Gah! (sigh)
Ebb and flow from contentedness to unsettled, and other than realizing there has been an abundance of conflicting emotions in my life as of late, I am not so fond of these less than happy moments. There are just those times when I need to get out and be with people, but it just doesn't seem to be in the cards. I suppose I should be grateful for the additional time for reflection and rest. I'm not.
I like my life, and I enjoy being single. Especially when I consider I could still be unhappily wed to a narcissist, who excelled in belittling, emotional terrorism, and manipulative warfare. Sometimes though, like nights when I'd like to get out and be with friends, but it doesn't happen, I get a little bummed out.
Maybe it's the feeling that I'm missing out on some opportunity that won't come again (I mean, I am 42 afterall), or it's just that air of loneliness hanging around. Either way, these are the nights when being single with teenage kids isn't all I need. It'd be great to curl up on the couch watching pre-season football with someone who appreciates my tourettes like affliction, unlike my sons. Ok, so maybe using the term 'curl up' isn't exactly right...it's more like someone willing to sit precariously within range of my arms and legs, being amused or at least un-phased by my exaggerated hoots, hollers, and full-body cheering.
I don't know, maybe listening to Jonny Lang earlier wasn't the best idea. I mean, I love his music, but that bluesy sound evokes a mellow mood that I'm not always able to slip into and maintain a happy groove. Shit, the worst part of this pity party my inner brat seems to be throwing us tonight, is that I'm exhausted and couldn't possibly have a good time if I were out and about with people. Isn't that just the way?
Eh, I guess I just need to chalk it up to fatigue and call it a day. It's not like I'm alone; I got the kitty cat and the 15 yr-old. I could have hung out for wine with a neighbor and her friends, but knowing how tired I really am, I passed. So what if I feel perpetually single at the moment...I know it's just warped perception. And honestly, being unattached is so much better than being in hell with someone I can't stand or who drains the life out of me.
I've got a lot of stuff to do in the next few months, a guy just isn't going to fit in right now. Even nights out with friends are going to be sporadic for a bit, better get comfy with this reality. Career and life focused...the rest will come along eventually.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Single-mother-parenthood
I adore my children. My sons are amazing and in any lifetime, under any circumstances, I would be lucky to have them. I may receive a bulk of the credit for how they have grown, but it's a bittersweet accolade.
In a surprisingly candid and honest conversation with a friend this evening, I let loose the horrible downside to raising children alone. Having children with someone and then not being with them forever, is completely awful. Maybe not the whole two-person relationship aspect, but the hey-how-awesome-are-these-kids-we-created aspect.
When I was pregnant and carrying each of my boys, it never occurred to me that I might celebrate all the amazing milestones in their lives, and subsequently resent doing it by myself. Don't get me wrong, I would never trade a second of the joy each of them has brought to my life, but in any instance I never imagined doing all of it alone.
The day I found out my oldest found my sex toy stash and had show-and-tell with his friends, I had to face both the embarrassment and the subsequent punishment by myself. There was no one to stand beside me and help steer and redirect; no one to reassure or embrace me in an act of comfort to dull the horrifying feeling of both alarming my child and realizing others' children were equally creeped out. Alone with the entirety of it all.
My oldest son graduated high school, my youngest started a completely different kind of high school; they both are growing facial hair and have left the house in a vehicle without me - leaving me completely terrified until they returned. They have been sick, disappointed me and fallen asleep under the Christmas tree, providing the most amazing photo op and 'awww' moment as a parent. I have been given dirty looks, stubborn groans, and the biggest hugs out of nowhere. And all of this I do alone. I cannot call their father and commiserate or celebrate; I cannot beam with joy and communicate the immense feeling of pride with just a look or a touch.
The sleepless nights over bad attitudes and choices, the nervousness of driver's ed and bad grades, the frustration of growing pains and watching your children hurt from life experience. There is no part of raising my sons that does not have the shadow of regret and what-could-have-been. I push through and focus on the incredible experience of seeing my children morph into adults, but the empty/missing feeling is always lurking there.
As I told my friend, just wanting to have a child isn't enough. You cannot haphazardly choose a partner to procreate with; not when that person may not stand beside you through the years to come. To be separated from your children, divided in households, and suddenly raising your child part or full-time on your own is not what any parent dreams of when they bring a son or daughter into the world. No one really ever sits around thinking 'yeah, I want to totally be a one parent, kid raising machine with no support and no one to truly appreciate what only a parent of this child could'.
I never imagined filing through relationships, post-divorce, unable to find someone who would both love my sons and want to be the kind of role model they need. While my intentions have never been to replace my boys' father, the desire to both have a loving, understanding and capable companion who also inspires and bonds with my sons never leaves that hopeful part of me. I am far from desperate for a man in my life; I love my independence and ability to be happy without that kind of fulfillment. It's just that I wanted more as a mother, I wanted more for my sons and my life.
To all the other single parents out there, I get it, I know. The tears, the screams, the sad moments, the emptiness of no reflection of joy and pride from the other half that helped create the wonder that is your child...it's overwhelming and unavoidable. I wish that you could find a soul that completes, or at the very least gives new, more incredible meaning to the role of being a parent. And I wish I could reason with any potential parents to make certain they intend to be the team every child deserves and every parent should be able to lean on in raising children.
There are more emotions and thoughts that range from glorious to excruciating associated with being a single parent, but I might be writing for days. Before you think of bringing a bouncing baby girl or boy into the world, consider the implications of one day being alone and having no one to lean on, go to, or rely on when you need a break, need insight, or have no idea what way to go next. The lives that we bring into this world are fragile; impressionable beyond our often limited consideration. Just wanting to be a parent and have that child to pass on the family name and give you purpose aren't enough; a child deserves the things you might not ever possibly consider when you think of the giddiest parts of what a child might mean.
Parenthood is the most unexpected, difficult, amazing, inspiring, devastating, and rewarding experiences of my lifetime. I wouldn't trade it for anything. That doesn't mean this is how I wanted things to play out...that I wanted to be left to do it alone. I would so loved to have remained a coupled, parenting team, raising my sons in love and dual support into their later years of life. The reality is that I am alone, I have done a good job, my sons aren't lacking in any telltale ways, and they make my life all that it is despite not turning out the way I had once hoped it might.
I do love my life, no matter what hopes never came to be.
In a surprisingly candid and honest conversation with a friend this evening, I let loose the horrible downside to raising children alone. Having children with someone and then not being with them forever, is completely awful. Maybe not the whole two-person relationship aspect, but the hey-how-awesome-are-these-kids-we-created aspect.
When I was pregnant and carrying each of my boys, it never occurred to me that I might celebrate all the amazing milestones in their lives, and subsequently resent doing it by myself. Don't get me wrong, I would never trade a second of the joy each of them has brought to my life, but in any instance I never imagined doing all of it alone.
The day I found out my oldest found my sex toy stash and had show-and-tell with his friends, I had to face both the embarrassment and the subsequent punishment by myself. There was no one to stand beside me and help steer and redirect; no one to reassure or embrace me in an act of comfort to dull the horrifying feeling of both alarming my child and realizing others' children were equally creeped out. Alone with the entirety of it all.
My oldest son graduated high school, my youngest started a completely different kind of high school; they both are growing facial hair and have left the house in a vehicle without me - leaving me completely terrified until they returned. They have been sick, disappointed me and fallen asleep under the Christmas tree, providing the most amazing photo op and 'awww' moment as a parent. I have been given dirty looks, stubborn groans, and the biggest hugs out of nowhere. And all of this I do alone. I cannot call their father and commiserate or celebrate; I cannot beam with joy and communicate the immense feeling of pride with just a look or a touch.
The sleepless nights over bad attitudes and choices, the nervousness of driver's ed and bad grades, the frustration of growing pains and watching your children hurt from life experience. There is no part of raising my sons that does not have the shadow of regret and what-could-have-been. I push through and focus on the incredible experience of seeing my children morph into adults, but the empty/missing feeling is always lurking there.
As I told my friend, just wanting to have a child isn't enough. You cannot haphazardly choose a partner to procreate with; not when that person may not stand beside you through the years to come. To be separated from your children, divided in households, and suddenly raising your child part or full-time on your own is not what any parent dreams of when they bring a son or daughter into the world. No one really ever sits around thinking 'yeah, I want to totally be a one parent, kid raising machine with no support and no one to truly appreciate what only a parent of this child could'.
I never imagined filing through relationships, post-divorce, unable to find someone who would both love my sons and want to be the kind of role model they need. While my intentions have never been to replace my boys' father, the desire to both have a loving, understanding and capable companion who also inspires and bonds with my sons never leaves that hopeful part of me. I am far from desperate for a man in my life; I love my independence and ability to be happy without that kind of fulfillment. It's just that I wanted more as a mother, I wanted more for my sons and my life.
To all the other single parents out there, I get it, I know. The tears, the screams, the sad moments, the emptiness of no reflection of joy and pride from the other half that helped create the wonder that is your child...it's overwhelming and unavoidable. I wish that you could find a soul that completes, or at the very least gives new, more incredible meaning to the role of being a parent. And I wish I could reason with any potential parents to make certain they intend to be the team every child deserves and every parent should be able to lean on in raising children.
There are more emotions and thoughts that range from glorious to excruciating associated with being a single parent, but I might be writing for days. Before you think of bringing a bouncing baby girl or boy into the world, consider the implications of one day being alone and having no one to lean on, go to, or rely on when you need a break, need insight, or have no idea what way to go next. The lives that we bring into this world are fragile; impressionable beyond our often limited consideration. Just wanting to be a parent and have that child to pass on the family name and give you purpose aren't enough; a child deserves the things you might not ever possibly consider when you think of the giddiest parts of what a child might mean.
Parenthood is the most unexpected, difficult, amazing, inspiring, devastating, and rewarding experiences of my lifetime. I wouldn't trade it for anything. That doesn't mean this is how I wanted things to play out...that I wanted to be left to do it alone. I would so loved to have remained a coupled, parenting team, raising my sons in love and dual support into their later years of life. The reality is that I am alone, I have done a good job, my sons aren't lacking in any telltale ways, and they make my life all that it is despite not turning out the way I had once hoped it might.
I do love my life, no matter what hopes never came to be.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
I'll Take Music Please...
Music is by far the most intense memory trigger for me. It is such a part of my life that I have a difficult time separating a particular song from a specific memory. Right now, I'm reliving my teen years with REO Speedwagon. Man, those days were really so innocent. After being in and out of relationships, going through divorce and having children I've come to realize I've lost touch with how innocence feels; even the worst pain then, can make me smile now.
And it's those kind of recollections that make me want to bottle the way I feel right now. So totally close to euphoric, it can't be healthy ;) My cheeks are aching from the constant grinning every time another oldie-but-goodie comes on Spotify. Life really was less complicated then.
Now, I sit here wondering how to string words together to relay the train of thought I have going on in my head, only to sit, fingers hovering above the keyboard as I'm mesmerized by the sound of Styx (specifically Paradise Theatre) and Supertramp. My god the soundtrack of my life is freakin' incredible! How on earth is it possible to have a shitty day when the secret to a great mood seems to be delving into the past for GREAT music? Duh!
Guys have nothing on this music. I mean, I don't ever hear a guy's voice or see someone I once dated and get all nostalgic and permagrinned. No awesome memories are triggered or dreamy looks come over me as I listen to or look at them. Music is by far the better companion; at least on a stroll down memory lane.
Dates, events, quiet nights at home are all made better and more memorable when music is involved. When I hear Live's "Lightening Crashes" my pregnancy with my first son immediately comes to mind. Not just a mental flashback; my whole body remembers the amazing gift of carrying that life and I tear up, overcome with intense joy.
Smash Mouth's "Walking on the Sun" and P.O.D. "Boom" are nearly always accompanied by the underlying echoes of my sons singing along in the backseat of the car. And yes, there are songs that remind me of particular people; Bon Jovi's "Runaway" and Whitesnake's "Still of the Night" are forever tied to my best friend, Christine. When I hear "Your Love" by The Outfield my mind reflects an ex-boyfriend/still-friend Mike, and "Somebody That I Use to Know" by Gotye brings on those 'thankfully I dodged that bullet' relief concerning a painful, yet necessary break-up.
Were I to jot down a list of songs and the memories or people I associate with them, I might be here for days. There are those songs that just bring me back to a season, a moment or a period in time, and those that are timeless and envelope my entire life thus far. I would be bereft without music. It fuels my creativity, intensifies and clarifies experiences and preserves memories I might otherwise have forgotten.
Music is my truest, longest lasting love.
And it's those kind of recollections that make me want to bottle the way I feel right now. So totally close to euphoric, it can't be healthy ;) My cheeks are aching from the constant grinning every time another oldie-but-goodie comes on Spotify. Life really was less complicated then.
Now, I sit here wondering how to string words together to relay the train of thought I have going on in my head, only to sit, fingers hovering above the keyboard as I'm mesmerized by the sound of Styx (specifically Paradise Theatre) and Supertramp. My god the soundtrack of my life is freakin' incredible! How on earth is it possible to have a shitty day when the secret to a great mood seems to be delving into the past for GREAT music? Duh!
Guys have nothing on this music. I mean, I don't ever hear a guy's voice or see someone I once dated and get all nostalgic and permagrinned. No awesome memories are triggered or dreamy looks come over me as I listen to or look at them. Music is by far the better companion; at least on a stroll down memory lane.
Dates, events, quiet nights at home are all made better and more memorable when music is involved. When I hear Live's "Lightening Crashes" my pregnancy with my first son immediately comes to mind. Not just a mental flashback; my whole body remembers the amazing gift of carrying that life and I tear up, overcome with intense joy.
Smash Mouth's "Walking on the Sun" and P.O.D. "Boom" are nearly always accompanied by the underlying echoes of my sons singing along in the backseat of the car. And yes, there are songs that remind me of particular people; Bon Jovi's "Runaway" and Whitesnake's "Still of the Night" are forever tied to my best friend, Christine. When I hear "Your Love" by The Outfield my mind reflects an ex-boyfriend/still-friend Mike, and "Somebody That I Use to Know" by Gotye brings on those 'thankfully I dodged that bullet' relief concerning a painful, yet necessary break-up.
Were I to jot down a list of songs and the memories or people I associate with them, I might be here for days. There are those songs that just bring me back to a season, a moment or a period in time, and those that are timeless and envelope my entire life thus far. I would be bereft without music. It fuels my creativity, intensifies and clarifies experiences and preserves memories I might otherwise have forgotten.
Music is my truest, longest lasting love.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Passing on the two types, looking for proof of a third
Be careful what you wish for.
Tonight I put my fingers to the keyboard and lamented about wasted time and lost ideas. Then I kept writing. And I'm sort of having an issue putting the laptop down and heading to bed.
I've had numerous things to work out in my head and the noise is a bit on the loud side right now. Most of it is the usual; kids, work, what to cook for my next blog entry... , but some of it is fairly intense. Knowing I was wrong when I pressed an issue earlier today, wanting to talk to/hear from someone, but holding steadfast to not wanting to 'give chase', terrible acts of violence occurring far too often, uprooting life as I know it for life as I hope will be, and wondering where this inner journey to find myself will finally lead.
Some days it's like I take a few steps, look around and really have no idea where I am or exactly how I got there. No, not literally. It's almost as though I look around in that cluster of thoughts and can't tell what is the exact purpose, and then I have to back track to figure it out.
I spent months, possibly years, waking up every day knowing I wasn't remotely the person I wanted to be at this point in my life. Far too unhappy and alone, with more than a lifetime to share. I couldn't say that the reason I am still alone is some fault I possess, but I do think it is completely likely that I have spent far too long focused on the wrong horizon to recognize a road with promise from a dead end. Self-study and self-actualization will, at the very least, give me peace of mind and spirit should I live out the rest of my days a single woman.
I know what triggers instant attraction, tongue-wagging lust, and contented comfort. What I don't know is how to feel my way through all of those and gauge for potential longevity. Being able to stand back and separate from the rush, the newness, the intensity takes a skill and self awareness that I am only just discovering. Pace. Clarity. Observation. Someday I will own those bitches!
Until that day, however, I'm still as perplexed as ever about what constitutes relationship 'material'. If you have a great time together; laugh, talk, in general look forward to seeing one another, and have a pretty solid connection what else does there need to be to take the next step and become 'exclusive'? Maybe I'm too cut-and-dry or completely out of touch with reality; I don't know.
It has been my experience, over the past nearly six years that there are (predominantly) two types of guys in most dating pools; the get-serious-way-too-quick-now-it's-totally-awkward-and-creepy type and they yeah-I-dig-you-we-have-fun-together-but-I'm-not-the-exclusive-relationship type. No happy medium on this chick's horizon it would seem. No complaints, just observations. Ok, maybe I'm slightly whiny. I'm female; it's my right.
Tonight I put my fingers to the keyboard and lamented about wasted time and lost ideas. Then I kept writing. And I'm sort of having an issue putting the laptop down and heading to bed.
I've had numerous things to work out in my head and the noise is a bit on the loud side right now. Most of it is the usual; kids, work, what to cook for my next blog entry... , but some of it is fairly intense. Knowing I was wrong when I pressed an issue earlier today, wanting to talk to/hear from someone, but holding steadfast to not wanting to 'give chase', terrible acts of violence occurring far too often, uprooting life as I know it for life as I hope will be, and wondering where this inner journey to find myself will finally lead.
Some days it's like I take a few steps, look around and really have no idea where I am or exactly how I got there. No, not literally. It's almost as though I look around in that cluster of thoughts and can't tell what is the exact purpose, and then I have to back track to figure it out.
I spent months, possibly years, waking up every day knowing I wasn't remotely the person I wanted to be at this point in my life. Far too unhappy and alone, with more than a lifetime to share. I couldn't say that the reason I am still alone is some fault I possess, but I do think it is completely likely that I have spent far too long focused on the wrong horizon to recognize a road with promise from a dead end. Self-study and self-actualization will, at the very least, give me peace of mind and spirit should I live out the rest of my days a single woman.
I know what triggers instant attraction, tongue-wagging lust, and contented comfort. What I don't know is how to feel my way through all of those and gauge for potential longevity. Being able to stand back and separate from the rush, the newness, the intensity takes a skill and self awareness that I am only just discovering. Pace. Clarity. Observation. Someday I will own those bitches!
Until that day, however, I'm still as perplexed as ever about what constitutes relationship 'material'. If you have a great time together; laugh, talk, in general look forward to seeing one another, and have a pretty solid connection what else does there need to be to take the next step and become 'exclusive'? Maybe I'm too cut-and-dry or completely out of touch with reality; I don't know.
It has been my experience, over the past nearly six years that there are (predominantly) two types of guys in most dating pools; the get-serious-way-too-quick-now-it's-totally-awkward-and-creepy type and they yeah-I-dig-you-we-have-fun-together-but-I'm-not-the-exclusive-relationship type. No happy medium on this chick's horizon it would seem. No complaints, just observations. Ok, maybe I'm slightly whiny. I'm female; it's my right.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
No More Crazies Please
Finding the way to touch happy is, in my opinion, similar to being in a maze. Actually having the presence of being to recognize it, grab it and not let it slip away can be messy. This has been the on-going theme of the last five years of my life.
The moment I freed myself from the toxic marriage I had been in, I craved something more. I didn't know exactly what it was, but I thought, in that just-divorced-wild-way, that dating an alcoholic was the answer. Ok, so in my defense, I had no idea he had a drinking problem. Had I not been blinded by flattery and sex with someone new, it's likely I would have seen it and spared myself the drama. Ah, but I have spent the better part of twenty-some-odd years not recognizing the crazy, the controlling or the immature and all-around unhealthy. In due time.
After a volatile six months, I finally ended that mistake, aware that I learned another of life's painful lessons. It was also the first time I ever felt like I failed my sons. Not that I had gotten away from an incredibly messed up individual, but that they had also been subjected to him. I decided then that my boys would only meet someone if I believed they would be in my life for a long time.
I forgot about 'finding the happy' for awhile, and went with having a good time. What a crazy two year ride that was! Whenever the boys were away, mom did play. Partying like a rock star; well, at least it seemed like it for someone who rarely drank. Boy did I drink. And I managed to find even more guys with issues and neediness along the way. I'm the hard way, road untraveled sort of student. Oh, lucky me.
It would be untrue to say I dated the 'same' guy over and over, though there were many who might as well have been. Ok, so 'many' seems to infer more negative connotations than intended. A handful. Yes, that's more accurate. A couple of the guys I dated were a lot of fun, didn't have serious issues, but the potential of their participation in my life was always short-lived. And that's ok. As a previous uptight-panties-in-a-bunch woman, learning how to just have fun was exactly what I needed. It's a little ridiculous that it's taking me so long to grasp that concept, however.
Can I opt for the 'next' lesson? Please.
The moment I freed myself from the toxic marriage I had been in, I craved something more. I didn't know exactly what it was, but I thought, in that just-divorced-wild-way, that dating an alcoholic was the answer. Ok, so in my defense, I had no idea he had a drinking problem. Had I not been blinded by flattery and sex with someone new, it's likely I would have seen it and spared myself the drama. Ah, but I have spent the better part of twenty-some-odd years not recognizing the crazy, the controlling or the immature and all-around unhealthy. In due time.
After a volatile six months, I finally ended that mistake, aware that I learned another of life's painful lessons. It was also the first time I ever felt like I failed my sons. Not that I had gotten away from an incredibly messed up individual, but that they had also been subjected to him. I decided then that my boys would only meet someone if I believed they would be in my life for a long time.
I forgot about 'finding the happy' for awhile, and went with having a good time. What a crazy two year ride that was! Whenever the boys were away, mom did play. Partying like a rock star; well, at least it seemed like it for someone who rarely drank. Boy did I drink. And I managed to find even more guys with issues and neediness along the way. I'm the hard way, road untraveled sort of student. Oh, lucky me.
It would be untrue to say I dated the 'same' guy over and over, though there were many who might as well have been. Ok, so 'many' seems to infer more negative connotations than intended. A handful. Yes, that's more accurate. A couple of the guys I dated were a lot of fun, didn't have serious issues, but the potential of their participation in my life was always short-lived. And that's ok. As a previous uptight-panties-in-a-bunch woman, learning how to just have fun was exactly what I needed. It's a little ridiculous that it's taking me so long to grasp that concept, however.
Can I opt for the 'next' lesson? Please.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
No Lesson Books Here
A friend of mine recently brought up a coping mechanism type practice by Pema Chodron in her CD series "Don't Bite the Hook", after having read my post about learning to work through negative feelings. I have spent a lot of wasted time and energy dating Mr. Not Right For Me. Too much time, but the lessons are starting to make sense. Well, slowly.
I suppose there has to come a time when I woman up and stop gravitating to hopeless cases and start dating in my worth bracket. I'm hoping I've finally reached that point. Seriously, I have accumulated way too much awesome to be pissing it away on men who lie, cheat and just plain suck the fun out of relationships. Ok, so not all of them are that bad; they might just not be interesting enough or live on the same plain of existence as I do. Admittedly, that's part of the problem. There are just too few guys who are centered and evolved enough to truly appreciate a woman such as myself. Sure, this all sounds like boasting, but I am the first line in self-esteem and confidence. If I don't believe it, I can't project it.
About a year ago I started dating a guy I had known for quite some time, mostly in the professional arena. No, not porn or prostitution; our (legitimately) professional lives intersected often. It was a swift and total tumble down the slope of "I'm in love" only to wake up in the briar wondering just what in the hell I was thinking. Iraq War vet, pathetically used PTSD to cover up the fact that he was seeing someone else on the side. I bought that crap hook, line and sinker! For three months I was stressed and worried for his state of mind and his daughters home life. He wasn't abusive or anything, he just claimed to be completely depressed and barely functioning. Being the fabulous maternal empathizer that I can be, I was overwrought with concern and dropped 10 pounds. Bitch of that was that I didn't have it to lose in the first place.
At some point I began realizing that it was over, despite the total lack of break-up, and slowly I started to put my life on my own path again. This is the thing; I halt all my own ventures and wants in life when I have become involved with a needy guy. My interpretation of needy is someone who willingly sucks drive and desire from your 'self reserves' and ties them to their own. I hardly consider myself a people pleaser, but I seem to be slightly addicted to making a guy feel like a god. Might be a bit of an exaggeration, but the point has been made, has it not?
The rotten act of using a real and life-limiting condition like PTSD as a front for immoral and dishonest behavior is just plain despicable. Amazingly enough, it really pushed me to see the veil and pull it back so I could move on. Like any other 'addiction' I spent a few weeks vacillating between realization of the truth and the desire to believe the lies. Thankfully, once I had thought about the situation obsessively enough, I cut all contact and reclaimed my life.
Shortly after I finally saw the truth and accepted it, I chose to re-crown my Inner Brat and make serious changes in how I see and live life. Of course, this hasn't been without setbacks or further painful lessons, but I am finally getting exactly where I go wrong nine times out of 10. I trust too easy, fall too quick, believe without question and give in to seduction with no show of resistance.
And then a few months later, I started playing social hour with the food phobe...
I suppose there has to come a time when I woman up and stop gravitating to hopeless cases and start dating in my worth bracket. I'm hoping I've finally reached that point. Seriously, I have accumulated way too much awesome to be pissing it away on men who lie, cheat and just plain suck the fun out of relationships. Ok, so not all of them are that bad; they might just not be interesting enough or live on the same plain of existence as I do. Admittedly, that's part of the problem. There are just too few guys who are centered and evolved enough to truly appreciate a woman such as myself. Sure, this all sounds like boasting, but I am the first line in self-esteem and confidence. If I don't believe it, I can't project it.
About a year ago I started dating a guy I had known for quite some time, mostly in the professional arena. No, not porn or prostitution; our (legitimately) professional lives intersected often. It was a swift and total tumble down the slope of "I'm in love" only to wake up in the briar wondering just what in the hell I was thinking. Iraq War vet, pathetically used PTSD to cover up the fact that he was seeing someone else on the side. I bought that crap hook, line and sinker! For three months I was stressed and worried for his state of mind and his daughters home life. He wasn't abusive or anything, he just claimed to be completely depressed and barely functioning. Being the fabulous maternal empathizer that I can be, I was overwrought with concern and dropped 10 pounds. Bitch of that was that I didn't have it to lose in the first place.
At some point I began realizing that it was over, despite the total lack of break-up, and slowly I started to put my life on my own path again. This is the thing; I halt all my own ventures and wants in life when I have become involved with a needy guy. My interpretation of needy is someone who willingly sucks drive and desire from your 'self reserves' and ties them to their own. I hardly consider myself a people pleaser, but I seem to be slightly addicted to making a guy feel like a god. Might be a bit of an exaggeration, but the point has been made, has it not?
The rotten act of using a real and life-limiting condition like PTSD as a front for immoral and dishonest behavior is just plain despicable. Amazingly enough, it really pushed me to see the veil and pull it back so I could move on. Like any other 'addiction' I spent a few weeks vacillating between realization of the truth and the desire to believe the lies. Thankfully, once I had thought about the situation obsessively enough, I cut all contact and reclaimed my life.
Shortly after I finally saw the truth and accepted it, I chose to re-crown my Inner Brat and make serious changes in how I see and live life. Of course, this hasn't been without setbacks or further painful lessons, but I am finally getting exactly where I go wrong nine times out of 10. I trust too easy, fall too quick, believe without question and give in to seduction with no show of resistance.
And then a few months later, I started playing social hour with the food phobe...
Monday, December 3, 2012
41 and counting
It's my birthday. Every year I expect to feel different, not different in the "I'm a year older sense", just differently about my birthday. And every year, no matter how much I try to get excited or embrace this day, I end up just overall uncomfortable about it all.
I can't even remember how long I've disliked this day. It isn't that I don't appreciate and value my life and all I have, I just can't shake the antsy, out of sorts feelings I always have. I love other people's birthdays. Celebrating and acknowledging their day is exciting and something I look forward to. But not my own.
I don't want my children to feel badly or pick up on whatever strange quirk this dread of my own day is. My mother tries hard to make the day special, and as a parent I completely understand why. I could not imagine either one of my sons feeling as I do on the day of their birth. It would hurt beyond words and I would feel as though I failed them.
This year I attempted to mentally psych myself up for a day of relaxation, but in the end I have only felt like I'm going through the motions with this pit of anxious stress in my stomach. I have no qualms about my age, I like where I'm at. I love my life for all the wonderful people in it. What is the issue then? Why would I rather just skip the day altogether and pick up with life as usual tomorrow?
Friends and family have always attempted to help me embrace the day by wishing me well and surprising me in various ways to celebrate me, and that awful antsy feeling never leaves me. No matter how much I try to focus on feeling what everyone else seems to feel.
I am not a person to feel sorry for myself or have a list of woe-is-mes, so how uncomfortable I feel makes no sense to me. I have literally spent the day trying to enjoy getting my nails done and having lunch with a friend, but anxiously fidgeting internally instead.
As a child I remember at some point feeling guilty, burdensome about the day. My mother's first husband (I refuse to call him anything else) always managed to create stress and I suppose I interpreted that as somehow being a fault of mine. When I went into labor the day before my birthday, I remember praying that my child would be born on another day so that he would have his own day. In truth I suppose I wanted to ensure I would never feel the anxiety I have on my birthday on his special day. And I can remember my ex-husband always starting an argument or a fight on this day, and ultimately tossing or throwing my card/gift at me.
In 41 years, I cannot distinctly remember truly enjoying my birthday without any emotional discomfort. I can embrace and celebrate life, family and friends, but not the anniversary of my start in this world. I wish I could understand so that I could find a way to change this. Every day is a gift, yet I can't be at peace with this one. It's ridiculous and completely senseless.
In 41 years, I cannot distinctly remember truly enjoying my birthday without any emotional discomfort. I can embrace and celebrate life, family and friends, but not the anniversary of my start in this world. I wish I could understand so that I could find a way to change this. Every day is a gift, yet I can't be at peace with this one. It's ridiculous and completely senseless.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)