Like the Cool Kids

Why is it that when a woman catches her husband/boyfriend/significant other cheating, they default to blaming the woman? Even I have been guilty of these things.

An old boyfriend of mine sent me a text the other day telling me that his wife finally moved out. According to him, they have been having problems for the past few months because of a mysterious child he didn’t know about until the child was in middle school. Because of this secretive love-bundle, he claimed that he and his wife were on the outs and he was currently sleeping on the couch.

None of this has anything to do with me except for the fact that this guy and I have remained friends for over ten years – we have been through the trials of friendship, fallen out of contact, reconnected again, and so on and so forth. Bottom line: when it has counted, we’ve been there for each other.

Now, there was that time that we were dating and he told me he had a child that died from an asthma attack. One time we got into a huge argument while he was driving, and he pulled into some random grave site and got out of the car and stood at a grave for a moment while I sat there fuming about who-knows-what. When I went to get out of the car, he came back, got into the car, and we left. He told me it was his sons grave. Later I would find out that he didn’t even have a child.

When he got married, he never told me. In fact, I think he visited my house while he was married (or at the very least dating this girl) and we did things, and then he left, and I wouldn’t find out until a year or so later that he had even gotten married.

So anyway. Back to the present. He tells me about how he’s trying to figure out how he’s going to make it. He says that he will always love me, and he strongly believes that one day he and I will be married. I’ve told him before that he has all of these children and I just won’t date someone with children anymore because of the emotional attachment that you form with the kids. So, it’s not like I was like “Oh my god, I’ve waited so long for this, we should be together.” Like, that wasn’t anywhere in the text messages. In fact most of the inappropriateness stems from his side.

So I get a message at 2:30 in the morning from his wife. Clearly she has decided to go through his phone and clearly he was dumb enough to not delete the things that he has said to me. She tells me that I should be “ashamed of myself” for talking to a married man, to which I replied back that I was no such thing. He’s the one that’s married and telling people that she has left him, moved out, adios, finished. Not my problem. Then she responds back that she has never left, they aren’t having problems, and that she felt he and I didn’t need to talk to each other for the time being.

No problemo honey. A lie like that – and to someone that is supposed to be a long-time friend …. he will never have to worry about me contacting him again. In fact, I’ve already deleted his number from my phone.

If you’re having marital problems, be real about them. If you aren’t having problems, don’t pretend that you are just because you’re miserable in your marriage. Get out of it – but don’t start crying when you have to pay child support for all of your kids.

And as the woman, turn your frustrations and anger to the man that you’re supposed to be committed to. After all, if they tell someone that their marriage is over, you can’t blame her for trying to be supportive to someone that is supposedly going through a heartbreaking time in their life.

Oh well. He burned his bridge with me.

Entwined Souls

Where has this year gone?

A year ago I was sitting at home, nursing new heartbreak wounds, trying to figure out what was next for me in life. A year ago my boyfriend was in a very confusing semi-relationship in which he loved a girl very much, but she couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted him or the creepy asshole that she’s still with now. A year ago Charlie and I didn’t know of each others existence, but we were both very much hurting in a similar way. It was that mutual pain and understanding that brought us together as friends just after Christmas. I think we were both drowning in our sorrow’s and confusion and we couldn’t be a life-raft for ourselves.

That’s the thing about sorrow; you can’t always depend on yourself to be your salvation. That’s what there are friends for. If not for them, who can you turn to? You can’t trust yourself and your broken soul in times such as these. And if it takes a year to heal, then so be it.

You know, there are people that have been with their significant other for years and years and years, and then when they get old and gray and their love dies, it isn’t long before they die too. They literally grieve themselves to death. And I don’t blame them. They have lost the other half of them. There is something magical in the combining of two people who love each other. When the light goes out on that love, you are left with a shell of yourself.

I have healed considerably this year – though I still have very hard days. Some days the pain shows up and I feel like it’s ripping me in two. When Andy left me, it really, really, really messed me up. There were days that I wondered how in the hell I was going to even put one foot in front of the other. There were other days that I don’t even remember anything at all except for the pain.

But slowly, the fog started to lift. And I owe a large part of that to Charlie. He has become my confidant and friend through all of this. And when we fight, we fight passionately and without filter. He will go outside and tear a tree down, I will raise my voice and tell him to stop acting like an asshole. But we pick on each other mercilessly, we laugh, we act like five year old’s, and then at the end of the night he rubs my feet while we watch TV together. Even if we aren’t the most ideal couple, we are at least good friends for each other. To me, that means more than anything else.

I’m thankful for him, I really am. He’s good to my daughter, he helped me get through a very difficult time in my life. He’s understanding that I still have bad days. He’s understanding of the fact that Andy is still my friend and in my life.

So when people say that I don’t need anyone in my life as far as relationships go – to them I say “Maybe you don’t, but it’s how I operate. I work better in a relationship.” Anyone can make it without someone in their life – but I have given up so much of who I am for other people – I won’t be alone just because it’s the societal norm of being a strong independent woman. I can be those things – and I am those things – but I enjoy the company of a companion along the way. I don’t have to be alone to prove that I can be. I don’t want to be.

2015 is upon us. What surprises await us?

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

My head has been so messed up today. It is so very exhausting to walk around with a smile on your face and fight back everything that’s wrecking havoc and chaos inside of your soul. Where I was exactly two years ago, exactly one year ago, and today are three very different places. Excitement, heartbreak, and a girl trying to find her way through the dark. I also discovered something the other night that made me feel very unwanted, undesirable, and like a complete waste of time. And it really hurt. I’m still trying to deal with it in the best way that I know how while remaining quiet and making it something that is my own problem to deal with.

When you’re dealing with someone that has little to no self-esteem you have to remember a few things.

1) It takes a long time to get self-esteem back after being dealt shitty blows. For example: a fat girl like me is okay with her size until the man she loves tells her that her size is disgusting. He tells her that she has potential to be pretty if she will just get the weight off. It creates a shift in her train of thought. Someone that once thought they were good enough suddenly realizes that they aren’t. So they try to change. And they do it as the person berates and harasses them about how they look. Everything that you do isn’t good enough. You do everything they ask and then some, and your payment is them continuing to tear you down. By the time they are done with you and you finally get out of the relationship, you are next to nothing.
2) They will most likely be a lot more sad than you will ever realize. After all, they aren’t upset with the world, they just hate themselves. For me, it’s mirrors. Before I was with Chesley, I didn’t care that I was bigger. I thought that despite that, I was still attractive enough. Six years later and it takes all that I have to get ready in the morning while having to look in the mirror. To this day, I still hear phrases in the back of my mind like: “You could be pretty if….” and “You have potential to be a knock out.”
3) There are many ways to take someone’s self-esteem away from them. You don’t have to tear them down with your words. Your actions also say a lot. You can call them beautiful, tell them that they are the only one for you, shower them with compliments, gain their trust …… and then you can go say indecent things to another woman, get busted for it, and everything nice you’ve ever said or done for your girl is out the window. It doesn’t even matter. You know why? Because in her head, if you can do something as fucked up as that, regardless of the reason, then she isn’t worth anything. Not to you, not to her, and not to anyone else.
A few relationships ago, I came home from work on my lunch to grab something, I noticed my boyfriend (at the time) was at home, and I thought it would be a nice surprise to say hi to him. I walked in the door to him with his dick in his hand and a porno on the television. Now, porn doesn’t bother me. At all. I will watch a good porn with you if that’s what you want. But when you hide it from me and you are doing that instead of sleeping with me, then we have a problem.
As luck would have it, this was the same boyfriend that treated me like shit. So on top of me working really hard to get the weight off, I also come home to see him in that compromising situation, all the while he and I hadn’t had sex in weeks. I was devastated. He would rather see those beautiful woman doing god only knows what to each other, than sleep with his fat ass frumpy girlfriend. Not to mention that in the end, he left me for a girl that a strong wind could knock over.
The boyfriend before Andy said he cheated one me because I didn’t pay enough attention to him. My fault, my fault, my fault. If I have to hear one more time about all of the things that I don’t do for a man, I’m going to lose my shit. When you get busted in something, don’t turn your shit around on me and put the blame on me. It isn’t MY fault that you are running around sleeping with whomever. It isn’t MY fault that you are watching porn instead of sleeping with me. If you don’t like how I am, hit the fucking road. I am one hell of a girlfriend.
It has been many years, many boyfriends later, and my self-esteem still hasn’t recovered. And every time something happens to mess with my self-esteem in just the smallest of ways, it’s like having to start all over again with me. I don’t believe anything you say, I hate what I see in myself, and I don’t want to be around anyone.
So, for the past week, I’ve been alternating between being okay and wanting to cry. I don’t trust anything or anyone. I blame the way I look for every failed relationship. Most everyone blames me anyway.
I don’t even know what to do anymore. I wish I felt better about me. But I can’t do it alone. Shit has to stop happening to make me reset. I just want to be me and that be good enough.

On This, The Day of Thanks

This morning, as I was smashing up cooked egg yoke for my deviled eggs, I was listening to some throwback music from the early 2000’s and just kind of reflecting on everything. The thought process started when I realized that today is one of those days that everyone says what they are thankful for, so I started sorting out everything in my head that has happened over the past ten years. I went on a typical time-line journey from then to now and I realized something.

I have come a hell of a long way.

I’ve had a child. I’ve started over not once but three different times since becoming an adult. I’ve been homeless because of Chesley, jobless because of the economy and lay-off’s, cheated on more times than I care to imagine, beat on, walked all over, emotionally damaged, verbally abused, told repeatedly how shitty of a person I am by my mother. Last year I lost the one person that I really thought complemented my life in every way, shape, and form. I sank to my knees and felt some very real pain cutting through my soul. Two days from now will be a year since Andy has been gone. So much has happened in that year, and yet I still feel like the same person that I was when it all started.

And I guess that’s a good thing. I try so hard to not let experiences change who I am – and that is a very difficult task. With each failed relationship I become more bitter, more convinced that everyone is the same, and more sad that I’m not farther in life than I am.

There are days that I think I’ve come far in life to be 29 and not have to financially depend on my family. For the first time in my life, I make more money than my grandmother, and I feel like I don’t depend on her for anything in regards to money. She has taken care of me my entire life, and now she lives with me and is only responsible for the car payment and the groceries. I handle the rent, and Charlie pays the utilities, and we are still pretty much broke, but we are making it, and we have somewhere decent to live.

I’m not where I want to be, but I’m not where I was, either. I guess it just depends on how you look at it. There are so many days that I harp on what I don’t have that I forget what I used to not have at all. I am no saint, by any means; I do my share of shit that is probably morally questionable, but I’m trying really hard to be a good person, when you step back and look at the whole picture.

Yesterday was my boyfriends birthday, so I took him out to eat Red Lobster for dinner. Tomorrow I have one more thing to do for him, but couldn’t work it out to happen on his actual birthday. I just need him to realize that who he is, matters. And on his special day, he should be recognized for that.

Next Thursday is my bosses birthday, and I searched high and low for something that wasn’t just a thoughtless gift card. Me and the other two girls finally settled on a canvas painting with a verse from the Quran to hang in his office or his home. Being a Nondenominational Christian, I don’t read Arabic or really know much about the Quran. I just know he’s a very religious man and very grateful for everything that he has. He also deserves to be recognized for the person that he is.

And so it’s off to shower and apply my face and begin the process of going to see family.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody.


People have asked me why I don’t talk about my current boyfriend when I blog. Hell, I think he’s asked me himself. The reason is that because he doesn’t make me sad. I blog about things that bother me, things that make me sad, things that I don’t understand. Most of my breakups I blog about, because I don’t get why these men left me. I hardly talk about Rick because I left him and I know why I left him. I don’t really talk about my marriage to Julie’s dad, because I understand why that ended. When I talk about Chesley and Andy it’s because I don’t yet know why God made these relationships happen and then unravel in the way that they did. I talk about my mom because it blows my mind that someone who brought you into his world can be so malicious and vindictive in trying to destroy your life. 

My blogging is not for happy reasons. It’s my outlet for all things that are sad and confusing to me. As a person that spends a lot of time looking back over my life, my past and its understanding are very important to me. People say that you can’t drive forward while looking in the rear-view mirror – but I can. I allow ample time for reflection of my past through my blogging, and then I use the rest of my time concentrating on the here and now. 

The other day I saw a truck driving down the street advertising their company. I forget what the name of the company was, but their logo was “We can fix anything that’s broken, except your heart.” And I thought that was quite catchy. Then I thought about how nice it would be to have the option to repair your heart by simply taking a pill. Just, bam, you’re all better, and you can move on without a problem. How nice it would be to be able to cook a meal without bursting into tears because a random memory chooses to flood your mind at that particular time. Next thing you know, you’re crying into your soup on the stove wondering why everything has to hurt so damn much.

The holiday’s are coming. I always have a hard time around this time of year. I miss my grandma, every year I think about the Christmas I had the stomach flu and Chesley screamed at me and told me I ruined Christmas – and yet we still drove to the mountains to see some family friends of his, we saw his entire family and mine while I had him pull over so I could puke on the side of the road or at his mom’s house, or at my dad’s house. I try really hard to not complain or be a pain in the ass when I’m sick. Last year I spent Christmas alone. Julie had already gone to her fathers for the remainder of the week. I sat at this computer feeling cold and empty and lonely. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep. 

I’m really trying hard to be a positive person. I don’t want to wait for the other shoe to drop. I don’t want there to be another shoe. I just want something normal. The happier I am about my past, the less I would probably have to blog here. Chesley has already apologized to me for what he did. Andy never will apologize to me for leaving me; to him it was something that he had to do. I just have to figure out what the reasoning was behind God putting them in my life in the first place. 

But, tomorrow is Monday, and with that comes a brand new week of doing a lot of the same things with my job. I have a job to go to, and for that I am thankful. I have friends if I need them, though I prefer to be alone more often than not. My daughter will be with me every day except for two days for the next nine days. I’m broke but we have food. I have no idea how I’m going to get Christmas shopping done when I only have one check until Christmas actually gets here, but I will figure it out. Julie wants a real tree this year instead of using the fake one that we always use. I will have to add that to a budget that I haven’t quite figured out yet. 

I know they say that money doesn’t solve all of your problems, but it sure would be nice to no have to worry about that on top of everything else. I am always scared I’m going to fail Julie as a parent, or that she’s going to have to go without. Or that she will miss out on some kind of opportunity because I can’t afford it for her. It’s weird, because my mom did very shady things to get money from men. She told one of her buddy’s out of state that I had cancer and she couldn’t afford my cancer treatments, so he was sending her thousands and thousands of dollars for my faux cancer treatments. When I found out, I blew the lid off of the entire thing. Once I did that, she told her boss that she had cancer, and he started handing her money until my uncle blew that lie out of the water. When my mom was in a cleaning business with my grandma, she stole customers jewelry from their homes. She did bad bad things. My brother and I never had our mother, but we had every material thing we could ever want because she told some of the most god-awful lies to get money. Money to buy us things to keep us quiet and money to buy things that went straight up her nose. 

You know, to this day, when Julie is home, I won’t shut my bedroom door if I’m in there? Growing up, my mom always had her bedroom door shut, and I didn’t go in there because it meant she was sleeping (or passed out from doing drugs), and I always felt so lonely and isolated away from her because she was always sleeping. I honest to god don’t have but a handful of memories with that woman that don’t involve her laying in bed and telling me to be quiet and then shutting the door. I never want Julie to feel that way. I never want her to feel like she can’t come in my room and get me if she needs me. God that was such a horrible feeling. Something as simple as me and Julie watching TV together will pull at my heart a little because I will always wish that my mom and I did that stuff. 

This was my mom’s latest entry on her Facebook wall. 

I’ve thought about mine and my daughter’s relationship and how bad it is which is her choice. Sadly all she’s ever done is bash me as a parent when I did the best I could as a 17 year old single mother. We got along as long as I was paying her bills or giving her everything she wanted. As soon as her grandma stepped in and started doing the things I was no longer doing I became a horrible mom and her fat butt grandma became the best thing in the world. I’ve hurt enough over this and will no longer allow her to do it to me. I was a good mother to her probably to good.she turned out to be very selfish and mean. I will always love her but have no respect for her. I’m just sick of all the lies her and her grandma tell on me. I’m putting it in God’s hands and let his will be done from here on out.

It’s sad; how delusional my mother is. She has never paid my bills. She bought my plane ticket to Indiana two years ago with her 4th husbands credit card. That’s all she has ever done for me. This is what my mom has resorted to, to get sympathy from people. I don’t care that she is rubbing my name through the dirt so much as that I care that she is seriously mentally ill and won’t get help for herself. It’s a damn shame my daughter has to grow up without a grandmother on my side of the family, and all because my mom couldn’t tell the truth if it smacked her in the face. 

Blood isn’t always thicker than water. 

Rebecca and the Dark Man


A wonderful description of depression. Superb writing.

Originally posted on My Disordered Me:

I post this on my old blog a year or so ago, I think I’d like to share it with you now. This is a draft of part one in a three-part tale I’m telling in verse.

The thing we need to know, the single point we must address;

the sad and awful fact was that Rebecca was depressed.

Far from simple sadness, what she had was a disease,

a sense of mortal grief would often bring her to her knees.

To her it was the Dark Man, blowing in her ear,

he’d blow away her confidence, all she had to spare was fear.

He’d wash away the colours in the flowers she could see,

leaving the world a monochrome; a wicked place to be.

He traveled with her everywhere, he never set her free,

he was perched upon her shoulders, for all the world to see.

Resisting every step…

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