Right now I am filled with pain. I hurt. My heart pounds inside my chest and my eyes are so sore from crying. My body is exhausted and my mind is numb. I do not have the flu or an illness to blame this on. I want to choose to forget or at least forget for a little while my pain and move through this day. I don't want my children to see me cry and worry. There is nothing they can do to take away my pain. I know where it comes from. It began long ago. I hurt.
I cannot change this pain. I can't cover it with make up or eat enough food to fill it up. Nothing I buy or give away will change how I feel. No matter how many times I donate blood, break my back for a friend, help my kids with their homework, read to their classes, throw parties for them, give my energy to make another's day it does not stop this pain. No matter how much I love my life or love the people in it, I will always have this hurt. No books or religion hold the remedy for this hurt. No medicine internal or external can relieve my pain. Nobody can love me enough to make this torture end.
Sometimes I wake up and it's better. I see the beauty in the sunshine and the smile of my loved ones. I kiss my kitten and she almost giggles at me. The drive to work isn't filled with no-driving egg heads out to ruin my day. Work is blissfully easy and goes quickly. I have food and cook quietly while my children tell me about their fantastic day of little miracles and we spend time together laughing. Some times I lay my head down and my pillow feels like heaven. Not today.
What do you do when you know what causes your pain, but there is no remedy? I cope. I talk. I try. I lie to myself. I get busy with other things in my life that I can enjoy, but the pain still returns. I am still grieving for my expectations. I have acceptance, even forgiveness, but I have so much pain because in all the stages of my life I have had no parents. It affects me in so many ways daily. I realize I'm not alone and I'm old enough now that I don't need a parent, but there were so many times when I did. Children need adults to guide them. Children need to know that they are not alone. Children need a time when they aren't afraid. Children need to be encouraged to try even if they fail. Children need to hear that the only opinion that matters is theirs. Children need parents that can model these behaviors. If they don't have these things, I don't think they can truly ever grow up or change life for the better. They are left with a horrible pain, anger, incredible resentment, fear, mistrust, and independence.
Worst of all, it is a cycle. I understand my parents. I know my grandparents. I have talked to all of them so much about how they felt as children. What happened to shape them into the people they are. It is the biggest challenge in my life to PARENT my children and stop this cycle of abuse. I want my children to be proud of me and to learn from me about being responsible and being an adult. I want them to develop their own passion and confidence to guide them in their decisions, not fear. I want them to know I will stand with them through any consequences, but I will not take their choices away out of my fear. I want them to know real love, the kind that comes from within themselves, and never doubt they will always be alright even long after I'm gone. I want to love my children for who they really are, not how I want them to be or what they do for me. Most of all I want them to grow up at a normal pace and have a normal childhood. I just don't know what a normal childhood is.
I don't want my children to have so much pain in their lives. I don't want so much pain in my life, but I know I am the only one that can stop my pain by letting it go. Today I bought a blue balloon and let it go. It was only a little pain. It was that I didn't have a wedding because I was angry. I didn't want my step-father to walk me down the isle and too hurt or too scared to ask my biological father to attend, because of the changes that would make in my life and the people I would hurt. So I gave up my dream of having a big wedding and gave up my dream of having a good marriage the same day by marrying the wrong man being desperate for someone to love me. It was only a small part of my pain, but I let that go. It felt good. I feel a little better. I still have a lot of hurt to let go, but there are a lot of balloons.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Bent
I feel like I'm bent. Not broken, not incapable of functioning, but there is a difficulty. I'm affected somehow on a subconscious and every increasingly conscious level that there is a fundamental difference between the way I think, speak, function and they way other "normal" people do. I'm different somehow. I don't seem to fit in, but I have many friends. I don't have a best friend. I realize at 41 best friends may be an outdated concept, but I just feel strange about reaching out sometimes just to have a conversation. I'm jealous of people that do have that kind of connection. I am starting to become more internal and I'm not really sure why. I have less tolerance for immaturity except from people who are truly immature like children and it seems I'm surrounded by drama queens and Peter Pans. I want to pursue Buddhism, gardening, and write. I have a hard time seeing the point in developing any work relationships, because I don't want to work at this job for any longer than it takes to become an independent writer. I love my friends, but I also can't stand some of them for more than an hour. I get home and take a shower and thank God I'm not them. I have ever increasing empathy for all the people I get to know, because it is easier to see their reasons and courage despite their circumstances. It is easier to understand the why, but my choice is just to not participate, join or belong. Maybe I just need a different place to belong, different friends, different definitions of normal. How does a person do that? What is this pull to someplace different?
I think this bending began a long time ago. I think I've been bending and bending trying to fit in to what other people's expectations were of me. I think my divorce was a breaking point. Either I quit bending or I would break, but I am now forever bent. My focus is different. It's like I was standing up my whole life and now I'm in one of those weird yoga poses trying desperately to stretch out the kinks and find some inner peace. I gravitate toward people that are in transition. I crave new books, new ideas, new anything. Maybe this is what mid-life crisis is like? Maybe I'm just bored with everything. Maybe I'm just starting to define what is really important to me.
One of my biggest fears of getting older is that my children will grow up and have these wonderful experiences going to college and being on their own and I will just be old and lonely. I refuse to do this! I refuse to keep working a dead end good job and eat myself into a 300 pound misery cushion, because all of my coping mechanisms have been stripped away except for food. I have changed my eating habits, but when travel, art, and age limit you between what is financially possible and what you really enjoy, then you have to really start to look at what you CAN really enjoy right now. When you begin one life and build up your dreams stacking them neatly on top of each other, you are at the bottom and can't see everyone else slipping their own added expectations on to your pile. The weight gets heavier and heavier until all of the sudden you're bent. Even worse when life comes along and rips the foundation out from under you, the stack of dreams falls all over smashing to pieces and you are left bent with nothing you recognize. I don't mind being bent and rebuilding, but I'm not entirely sure what to build. The pieces of my dreams don't fit and little slivers of expectations keep getting stuck where they don't belong. It's like changing your make up for the first time since high school. You stand back in the mirror and ask, "Is this me? Can I pull off this pink of a blusher? Do people wear this color of blue or am I going to look like a total prostitute?" You want to trust the sales woman who just spent the better part of 15 minutes applying the new product, but you also want to retreat back to the same old comfortable brown eyeliner and lip gloss that carried you through two of the most important relationships of your young life. Maybe the NEW just needs time to grow on me? I guess I have until my son's graduation.
I bought a house a short time ago and couldn't be happier with the purchase. I, however, didn't buy a house for me. It is a huge debt, huge responsibility, and a huge hassle since I'm not the best at maintenance. I bought a house for my family. I wanted the children to have a home. I wanted to paint their rooms and decorate with their artwork in a space we could truly express ourselves. I wanted them to feel comfortable an invite their friends over. I wanted to invest in something that might give me a return or help me pay for college if I sold it. It gives me a place to practice being myself. I'm gaining confidence by repairing my broken drain and fixing the toilet. I feel good knowing that my children think of my house as their home. I have noticed that the first week excitement has passed and now the reality of being stuck here until my kids graduate high school is bumming me out. Still, I have decided to use this time for improving the curb appeal and resale value of this house and to really begin to write. This house doesn't have to be prison, it can still be my refuge until I decide I'm ready to swim for it and brave the unknown ocean again. I don't know where this restlessness is coming from? Is it possible that it's just a side affect of freedom? Do I feel like this because for the first time in my life I'm just not afraid of what comes next?
Being bent is not being broken and I guess at some point we all look within and acknowledge something is different. I'm not a girl anymore. I have wrinkles. My back hurts sometimes when it rains. My friends are different people and some are exactly the same as they were in high school. It's harder to maintain friendships and feel that closeness that you had when you told someone everything, because frankly we all make mistakes and might not want people to know everything. Maybe I am afraid of being that intimate with anyone? Maybe I don't trust them enough to understand me? I do entertain a lot of crazy notions and ideas. I think that is why I like writing. Blank pages don't judge or mock me. They are open and friendly waiting to be filled with details. Unfortunately, telling a joke on paper is not as fun as hearing your friends laughter. Books don't hug you, although they may tug at your heartstrings and stimulate your brain. Maybe I'm just bent in a weird direction right now and as time goes on that part of me will loosen and my perspective will change. I am much more conscious of all my decisions and the consequences of all my decisions now and I like that awareness even if it brings more stress. Cautious has never been who I am, but I guess that is why it feels different. It's hard to be the same person, yet different in so many ways. I struggle with bent.
I think this bending began a long time ago. I think I've been bending and bending trying to fit in to what other people's expectations were of me. I think my divorce was a breaking point. Either I quit bending or I would break, but I am now forever bent. My focus is different. It's like I was standing up my whole life and now I'm in one of those weird yoga poses trying desperately to stretch out the kinks and find some inner peace. I gravitate toward people that are in transition. I crave new books, new ideas, new anything. Maybe this is what mid-life crisis is like? Maybe I'm just bored with everything. Maybe I'm just starting to define what is really important to me.
One of my biggest fears of getting older is that my children will grow up and have these wonderful experiences going to college and being on their own and I will just be old and lonely. I refuse to do this! I refuse to keep working a dead end good job and eat myself into a 300 pound misery cushion, because all of my coping mechanisms have been stripped away except for food. I have changed my eating habits, but when travel, art, and age limit you between what is financially possible and what you really enjoy, then you have to really start to look at what you CAN really enjoy right now. When you begin one life and build up your dreams stacking them neatly on top of each other, you are at the bottom and can't see everyone else slipping their own added expectations on to your pile. The weight gets heavier and heavier until all of the sudden you're bent. Even worse when life comes along and rips the foundation out from under you, the stack of dreams falls all over smashing to pieces and you are left bent with nothing you recognize. I don't mind being bent and rebuilding, but I'm not entirely sure what to build. The pieces of my dreams don't fit and little slivers of expectations keep getting stuck where they don't belong. It's like changing your make up for the first time since high school. You stand back in the mirror and ask, "Is this me? Can I pull off this pink of a blusher? Do people wear this color of blue or am I going to look like a total prostitute?" You want to trust the sales woman who just spent the better part of 15 minutes applying the new product, but you also want to retreat back to the same old comfortable brown eyeliner and lip gloss that carried you through two of the most important relationships of your young life. Maybe the NEW just needs time to grow on me? I guess I have until my son's graduation.
I bought a house a short time ago and couldn't be happier with the purchase. I, however, didn't buy a house for me. It is a huge debt, huge responsibility, and a huge hassle since I'm not the best at maintenance. I bought a house for my family. I wanted the children to have a home. I wanted to paint their rooms and decorate with their artwork in a space we could truly express ourselves. I wanted them to feel comfortable an invite their friends over. I wanted to invest in something that might give me a return or help me pay for college if I sold it. It gives me a place to practice being myself. I'm gaining confidence by repairing my broken drain and fixing the toilet. I feel good knowing that my children think of my house as their home. I have noticed that the first week excitement has passed and now the reality of being stuck here until my kids graduate high school is bumming me out. Still, I have decided to use this time for improving the curb appeal and resale value of this house and to really begin to write. This house doesn't have to be prison, it can still be my refuge until I decide I'm ready to swim for it and brave the unknown ocean again. I don't know where this restlessness is coming from? Is it possible that it's just a side affect of freedom? Do I feel like this because for the first time in my life I'm just not afraid of what comes next?
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Forty Plus One
Well my birthday is rapidly approaching. I am turning 41. That is unbelievable to me, but yet in a week I will be well into my 40's. I don't feel 41. In fact I feel the same as I did when I was 25. A little wiser, a little more aware, but basically the same. I am heavier but working to eat healthier and make 41 a leaner year. I have decided to take up meditation seriously this year and have plans to attend a workshop on my birthday. I just don't feel like 41. Where has all the time gone? I think turning 41 is harder on me than turning 30. It just seems like I am saying internally, "No, you are too old for that." a bunch more than I used to. I look at the dates on some of my favorite movies and some are more that 25 years old. How did this happen? The songs I listen to are on the classic rock stations, my outfits are more toward the vintage and I am just 41!! I don't even want to think about what my kids say about me when I'm out there playing soccer with them or dancing in the kitchen. Why does 41 seem like it's old in my mind, but not in my heart? I still get hit on at the grocery store, why do I have to be 41???
One of the things I love about myself is I do not look my age thanks to great skin, greater makeup and never smoking, however, hormones have not done me any favors recently and my doctor informs me that part of this could be me going through menopause. Pre-menopausal? Are you freaking serious? I wanted to punch him in the throat and that was not about the hormones. Pre-menopause has some wonderful symptoms like night sweats, mood swings, dry skin (everywhere), weight gain, blah blah blah all of which I have been experiencing for a couple of years now. I guess my uterus has given up on me since being unused for 10 years and decided I was too old to have any more kids too. The "Change" as my mother calls it is about as welcome as fibroids which I might also have to deal with. I am usually a great herald of change, but not within my body and not that is so beyond my control regarding my body. I wasn't a huge fan of puberty and menopause doesn't seem to be that whippy either. "Look at the bright side, no more periods," the nurse was now holding me back from punching him in the throat! I am not pre-menopausal ok. I refuse to be.
I also refuse to accept that I can't wear a bikini. I may not chuck my pumpkin butt down to the public pool anymore, but I will always wear a two piece. I have a short torso and I can never find a one piece that doesn't hang low at the bottom. I'm not a Victoria Secret model and I don't have to be perfect. I will never accept that I can't wear a bikini. My mom is 57 and still wears one, I guess that is where I get it.
Growing older with grace and dignity? I don't know if I know how to do that? There are so many things I want to accomplish in my life still. I realize that 41 isn't the end of the road and far from it, but it is a ways down the road. I feel guilty that I haven't accomplished some of the things on my bucket list yet. I feel guilty that I wasted some of my time afraid and feeling sorry for myself. I feel guilty that I made bad financial decisions. I guess one good thing is now that I'm older and wiser, I know guilt doesn't really help anybody. I also realize it isn't too late to do all those things I wanted to accomplish if I try harder. Grace was never a trait high on my description list, so why should it be a requisite for getting older? Dignity? That really kind of flew out the window with my twenties. No, I won't be skinny dipping in a public pool anymore, but I will skinny dip til I die! I will just promise not to allow any YouTube videos.
So to mark this milestone of my development, I have come up with a few things I will never be too old for:
1. Haircolor - Even if I color it purple, I will always have product in my hair.
2. Bikini's - Even if I look like Magda from "Something About Mary" I will wear me a two-piece!
3. High heels - I might have a cane and a wheelchair, but I will never give up my heels!
4. Ice Cream Cones - Yes, I will have a double dip please!
5. Skinny Dipping - Nothing in this world feels as free as being naked in the water.
6. Nail Polish - On my toes and fingers! In fact the older I get the more I will get manicure and pedicures! I deserve it!
7. Animal Print Clothing - I don't care if it is my underwear, I will always have animal prints!!
8. Flirting - I don't care if I'm 90! Hot is hot and I will probably tell you about it. WINK!
9. Motorcycles - Ok I might not ride one when I'm 90, but if I get a chance I probably will.
10. Travel - Let's face it, most of us Joe Blows only get a few states away. Even if I can't drive myself, walk without assistance, or poop unless I have a bag attached to me, I will travel to other countries, states, or even possibly Mars. I will never let my age keep me from exploring.
On that note, this is my continuing mission.
To explore strange new worlds and eat ice cream there wearing a bikini...
To seek out new life; new civilizations, and new hair products...
To boldly go where no one has gone before in animal print clothing and high heels riding a motorcycle!
No fear! Bazinga!! Happy Birthday to me!
One of the things I love about myself is I do not look my age thanks to great skin, greater makeup and never smoking, however, hormones have not done me any favors recently and my doctor informs me that part of this could be me going through menopause. Pre-menopausal? Are you freaking serious? I wanted to punch him in the throat and that was not about the hormones. Pre-menopause has some wonderful symptoms like night sweats, mood swings, dry skin (everywhere), weight gain, blah blah blah all of which I have been experiencing for a couple of years now. I guess my uterus has given up on me since being unused for 10 years and decided I was too old to have any more kids too. The "Change" as my mother calls it is about as welcome as fibroids which I might also have to deal with. I am usually a great herald of change, but not within my body and not that is so beyond my control regarding my body. I wasn't a huge fan of puberty and menopause doesn't seem to be that whippy either. "Look at the bright side, no more periods," the nurse was now holding me back from punching him in the throat! I am not pre-menopausal ok. I refuse to be.
I also refuse to accept that I can't wear a bikini. I may not chuck my pumpkin butt down to the public pool anymore, but I will always wear a two piece. I have a short torso and I can never find a one piece that doesn't hang low at the bottom. I'm not a Victoria Secret model and I don't have to be perfect. I will never accept that I can't wear a bikini. My mom is 57 and still wears one, I guess that is where I get it.
Growing older with grace and dignity? I don't know if I know how to do that? There are so many things I want to accomplish in my life still. I realize that 41 isn't the end of the road and far from it, but it is a ways down the road. I feel guilty that I haven't accomplished some of the things on my bucket list yet. I feel guilty that I wasted some of my time afraid and feeling sorry for myself. I feel guilty that I made bad financial decisions. I guess one good thing is now that I'm older and wiser, I know guilt doesn't really help anybody. I also realize it isn't too late to do all those things I wanted to accomplish if I try harder. Grace was never a trait high on my description list, so why should it be a requisite for getting older? Dignity? That really kind of flew out the window with my twenties. No, I won't be skinny dipping in a public pool anymore, but I will skinny dip til I die! I will just promise not to allow any YouTube videos.
So to mark this milestone of my development, I have come up with a few things I will never be too old for:
1. Haircolor - Even if I color it purple, I will always have product in my hair.
2. Bikini's - Even if I look like Magda from "Something About Mary" I will wear me a two-piece!
3. High heels - I might have a cane and a wheelchair, but I will never give up my heels!
4. Ice Cream Cones - Yes, I will have a double dip please!
5. Skinny Dipping - Nothing in this world feels as free as being naked in the water.
6. Nail Polish - On my toes and fingers! In fact the older I get the more I will get manicure and pedicures! I deserve it!
7. Animal Print Clothing - I don't care if it is my underwear, I will always have animal prints!!
8. Flirting - I don't care if I'm 90! Hot is hot and I will probably tell you about it. WINK!
9. Motorcycles - Ok I might not ride one when I'm 90, but if I get a chance I probably will.
10. Travel - Let's face it, most of us Joe Blows only get a few states away. Even if I can't drive myself, walk without assistance, or poop unless I have a bag attached to me, I will travel to other countries, states, or even possibly Mars. I will never let my age keep me from exploring.
On that note, this is my continuing mission.
To explore strange new worlds and eat ice cream there wearing a bikini...
To seek out new life; new civilizations, and new hair products...
To boldly go where no one has gone before in animal print clothing and high heels riding a motorcycle!
No fear! Bazinga!! Happy Birthday to me!
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Gambling on Peace
So much has been flooding my inbox and Facebook about people arming themselves and being afraid. How do we protect our children? How do we protect ourselves and our home? The answer is simple. You can't. You can't be prepared for all things to come and if you spend your life afraid and every choice you make is made in fear, then you are not truly living. I have done a great deal of reflecting and thinking and it seems to me that people never choose peace. People always choose war. The first choice in war is to look at external causes for your actions and take no personal responsibility. For example, my friend told me she was going to go to classes and buy a gun. Why, I asked? For protection she offered. From what, I asked? From everything she answered. Guns do not protect you from anything. Just like guns do not kill people, people do. She was making a choice to fight. She was potentially making a choice to kill if necessary. She chose war.
War is evil. War kills period. I firmly believe that the only thing war accomplishes is death. War is like a gun. War may be easier, drive the economy more, and cause so much pain and devastation that real change becomes a more acceptable alternative, but it still has only one outcome that is for certain. Death. Death of real children, real adults, and real people that never touched a gun, a bomb, a club, a rock or any other weapon. Real people that were living their lives, shopping, taking a walk, watching TV or going to school. There are many choices that lead up to war, but we make those small choices every single day. War is over if you want it. IF YOU WANT IT. If we all chose change and not war it would be over, however, fear makes people choose war.
If any of you have ever read If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, you can see the error in choosing war. Let's say my friend buys her gun. She is safe right? Wrong. Her house was robbed while she was not home. Thieves stole her gun and then broke into her neighbor's house and shot her neighbor and five children while they slept. This made her more afraid so she moved close to an military base and bought a new gun and installed an alarm system. The military base was targeted by terrorists and bombed. One of the bombs missed and hit her house killing her and everyone in a 10 mile radius. There will always be more guns, more bombs, more people that have no empathy for human life beyond their immediate family or just themselves and the first time we CHOOSE war we head down that path that only leads in one direction, more death.
I know, everything has to die right? All paths ultimately lead to death. So why worry about when or where? Why do we need to take up arms or lock our doors at all. Gotta die sometime right? I'm just like the rest of you, I don't want to die. I don't want to die before my kids are grown and I see everything there is to see! Actually I want scientists to develop robot bodies and just transfer my consciousness into it and never die, but that is just me. I certainly don't want to die knowing that a thief has just stolen my gun, shot me and now my two small children are facing that thief alone with their mother bleeding out all over the floor in front of them. I don't want my kids to die, or my family, friends, people on the street, or anybody to die truthfully! It is sad. It is a part of life however.
Living is also a part of life. A part I think some people are so afraid of death that they forget about. If you were the last person on earth and everyone else was gone, would you just crawl in a corner and wait? I certainly hope not! I hope you would really really live! Live for all of us that are gone! Swim in the ocean! Go to a Five Star Hotel and live it up! Eat a million chocolates! Dance all night! Drive like 120 miles an hour! Go to a mall and try on everything! Just live! I know I want my children, family and friends to go on without me, remember the good times and live their lives to the absolute fullest! I also want them to live with no fear of being imperfect. I want them to take chances and make mistakes! I want them to love so deeply it makes them cry and never be afraid of that! I never want them to be afraid and that is something I can teach them.
How do you teach someone to be afraid? You live in fear. You do only what is acceptable or expected. You live like a gangster. You fit in and if someone comes at you with a bat, you get a knife. If they come back with a gun you get a bigger gun. You look, do, feel and be everything you can to not be weak. You don't love. You don't feel anything if you can help it. You resist change or any ideas that might be different than what you see as acceptable. You fear people that are different from you. You don't educate yourself. You don't travel any farther than one state away. You are possessive and don't trust anyone. This is what you show your children. You teach them that fear is necessary, because you never know when something might happen.
You could teach them to choose peace. You could teach them that change is inevitable. You could teach them that because you never know what might happen, something great is just around the corner. You could teach them that death is going to happen to all of us, but that doesn't mean you won't always be there for them in their hearts and minds. You could teach them that all living things are connected and when one thing is harmed we are all diminished in a small way. You could teach them that it is okay to be afraid sometimes and talk to them about their fears until they feel more confident in their ability to handle everything that comes their way. You could teach them to be responsible for their choices and to think ahead. You can teach them to care about the world not just our little corner of it.
We all never know when something might happen. I could post this blog and get into a car accident and die. Should I not drive? Fear has this wonderful way of blinding us to common sense, change or any opportunity that might come along with the risk we take just walking out the front door. Choices are all we really have in this life, everything else is just the luck of the draw. You have to play the cards your are dealt and hope you get a good hand, but if you quit playing you are guaranteed to lose. I choose to play with everything I have in me! May all the world be comforted and know they are loved. May all the world seek guidance and wisdom. May all the world choose peace for the sake of their fellow men/women. May this spirit last all year long and bring change. May all the world be free from fear. Good luck and Happy Holidays!
War is evil. War kills period. I firmly believe that the only thing war accomplishes is death. War is like a gun. War may be easier, drive the economy more, and cause so much pain and devastation that real change becomes a more acceptable alternative, but it still has only one outcome that is for certain. Death. Death of real children, real adults, and real people that never touched a gun, a bomb, a club, a rock or any other weapon. Real people that were living their lives, shopping, taking a walk, watching TV or going to school. There are many choices that lead up to war, but we make those small choices every single day. War is over if you want it. IF YOU WANT IT. If we all chose change and not war it would be over, however, fear makes people choose war.
If any of you have ever read If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, you can see the error in choosing war. Let's say my friend buys her gun. She is safe right? Wrong. Her house was robbed while she was not home. Thieves stole her gun and then broke into her neighbor's house and shot her neighbor and five children while they slept. This made her more afraid so she moved close to an military base and bought a new gun and installed an alarm system. The military base was targeted by terrorists and bombed. One of the bombs missed and hit her house killing her and everyone in a 10 mile radius. There will always be more guns, more bombs, more people that have no empathy for human life beyond their immediate family or just themselves and the first time we CHOOSE war we head down that path that only leads in one direction, more death.
I know, everything has to die right? All paths ultimately lead to death. So why worry about when or where? Why do we need to take up arms or lock our doors at all. Gotta die sometime right? I'm just like the rest of you, I don't want to die. I don't want to die before my kids are grown and I see everything there is to see! Actually I want scientists to develop robot bodies and just transfer my consciousness into it and never die, but that is just me. I certainly don't want to die knowing that a thief has just stolen my gun, shot me and now my two small children are facing that thief alone with their mother bleeding out all over the floor in front of them. I don't want my kids to die, or my family, friends, people on the street, or anybody to die truthfully! It is sad. It is a part of life however.
Living is also a part of life. A part I think some people are so afraid of death that they forget about. If you were the last person on earth and everyone else was gone, would you just crawl in a corner and wait? I certainly hope not! I hope you would really really live! Live for all of us that are gone! Swim in the ocean! Go to a Five Star Hotel and live it up! Eat a million chocolates! Dance all night! Drive like 120 miles an hour! Go to a mall and try on everything! Just live! I know I want my children, family and friends to go on without me, remember the good times and live their lives to the absolute fullest! I also want them to live with no fear of being imperfect. I want them to take chances and make mistakes! I want them to love so deeply it makes them cry and never be afraid of that! I never want them to be afraid and that is something I can teach them.
How do you teach someone to be afraid? You live in fear. You do only what is acceptable or expected. You live like a gangster. You fit in and if someone comes at you with a bat, you get a knife. If they come back with a gun you get a bigger gun. You look, do, feel and be everything you can to not be weak. You don't love. You don't feel anything if you can help it. You resist change or any ideas that might be different than what you see as acceptable. You fear people that are different from you. You don't educate yourself. You don't travel any farther than one state away. You are possessive and don't trust anyone. This is what you show your children. You teach them that fear is necessary, because you never know when something might happen.
You could teach them to choose peace. You could teach them that change is inevitable. You could teach them that because you never know what might happen, something great is just around the corner. You could teach them that death is going to happen to all of us, but that doesn't mean you won't always be there for them in their hearts and minds. You could teach them that all living things are connected and when one thing is harmed we are all diminished in a small way. You could teach them that it is okay to be afraid sometimes and talk to them about their fears until they feel more confident in their ability to handle everything that comes their way. You could teach them to be responsible for their choices and to think ahead. You can teach them to care about the world not just our little corner of it.
We all never know when something might happen. I could post this blog and get into a car accident and die. Should I not drive? Fear has this wonderful way of blinding us to common sense, change or any opportunity that might come along with the risk we take just walking out the front door. Choices are all we really have in this life, everything else is just the luck of the draw. You have to play the cards your are dealt and hope you get a good hand, but if you quit playing you are guaranteed to lose. I choose to play with everything I have in me! May all the world be comforted and know they are loved. May all the world seek guidance and wisdom. May all the world choose peace for the sake of their fellow men/women. May this spirit last all year long and bring change. May all the world be free from fear. Good luck and Happy Holidays!
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Men Are Like Purses
Let's face it, all women really need is a great purse. A great purse can literally save your life. You pack enough into that purse and you are prepared for anything at anytime and it is heavy enough that you can take down a rhino just by lobbing it at them. We love purses! We are always looking for just the right purse that can keep everything we need in just the right place. We think we love this purse and there will never be another purse that will work better. Then along comes another season and our old purse has lost it's sparkle and has gunk spilled in the bottom of it. We start to see other bigger purses, fancier purses with zippers and buckles! We think that purse will be the one for me! We find the best purse that goes with everything. We keep that purse for years! We pack it with all our things and WHAMO! Our purse is stolen, gone with all our stuff! We are left naked with our credit cards maxed! Jaded we begin again to search for a more sensible purse. Sound familiar? Men are like purses!
I know lots of you are thinking, men are human beings. How can say that about another human being? I guess I want them to be more than an accessory. Men have trophies, we have purses. Well girls the search for the perfect man is just like our quest for the perfect purse. In the end, we end up with a designer bag full of crap. Crap that we think we can't live without. Crap is just crap even with a Dolce label on it. Men are human beings and until we can recognize they aren't all full of crap or something to fill up with our crap, they will only be an accessory. Just like men that keep searching for that perfect size six, long legs, great boobs and a cute smile will only end up with a self-absorbed, fake tanned, fake nailed bubble head that only wants a new purse. Nobody is perfect.
There will always be another purse. Either the last one had too many pockets or not enough, the lining was too dark, the color was a little off, the zipper broke or any other of the bazillion excuses we use to buy a new purse. Basically, we as women need to be able to carry our own crap. Our crap stinks just like everybody else's and it's not up to anybody else to carry it. If you're like me you end up carrying a lot of other people's crap around in your purse like the kid's crap for instance. Water bottles, pacifiers, and toys to play with at the restaurant and extra pairs of pants just in case the off chance somebody might need it. Our purse gets cluttered and its hard to dig out what is useful. We do this to our men. We start out telling them they are great and it doesn't bother us in the least that play softball on Sundays, bowl on Wednesday nights and have that edgy look! Then as our lives change suddenly all our things don't fit and the fact they can change our tires gets lost in the side pocket buried under your gum and lip plumper. Men aren't here to carry our crap. They weren't made to know the difference between aqua and chartreuse. They don't understand romantic gestures except that somewhere on TV it usually gets a guy laid. Everything they need is packed into a 3" x 5" leather strap that is mostly taken up by a debit card and pictures we gave them. Men are simple and I don't mean that they are stupid. I think that millions of years of evolution has taught them to carry only what is necessary and grab the rest when you can. Women are the hoarders of the crap! Let it go and don't blame the purse! When men say, "Well if you didn't try to carry so much crap..." They are right!
Women need to stop expecting so much from their purse or all you end up with is a huge back of crap. Same goes for the men in our lives. We need to tell them exactly what we NEED and leave all the fluff out. My ex-husband was like a duffel bag. Handy, sturdy and useful, but I seldom if ever needed him. I didn't need him and he felt empty and useless. He wasn't even a purse. He was an awesome duffel bag, but not what I needed. I truly think after dating the second time around after my divorce it became perfectly clear to me that I was only searching for a new purse, not a new partner. I wanted a man that I could unload all of my crap into and it would fit perfectly so I didn't have to carry it around. How surprised I was to find that all I ended up with was a nicer looking crap carrier? Do we as women really want a bag of crap? It wasn't until dumped my emotional baggage out on the table and really started to look at all of my crap that I realized what I really needed. I needed a man that wouldn't take any crap.
A good purse can be a life saver or crap basket. It can be a heavy catch all or the accessory to make your outfit. Men are like purses a women need to realize even the best purse is going to wear out if you just stuff it with crap. Be gentle with your favorite purse and don't expect something the size of an coin purse to hold up to ten items. Only trust that purse to hold what is really important and what you really need and YOU carry the rest. Get the right purse for the job and if you get the wrong purse, let it go right away! We all have that purse we thought was going to look great and then found out the zipper was busted and it had no cell phone outer pocket! It wasn't the purse, it was us! We picked the wrong purse or we were so desperate for a purse we didn't take the time to assess our real needs. A beautiful bag full of shit is still a bag of shit.
For any men that read this take a long hard look at the woman you are dating and at their purse. Here are some things to think about.
SIZE - If the purse is a more like a backpack this is a woman that is used to carrying around a lot of crap! She has high expectations. She gets attached to things easily. She has needs and few of them are being met. She is looking for a man that will help her carry the load so if you con't want to carry that purse for her, do her a favor and move on. If there is anything that vibrates in that bag, run
If the purse is regular sized but so packed everything comes spilling out it is the same story as above, but she is also crying out for attention. If you don't want to give her the time and attention, move on. If it is regular sized and she can find a pen to give you her number or a stick of gum that isn't covered in hair in less than a minute, you are probably dealing with a sensible woman that will only expect flowers on her birthday and appreciate a good man.
If the purse is small more like a coin purse and she only carries her debit card, cash and a lip gloss. She is hiding her real purse until she knows you better.
COLORS:
White - High maintenance, impulsive, short attention span
Black/Brown/Tan - Sensible, classic and likes a big bank for her buck. Loyal and will commit to the right one. Patient.
Red, Neons, Blue or very trendy colors - Goes for what she percieves as hot, but then nitpicks the
very things that attracted her in the first place. Indecisive and impulsive.
Denim - Mom purse has totally give up being fashionable and will wear sweats to bed.
Animal Print - likes an adventure, seeks to tame the beast inside you but can be clingy. Low expectations of men and will put you down quickly if you get out of line.
Visible Pockets - If there are more than five pockets on the outside of a purse and she can't find anything then she is the queen of chaos. She loves drama and creates it all herself. If everything has a place and she gets really upset if her pen ended up in the wrong pocket you can bet she is gonna hound you like a dog over your boxers laying in the corner of the room.
Sparkle - If the amount of bling on her bag could stop a train by blinding the engineer if the sun hit it from her car then you better multiply that sparkle by ten when buying her wedding ring. Materialistic, fun, likes grand gestures.
Hobo, Hippie or Crochet bag - Easy going, disorganized, late, likes organic but will take Starbucks if you are buying. Not really looking, not sure what she wants, but willing to try anything once.
CONDITION:
Old and tattered - She sticks with one guy until there is nothing left. Better be in it to win it because she will latch on to you like you are the only man for her and stay until you fall apart and then try to stitch you back together with duct tape. Trusting, cheep and loyal.
New purse every time you see her - She always has a plan B. Impulse buyer. Does not respect you as an individual. Doesn't want to make it a date, just a possible hook up later if we meet at the same place. A player! Lots of fun but not for the long haul.
Same purse good condition but messy - Busy, but ready for a relationship. Takes on too much and is looking for someone to sweep her off her feet. Will respond well to romantic gestures no matter how small or cheesy.
Same purse like new and completely organized - Neat freak, coupon queen, will drive you insane with her demands and expectations. Don't look for this relationship to last if you are not responsible.
Of course like men purses come in all shapes, sizes, colors and condition which makes the quest all the more challenging. You can luck out and find a good purse at good will that just needs to be dry cleaned. That purse can save you time and time again if you appreciate it. Good luck ladies! Men if you are married to one of the above, dump out that crap! Brace yourself for the shitstorm to follow and help her clarify her needs and wants. You will both come out smelling like a rose in the end.
I know lots of you are thinking, men are human beings. How can say that about another human being? I guess I want them to be more than an accessory. Men have trophies, we have purses. Well girls the search for the perfect man is just like our quest for the perfect purse. In the end, we end up with a designer bag full of crap. Crap that we think we can't live without. Crap is just crap even with a Dolce label on it. Men are human beings and until we can recognize they aren't all full of crap or something to fill up with our crap, they will only be an accessory. Just like men that keep searching for that perfect size six, long legs, great boobs and a cute smile will only end up with a self-absorbed, fake tanned, fake nailed bubble head that only wants a new purse. Nobody is perfect.
There will always be another purse. Either the last one had too many pockets or not enough, the lining was too dark, the color was a little off, the zipper broke or any other of the bazillion excuses we use to buy a new purse. Basically, we as women need to be able to carry our own crap. Our crap stinks just like everybody else's and it's not up to anybody else to carry it. If you're like me you end up carrying a lot of other people's crap around in your purse like the kid's crap for instance. Water bottles, pacifiers, and toys to play with at the restaurant and extra pairs of pants just in case the off chance somebody might need it. Our purse gets cluttered and its hard to dig out what is useful. We do this to our men. We start out telling them they are great and it doesn't bother us in the least that play softball on Sundays, bowl on Wednesday nights and have that edgy look! Then as our lives change suddenly all our things don't fit and the fact they can change our tires gets lost in the side pocket buried under your gum and lip plumper. Men aren't here to carry our crap. They weren't made to know the difference between aqua and chartreuse. They don't understand romantic gestures except that somewhere on TV it usually gets a guy laid. Everything they need is packed into a 3" x 5" leather strap that is mostly taken up by a debit card and pictures we gave them. Men are simple and I don't mean that they are stupid. I think that millions of years of evolution has taught them to carry only what is necessary and grab the rest when you can. Women are the hoarders of the crap! Let it go and don't blame the purse! When men say, "Well if you didn't try to carry so much crap..." They are right!
Women need to stop expecting so much from their purse or all you end up with is a huge back of crap. Same goes for the men in our lives. We need to tell them exactly what we NEED and leave all the fluff out. My ex-husband was like a duffel bag. Handy, sturdy and useful, but I seldom if ever needed him. I didn't need him and he felt empty and useless. He wasn't even a purse. He was an awesome duffel bag, but not what I needed. I truly think after dating the second time around after my divorce it became perfectly clear to me that I was only searching for a new purse, not a new partner. I wanted a man that I could unload all of my crap into and it would fit perfectly so I didn't have to carry it around. How surprised I was to find that all I ended up with was a nicer looking crap carrier? Do we as women really want a bag of crap? It wasn't until dumped my emotional baggage out on the table and really started to look at all of my crap that I realized what I really needed. I needed a man that wouldn't take any crap.
A good purse can be a life saver or crap basket. It can be a heavy catch all or the accessory to make your outfit. Men are like purses a women need to realize even the best purse is going to wear out if you just stuff it with crap. Be gentle with your favorite purse and don't expect something the size of an coin purse to hold up to ten items. Only trust that purse to hold what is really important and what you really need and YOU carry the rest. Get the right purse for the job and if you get the wrong purse, let it go right away! We all have that purse we thought was going to look great and then found out the zipper was busted and it had no cell phone outer pocket! It wasn't the purse, it was us! We picked the wrong purse or we were so desperate for a purse we didn't take the time to assess our real needs. A beautiful bag full of shit is still a bag of shit.
For any men that read this take a long hard look at the woman you are dating and at their purse. Here are some things to think about.
SIZE - If the purse is a more like a backpack this is a woman that is used to carrying around a lot of crap! She has high expectations. She gets attached to things easily. She has needs and few of them are being met. She is looking for a man that will help her carry the load so if you con't want to carry that purse for her, do her a favor and move on. If there is anything that vibrates in that bag, run
If the purse is regular sized but so packed everything comes spilling out it is the same story as above, but she is also crying out for attention. If you don't want to give her the time and attention, move on. If it is regular sized and she can find a pen to give you her number or a stick of gum that isn't covered in hair in less than a minute, you are probably dealing with a sensible woman that will only expect flowers on her birthday and appreciate a good man.
If the purse is small more like a coin purse and she only carries her debit card, cash and a lip gloss. She is hiding her real purse until she knows you better.
COLORS:
White - High maintenance, impulsive, short attention span
Black/Brown/Tan - Sensible, classic and likes a big bank for her buck. Loyal and will commit to the right one. Patient.
Red, Neons, Blue or very trendy colors - Goes for what she percieves as hot, but then nitpicks the
very things that attracted her in the first place. Indecisive and impulsive.
Denim - Mom purse has totally give up being fashionable and will wear sweats to bed.
Animal Print - likes an adventure, seeks to tame the beast inside you but can be clingy. Low expectations of men and will put you down quickly if you get out of line.
Visible Pockets - If there are more than five pockets on the outside of a purse and she can't find anything then she is the queen of chaos. She loves drama and creates it all herself. If everything has a place and she gets really upset if her pen ended up in the wrong pocket you can bet she is gonna hound you like a dog over your boxers laying in the corner of the room.
Sparkle - If the amount of bling on her bag could stop a train by blinding the engineer if the sun hit it from her car then you better multiply that sparkle by ten when buying her wedding ring. Materialistic, fun, likes grand gestures.
Hobo, Hippie or Crochet bag - Easy going, disorganized, late, likes organic but will take Starbucks if you are buying. Not really looking, not sure what she wants, but willing to try anything once.
CONDITION:
Old and tattered - She sticks with one guy until there is nothing left. Better be in it to win it because she will latch on to you like you are the only man for her and stay until you fall apart and then try to stitch you back together with duct tape. Trusting, cheep and loyal.
New purse every time you see her - She always has a plan B. Impulse buyer. Does not respect you as an individual. Doesn't want to make it a date, just a possible hook up later if we meet at the same place. A player! Lots of fun but not for the long haul.
Same purse good condition but messy - Busy, but ready for a relationship. Takes on too much and is looking for someone to sweep her off her feet. Will respond well to romantic gestures no matter how small or cheesy.
Same purse like new and completely organized - Neat freak, coupon queen, will drive you insane with her demands and expectations. Don't look for this relationship to last if you are not responsible.
Of course like men purses come in all shapes, sizes, colors and condition which makes the quest all the more challenging. You can luck out and find a good purse at good will that just needs to be dry cleaned. That purse can save you time and time again if you appreciate it. Good luck ladies! Men if you are married to one of the above, dump out that crap! Brace yourself for the shitstorm to follow and help her clarify her needs and wants. You will both come out smelling like a rose in the end.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Pantophobia
Do you have Pantophobia?
From the very first time I heard that word on Charlie Brown Christmas and deeply identified with Mr. Brown, I knew I had Pantophobia. It is an almost crippling feeling to live in constant fear. Fear of what you ask? Fear of everything. Constantly weighing every decision and every outcome of every decision. Did I say the right thing, wear the right thing, have the right things? Should I be quiet? Should I tell the truth? What will happen now? You lose sleep, you feel responsible for everything and everyone, you feel like crawling into bed and never coming out. You know it is irrational, but still you are afraid. Panic attacks, suddenly forgetting where you are going, physical pain when you are late or too early and getting very upset and frustrated at the smallest inconvenience. My entire life has been shrouded with fear. I have spent great quantities of time trying to figure out where this fear originated and moving past my more irrational fears. I have read books on fear and thinking too much. I wouldn't say I have OCD, but at times I have had to go back and lock the front door to my house more than once. I would say at certain times in my life when I have been stressed to the max, the fear has controlled my behavior. I simply try to push through the fear when possible.
Over the years I have tried different coping mechanisms to deal with the fear. One of the best is humor. If I can laugh at my irrational fear, then I can usually get past it. I used to truly believe I was not worthy of love. Deeply damaged as a child, I believed I had to be perfect in order for my own parents to love me let alone anyone else. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect hair, perfect skin, and many other traits like organized, leader, role model, Christian, etc to deserve love. Being perfect is stressful hard work especially when you are constantly afraid that everyone is going to discover your secret. By the age of 18 I was clinically depressed, suicidal and sexually active for all the wrong reasons. By the age of 25 I was a borderline alcoholic, depressed, and looking for anyone to make me happy. By the age of 34 I was in a horrible fake marriage with two little babies, depressed and looking for a way out. Now at 40, divorced, happy and two wonderful children later I can recognize that fear is the hardest thing to push through. I felt I was in danger at times in my childhood. I felt I had little control over my personal safety and no voice. I have come to realize as an adult my childhood was not horrible, but it was dysfunctional and my family is still not a safe place. I deal with it on a more mature level, but it is still contributing to my fears.
Where does this fear come from? I can remember being afraid as a small child, unable to trust, quiet, wanting to spend hours dissolving in front of the television but afraid of what? It isn't something I can say, "That's IT!" I don't spend hours worrying about a spider crawling up my leg or if I locked the door. It is just a cold horrible feeling that something is wrong. Something is going to go wrong. My life is wrong, my children are going to suffer and it is all my fault. But I don't know why I feel afraid and I don't know what exactly I'm afraid of. I am less afraid now than I have ever been in my life, but it is still there lurking. It is different from regret. I regret some things like being horridly in debt and not facing responsibilities as well as I should have financially, but I also learned a great deal from those experiences. I wouldn't change becoming a mom for any amount of money in the universe. I finished college and have a good job. I wouldn't say I had regrets, because I have learned from my mistakes. I would say that I'm afraid at least a few times during the day for no particular reason and it is bad enough to make me feel sick and I don't understand why.
Pantophobia. Lucy said the cure is involvement, but I think her advice is pretty much worth as much as she charged. I don't think there is a cure, but that I just keep working through it and try to recognize it. If I recognize my fear and can't put a name to it, then I know it is not real. Unfortunately knowing and not feeling it are two very different things. To my fellow Pantophobes, you are not alone in your fear. I will not allow my fear to take over my life. Courage is being afraid, but doing what needs to be done anyway. I always tell myself, "I will do this today and if I am still afraid, then I can crawl into bed tomorrow."
Last Saturday I watched Charlie Brown Christmas with my two boys and I neither one of them seemed to identify with any of the characters except Snoopy. My greatest fear is that I pass on this disgusting fear to my children. I don't want them to feel afraid and I go to incredible lengths to make sure the environment they live in is safe. I also tell them when they are afraid that it is normal, but letting fear control your life is not. Fear is only what you allow it to be. Whether it is a speed bump or a mountain is your choice, which would you rather climb? I was always more of a mountain person, but they seem to enjoy driving cars.
From the very first time I heard that word on Charlie Brown Christmas and deeply identified with Mr. Brown, I knew I had Pantophobia. It is an almost crippling feeling to live in constant fear. Fear of what you ask? Fear of everything. Constantly weighing every decision and every outcome of every decision. Did I say the right thing, wear the right thing, have the right things? Should I be quiet? Should I tell the truth? What will happen now? You lose sleep, you feel responsible for everything and everyone, you feel like crawling into bed and never coming out. You know it is irrational, but still you are afraid. Panic attacks, suddenly forgetting where you are going, physical pain when you are late or too early and getting very upset and frustrated at the smallest inconvenience. My entire life has been shrouded with fear. I have spent great quantities of time trying to figure out where this fear originated and moving past my more irrational fears. I have read books on fear and thinking too much. I wouldn't say I have OCD, but at times I have had to go back and lock the front door to my house more than once. I would say at certain times in my life when I have been stressed to the max, the fear has controlled my behavior. I simply try to push through the fear when possible.
Over the years I have tried different coping mechanisms to deal with the fear. One of the best is humor. If I can laugh at my irrational fear, then I can usually get past it. I used to truly believe I was not worthy of love. Deeply damaged as a child, I believed I had to be perfect in order for my own parents to love me let alone anyone else. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect hair, perfect skin, and many other traits like organized, leader, role model, Christian, etc to deserve love. Being perfect is stressful hard work especially when you are constantly afraid that everyone is going to discover your secret. By the age of 18 I was clinically depressed, suicidal and sexually active for all the wrong reasons. By the age of 25 I was a borderline alcoholic, depressed, and looking for anyone to make me happy. By the age of 34 I was in a horrible fake marriage with two little babies, depressed and looking for a way out. Now at 40, divorced, happy and two wonderful children later I can recognize that fear is the hardest thing to push through. I felt I was in danger at times in my childhood. I felt I had little control over my personal safety and no voice. I have come to realize as an adult my childhood was not horrible, but it was dysfunctional and my family is still not a safe place. I deal with it on a more mature level, but it is still contributing to my fears.
Where does this fear come from? I can remember being afraid as a small child, unable to trust, quiet, wanting to spend hours dissolving in front of the television but afraid of what? It isn't something I can say, "That's IT!" I don't spend hours worrying about a spider crawling up my leg or if I locked the door. It is just a cold horrible feeling that something is wrong. Something is going to go wrong. My life is wrong, my children are going to suffer and it is all my fault. But I don't know why I feel afraid and I don't know what exactly I'm afraid of. I am less afraid now than I have ever been in my life, but it is still there lurking. It is different from regret. I regret some things like being horridly in debt and not facing responsibilities as well as I should have financially, but I also learned a great deal from those experiences. I wouldn't change becoming a mom for any amount of money in the universe. I finished college and have a good job. I wouldn't say I had regrets, because I have learned from my mistakes. I would say that I'm afraid at least a few times during the day for no particular reason and it is bad enough to make me feel sick and I don't understand why.
Pantophobia. Lucy said the cure is involvement, but I think her advice is pretty much worth as much as she charged. I don't think there is a cure, but that I just keep working through it and try to recognize it. If I recognize my fear and can't put a name to it, then I know it is not real. Unfortunately knowing and not feeling it are two very different things. To my fellow Pantophobes, you are not alone in your fear. I will not allow my fear to take over my life. Courage is being afraid, but doing what needs to be done anyway. I always tell myself, "I will do this today and if I am still afraid, then I can crawl into bed tomorrow."
Last Saturday I watched Charlie Brown Christmas with my two boys and I neither one of them seemed to identify with any of the characters except Snoopy. My greatest fear is that I pass on this disgusting fear to my children. I don't want them to feel afraid and I go to incredible lengths to make sure the environment they live in is safe. I also tell them when they are afraid that it is normal, but letting fear control your life is not. Fear is only what you allow it to be. Whether it is a speed bump or a mountain is your choice, which would you rather climb? I was always more of a mountain person, but they seem to enjoy driving cars.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
I Don't Hate All Your Boyfriends.
I tried to move some of my holiday decorations out of the storage closet in my mother's house before Thanksgiving and also clear the air a little between us and our on-going debate over why she is always mean to my boyfriends. My argument is this, if you invite someone over to your home, be nice. Don't look at them like they just crapped on your floor, don't analyze every word out of their mouth, and do not under any circumstance make them feel like they shouldn't be there! After a lengthy conversation, my mother and I decided I would tell her when she was "doing it" at Thanksgiving and she would think about what had just happened and we would discuss it later. I have zero confidence that this will happen, but I'm honestly at a loss as to how to make it stop. She has pretty much done this with all the men I've had in my life. No man is ever good enough for me. While that is so sweet in a mommy dearest kind of way, it doesn't help me in my relationships and it is not true. My friends male or female have every right to accompany me if they are invited and I really hate that my mother can be so rude and insane. I truly think she is unaware of her behavior, but it does make it awkward for me. If I had treated her company like she has treated some of mine, she would have thrown me out on my butt! She thinks I am the same way with her friends. Friends that are alcoholics and are too drunk to notice if I'm even there. Even those friends I have been cordial too. She, on the other hand, has made my boyfriends feel like never coming back on several occasions.
One incident occurred on 4th of July and she did acknowledge that she knew she had hurt his feelings, but didn't do it intentionally. She was relating a conversation that she had with my youngest son. Evidently the teacher had asked him if the boyfriend was his father and my son had said, "No, that is just Jason." While we are not married, we have discussed it and because of financial and other things have decided to decide that issue another time, but he lives with us. This is another point of contention with my mother. Not that she believes living together before marriage is wrong, just that she doesn't want any man living with me and my children. Her conscious decision to relate that story in front of him was rude. He absolutely wants to be their step-dad. He is trying very hard to fit in as a step-parent and it is not easy! He questions what he does constantly and read books about being a step-parent. For her to say that my son told her he was "just Jason" was very hurtful and she even admitted that she saw his expression and knew she had hurt his feelings. I asked her why she didn't say something and she gave me a chicken-shit answer that she really didn't think it was that big of a deal. Honestly, it wasn't but when something like this happens every time you visit it turns into a big deal. She constantly makes him feel his is easily replaced and not a part of our family.
Another incident happened while I was still living at my mother's house. I met my current boyfriend, Jason, at that time and moved in with him after moving from her house. I would never have been able to get back on my feel as quickly without his help. He was also divorced and living with his parents to save money while getting his masters. There was over a 45 minute drive between us and he would stay over when the kids were at their dads. This made her upset, but it made her even more upset when he stayed over one evening when the kids were there. Both kids were asleep on a different floor, they didn't know he was there and never mentioned anything to me about him being there. This was almost six months after we had started dating and were going to move in together. My mother game me an ultimatum, I was 38 years old at the time, that I would not have any men over past nine on the nights the boys were there or I could move out. I told her fine. The very next night her friends one female and one male that she had slept with were in the garage, drinking and watching movies until 12 am. I know because I was trying to sleep and so were my kids and could not because they were drunk and having a great time. To this day she says she was justified with her ultimatum because I wasn't paying her half the expenses. I was divorced, raising two kids, getting 162.00 a month in child support, paying an attorney, working a minimum wage job when she begged me to co-sign on a 152,000.00 home with a pool she couldn't afford. I refused until she had a nervous breakdown and I finally agreed knowing it was a huge mistake. Needless to say she kicked me out of the house because she did not want my boyfriend over there. She claims she was so worried about the children, but denies any of her behavior was wrong. So, to say he is a little uncomfortable with my mother would be an understatement. He is always polite and respectful to her, all I was asking was for her to return the favor. I even explained to her the reason why he had slept over and that it was my fault. She claims she talked to him and explained to him that she couldn't afford for him to take a shower and live there unless he was paying rent. Let me just tell you that I moved out because her house was a party house and my ex-husband threatened to take my kids away if I stayed there any longer. She has and never will admit that she was a bad influence on them as much or more than I while living there. It was a hard time for both of us being newly divorced. I resolved to disagree with her on this incident, but I don't and never will agree that because I didn't pay her enough rent money (which by the way I paid her by buying groceries that all her friends were welcome to, free hair and nail services, all my pictures, home decor, furniture, appliances, clothes, shoes, cleaning, etc. that I get no credit for although she still has them all) to live there. It was a bad situation and I have moved out and moved on, but she still holds it against my boyfriend when he was possibly the least to blame and more concerned about the children that she will ever know.
I don't really understand how to get her to see my side of the equation. Let's say she hates my boyfriend. I don't really care and it isn't any of her business. I'm 40 years old and I get to run my life. If she ever found anyone she wanted to have a relationship with, trust me if they made her happy, I would be happy. I have told her repeatedly, I don't care what you think of him, but I don't want to be uncomfortable when I bring him around and if I am.... guess what? I'm going to stop coming around. She has said all my life she just wants me to be happy. How can I be happy when every time I am happy, I can't share it with my family. It isn't just my mom either, my sister is down right nasty to anybody that tries to join the family. Anything he says or does she automatically hates. Why do they have so little confidence in my ability to stand up for myself and tell men what is acceptable to me that they feel they have to defend me. I know most of you think this is what families do, but is that true? Do your siblings after three years ask you if HE is coming? He has a name and yes, he is part of my family. My sister's husband is a loving man, but not who I would have picked. I have nothing in common with him, but I can see the love he has for her and their children. He used to be addicted to cocaine, used to be jobless and homeless, and has health issues because of his hard life. I have never judged him or made him feel like a freak when he talks about hunting or fishing. I have been supportive of him when they were having rough times and she was going through post pardum depression. I don't understand how she can look at him like he just slapped me across the face every time we walk into the house. My brother has been the nicest to him of all, but he isn't around that much and has nothing in common with my boyfriend. He at least is nice though.
The only justification I can muster in a defense to my family is they don't realize they are doing it. They have always done it. Our family is dysfunctional and cold when it comes to outsiders. We don't trust easily and we are quick to exclude out of fear. We aren't touchy feely and we don't hug. Sometimes we don't even talk for weeks at a time. I know this is how we have always been, but I have been working so hard to be open and honest with people that it is easier for me to take my boyfriend to my friends houses than to my own family functions. It makes me dread the holidays. It makes me want to send the kids and stay home. I know I can't do that so I hope my family is serious that they will listen if I say, "you're doing it again." I hope they won't start a huge scene, but if they do I will handle it calmly and maturely. I will tell them their behavior is unacceptable to me and we will leave. I'm tired of having to divide up my life into what other people will accept and if you can't accept my choice of who I am in a relationship with then you can't accept me.
I'm 40 years old and I'm tired of changing who I am to fit in with my family. I'm not what they expect me to be, but I know they love me. I don't expect them to love the people I love, but they can be nice to them. So, as I go to yet another holiday like a sacrificial lamb to slaughter, I am hopeful they will see my happiness and celebrate it. If they choose to wallow in the jealous pit and spread the hate, next year it will be without us.
Happy Thanksgiving
One incident occurred on 4th of July and she did acknowledge that she knew she had hurt his feelings, but didn't do it intentionally. She was relating a conversation that she had with my youngest son. Evidently the teacher had asked him if the boyfriend was his father and my son had said, "No, that is just Jason." While we are not married, we have discussed it and because of financial and other things have decided to decide that issue another time, but he lives with us. This is another point of contention with my mother. Not that she believes living together before marriage is wrong, just that she doesn't want any man living with me and my children. Her conscious decision to relate that story in front of him was rude. He absolutely wants to be their step-dad. He is trying very hard to fit in as a step-parent and it is not easy! He questions what he does constantly and read books about being a step-parent. For her to say that my son told her he was "just Jason" was very hurtful and she even admitted that she saw his expression and knew she had hurt his feelings. I asked her why she didn't say something and she gave me a chicken-shit answer that she really didn't think it was that big of a deal. Honestly, it wasn't but when something like this happens every time you visit it turns into a big deal. She constantly makes him feel his is easily replaced and not a part of our family.
Another incident happened while I was still living at my mother's house. I met my current boyfriend, Jason, at that time and moved in with him after moving from her house. I would never have been able to get back on my feel as quickly without his help. He was also divorced and living with his parents to save money while getting his masters. There was over a 45 minute drive between us and he would stay over when the kids were at their dads. This made her upset, but it made her even more upset when he stayed over one evening when the kids were there. Both kids were asleep on a different floor, they didn't know he was there and never mentioned anything to me about him being there. This was almost six months after we had started dating and were going to move in together. My mother game me an ultimatum, I was 38 years old at the time, that I would not have any men over past nine on the nights the boys were there or I could move out. I told her fine. The very next night her friends one female and one male that she had slept with were in the garage, drinking and watching movies until 12 am. I know because I was trying to sleep and so were my kids and could not because they were drunk and having a great time. To this day she says she was justified with her ultimatum because I wasn't paying her half the expenses. I was divorced, raising two kids, getting 162.00 a month in child support, paying an attorney, working a minimum wage job when she begged me to co-sign on a 152,000.00 home with a pool she couldn't afford. I refused until she had a nervous breakdown and I finally agreed knowing it was a huge mistake. Needless to say she kicked me out of the house because she did not want my boyfriend over there. She claims she was so worried about the children, but denies any of her behavior was wrong. So, to say he is a little uncomfortable with my mother would be an understatement. He is always polite and respectful to her, all I was asking was for her to return the favor. I even explained to her the reason why he had slept over and that it was my fault. She claims she talked to him and explained to him that she couldn't afford for him to take a shower and live there unless he was paying rent. Let me just tell you that I moved out because her house was a party house and my ex-husband threatened to take my kids away if I stayed there any longer. She has and never will admit that she was a bad influence on them as much or more than I while living there. It was a hard time for both of us being newly divorced. I resolved to disagree with her on this incident, but I don't and never will agree that because I didn't pay her enough rent money (which by the way I paid her by buying groceries that all her friends were welcome to, free hair and nail services, all my pictures, home decor, furniture, appliances, clothes, shoes, cleaning, etc. that I get no credit for although she still has them all) to live there. It was a bad situation and I have moved out and moved on, but she still holds it against my boyfriend when he was possibly the least to blame and more concerned about the children that she will ever know.
I don't really understand how to get her to see my side of the equation. Let's say she hates my boyfriend. I don't really care and it isn't any of her business. I'm 40 years old and I get to run my life. If she ever found anyone she wanted to have a relationship with, trust me if they made her happy, I would be happy. I have told her repeatedly, I don't care what you think of him, but I don't want to be uncomfortable when I bring him around and if I am.... guess what? I'm going to stop coming around. She has said all my life she just wants me to be happy. How can I be happy when every time I am happy, I can't share it with my family. It isn't just my mom either, my sister is down right nasty to anybody that tries to join the family. Anything he says or does she automatically hates. Why do they have so little confidence in my ability to stand up for myself and tell men what is acceptable to me that they feel they have to defend me. I know most of you think this is what families do, but is that true? Do your siblings after three years ask you if HE is coming? He has a name and yes, he is part of my family. My sister's husband is a loving man, but not who I would have picked. I have nothing in common with him, but I can see the love he has for her and their children. He used to be addicted to cocaine, used to be jobless and homeless, and has health issues because of his hard life. I have never judged him or made him feel like a freak when he talks about hunting or fishing. I have been supportive of him when they were having rough times and she was going through post pardum depression. I don't understand how she can look at him like he just slapped me across the face every time we walk into the house. My brother has been the nicest to him of all, but he isn't around that much and has nothing in common with my boyfriend. He at least is nice though.
The only justification I can muster in a defense to my family is they don't realize they are doing it. They have always done it. Our family is dysfunctional and cold when it comes to outsiders. We don't trust easily and we are quick to exclude out of fear. We aren't touchy feely and we don't hug. Sometimes we don't even talk for weeks at a time. I know this is how we have always been, but I have been working so hard to be open and honest with people that it is easier for me to take my boyfriend to my friends houses than to my own family functions. It makes me dread the holidays. It makes me want to send the kids and stay home. I know I can't do that so I hope my family is serious that they will listen if I say, "you're doing it again." I hope they won't start a huge scene, but if they do I will handle it calmly and maturely. I will tell them their behavior is unacceptable to me and we will leave. I'm tired of having to divide up my life into what other people will accept and if you can't accept my choice of who I am in a relationship with then you can't accept me.
I'm 40 years old and I'm tired of changing who I am to fit in with my family. I'm not what they expect me to be, but I know they love me. I don't expect them to love the people I love, but they can be nice to them. So, as I go to yet another holiday like a sacrificial lamb to slaughter, I am hopeful they will see my happiness and celebrate it. If they choose to wallow in the jealous pit and spread the hate, next year it will be without us.
Happy Thanksgiving
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