we can go to counseling.
"If you can't see me over R&R, then we're done."
And so we were. I have not seen Erik since November of 2011. I hope never to again. I am thankful we have no children, and I am thankful it happened before I wasted anymore time with someone for whom my heart was not enough. On Valentine's Day, February 14th, 2012, I filed divorce papers. I sold all of our personal belongings and some of the furniture and things we had accrued together in the marriage in able to afford to move away from the home we had shared and to file for divorce. I am thankful I finished school before this happened, and more thankful that I have the support of friends and family. My heart breaks when I realize I am 24 and already going to be divorced. I have added to a statistic that I feared all of my life being a part of. But at the same time, I find happiness and release in knowing that somewhere in this world someday I will find the person who needs and wants me as much as I need and want them.
This was a life lesson and a stepping stone.
I am not broken. I am not damaged goods. I don't have baggage.
I am human.
So I went.
Two sessions in, I had uncovered our relationship from beginning to end. All the things I kept wrapped up. All the things I pushed to the back of the closet in order to remain loyal, faithful and loving to him and to keep people from thinking anything of him other than that he was the perfect husband. I found out, though it hurt and was hard to swallow, that I was in a cycle of emotional abuse and controlling behavior. I found out things about myself as well. I am a people pleaser. I bend and bend until I break or someone breaks me, and even then, broken, I still try to pick the pieces of and bend them too. My MFLC, Dave, was very worried for me because apparently my personality and that of an abuser often lead to cyclical relationships where I would repeatedly take my abuser back no matter what had happened because I would want to believe they had changed. I realized very quickly this must be atleast partly true because the longest relationship of my lifetime was with someone who had these same qualities and I did just that. Repeatedly bent to his will, took him back, and did whatever he wanted.
The problem with wanting to see people happy is that sometimes you forget about yourself. You forget that you also need to be happy and healthy. I recalled through counseling, the deeper we dug, the times I'd forgotten that I'd given something up or turned something down in order to appease. I forgot all of the times my feelings were disregarded and I was told I was being ridiculous or over-emotional even when I wasn't. And suddenly all the signed pointing to huge issues in my marriage were becoming all too clear. Why didn't the man I loved take time to call me when deployed? Why did he have time to reinstall WoW and play, but not to Skype with me? Why was I sending 3-4 boxes a month, sometimes more, and yet still being told I was doing nothing to show I care?
I admit, even now, I still ask these questions. I wonder many times, if I could have done something differently, but I realize in my heart it was not me. It was his dissatisfaction that led to what happened next.
I will spare you the gory details, but after 17 hours in a car, then 2 hours of sleep, I awoke to find out that the person I'd been with the last three years, married for 2.5 of them, had been cheating on me. More and more women were piling before my eyes, more and more evidence, and with each one, I was more sick to my stomach, more angry, more tears burns in my eyes and more hurt was building in my heart. Finally, I snatched the dogtags off my neck, the ring off my finger and I hurled them across our house.
Blatant lies, excuses, and a flood of nasty emails came my way, then they'd follow soon after with apologies and "I Love You"s and I'd realized it was all happening. The cycle. I wasn't going to put myself through it. I made one offer: See your family for R&R. I can not see you. I'm hurt. I'm angry. Go see them, and then when you're home for good, we can go to counseling.
"If you can't see me over R&R, then we're done."
And so we were. I have not seen Erik since November of 2011. I hope never to again. I am thankful we have no children, and I am thankful it happened before I wasted anymore time with someone for whom my heart was not enough. On Valentine's Day, February 14th, 2012, I filed divorce papers. I sold all of our personal belongings and some of the furniture and things we had accrued together in the marriage in able to afford to move away from the home we had shared and to file for divorce. I am thankful I finished school before this happened, and more thankful that I have the support of friends and family. My heart breaks when I realize I am 24 and already going to be divorced. I have added to a statistic that I feared all of my life being a part of. But at the same time, I find happiness and release in knowing that somewhere in this world someday I will find the person who needs and wants me as much as I need and want them.
This was a life lesson and a stepping stone.
I am not broken. I am not damaged goods. I don't have baggage.
I am human.
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