The bitter ramblings of a soon to be divorced mom

It's uncomfortable.   For you, for me, for everyone.   No one LIKES divorce.  Sometimes it happens.   Sometimes you realize this was something that no amount of marital counseling was going to fix.   Sometimes it does.   I am happy for those that can work through it.   Sometimes it makes you come to a realization that, "I am not going to be any happier with this person 1 year down the road or 5 years down the road.   This was a mistake.   Sometimes it is a sad reality.   Sometimes, your friend, whose husband or wife you may like, get divorced.

You may be that friend that is "caught in the middle."   You may be that friend that hears the stories of one side or the other, perhaps either whom you were friends with first or whom you aligned yourself with.   Either or, it puts the outsiders of divorce in the middle.   Granted, the children of divorce have it bad, but so do the friends.

I have some great friends.   You know why they are great?   They can stand back and give me an objective of "my side of the story" and possibly (and annoyingly) give me a "look at it from this perspective" of how I relate a story to them.  Of course I like to hear, "Wow, what an ass."   Sometimes I need to hear a non-objective opinion as well.

I'm not a person who will blow smoke up your bottom.   Sometimes, when relating a story from their marriage woes, I give a possible perspective they may not want to hear or see.   I don't always side with the wife (usually my friend-sometimes the guy is my friend) point of view.  I appreciate when they say to me, with all honesty, "Look at it like this."   At the moment, I may not want to hear what may be another perspective, but a day or so later, I can appreciate it.   Which is why I sometimes take a while to reply to what I feel is an email or text message sent just to annoy me.   Sometimes the annoying person doesn't realize they're annoying you, on purpose.  

One thing I can appreciate, and do, is the unwavering, honest, sometimes too honest, support of my friends.  So if you are "in the middle" just know this.   Your friendship to me, has, will, and will always mean much more to me than this trivial moment in my life.   Don't stop being my friend.

Understand sometimes I may say something that, in the heat of the moment, may make you feel uncomfortable or you may not see it as I see it.   I get that.   I see it the same way when you're talking to me (men and women friends) about something about your spouse that is upsetting you.   But I appreciate you standing up and saying, "You know what?   I know you both.   I am not choosing a side.   I don't have a dog in this fight."   Sometimes, loyalty to friends, both sides in a divorce, says so much more about who you are as a friend, than choosing a side.  

But those that had a dog in the fight...I am thankful you stuck by me versus dropping me.   That says something as well.

I'm back!

Not sure if that's good news to you or not.  I've been reading over my past posts and may I say with all honesty...dang I'm a lazy fat girl.

I originally started this to help myself lose weight.   Apparently I haven't done a great job at that because I'm still at the same weight I was several years ago!   Cheers for maintaining!   There's an eating disorder joke in there but that is between me and one other person.  

Sooo...why am I still fat?  Well, for one, I don't like to exercise.  I've discovered that sweating is gross.  There shall be no more non-summer sweating for me because now I'm stuck doing the yard work every 7...HA, 12 days (because I AM LAZY.  And fat.  And white...really, really white.  And from the north.  I can't take this stupid Texas summer heat.)   However, I was and am quite proud of myself for doing my own yard work.  Mowing isn't bad.   Weed eating isn't bad (once I learned that the stupid thing has a  "bump" feature that releases more line and I don't have to stop every 5 minutes to take the bottom off, pull out line, put the lid back on and repeat every 5 minutes.)  and I like hedge trimming.  Makes me feel like a really bad Edward Scissorhands.   Pretty sure I should never go to beauty school.  

It's bagging all that crap up that sucks.   Do you know how heavy dirt you sneak into your lawn waste bags can be?   Pretty heavy.  I hope the guys who have to pick it up on bulk trash or whatever day they pick up on, do not figure out I've got about 30 pounds of dirt in that one bag, hidden by 1 pound of leaves and twigs.   Meanwhile, the other bag is about 5 pounds.  I didn't think that one out...dividing the dirt between two bags.   Shut it.   I never said I was a sneaky lawn bag cheating genius.

Back to me and being fat still after all these years.   Stomach reduction surgery is sounding better and better but I still think I'm cheating myself some sort of self satisfaction if I lose weight that way.  I didn't do it.  I didn't accomplish it.  Nothing against people who do it.  Why, I have good friends that have done it.    I may even invite them over for dinner one day.    Ice cubes and a few leafs of lettuce.   Oh, won't we be full!   For dessert, a sugar packet!   I kid, I kid.  Bitter, Table for 1!

I need someone to make me do some sort of exercise.   I need my own Jillian Michaels.   Who wants to volunteer?   I need to get some fit people who like to yell at fatties.   Come make me move!!    

I think I have just the person for the job!

Another time, another story.

My story about my first stepfather is a short one.   That’s what happens when you have a short marriage, I suppose?   Very little memories.

Sometime in 1977, my mother was married to a man named David.  I don’t remember a whole lot about David.  I remember she met him at an old, run down church that my grandparents were helping restore as a place for recovering drug addicts and alcoholics.  Note to self:  What you don’t want to do is bring your co-dependant, single, daughter with 2 children to a church function and be around addicts.  It’s a guarantee she’ll find love there.  

I don’t remember him ever being mean to me.  I remember him picking up my puppy, opening the apartment door and tossing the puppy out into the hallway, it’s cries of pain as it hit the wall.  I remember sitting out in the hallway with that poor puppy.   It didn’t ask to be born to be treated like that.   Just bad luck of the draw.   I’ll bet that puppy’s mother didn’t think it would ever be treated like that.  I’ll bet my mother’s mother didn’t think her daughter would be treated like that, either.  Line ‘em up, though, because my mother picked herself a litter of losers. 

Not long after, we moved into a drab, crappy, rental house, my mother was pregnant and had twin daughters.   Soon after they were born, people were packing up all our stuff in cars and trucks.  It was pretty rushed.  I didn’t know what was going on but apparently, we were moving.   I remember big snow flakes while they packed our belongings up.  This seems to be how changes like this were made in my life.   Look kids!  Mommy brought you home a new Dad!  Time to move.  Only this time, she was leaving David.  I’m guessing this one wasn’t the soul mate God had intended for her., either?  Funny how God works like that.   Imagine that, God did NOT send you a soul mate who is a drug abuser and alcoholic.  Say what?!  Turns out God did send her her third husband.  At least that is what she wrote in a letter to my sisters when they were 12.  God makes a perfect soul mate for everyone and she found hers.   Never mind he beat her non-stop, (while I lived with them) and abused her kids, mentally, physically and emotionally.  I could so not be friends with my mom if we weren’t mother/daughter.   Well…I can’t be friends with her even though we are mother/daughter.  But that’s another story. 

What have these relationships my mother had, done to me?   What about my relationship with my dad?  What kind of person was he and how did it shape me?  How has all this affected me (and my siblings), emotionally?   I’m no therapist, so I don’t know what my diagnosis would be.   However, I’m narcissistic enough to want to know what MY therapist thinks about me!   Maybe she’d just label me as curious, though.   Yes, curious, I like that label much better.  Nosy?   That suits me better.

I often feel like I don’t believe in myself enough.   I’ve had people tell me I should write more.  I like to write, but then I’m out there, sharing way too much information with people while I’m telling this story.  You’re not reading about me, you’re reading about this person who is telling this story.  MY life is perfect!  Not so much. 

But that’s another story, for another time.  It’s just not time to share that story.   Yet.  That story takes courage and I'm not there yet. 

That's A Good Girl.

“I literally rolled myself up in my blanket, like a burrito.  I knew he was going to try something and listening to that little voice inside me saved me from something worse than I probably would or could imagine.  You were at work that night and I just knew…I knew he would try something that night.  He’d been drinking.   Not that that was any different from any other time, but I just knew that night, he’d try to touch me.” 

“I think I remember that night.” 

“No, you were at work.”

“No, no I remember…I was sitting in the living room, listening, to see if he was going to do something.”

“No, you were at work.  He did try something.  He couldn’t do anything because I had the blankets wrapped all around me.”

That was a conversation I had over 20 years ago that changed my life.  I only had that conversation with her because he had recently tried something with one of her other daughters.  That was literally the last time I’ve spoken to my mother, other than to be polite and say “Hi,” as I passed her at my younger sister’s wedding. 

I have no doubt in my mind that he would have sexually molested me or one of my sisters, as he had been sexually molested by his step-father and told me about it the summer I was 14, as we drove together on a 3 hour ride, from Mt. Pleasant, to my father’s in-laws house in one of the suburbs of Detroit.  He told me my mother didn’t know about it, that I was the only one he’d told.   I remember in my head thinking, “Weird.   Why are you telling me this?!”  I didn’t know what sexual molestation was.  I didn’t know what a pedophile was, I didn’t know what it was to be “groomed” for molestation.  I was as naïve and sheltered as they come.  But I do know what that gut feeling was and I didn’t want to discuss this with him. 

My mother admitted to me that she was home that night, sitting in the living room, listening to my step-father come into the room that I shared with my two younger sisters and try to molest me.  Could she really be that surprised?   It was only going to be a matter of time.  He was grooming us. 

I haven’t spoken to her since, my daughters don’t have a clue as to who the woman is.   She doesn’t exist in my house.  I guess the years of his constant beatings were enough to keep her in her place than to stand up to him once and for all and protect her young daughters and son.  The woman had finally learned her place.  Not only could she not stand up for herself, but she wouldn’t protect her own children.  

That’s a good girl. 

National Novel Writing Month

I'm going to attempt it.   What the heck do I have to lose, besides my dignity?   Please follow along and feel free to give me any constructive criticism you have to offer! 

I just may acknowledge you when I'm sitting on a couch, next to Oprah. 

Wait...

In case you're interested, www.NaNoWriMo.org   THANKS, ALI, FOR YOUR SUPPORT!

Everything I Ever Needed To Know-I Learned From Oprah

I've been going through a bit of self discovery lately.  Please don't confuse that with "self ""discovery"""  Those are supposed to be LOTS of air quotes, if you catch my drift.

For some reason, last week, I just happened to be watching the television, and Oprah came on, while I was laying on the couch during one of my little pity parties of self imposed depression moments.  Or as I like to say, "I'm not depressed!  I'm in a little funk!"  But crying about things you can't stop thinking about when you're not anywhere near your period cannot yet be attributed to pre-menopause.  Crying on the couch at 3:35 a.m. is not normal.  Nor can just wanting to block out the world and sleep and sleep some more.  When you watch the commercial for depression medication and they mention a sign of depression is lots of sleeping and you argue back with the tv that they don't know what they're talking about, that you think that woman looks pretty ok, you just might be in "a little funk." 

It was a replay of her very last show.  I figured I'd watch and see what she decided to do for her last show.  I don't want to admit Oprah just MIGHT know what she's talking about, but girl...Oprah know her poo!

I've been asking myself some questions for the past year and some of it in counseling, lots of it not.  I've felt lost.  I've felt false.  I've felt like not my genuine self and then even then, doubt who or what I believe my genuine self is or was.   Really a lot of too deep thinking for me and so I push it all down inside of me and save it for another day when I might feel like being introspective.

One of many things Oprah said to her audience hit a nerve with me.   And lucky for you, I'll share each thing with you of the several things that hit a nerve with me, but not all at once.

Topic 1:  What Sparks The Light In Me?  Where does my power lie?  Everybody has a calling.  Don't waste anymore time-use your life.  Start embracing the life that is calling you.  Use your light to serve the world.  (These are word for word from Oprah, y'all.  I wish I could take credit.)

When Oprah said that, I started to cry.  Why?  Because I really don't know.  I really, honest to God don't know.  And I sit here, trying not to cry, because all I can think is the light I have in me is humor.  How is that going to change the world?   It may be silly humor.  It may be dark humor.  It may be one too many drinks humor and it may be inappropriate humor, but that is how I make myself feel better and that is how I make others feel better.

I don't want to waste anymore time.  I'm so tired of feeling tired.  

Do you remember that Sunday school song, "This Little Light Of Mine?"  I haven't been genuine or true with my light in a very long time.  I'm gonna let it shine.   

Not sure how all of this is going to play out in real life.  I'm taking some steps to make sure I'm happier.  Weighing out some decisions, considering going back to college to see if I can find even more light in me that wants to shine brighter.

Bushel, get thee behind me!

I am not easily distract...oooh, a squirrel!

Bad me.  I'm supposed to take the advice of a lovely woman who just so happens to have the credentials to really give advice.  I like to write my thoughts down and I have a lot of them.  I just don't seem to have...well, honestly, I do have time for me to do the things that I know will be good for me.  I just don't do what I'm supposed to.  Such as....

Losing weight.  Well...we can all look back to, what?  2009 when I started this blog and my big attempt at Weight Watchers.  That took me all of 2? months to give up. 

The good news, I'm back.  Dang it, I am back.  To Weight Watchers.  To making more time for me to write here.   Possibly one day I'll find the 10 minutes it will take me to do a few exercises (have you TRIED a Kettle Ball video?  They're HARD!) 

One day I'll take the time to empty that sink full of dirty dishes.  Yes...yes, I'm far too busy doing other things like watching DVR'ed shows than to empty it and refill it again which would take maybe 20 minutes but I'm striking against wasting 20 minutes of my life, for right now, to deal with the dishes!

Have you ever let your hair grow out and then realize, "Gah...hair is HOT."  No wonder I always cut it short. My neck is all hot and sweaty....I need a pony tail holder!  My evil kids lose them.  Or they're all in my bathroom and to get to them, I have to go through the bedroom where my husband is sleeping so...wait...found one.  SQUIRREL!

I went to the dermatologist's office the other day to take a look at this little "growth" on my shoulder that itches. Made a mention of it on a website I visit that has a message board and someone posted one of the symptoms of melanoma is itching.   I made an appointment for the next day.  "Looks like seborrheic keratosis.  I can burn it off for you.  Insurance pays for it."   "Is that anything cancerous?" as I gaze at all his lovely posters all over the walls...  "No.  We can burn it, freeze it off, whichever you want."  That would be great, if I didn't have this outrageous medical health deductible which means I get to pay for everything before anything gets covered.  

I then went home and googled it.  Please don't google the images.  That is NOT what mine looks like.  Mine is really cute and has a very chic haircut and she's super fashionable...NOT like the pictures on Google.  I SWEAR. 

Just know that the wikipedia description made me really sad.  I really am not in my 20's anymore.  Here's the description:  A seborrheic keratosis (also known as "Seborrheic verruca," and "Senile wart^{" (really...is that name NECESSARY?)} is a noncancerous benign skin growth that originates in keratinocytes. Like liver spots, seborrheic keratoses are seen more often as people age.  In fact they are sometimes humorously referred to as the "barnacles of old age".

I am going to start a petition to shut down Wikipedia.  That's just rude.