Friday, December 20, 2013

5 Lies You Were Told About Grief

Perhaps one of the truest, most accurate articles that I have read regarding loss and the grief attached to it:  5 Lies You Were Told About Grief.  With several wonderful Anne Lamott quotes, and much wisdom from the article's author, Alison Nappi, this one truly resounded with the heartbreak that I experienced when my mother was murdered on January 10, 1993.  The following years of trying to pick myself back up; only to fall, over and over and the anguish of being met with constant beratement from my father which led to deeper despair, isolation and pain...
 
"The truth is there are losses you never get over. They break you to pieces and you can never go back to the original shape you once were, and so you will grieve your own death with that of your beloved lost."
 
"In many ways you are restarting your life from scratch, especially if your beloved lost was the central pin you’d built your life around.  For many of us, there is no life to get on with; the lives we were living are irretrievable."
 
But enough of that.  Read the article.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

The ENTIRE Purpose of This Blog...

"To live is to suffer,
to survive is to find some meaning
in the suffering."
 
~Friedrich Nietzsche~

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Angsty, but Good...

"Behind every girl is a story of a guy who made her the way she is today.  Every girl has had at least that one guy she's been through so much with.  He could be her longest relationship, her first love and her first heart break.  She had some of her best experiences with him, and some of her worst.  He said some of the sweetest things to her, and he also said some of the most terrible things.  There are things he did that made her the happiest girl, and there are also things he did that made her feel so shitty.  All these memories, will follow her into every relationship she gets into.  She just feels like less of a girl every time she tries to get to know someone, because she gets more insecure every time it doesn't work out.  Every mistake other guys would make, would just remind her of that one guy who hurt her badly.  She was never the same after that guy, and never will be, again." ~Nash Grier~

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Directions

Standing at crossroads is never easy.  You would think that after decades of practice, one would get the hang of it.  Truth is, there are days that I am sure the years of practice only make it more difficult.  Balancing, weighing options, making a choice?  Lift the fog, allow me to glimpse ahead and perhaps I could.  When you are in your twenties, the options seem limitless, bouncing back is easier.  In your thirties, you feel adult enough to responsibly make a choice.  At the moment, picking a road seems like too much effort--I have already been on both roads, I know where they lead.  Journeying back if I choose the wrong one seems impossible.  Today, I just find myself worn down, weary and contemplating setting up camp because my heart is too heavy to withstand another fatal blow.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Indeed

“Do not judge me by my successes,

judge me by how many times I fell down

and got back up again.”  

~Nelson Mandela~

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Thoughts for the Day

"There came a time when enough was enough. All of the excuses finally lost their power." ~Unknown~

"Sometimes a heartbreak shakes you awake and helps you see that you are worth more than what you were settling for." ~Mandy Hale~

"A big part of who you become in life has to do with who you choose to surround yourself with. Sometimes destiny controls who walks into your life, but you decide who you let stay, who you pursue, and who you let walk back out.  It's better to be alone than to be with someone who never sees your worth.  Truth be told, no human being is more superior than the other; and all collective judgments about others are wrong.  Surround yourself with people who make you a better person." ~Unknown~

"The most beautiful people I've known are those who have known trials, have known struggles, have known loss, and have found their way out of the depths.” ~Elisabeth Kübler-Ross~

"People will generally accept facts as truth only if the facts agree with what they already believe."
~Andy Rooney~


“It's easier to fool people than to convince them that they have been fooled.” ~attributed to Mark Twain~

Friday, November 15, 2013

Thoughts on Happiness

Are you truly happy?  Do you find yourself content and satisfied at the end of each day or at least, most days?  What contributes to your inner peace?  Your job?  Your family?  Your friends?  Success?  Career? 
 
If your answer was no, can you remember a time in your life when you were happy?  What was the different between then and now?  Is it something that you can change?
 
Do you have an idea what would make you happy?  If money were no object, if fear were not a factor; what would you do?  What currently holds you back? 
 
When I ask these questions, I am, of course, excluding currently impossible dreams such as time travel, seeing deceased loved ones again, changing something that has already occurred, etc.  I am only asking about the things that may actually be within the realm of possibility.
 
Was your answer to find "true love"?  To have a healthy romantic relationship with another?  Did you catch yourself thinking that happiness was tied to the past?  Did you see happiness as going back and taking that chance that you had with love?  To go back and do things differently in hopes that a past relationship could still exist?  It seems this is the common answer when people are asked what would make them happy.  It most often ends up being something that they feel they can not obtain on their own. 
 
For me, this has always been a bit puzzling.  I understand the desire to connect, the desire for a soul mate, the desire to love and be loved, in return.  What puzzles me in the number of people that feel they cannot be happy WITHOUT a relationship.  Bouncing from person to person, blindly being in lust and rebounding to the next person when it is discovered that the previous one wasn't the sunshine and rainbows they first appeared to be.  Or how often in life I have been asked when I would settle down, get married, have children--surely I could not be happy without these things?  It is as though most people believe being alone is not only a curse, but something to be avoided.  That somehow, life is better or only worth living when paired?
 
I read somewhere that the greatest predictor of having a lasting relationship is the ability to bounce back--be in from arguments, fights, or any other challenges the relationship faces.  This was in reference to the longevity of marriages, but certainly could apply to any relationship--be it with a partner, family member or a friend.  I recognize this difference in my current relationship.  Arguments are rare; but they seem to pass quickly, as well.  The feelings of hurt, anger and bitterness don't seem to run amok, as they do in some relationships .  I think this is, in part, because neither of us likes conflict and we avoid it unless absolutely necessary.  In other words, if a topic has the danger of destroying the relationship, it needs addressed--fighting for the sake of fighting?  That is a foreign concept.  Of course, there also aren't the harsh put-downs or attempts to intentionally hurt each other that occur in many relationships, which probably accounts for a large percentage of that resiliency. 
 
Oddly enough, my answer when previously asked what I wanted in life was always the same and always quite simple: Happiness.  Toasts were always made to "happiness."  Finding the genie in the bottle?  Don't bother with three wishes.  I only needed one: Happiness.  However, it hasn't always felt so simple getting there.
 
Recently, I watched a program that suggested that finding happiness relies greatly on the overall ability of an individual to bounce back from life's setbacks.  They suggested that happy people still feel disappointment, anger and other emotions--the difference was in their ability to let go of negative feelings and emotions faster.  I would tend to agree with this.  The longer one dwells in any feeling or emotion, the more it permeates all aspects of being.  It is hard to focus on the present when one is basking in the glow of past emotions--be it sorrow, anger, frustration.  Additionally, when we surround ourselves with negativity--be it people, situations or our own thoughts--it is difficult not to be tainted by the cloud of misery.  Relationships are much the same; if you focus on the resentment, you miss the good that is happening around you.  Too often, we miss the rainbow because all we see are the mud puddles that we are dodging.  Sometimes you just need to stop, stand still and look up.  Taking in the big picture can be quite freeing, if we let it.
 
On the flip side, dwelling in feelings of happiness not only encourages us to remain happy, but it is difficult to avoid sharing that happiness with others.  Smiles truly are contagious, after all.  We all have those people that we love to be around because their perspective is always so positive that we, too, catch that positivity and feel good, as well.   Is it that simple?  It can be.  This is part of the expression, positive attracts positive.  Think happy thoughts and you will be happy.  It sounds cliché; it is difficult when you are in a depressive state, but it is not impossible. 
 
I know that I often post darker topic matter here--be it dealing with past wounds, expressing grief or voicing frustration.  This is part of my own healing.  Dub it spiritual purging or lingual vomit, if you must--but it is part of how I, personally, move on.  Whatever the topic is on here, you can be sure it rolled around in my head and tormented me, until I finally typed it out.  Generally, getting it out on paper (or the screen, in this case) alleviates the toxicity for me.  Clearly, some experiences have been more traumatic than others and are frequently visited topics--but generally viewing them from different angles and getting it out helps it heal.  It has also freed me from being surrounded by the pain.  Releasing it from my mind and onto paper allows me to bounce back, to return to a freer state. 
 
I also believe a major factor toward internal happiness is making peace with the demons of negativity that plague our souls.  The little voice that tells us that we aren't good enough, that others have it better than us or are better than us.  The voice that tells us that we don't deserve happiness or good things or that they will soon be ripped away from us, so do not cling too tight.  That little voice that for some of us is our parents; for others, society--no matter where the voice came from or how it developed, the important part is squashing it.  Negative self talk is something that many of us engage in, without even being aware of it.  As long as you entertain and believe that voice, there can not be happiness.  The two can not coexist.  My belief is, there are plenty of naysayers ready to knock you down and that will attempt to destroy your happiness--do not let your own inner voice be one of them.  Life is too hard for that.  Choose instead to be your own best friend, your own cheerleader--when you do, positive changes will happen for you.  At the very least, your satisfaction and contentment with life will increase and I am pretty sure that is never a bad thing.
 
Truly, the key to happiness is self-acceptance.  There can be no lasting happiness or peace without it.  Waiting for someone else to take your broken pieces and put them back together doesn't work either.  It's a pleasant dream, but remember when I posted the part about REALISTIC dreams?  Two broken vessels may be pieced together to make one--but hold water, they will not.  The truth of the matter is, if we don't accept who we are, how can we expect someone else to?  If we do not love our self, we will not be capable of believing someone else loves us, either.  Until we have self-acceptance, we will ultimately seek out ulterior motives--because, surely, they can't be with us because they love us?  Don't they hear that voice listing out the flaws?  Don't they see those flaws that we see when we look in the mirror? 

Challenge you mind.  Quiet the negative talk--because yes, that voice needs squashed.  It will destroy any chances you have for happiness--with others, but most of all, within yourself.  Replace it with a loving voice; one that forgives yourself, as easily as you forgive and accept others.  And smile, even your own reflection is improved when it is smiling and happy.  Contentment, satisfaction with life and happiness will indeed follow. 

Truth.

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."  ~Maya Angelou~

And sometimes freedom and healing is only found by letting it out...

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Giving Love a Bad Name

One thing that I will never understand is parents that try to hurt each other through their children.  It has always been a huge pet peeve of mine and I always hated being used as a tool between my own parents.  Yet, I see parents doing this on a regular basis--within the families that I work with and in my personal relationships, with both friends and with partners.  Maybe I don't understand due to not having children; fair enough.  Yet, something inside of me says that a decent parent would not want to intentionally hurt their own child--for ANY reason.
 
My partner of six years had a child that he was forbidden to see, despite paying $400 a month in child support.  We would send birthday cards, holiday cards--only to get nasty calls that he was to stay out of the child's life, unless he was willing to be with her, again.  Attempts to discuss the situation with Domestic Relations led to them telling us to get a lawyer--but all of our money was wrapped up in child support (while she lived at home, had a good job and had it made).  He was fifteen when she got pregnant (she was in her mid-twenties); he had to drop out of high school and get a job to support a child that he wasn't allowed to see--despite desperately wanting to.  The child was used as leverage, on a regular basis, for him to leave me and go back to her.  He missed so many years of his child's life, not because he wanted to, but because she felt their child could be used as a bargaining chip.
 
The relationship prior to my six years' of abstinence?  She left him for another man; but when I entered the picture, she wanted him back.  Her line of attack?  Of course, through their child.  He was told that as long as he was seeing me, he would not be allowed to see his daughter.  This progressed to me receiving phone calls FROM the child: "Why are you with my Daddy?  It makes my Mommy cry..."  This was the same woman that sat in the bar (four years prior to me dating her ex), telling me that in two more years their relationship would be considered a "common-law marriage" and she would be entitled to half of everything he owned--including the house.  She didn't love him; but she didn't want anyone else to have him either.  Using her child for manipulation?  Not a big deal, clearly.
 
My current gripe?  A man paying $900 a month for two biological children, plus one that she had as a result of cheating on him (he knowingly signed his name to the birth certificate and has raised this child, as his own, since).  When she decided that she deserved $1600 a month, she began decreasing his visits with the children from every other weekend to once a month, because he couldn't afford to pay her that much.  Maybe it should be mentioned that he doesn't even make $1600 a month.   Maybe it should be mentioned that she has six children, four different fathers, and her current husband (and newest baby daddy) makes six figures.  Since May, when crazy financial figures were requested; she has let him see the children twice--once in August and once in September.  This is also accompanied by phone calls from the youngest child, asking if he got a better job yet.  It doesn't matter that he loves all three of the children more than life, itself.  It doesn't matter that they miss him, as well.  It doesn't matter that they went from having visits twenty-five weekends, plus three weeks in the summer per year, to five weekends in eleven months.  Hell, it doesn't even matter that he had custody for several years while she was off playing the field.  What matters is that she feels she deserves $1600 a month from him and he can't afford a lawyer.
 
It is times like this that I wonder if I took the wrong path in life.  I was the girl terrified of becoming pregnant.  I used a sponge and spermicides WITHOUT telling partners and made them use condoms, as well.  I remember having the condom break once and being in an utter panic.  I was never so relieved as when I was finally able to go on birth control.  I may have been okay with having children, except one of my biggest fears was having that tie to a man for AT LEAST eighteen years; in reality, for life.  I always viewed children as a life sentence that I never found a partner worthy of committing to.  Truly, even with a decent choice for the child's father, we still only ever have control over a fraction of the parenting experience--add in stepparents, eighteen years worth of revolving parental figures--nope, no thanks.  And I suppose my childbearing philosophy was largely due to the Hell known as living with both of my parents and the fun times after they divorced, as well.
 
I can't help but realize how many women see their children simply as a meal ticket and a free ride in life.  Did I miss the boat???  My college would have been paid for had I had children.  These student loans that I have been paying on for the past thirteen years and won't have paid off until 2035?  They are the equivalent of a nice vehicle payment and they wouldn't exist had I been a single mother attending college.  This mortgage that will also be paid off in 2035?  I could have been living for free, all of this time, were I a single mother.  But heck, who needs college when you can make enough income between the different fathers paying child support to lead a nice, cushy life and never have to work outside of the home?  Funny, how I always saw my lack of children as a responsible act.  Maybe, instead, I missed my ticket to easy street?
 
Don't get me wrong.  I know that being a full-time mother is a full-time job.  And I know that not all parents use their children as revenge and a paycheck.  This blog isn't about the parents that are working hard to raise healthy, well-adjusted children.  This blog isn't about parents that didn't plan to have children but it happened.  I am not knocking single parents that do their best to be a mom and a dad.  I have respect for anyone that loves their children and tries their best to raise them well.  This one is specifically for the parents that see an opportunity and plan their own financial security by using their bodies as a factory--the parents that willing hurt their own children and use them as tools to get what they want in life.  Forgive me if I have little to no respect for those individuals.  I know that I am being harsh; I am just tired of seeing this situation. 
 
I know that part of my anger is from working with children throughout the years and seeing the scars that parents have created by using their children as pawns.  I have seen parents searching for diagnosis labels for their children so that they can collect government money for them.  I have talked to women that were calculating how much their finances would increase by having another child and planning their pregnancy around the financial gain.  These are the parents that I do not understand. 
 
I am not suggesting that men should be free from financial obligation to their children, either.  Do not get me wrong.  And I am not saying that men do not also manipulate through their children--I have seen it go both ways.  What I am saying is that when children equal nothing more than dollar signs; there is something seriously wrong.  When children are used as a tool to hurt the ex; there is something seriously wrong.   I am suggesting that when fathers want to be involved in their children's lives (and they have proven to be good fathers), but the mothers will not let them, risking hurting their own child--emotionally, psychologically, or in any other manner; there is something seriously wrong.  If other people feel that I am being judgmental and hateful by posting this; there may be something seriously wrong there, too. 
 
As a child that was hurt by such games; as an individual working to correct the damage created to children by these games; as a woman that has watched many males that I care about suffer and their children, as well--I must say that there is something wrong with a society that not only permits this, but sees it as being all right.  Truly, there are more good fathers out there than people realize.  There are many men being raked over the coals when they shouldn't be.  There are way too many children suffering, because their parents put their own desires above the needs of their children.  I wish more people would think about these issues when putting their children in the middle of their "ex wars."  And, yes, we do grow up and see the truth--no matter what lies we are fed in youth.  For some of us, the scars are deep enough that we can't even fathom having our own children.   I wouldn't wish those experiences upon anyone; certainly not my own child, that I would imagine I would want to protect and care for. 
 
My belief is that parents are to love their children and want what is best for them.  My belief is that parents should have a unified goal to raise their children to become healthy, well-adjusted adults.  And with all of that comes: playing nice with the ex, not bad-mouthing the ex in front of the children, and encouraging positive interactions between BOTH parents and the child.  Maybe I am a romantic, wishing that children could have access to both parents and could find unconditional love through both their mother and father, whether together or apart.  Maybe I am old-fashioned in believing that parents have an obligation to raise children that are taught to be self-sufficient.  Maybe I believe that raising children to manipulate, to cheat the system and other human beings, teaching them to put their own needs above the ones they "love" and teaching them to hurt each other simply because they can--maybe I see this as a piece of society's current breakdown.
 
But again, what do I know?  I am told these actions are completely justifiable.  I am told that I just don't understand because I don't have children.  If someone has a sane answer to these actions, please, clue me in.  If financial gain and creating manipulation tools are what having children is about, I stand firm in having made the choice to not reproduce.  I realize that maybe this blog posting was a bit harsh; but I am so tired of seeing children hurt by parents, for any reason.  I also struggle with understanding why there are not more individuals offended by these situations.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Living Within Realistic Limits

As someone that works with low-income families and families living well below the poverty level, I am always astounded by the events surrounding Christmas.  Although, I wouldn't say it is limited to just the families that I work with; going into extreme financial distress, maxing out the credit cards and even bankruptcy seems to be the new Christmas family tradition.  Or maybe this has always been the norm and I just wasn't privy to the details, in the past.

I, too, grew up well below the poverty level.  Our mother had many severe health problems--lupus, diabetes, high blood pressure, bipolar manic depression--working wasn't an option since she often was confined to her bed for days, sometimes weeks, at a time.  Our father wasn't big on helping out and had no interest in us, financially or emotionally.  We grew up in the system and it was a normal fact of life--the end of the month meant unique challenges.  The end of the month meant no toilet paper--we used magazine pages, newspaper or other papers and kept a garbage bag close to the toilet for the "recycled" results.  Meals often consisted of tri-colored pasta or other foodbank handouts.  I must say, the foodbank choices of this era amaze me.  Now the food bank offers donuts, pizzas, pies--I am always amazed by what the families that I work with tote home after visits.  Today's foodbanks are more like a food lottery of choices, variety, and products that they would buy given the choice.  It was strictly staples when I was growing up--rice, pasta, a block of cheese. 

Despite working with families below the poverty level, I have yet to work with any that have been even close to living how my two brothers and I did, as children.  We rarely had vehicles.  We often went years at a time with no car.  My mom had a cart that we would wheel to the grocery store and wheel back home.  Thankfully, we only lived about two miles from the grocery store, but it was still embarrassing and I hated going along.  Clothes were hand-me-downs from cousins, church members, neighbors.  I remember being in high school and being forced to wear pants that had previously belonged to an extremely obese male; I was frequently bullied and teased because of my clothes, as a result.  We made do with what we had.  We didn't have any other option. 

Growing up, I was embarrassed by my situation.  We got free school lunches, but I was too embarrassed to be "that kid."  As a result, I never ate lunch, not even once, from seventh grade through graduation.  There weren't as many of us during the 80's, as there are now.  Today, it is pretty common to get free lunches and I am not sure that the other students even know if someone else gets free lunch.  Growing up, I also came to hate the first week of school, Christmas, Easter--all of the times that the other students flaunted their new clothing, their handheld arcade games and all of the other things that I so desperately hoped to discover deposited overnight, within my household, as well.

Christmas was generally an item or two that the school nurse would allow me to pick out for my brothers.  Sometimes we got presents from the Salvation Army.  That was always a neat surprise because as the oldest, I knew the truth of our financial situation.  Somehow, my mom always managed to keep the Salvation Army presents hidden until Christmas morning; when I, too, would awake to discover gifts under the tree.  A sweater, some make-up--it was never much--but it was unexpected.  Even more mystifying to me was the other holidays when peers returned to school with new outfits, toys, and other spoils.  Easter?  We got jelly beans and some chocolate--never the mini-Christmas peers and cousins got.  Birthdays?  I got my favorite cake and some small gifts.  Even the beginning of the school year, we would generally get a new pair of tennis shoes, a bookbag, some pencils and crayons--an elaborate new wardrobe?  Not unless people donated clothing concurrently, with school beginning.

Today, as an adult, I do not look back on that time bitterly.  I learned early that life wasn't fair.  I learned that we don't always get what we want.  I learned that, in fact, we rarely get what we want in life.   I learned that I do not require the best of everything; and above that, I don't put the value upon material possessions that I see amongst my peers.   I learned how to make money stretch and how to make household items go further.  I learned that you do not spend what you do not have.  I learned to take care of myself.  I learned how to be independent.  I learned how to survive.

Beyond that, I developed imagination and creativity.  I learned how to creatively make things better than what they started out as.  I have learned that I can recycle "junk" into something unique and now desired by others.  I am able to see earthly goods--be it surroundings, clothing, or simple household items and not only imagine transformation, but then make it happen. Growing up without store bought items, my imagination was stretched to create what I desired and wanted through available resources.  This is a gift that growing up in extreme poverty brought me that has proven invaluable throughout my life.

I still don't believe in name brands and labels.  I don't see women with their Prada or Coach purses and think, "Gee, they must lead fabulous lives--I wish I could be like them."  I see the adult products of childhood entitlement grown up and still believing that they need to prove something to the world through material possessions.  I see people that are never satisfied and run themselves into debt to make themselves feel better with an often shallow existence.  Is that truly something to be jealous of?  No, I don't wish for their shoes--but the bright side is: today, yes, I could afford them if I wished.  I just don't see labels and name brands as something that I need to prove my worth.

I do not have outstanding debt.  My vehicle may be a rustbucket--but it is paid for and I will run it until it disintegrates.  Coworkers have made the comment "You still drive that?"  Well, yeah--why not?  I do not desire a monthly vehicle payment nor do I want the added stress of worrying about scratches or dings.   My attire?  Goodwill, thrift stores--I easily walk out with ten outfits for twenty dollars because people that only see me as the labels and brands that I wear are people that I have no desire to impress to begin with.  Only underwear, bras and socks are bought new and that is far and few between, as well.  Dining out?  Beyond the fact that it is mostly high-calorie junk, I have a hard time justifying the price tags attached and it becomes a rare treat and one that I am willing to pay more for, on the off occasions when I do indulge.  I have not had cable or the equivalent since 1999.  Living within a budget is simple.  You do not spend beyond what you have.  I pay my credit cards off each month not only to avoid interest, but because it just makes sense.  The debt I carry?  Eight years of college and my mortgage. 

Everything that I have today, I worked hard for.  I have never had anyone to help me.  I have never been able to rely on anyone else for my financial success.  Growing up in poverty made me desire more for my own future.  I worked hard to be financially independent because it has always been just me.  If I can't take care of myself, who will?  I don't regret my childhood, but I also didn't want to spend the rest of my life in constant fear of living on the streets.  While some women dreamed of elaborate weddings, children and marriage--my vision was for a future where I owned my own home and was able to survive without depending on anyone else.  Poverty created that dream.  Poverty motivated my success.

Hard times?  Yeah, I still have them, too--on a regular basis--don't get me wrong.  But I am also able to look at most things and say "Do I really need that?  Can I make do with what I have?"  Thankfully, most often the answer is yes.  I am not saying that I am better than anyone else or that my way of living is the correct one.  What I am saying, is that it doesn't have to be as hard as the majority of the population makes it.  I have learned to cut corners to such a degree that my world seems strange to many viewing it--but I have learned to trade "things" for experiences.  It doesn't work for everyone; but for me, this is the preferred existence.

As a result of my own experiences, I do not understand when parents feel that they must sacrifice and work insane schedules just to provide their children with "all of the things that they never had growing up."  I see that often with the parents of today and I do not believe that they do their children favors with that belief.  I believe children benefit more from quality time with their parents as opposed to material possessions.  Memories last; "stuff" doesn't.  I know which holds more value for me.  Those special birthday cakes my mom would bake for my birthday?  Simple angel food cakes; flavored with Kool-Aid to create orange, strawberry and other amazing flavors.  It is the cakes that I remember with fondness--not the gifts.  It is the time and love that she put into creating something uniquely for me.  Looking back, the gifts that she hand made hold so much more value than the store-bought items. 

Winter is coming and with it, Christmas.  I see the frantic parents around me.  I see the financial burden they create for themselves in an effort to shower gifts upon their children.  I get it.  Don't get me wrong.  I understand wanting to give the best to loved ones.  I understand wanting that magic.  What I don't understand is digging such large holes, when the magic isn't in the boxes under the tree.  Possessions only bring fleeting happiness and often have a unique price paid along with them--there is an unseen burden attached to possessions.  It is in the memories--decorating the home together, watching movies together--it is the time spent together that they will remember and cherish, in the end.

The families that I see going into financial distress and maxing out their credit cards in the name of family tradition; in the name of creating a better life for their children?  I view it as farce.  This is parents teaching their children that they are entitled.  This is parents teaching children that their worth is based upon how much they have and the label attached to it.  This is parents teaching children that love has a price-tag.  Society complains about individuals believing that they are entitled, that they deserve hand-outs; while they create these monsters within their own homes.  These parents, believing that they are doing what is best for their children, inadvertently rob them of some of the best gifts that life has to offer.   They rob their children of creativity, of learning to make do, of learning to live within their limits.  These are gifts that I wouldn't trade for the world.

I hear some of my readers saying, "What do you know?  You don't have children.  You don't understand."  What I can tell you is that, as a human and having once been a child, it didn't kill me to not have as much as my peers.  As an adult that works with children and teenagers, seeing the effects of giving them whatever they want is not pretty.  Not being able to tell children "no", does not a good parent make.  Being a friend, as opposed to a parent, isn't the answer.  Buying them the world doesn't make them happier or better people--those are the illusions our society has created and that our media attempts to sell us.    Think back to your own childhood, your own cherished memories--do you truly disagree???

Monday, November 4, 2013

In the Shadows--Part II of III

The PFA-ex was hung up on one of his exes throughout our relationship.  Well, not so much her, personally--but more specifically, her breasts.  I went through that relationship being made to feel inadequate due to being a 36C as opposed to a 48D.  Funny, one of his comments after I left and he was attempting to win me back, was: "I watch porn with women that have breasts shaped and sized like yours, now."  Flattering; I know.  Oddly enough, when we started dating he often told me how nice my breasts were due to never having had children.  As our relationship progressed and he became more abusive, I was regularly reminded about his ex's huge breasts and was encouraged to seek breast augmentation.  And still, despite his frequent criticism of my small breasts; he regularly made negative comments regarding what age and gravity does to big breasts, hers included.  Maybe he just (not so) secretly hated women.
 
The PFA ex was so trapped in the past and the glory days of teenage sexual escapades that he missed most of our time together.  After I left, I was added to his list of past regrets.  Suddenly, I became his soulmate and everything that he wanted in a woman.  Funny, how that works.  When we were together, he was "sacrificing" by being with me; after I left, he decided that I was his entire world and all that was good in it.  I have wondered since, if he puts his current girlfriends through similar, daily torture of how they don't meet up to aspects that I, myself, carried.  It really wouldn't surprise me.  It is part of how abusers destroy a partner's self-esteem and convince them that if they don't stay with them, the partner will be alone forever.  Part of the abuse is convincing the partner, that no matter how horrible they are, that the abuser is kindly enough to sacrifice himself and his potential for greatness by staying with them.  He tears down self-esteem and in its place puts a belief that no one else could possible want to be with you; because, yes, you are that disgusting, fucked-up and worthless.  Typical abuser manipulation.
 
Looking back, I think maybe he had an ex-fetish, in general.  Perhaps it was an obsession with attempting to reclaim what he has lost.   The fact that he regularly cheated on "48D"; with an ex that came before her, really only supports this suspicion.  While I was with him, he raved about all of his exes--but she was the one he still had the most regular contact with and tormented me the most through.  Maybe his obsession with exes was something beyond the excitement of cheating and getting away with it? 
 
Perhaps believing that his exes still wanted him, increased his own feelings of self-worth?  Perhaps, cheating with exes was more about continued conquest, "still having it", and other internal rewards that I may never understand.  Maybe because they had been with him before, knew what they were getting and were still interested--perhaps this was even more emotionally rewarding than his other indiscretions?  Because truly, to suggest that he only cheated with exes would be very unfair.  He genuinely was an equal-opportunity adulterer, no questions asked--it just seemed that returning to already tasted forbidden fruits was his preference.  Maybe it was more about "how can I be that bad of a guy when these women still want to be with me?" 
 
Their motivation for being with him again?  Yeah, I can't say.  Well, actually, I probably can.  He had a passion for older women, mother figures and most importantly--woman that already had houses, financial security and that he could not only avoid providing for, but that had the potential to provide for him, instead.  I was one of the very few younger woman that he dated--most were ten years or more his senior.  But I, too, had my own house, possessions, financial security--his primary attractants.  Additionally, I had practiced six years of celibacy prior to my relationship with him.  Maybe not extremely common for someone in their late 20's/early 30's, but I was very guarded.  By the time he entered my life, I was just looking for fun--nothing serious.  And honestly, after six years, I didn't care so much about the fact that he was a scofflaw; but was just wanting to scratch an itch, so to say.  I didn't think that I would fall for him. 
 
I know, now, that he preyed upon financially secure women and took all that he could get from them.  Up until now, I missed what I had in common with his relationships over the past two decades.  He generally went for older women because they were easier to tear down; they were less secure with the fact that they were with a much younger guy.  He frequently mentioned how they would be embarrassed by being mistaken for his mother, as opposed to his partner.  He frequently made comments to me about how he could get "fresh, hot, young girls anytime he wanted"--I suspect that this was a leftover taunt commonly used with his older women and that he had a habit of throwing it out as a retort.  I see now, where all of us were easy targets; his favorite kind.  And of course,  bonus, for him; I was overweight, at the time that we met--generally a decent area for attacking self-worth.  And that he did--over and over.
 
So, Mr. PFA-ex, I think I get it.  Initial attraction: a healthy combination of financial security and the potential to destroy an already shaky self-esteem.  The mystery of his ex obsession.  Yes, I think I understand that a bit better, now too, as well.  These other women were probably easily "swept up" into his extra-curricular activities in much the same way that they fell for him in the first place--hot, younger guy looking beyond their age and showing interest in them?  Easy.  Add his "younger playboy" appeal to the fact that he is seeing someone else now and still "can't be without them"?  Good lords, no wonder he has so many ex-affairs throughout all of his relationships.   Granted, many weren't the nicest of women and I am sure they didn't care that he was in a relationship when they cheated with him.  I'm sure it boosted their damaged self-esteem, just as he was boosting his own.  I don't know that I really "got it" before today. 
 
It's funny. I was happy with my breasts before I met him.  They were an area that I felt was "just right."  How like an abuser to take the few areas that we feel secure in and destroy that security.  The rest is easy, after that.  Maybe it never was so much about my small breast size.   Maybe the cheating wasn't just about my physical inadequacy, as he led me to believe.  Maybe these are wounds that I can cast aside and realize I may have fallen victim, but it happens to the best of us.  And maybe, I should have never taken any of that nastiness to heart, in the first place.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Truth.

"A man who views the world

the same at fifty

as he did at twenty

has wasted thirty years

of his life."

 

~Muhammad Ali~

Friday, November 1, 2013

Día de los Muertos

 
It's here! It's here! It's here! Día de los Muertos, my favorite holiday; yes, even above Halloween!!!  Sugar skulls, marigolds, flowers, face paint, food, beverages and candles! Offerings of gifts for the dead; graveside vigils and offerings--candles lit to guide the way...
 
 
Since I do not have time to get into it, today; I have also included the link to my 2011 post regarding Dia de los Muertos and why I began celebrating it.  Besides, of course, the fact that it is a beautiful holiday and so preferred over the American view of death; a private matter, that is best not talked about.  A view that leads to mental health issues, festering illness and eternal grief.
 
And so why not?  A celebration that honors the lives and memories of the ones who are no longer with us? A celebration suggesting that their life was worth living and therefore, remembering and honoring.  This just makes sense to me.  And would our loved ones not prefer us to be happy?  Would it be that the veil is indeed thin, I believe they would prefer the merriness to sorrow and tears.  I would, were it me behind the veil...
 
 

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Just Another Conundrum

Some have wanted much bigger breasts.  
Some would prefer it all petite.

Some have wanted me to be their mother. 
Some wished me nothing like her.

Some have wanted more passion. 
Some desired so much less.

Some have complained that I was too free.
Some grew frustrated that I couldn't relax. 

Some have wanted control and chains.
Some continuously pushed away.

Some have tried to change me.
Some thought I changed too much.

Some have felt intelligence was a flaw.
Some were embarrassed by the lack.

Some have demanded quiet and meek.
Some desired more social grace.

Some have asserted that fighting was needed.
Some felt conflict was better avoided.

Some have been stuck in the past.
Some were terrified of the present.

Some couldn't stop being womanizers.
Some saw me as a safe cover.

Some thought of me as their financial gain.
Some saw a break for escaping their own debt.

They have all wanted something that I am not.
They have all called it love.

They have all expected me to accept them.
None could love me for who and what I am.

None really understood love.
None thought about it until I was gone.

Friday, October 25, 2013

On Recent Quotes

I apologize that there have been a lot of quotes and few written blogs, as of late.  Had a lot on my mind and while I am still writing quite a bit--most has to remain in draft form, for now.  I am sure at some point I will post them for the world, but not yet...

"Controllers, abusers and manipulative people don't question themselves.  They don't ask themselves if the problem is them.  They always say the problem is someone else." ~Darlene Ouimet~

Friday, October 18, 2013

The Process of Healing

I thought that I would do something nice for myself, this week, and got a full-body massage.  I still suffer from a lot of physical pain--residue from past abuses--from both the police and in general.  The pain causes me significant difficulties in life and one of my most problematic areas is driving.  One doesn't realize the range of body motion required for driving until one is not capable of performing said motions.  While the massage was mostly pleasant, at the time (only three or four major winces), by that evening, I felt as though I had been in an automobile accident--by the following day, I could barely walk and was contemplating an emergency room visit.  Four days later, and I am still unable to function in a "normal" manner.
 
I am currently down to working fourteen hours per week.  Since the 2010 incident, I still haven't returned to full-time hours.  Of course, my full-time was always closer to fifty to sixty hours per week, especially with the position that I had prior to the PFA, prior to the police incident, prior to my life changing.  At that time, I was also salaried, so the work week only ended when I caught up and that never seemed to happen.  Today, I am overwhelmed with fourteen work hours.  Part of this, as well, is due to not being sure how much longer I will be capable of driving.  My current schedule allows for me to have a day of recuperation after each day of driving.  Seems ridiculous?  I drove Tuesday when I knew that I shouldn't.  I drove today, when I knew that by doing so, I not only put myself in danger, but other drivers due to my range of motion issues.
 
Daily diet, every four hours, 1800 mg of Ibuprofen, alternated with 660 mg of Naproxen Sodium.  I don't feel that either does much more than take a bit of the edge off.  This has been my recipe for almost four years now.  Monday night, I was barely able to undress myself; I cried as my fiancé took my socks off of my feet because bending over to do it myself wasn't an option.  I have been fiercely independent my entire life.  Facing a broken body and helplessness is almost beyond what I am capable of dealing with.  Fiercely independent women deserve to be broken, though, right?
 
The six-year relationship of pummeling--I only ever fought back once.  That led to a beating that included a concussion and the possibility of being blind in my left eye.  Thankfully, when the swelling went down and my eye opened back up, I still had my sight.  Generally, all that was ever required to achieve my bruises was being present.  He would come home from a night of drinking and drug use--there I was, his ready-made punching bag.  He would wake up the next day, as confused and mortified as I was.
 
My two-years of severe emotional abuse--again, I would sit, cry and take it.  He complained on a daily basis that I didn't know how to fight and that was "our problem."  I just learned early in life that words in return, up the ante, and eventually lead to beatings.  I am not stupid.  I have never spoken a word regarding many of the things that happened during that relationship because it is still too embarrassing, still too humiliating.  I may be fiercely independent, but I know beaten-down; I know broken; I know scarred.  Four years later, including a year and a half of intensive domestic violence counseling and I still don't know that many of the incidents will ever be shared beyond the "instant replay" that I often see in my mind.  It is still that horrible to me.  I still have nightmares that wake me up from a dead sleep on a regular basis.  Sharing much of what happened, still isn't a possibility.
 
Fierce independence.  It is why my father has always had issues with me.  It is why he felt justified in turning two polices officers on me--pumped up on my father's tales that I was homicidal, suicidal, had aggressive pets and had not only written a letter stating that I was going kill my entire family but had also recently caused physical harm to others.  It is why he has always felt a need to knock me down.  Punishment.  Control.  These have always been the basis for any good relationship.  Women like me just need to be put back in their place, that is all.  When belittling and humiliation no longer work, brute force is an excellent choice.  When you can't do it because you might lose your job, send someone else to do it, always an excellent choice.
 
And today, I feel as though they have won.  How can I be independent?  I don't know how much longer I will be able to drive.  I am already very limited.  Being unable to drive affects my ability to work and support myself.  Being unable to support myself means eventual dependence.  Dependence on what???  I can't rely on my family.  I won't rely on the "system."  What happens when they finally physically break us?  Is my spirit only a matter of time?  I have fought so hard to reassemble the bit of positive self-regard that I still possess.  What now???

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Saccharine Smiles and Dagger Bouquets

I'm not sure that I will ever understand some women.  I don't understand the need for catty comments, false smiles and sweet words that have the underlying taste of acid.  The pretenses; the thin veil hiding saccharine-flavored nastiness; comments shaped as daggers but hidden in flowers and hearts.  What possesses women to treat each other like that?  What creates that desire to strike other women down?  Is the sisterhood concept so difficult to grasp?  
 
Competitive?  Want to run a race?  Run fast and run hard.  But don't be surprised when stopping to check and see how far ahead you are, to discover that I simply turned and walked the other way from the start.  Don't misunderstand, I am quiet. I am passive. I may ignore slights and negative comments; but that does not mean that I am weak.   Have you earned the upper hand? Are you better than me just because I don't bite back?  I am not going to break just because you want me to.  I am simply not interested in such games.  I do not have the time, the energy or the desire.  If you insist on playing, don't be upset when I don't join in; it just isn't my cup of tea.  I never learned to play like that and it is a game that I don't even care to watch from the sidelines.
 
I prefer to live and let live.  If you don't like someone, don't be around them.  Don't agree with someone's opinion?  Agree to disagree and recognize that neither of you are necessarily right... or necessarily wrong.  If you are jealous of someone, find out what it is that triggers your feelings and work on those issues within yourself.  If someone else has the relationship that you want, don't attempt to swoop in and take it for your own--look at what it is within that relationship that you crave and add it to the list of what you are seeking in your own partner.  If your significant other does fall for their ruse and is led astray, let them wander away.  The best answer is that they deserved each other from the start and you are better off without either of them.  Is it that simple?  Yes, it really is.
 
This is why 90% of my friends are male and always have been.  If I have to worry about being stabbed in the back; if the intent is to belittle and cut; if being mean-spirited is sport, I will put distance between myself and the other individual without thinking twice.  If someone is intentionally cruel to others, even if it isn't me, chances are, that distance will still be earned.  There are some breaks in trust and faith that prevent future bonds from forming.  I am a firm believer in "do unto others, as you would have them do unto you."  I may not do equal harm in return, but I will no longer go out of way for that individual, either.   
 
This is also why the females that I have embraced and welcomed into my life are some of the most amazing people imaginable.  Mostly tomboys, bruisers, strong women; the girls that have never been interested in the games.  Females that don't rip apart their friends but put them back together when the world has been rough--females that see the good in life and help others find it, as well.  Creative souls, open souls, free-thinkers, and those that bypass labels.  There are even a few princesses and queens in my circle, but they are true and I trust them with my heart.  I am content with my circle; I have wonderful people.  My circle is small and close-knit for good reason.  And I have always been content on my own; perhaps this is why I have never felt the need to conform or be liked.  This is why I can walk away and not need such "friendships."  Friendship shouldn't be painful, anymore than love is meant to hurt...

Monday, September 30, 2013

Closet Doors

Those of you that know me, know that I love Halloween more than any other day of the year.  So much, in fact, that I additionally celebrate Halloween in April when about thirty friends and myself dress up and go out and about, in costume.  I also created Zombie Valentine's Day, where we dress up as zombies and dine in the nicer establishments, where couples like to celebrate the love-fest (because there is nothing quite like proposing to your girl with a group of zombies carrying on at the next table).  Random costumes occur all year long, in my world.
 
As a result of my love for Halloween, I have collected Halloween decorations for as long as I have had money to spend and many of the gifts that people have bought me for my birthdays and Christmas were Halloween oriented.  The amount of money that I have amassed in Halloween decorations, costumes, and accessories throughout the years is astronomical.  I used to keep the decorations up year round and friends often joked that visiting my home during the Christmas months was reminiscent of being part of The Nightmare Before Christmas.  These days, I have a closet dedicated to just Halloween items--one of the luxuries of being a homeowner.  Even still, my house always has a touch of macabre in any room you enter.
 
I haven't decorated for Halloween since 2007, due to moving in with the PFA-ex.  I wasn't permitted to have any of my personal items on display in his house--be it pictures, decorations or knick-knacks.  When I moved in, he had the entire upstairs of his house blocked off and it was basically storage.  I cleaned each room upstairs and turned one of the rooms into a ferret room, complete with paying for and installing laminate flooring.  I had the ferret room and a spare bedroom that had some of my personal items in it.  He permitted the spare bedroom to be decorated since his teenage daughter lived in Tennessee and would need a place to sleep during a visit (he also talked me into spending $375 for her plane ticket since he didn't have a credit card--like always, he promised he would pay me back--more promises that he never kept).
 
Basically, what happened when I moved in with him was, I sold and gave away most of my possessions and put my own house on the market.  While living with him, the majority of my remaining possessions were in boxes.  Other than the two rooms upstairs that he didn't use anyhow, the house was kept "his;" never "ours."  His excuse was that since his house was "under construction," he didn't want my stuff to get broken and we would have to take it down as the remodeling occurred.  Oddly enough, there was very little remodeling that occurred during my time with him.
 
At any rate, since my possessions were not a part of "our life together," decorating for the holidays did not happen, either.  When I moved back into my home in 2009, I had very little left.  No furniture, no kitchen supplies, most of my possessions were sold for pennies on the dollar simply because I did not have the room to store them at his house and why would I need my own things?
 
I moved back in November of 2009.  2010 saw me too depressed to care about decorating--even for Halloween.  That was the year that I lost my family and my nephews--why bother with decorating if they were not going to be here to appreciate it?  During the next two years, my current boyfriend/fiancé had moved in and we were finding places for his belongings, as well.  Halloween wasn't a priority.
 
So here we are, 2013. I have the itch once again! I am excited!  It is like a reunion with old friends.  I start envisioning where everything will go; I start thinking about all of the awesome that is tucked away in my Halloween closet; I remember how much fun it always was putting it up and have just barely managed to make it until September to dig it all out and begin.
 
Today was the day, I made sure that my paperwork was done and we started dragging out the boxes.  Except, wait! Where is the crazy, motion-activated ghost that scared my nephews so much that I had to turn it off whenever they visited?  Where are all of my cool, little action figures?  Where is my Hellraiser stuff?  Where is... everything???
 
My lords.  Did I really sell off that much?  I know a lot of it ended up being given away to friends and going to Agape (a local, charitable organization that helps families in crisis, at no charge to them).  There is a good possibility that some of it accidently got left behind at his house.  Either way, my excitement soon turned to disappointment as I searched for this item and that, only to discover that they were gone. 
 
I know I sound whiny.  I know, they were just replaceable possessions.   So many things that I lost in that relationship.  Family.  Friends.  My self-esteem.  Thousands of dollars.  Maybe it was just too much on an already emotionally challenging day.  Maybe I just want to reach the point in the story where I can tell it without feeling the pain attached.  Maybe it is just one more piece of my life that I will never get back.  Maybe it is just a reminder of how much I lost because of that relationship.
 
Maybe it is symbolic of the disappointment that relationship was, in and of itself.  I entered it with such expectation and hope.  Excitement and plans for a future so much different than what it turned out to be.  It's so difficult looking back and seeing how blind I was, how naïve, how trusting.  How much faith I had in him and how he not only took advantage, but intentionally broke me, as well.  How something as little as decorating my house for Halloween can be a trigger, a reminder, of the scars that I have been covering up and pretending were gone.
 
How even my favorite time of the year is now tainted. 
 
Did my friends and family really believe everything was alright, when 2009 saw the first time in my entire life that I didn't even dress up for Halloween?  Did they forget that I usually dressed up every day of Halloween week, for work, for fun, just because?  Did they really buy the story that I "just wasn't into it," that year?  Did they really miss how depressed and unhappy I was? 
 
It still boggles my mind that even now they can only see "how happy I was."  Am I really such a good actress?  Why did they only notice after I was away from him that I had lost weight?  When I was with him, I "looked great" and even my doctor stated that the weight loss must be "from all of that good sex;" (AFTER he asked me if I had cancer).  As soon as I left the PFA-ex, the weight loss was no longer a good thing, but a "concern."  Surely a sign of something darker, some evil that I was doing to myself.  My happiness upon leaving and renewed joy in life was also viewed as only being possible through some dark avenue.  Why couldn't they see that I was happy to be free? 
 
As I sit and look at one of the few decorations that I have left, a simple gargoyle plaque paying tribute to Dante's Inferno: "Abandon all hope ye who enter here,"  I am not surprised that it is one of the few of my decorations that survived those days.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Regarding "An Open Letter"

For those of you wondering, the previous post is for a friend that is in a dangerous situation and has had her communications monitored by the abuser, as well.  To help prevent him from intercepting the message, it has become public domain.

Friday, September 20, 2013

Quote of the Day

“Moving on can’t be forced or rushed. Yet from the moment you begin to deal with the abuse, people will urge you to hurry up and “put it in the past.” There will be times you want to move on as well—simply because healing is so painful. But moving on to avoid the pain or to please others is an escape.  Real moving on is the natural result of fully living through each step of the healing process.” ~Beginning to Heal by Ellen Bass & Laura Davis~


Wednesday, September 11, 2013

On Letting Go

I have recently been in contact with several friends that have been with me since the day of my birth--perhaps more aptly, my mother's best friend and her daughter.  They have always been a part of my life, I have special memories with them both and they each have a special place in my heart, uniquely reserved for them and the space that they occupy there.  I love them both deeply and they have each brought love and light into my world, always.  Recently though, I have been watching them struggle through dealing with past hurts that have ripped their relationship apart and have created a chasm between them that seems impossible to patch, to each of them. 
 
I think one of the hardest things to accept in life is when our family doesn't live up to our expectations and hopes.  We all want to be happy.  We all want to be loved.  Beyond that, our family is supposed to be our greatest asset in life.  The more immediate the family member, the more that we expect of them.  They are supposed to be our cheerleader, our support, our safety net.  They are the ones that are suppose to help us through life's storms and provide us shelter.  But what do we do when it is our family that hurts us the most?  What do we do when they are the storm?
 
The logical choice when someone treats you poorly, causes you grief and brings you pain is to end the relationship.  We easily separate ourselves from toxic coworkers, neighbors, even friends.  However, when it is family, the scars are ten times deeper.  And ten thousand times more difficult to let go.  We forgive.  We open our hearts back up.  We make ourselves vulnerable and we often get hurt.  How many times until we say, enough is enough?
 
How difficult to see that our family is made up of real people, with real flaws, and make real mistakes.  In my own experience, I am forced to remind myself daily that my father is no different than any other person that I may encounter in my daily life.  He has no super powers.  He has no hold over me.  He has no hold over my life.  His opinion of me is no more important than what the individual sitting at the next diner table over thinks of me.  Yet, with immediate family, we most deeply feel that need for acceptance, approval, and love.  Without it, we never quite feel complete.
 
I think the difficulties increase further when we see others surrounded by the relationships that we, too, wish that we could have.  Seeing friends that have families that support them and are there for them can be so confusing when we can't maintain similar relationships in our own lives.  It makes us wonder if there is something wrong with us.  When our own family isn't capable of loving us, does that make us damaged goods?  I have heard it said a lot in counseling sessions: "Their own family wants nothing to do with them"; as if this surely marks them as a bad individual. 
 
We can never truly see into another's heart.  We can never fully gauge the pain that they carry.  They can attempt to explain it to us in the best words that they can find--but we can still never truly feel what they have felt.  What the experiences have been like for them.  How deeply words and actions can wound; how the situation appears through their eyes.  There are old blues lyrics:  "There are three sides to every story: yours, mine and the truth."  The truth is no less the truth.  I may see it as black.  You may see it as blue.  Another yet, may see it as purple.  Perceptions are very rarely, if ever, viewed the same by individuals.  But that doesn't make their view any less important.
 
My father sees me as bitter and hateful because I have walked away.  He believes that I am incapable of accepting that he loves me.  He sees it as that simple.  All I wanted was admittance that he made a mistake; an apology for hurting me deeply.  I don't see that as a lot to ask.  I see it as "manning up."  But I am also aware that he is incapable of seeing where he acted improperly.  He is the God of his world and those that are in it.  He made the moves that he did because of who he is and his own life experiences.  I can accept that.  I also realize that even if he did apologize, even if he regretted his actions--it would not take away the events that happened.  It would not make the situation okay.  I would still be deeply hurt by the events that transpired--I will always see a black cloud over that stretch of my life.  He can't take that away--only time can heal or soften the edges.  But an apology or even an attempt to see things from my perspective would have prevented where we are today.  I see it as that simple.  Yes, I am stubborn, too--he should at least see where I get it from. 
 
Do I see myself as bitter and hateful?  I don't know.  I have a lot of people in my life that have hurt me repeatedly and that I have forgiven.  Only I can say when enough is enough.  Only I can decide when someone has caused me enough pain that I don't want to try again or continue the relationship.  My heart knows what I can carry and what I can't.  I would rather be surrounded by people that bring love, light and happiness into my world.  I would rather not have to worry about what they may do to hurt me next or if I can trust them to be a good part of my world.  If that makes me hateful and bitter, okay.  I can live with that.  I see it as self-preservation and life being too short to allow miserable people to place their misery upon me; but I can see how others may call it a different shade of black.
 
At any rate, I recognize that I have two choices, now. 
 
I can let my father back in and not look back.  I can accept that he will always have skewed and hurtful views of me.  I can accept that he will always hurt me, maybe without meaning to, maybe other times because of his own reasons.  My choice is to allow him back in, knowing who he is, how he views the world, and knowing that I will likely be hurt again. I can let him back in, understanding who he is, that who he is will not change and that we will never have the relationship that I have always wanted.  I can let him in knowing that I will never be Daddy's Girl or his Princess.  I will still be me.  He will still be who he is. And that will inevitably mean more hurt.
 
Or I can keep my distance, still hurt, and accept that he can not be a part of my life.  I can continue to avoid family functions that he attends.  I can shut my family out because I don't feel that they are capable of seeing me for who I am.  I can shut them out because the recent hurts were deep enough to leave scars that I can't pretend don't exist.  I can't change them, as people.  I can't change what has already happened.  I can't make them see me for who I am.  I can't make them see the pain that they have caused me.  But I can prevent further hurts at their hands.
 
The difficulty, as always, is in weighing the pain.  Is the pain of having them excluded from my life greater than the potential damage that they may cause me in the future?  These are real crossroads that many of us come to when dealing with family members that bring us pain.  The choice is never an easy one.  No matter how simple it appears to an outsider, the damages done to one's heart simply do not show up visibly to others.  The world would surely be an easier place if we could see those wounds.  It would be an easier place if we could see ahead like in a Choose Your Own Adventure book and could skip ahead to see where each path led.  Should I stay or should I go?  If only it were ever so simple...

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Just a Rant

Finally, what I have been stating about the series, since day one: Fifty Shades of Grey Promotes Violence Against Women.
 
I read borrowed copies with a pen and notebook in hand and jotted down all of the same issues brought up in this study.  As someone that works with teenage girls and since these books (along with the Twilight series) are what many of my clients are reading--I felt I needed to read them in order to specifically address the issues.  In my opinion, these books set women back generations and I was mortified by the "jealous stalker as a hero" mentality. Most of the girls that I work with are still virgins, have never been in a relationship and are just developing their sexual identities--what a great example to provide them.  And despite what criticism I may receive, I didn't feel that the Twilight books were much better.
 
While I am ruffling feathers: Twilight Lessons Girls Learn
 
As a repeated survivor of domestic violence, as a therapist, as a women that had her mother murdered by an abusive husband, as a guide for teenage girls finding their way--both of these series trampled on my already raw nerves.
 
I posted a blog about Book One, earlier this year.  Since there were eight parts in book one that greatly irked me, thirty in book two and over twenty-five in book three?  I never did get around to blogging about the second two.  I am not an advocate of book burnings or of censorship, but I am an advocate for preventing wasted time reading bad books and the prevention of glorifying abusive relationships.  Promoting unhealthy relationships as not only normal, but appealing and desirable?  Very irresponsible and a huge setback for women as a whole.
 
Unfortunately, blogs like this one, that I just posted,  only encourage those that have managed to avoid the series to take a greater interest in seeing what all of the hype is about.  That was, in part, how I ended up reading them.  And no, it isn't about the sex in these books.  I am not a prude.  I am actually more on the verge of a sex fiend that struggles with finding partners that can keep up with my libido and had already explored the "taboos" in these books while still a teenager.  *yawns*  I had hopes that at least the sex scenes would make them worth reading.  Nope.  Penthouse Forum satisfies on a much deeper and healthier level, thank you.  Just one author's bad example of what they think "love" is and should be for women and girls everywhere.  Trade in the nice guys for the abusers.  Again, great message.  When emotional abuse is praised and taught as love, what hope is there for our youth?
 
And don't even get me started on the poor writing in the series...

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Shrouded in Silence

In the end, I did send my father the PDF newspaper clipping regarding the PFA-ex.  I knew that it was pointless, but there is always going to be that bit of hope lingering about.  Despite my brain explaining that I will never be Daddy's little girl or princess--there is that piece that holds on and waits for the day that he does love and accept me--that he will finally see me for who I really am and not the vile demon that he has always seen covering me.  Of course, the heart has never understood logic or reason, I don't expect it to begin now.
 
At any rate, I have heard nothing in response. 
 
From the 7.18.13 District Court announcements:  "Hearings waived: The following defendants waived their rights to preliminary hearings.  Their cases will be sent to the Court of Common Pleas for further disposition.  __________ is charged with making a materially false written statement under penalty.  Bail was set at $5,000, unsecured."
 
I figure the absence of response could be one of several things:  
 
A) He is sticking to his "I refuse to discuss any of this because you are just evil, hateful, bitter and can't admit that I saved your life" retort. 
 
B) He realizes karma is swinging around and he is trying to flee her grip. 
 
C) He believes that I am the one that set the ball in motion against PFA-boy with my own case and that the clipping was in reference to me pressing charges.  Which could lead to concern that he may be the next one on the list of stuff hitting the fan. 
 
D) All of the above.
 
E) None of the above.
 
Long ago, I took the time to explain to him that lying on the forms that he did could lead to serious trouble for him.  His response was that it was okay for him to lie because it isn't necessary to wait until someone gives good reason to step in--that concerned individuals may step in at any time if they believe there is probable cause. 
 
That must be why the following is listed on the eight-page document that he signed his name to in three different places...
 
"IMPORTANT NOTICE: ANY PERSON WHO PROVIDES ANY FALSE INFORMATION ON PURPOSE WHEN HE COMPLETES THIS FORM MAY BE SUBJECT TO CRIMINAL PROSECUTION AND MAY FACE CRIMINAL PENALTIES INCLUDING CONVICTION OF A MISDEMEANOR."
 
I don't think my father realizes that I am aware the PFA was broken several times due to their actions; that I could have sued the holy pants off of him; or that I knew my rights and have a copy of the form he filled out against me.  It is all still chalked up to me being "too far gone" to have a clue of what happened and is all just part of my "crazed delusions."  
 
It's funny how the other individuals involved in my life, at that time, share in the crazed delusions and remember it, as well or that there are documents that suggest he continues to lie about the incident.  I suppose if I ever busted these documents out in his presence, he would probably argue that they are also figments of my imagination.  It also helps that all phone calls, incidents, and messages were wrote down as the conversations occurred and that I had a notebook in which everything was recorded, dated and noted where the information originally came from. 
 
At the time, I seriously considered a lawsuit and I knew that information would eventually be necessary.  It is now kept tucked away; along with the newspaper clippings, transcripts of parole hearings and other details regarding my mother's murder.  Some pieces of our past are better left in boxes where they are not accidentally stumbled upon due to the pain attached.  I was forced to dig up this piece of history, last week, when a friend needed information regarding "the fine print" contained within a PFA.  Like the sore tooth our tongue insists on poking, I leafed through the rest of the information.  Like a toothache, I was reminded that it still hurts.
 
My father can continue to deny the events that occurred.  He can continue to tell me that I have simply "blocked out a great deal of what really occurred and somehow came to believe things that did not occur had occurred."  He can continue with whatever it is that makes him feel like the hero.  I have a box of documents that indicate the events did occur.  I have other people that remember his statements and actions, as well. 
 
The clipping from the 7.18.13 newspaper is now in the box because it is a piece of this story, too.  My father took his side.  He insisted upon his innocence and stated that I was simply trying to cause problems for the poor guy.  His silence?  Well, I may never know his thoughts.  In all honesty, I am probably better off not knowing.  Why I ignore the repeated lesson that communication with my father leads to hurt, breakdowns and a destruction of positive self-regard is beyond me.  Damn heart.
 
For me, the clipping is confirmation as to what I tried explaining to my family then and since--"he isn't the golden boy you believe him to be."  Either way, they chose him and showed me and told me how they have always felt about me.  I know they don't understand why I have walked away, why I choose to avoid them.  When one learns that their own family thinks such horrible things about them and refuses to help them during one of their greatest times of need?  When the same family casts you out and chooses to wrap their arms lovingly around the one hurting you and calls you the villain?  When years later they still to choose to defend their stance as opposed to admitting that they may have been wrong?  No, this isn't me being bitter and hateful.  This is me walking away from the pain and future hurts that are inevitable.  This is me knowing that I don't deserve such treatment and that I am worth more than that.  This is self-preservation.  Huge difference.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Just Another Player

I have a friend that is a psychic.  At some point after the incident with my father, the PFA and the police, I had her complete a reading for me.  It was actually her suggestion that I begin this blog as a method of moving on, healing, and removing the "boulders" from the "fertile ground of my life" as opposed to trying to bury them and having them continuously resurface.  She was also the one that suggested that this blog may actually be used as an example for others in moving beyond/surviving domestic violence.  Her thoughts were that if I continue to attempt to bury these boulders/issues, they will continue to create mounds that prevent me from ever being able to build a happy future.  So move the boulders, I do.
 
Most interesting to me was that she told me the events that transpired were not actually my lesson to learn.  I was primarily a pawn in someone else's life lesson.  I have wondered about that one ever since.  Perhaps it was one of the police officers' lessons regarding using excessive force on civilians? Mayhaps a reminder to one of the hospital workers that their own family issues weren't truly worth being angry about and that it was time to forgive their own family?  Perhaps a lesson to one of the individuals that ignored the proper procedures during the crisis steps and spent a significant chunk of time worrying about the lawsuits that could follow? 
 
Was it a lesson to one of my family members?  My brother?  My father?  A lesson that they may not even realize until years from now?  Maybe it was a lesson for the PFA-ex or one of his family members?  Who is to know?  Perhaps it was a lesson to many?
 
How do the events in our lives shape and touch others?  Maybe it isn't always karma or life giving us a hard time.  Maybe sometimes we are just are a major part of the script in what becomes a landmark event/lesson for someone else?  As Shakespeare stated "All the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players."

Now I am just waiting for life to teach the lesson, through me, that winning the lottery and becoming a hermit is the best thing that can happen to some folks...

Friday, August 9, 2013

Interventions?

Admittedly, I am still having issues with the friendship that ended in April.  Every time I get close to letting it go and reaching back out to her, some snarkiness rears its head and reminds me of why I walked away in the first place.  I guess maybe this is the universe intervening and gently encouraging me to let her go.