Slump..

It's the holiday season.. hooray! I love the spirit of the holidays, everyone taking the extra moment to think about others, embracing those who have less, making an attempt to overlook differences and filling the gaps with love. So much to enjoy, the human spirit at it's best. That being said, I despise the commercialism of the holidays, the grabby, me me me, I want, there must be thousands of dollars worth of stuff under the tree or you don't love your family, I hate that crap so much!

My 9yr old informed me the other day that she doesn't really need much for Christmas..  I have too many toys, and too many clothes, but maybe I could use a few online game memberships and new Monster High dolls. This from the child that WANTS every toy she sees on tv, who calls me into her room to see every commercial so I know exactly which toy she is hyperventilating over. I was flabbergasted (don't you just love that word) the conversation came out of nowhere, we weren't talking about the holidays or toys or anything! This must have been weighing on her mind, she isn't really a serious talk kind of kid.

Every year I swear that we are not going to go crazy with the gifts, and every year I panic and make a last minute expensive trip to the store. I am going to make every attempt to not do this. I am going to listen to what she really wants, and be ok with the the small puddle of stuff under the tree. I want her to understand that meaningful is better than massive, and I think she has learned that far better than I have.

 I am not going to any box stores, I think I am buying her mainstream gifts online. I am making gifts for the adults in my life, up-cycling and re-purposing. I will probably be adding a few hand made things to her tree stash as well. I have seen some things in our local shops that I would like to bring home, however, cost is such an issue shopping local! I realize why, and I will put a little money into the pockets of small business owners, but it's gonna hurt.

I want to create a slump for the commercial side of the season. I want us to begin to create our gifts, to embrace the unique gift, not prize the same gift everyone else bought. In the grand scheme of things, the ginormous stores are not going to notice my piddly money not being there. I will notice though. It may not be much, but I can't and won't continue ranting about how terrible the commercialization of the season has become while hitting up Target and Toys-r-Us for plastic crap and cookie cutter sameness.

My tree may not be piled with boxes, but I will know, and those that love me will know, that what is under the tree is special.. and that is what the season is all about.

Cha-chas, cookies, and ya-yas..

During a conversation with a friend the other day, I called my girl bits a cha-cha. She looked at me and said.. why can't people say vagina?

I was taken aback. I only ever use "cute" names for my stuff when I am around others, because there are women that are deeply offended by the V word. However, at home, it is always called a vagina. My girls have grown up knowing and using the anatomic names for not only their own junk, but the junk of the opposite sex as well.

When my oldest daughter was young, maybe 2 or so, we were hanging out at my cousin's house. Kate was riding a trike when she slid forward and whacked her vagina on the middle bar thingy. We saw what happened, and my cousin asked her, "Did you hurt your cookie?" Well.. Kate looked at her oddly, she had no cookie.. what was this about cookies.. did everyone else get a cookie when she wasn't looking? To save my poor confused child, I said, "Did you hit your vagina?" Kate replied that she had, but wanted to know more about those cookies. I thought my cousin was going to shit on herself! How can you use that filthy word! Thinking that I had unknowingly said fuck or something, I asked which word, and apologized for being offensive. Vagina, she said.. how can you teach your kid to say THAT word.. it is a horrible nasty disgusting word.. you should be ashamed.

Oh.. really?

Much like my friend, I don't KNOW why people are terrified of the words vagina and penis. They are after all, just words.. like tree and donut and blue.. yet as a majority, we see these words as dirty. More than likely, our aversion to the use of vagina and penis stems from our overall suppression of all things sex.

We are a country of mixed messages. We are unable to discuss sex except in the most abstract of terms, yet we expect our kids to have a concrete grasp on sexual behavior. We dress our daughters in hyper-sexualized clothing, then demand they remain virginal. We encourage our sons to view females as sexual objects, then do not enforce a behavior of respect. It reminds me of the gypsy culture currently being shown on tv. These girls, from as young as 4 and 5, put on the barest minimum of clothing and dance about like strippers. The boys force girls into dark corners and pinch, push, and belittle them into giving a kiss. It is against culture to be sexually active before marriage, yet the messages being sent are nothing but sexual in nature.

How about this.. let's all teach our kids, and ourselves, some new words. Vagina and penis.. say it.. V-a-g-i-n-a and P-e-n-i-s.. now, talk about them. Talk about sex. Talk about how great it feels, how scary the first time is, how it isn't a shameful act and anyone that makes you feel bad about having sex is wrong, how it's better to wait until you are older because sex is powerful and sometimes it's hard to handle the emotions even when you are an adult, how to protect yourself with condoms and birth control, how it's ok to share your body with someone else but maybe not with everyone else.. don't sugar coat it, but don't make it a horror story. Break out of the sex shaming and bring sex, vagina and penis out into the light.

We can not expect a person who can only call a vagina a ho-ha to have anything other than a repressed and dim knowledge of healthy sex. At the very least, just imagine the dirty talk.. oh yea baby, put your dingle in my ya-ya.. ummmmm.. nope.

The way things are..

When you see the title of this blog.. single and broke.. you immediately know two things about me. I am single, and I am broke.

Well.. I am so single it's scary, I haven't had a single date since my relationship to the ass-monkey broke up, and that was a year and a half ago. I harbor a crush on someone I can never have, but that's nothing new, and nothing to write about. Suffice it to say, nuns get more action than this diva does right now. sigh. I'm cute.. I'm funny (I think I'm funny anyway) I have a great smile.. yet singledom reigns. Maybe someday..

I am broke.. all the time. Now, when I say broke, I don't mean I gotta pull out the plastic and charge some stuff.. I mean in my pocket right now I have less than a dollar. I don't have plastic, I don't have a bank account, I have "here is some cash, when it is spent it is gone". The only creditors that call me are the utilities and cable people.. just before they start shutting shit off. I have been out of work for a long time, I have been reduced to begging for a bar job at the dive down the street. (I might actually get the job though) I am sick of being broke.

Maybe I am single BECAUSE I am broke. Oh wow.. my mind is blown!

Anyway.. some things you don't get from my blog title.. I am stubborn, I am loud, I am loyal, I am honest, I am goofy, I love to dance and craft and 80's music. I am creative, I am humble (stop laughing!), I give great advice, I love to cook and eat and laugh and sing and I watch reality tv sometimes.

I am single and broke, but that is just a teeny tiny part of who I am.. it just happens to be the sometimes funniest part ;)

Oh.. reality television..

The girls and I spent the afternoon cleaning out closets today. It was not an enjoyable experience. We actually got ONE closet cleared, sorted through , and re-hung in about 5 hours.. tomorrow we will start a second closet that will probably take just as long. Why.. because I am a clothes hoarder. No lie.

I volunteer every week at a clothing give-away.. and every week I bring home bags and bags of clothes. I gather every designer label, and if it looks like it MIGHT fit someone in the house.. into the bag it goes. Absolutely everything in my size comes home with me.. regardless of personal style or age appropriate-ness. I drag home all these clothes, enough for every single person in my house to have a clean outfit for months without washing a thing.. seriously.. then I pile them up everywhere because there is no room in the closets or drawers. My 9 year old has a closet full of stuff she won't even grow into for YEARS.. yet it all hangs there.. waiting. My fashion unconscious 21 year old has designer clothes she would never ever wear, and I know she won't when I bring them home.. but they still occupy space in her closet because I simply HAD to get them for her.

It's selfish. I know it is. There are people that come into the give-away that are in such dire need of things, and all I can think is that I have to get the clothes sorted and hidden before anyone sees the quality or brands or sizes I am stuffing into my huge bags.

The other day, I was sorting donations when a larger woman came in. She looked about my size, and asked me about the plus sized clothing sitting in a pile beside me. It was MY pile, full of brands from Nordstrom and Macy's and Bloomingdale's.. so I told her it all had to be cleaned before it could be put out. I sat there for a few minutes, watching this lovely woman pick through the stacks of small sized jeans and tiny tops, knowing that she wasn't going to find a single thing because I had taken every last item in her size. I felt like an asshole. As she was getting ready to leave, empty-handed, I called her back and put the entire pile into bags and told her to take it all.  

 I have a problem.

 You can't tell by just walking into my apartment that I have a hoarding issue. My shame is safely tucked away behind closed bedroom doors. I decided that you will not see me on an episode of "Hoarders".. so today we began the purging process.

I do not need a tweed skirt from DKNY.. I do not need a plaid blazer from YSL.. I will never put these things on my body.. ever. If I went shopping, I would not be caught dead buying any of this stuff! I am a bright, bold girl.. a little rock-n-roll diva.. so why the fuck did I bring home floral print, or ruffled lace, or houndstooth? It was expensive.. for someone.. and I couldn't pass up a designer labeled anything for FREE!

We filled three trash bags, a box, and put aside another box for a friend to look through.. all from one closet. It was a struggle. Every skirt, every top, I agonized over before tossing it into that bag. Come on! That's a Ralph Lauren jacket! Really!? That's a $200 dollar lace dress! I finally stopped "looking" at what was going, because it made me a bit nauseated. No, I was never going to wear it, but it was pretty and expensive and I LIKED having it.

I told you, I have a problem.

Tomorrow comes the really hard part.. going through the munchkins closet. I want my girls to have nice clothes, and I can't afford to buy them, so dumping all these designer duds into a bag is going to kill me.. but my punk princess is not going to ever don that denim jumper with the flower buttons or the adorable polka dotted twin set.. and I know it. Out it will go, back to the give-away, and I can smile when the red spangled skirt from The Children's Place gets picked up and exclaimed over by the little girl that loves it so much she asks for her own bag to carry her treasure home in.

I want to see the look of joy and excitement on another person's face when they discover that $200 dollar dress hanging on the rack, jammed between the polyester housedress from 1960 and the hand knit lopsided sweater in eye-searing orange. I don't need those labels, my girls don't need 25 shirts from American Eagle.. and I will not bring another item home unless I have already donated something of equal or greater value for someone else to enjoy.

I hope.

Oh.. well.. ok then..

Being a broke girl, my main form of communication is on facebook. During the very heated political race for President, I lost a few people.. some were real friends, some were fb friends, all brought a different view of things that I rather enjoyed. You don't have to agree with me to be my friend, you just have to adore me ;)

What I found so interesting about this self-purging on fb, is the manner in which it was done. There were two distinct methods to un-friending me.. the "poof. I'm gone" method..some of which I have to say I did not notice, I know my number has gone down but I just can't figure out who all left.. and the "here's a message about why I am un-friending you" method.. let me tell you, some of those messages were brutal.. which is actually the method I prefer. I noticed a weird little thing..

The people I actually know, the ones that I shared memories with, hung out with, grew up with.. those were the poofers. One second I was seeing a picture of their dinner, the next second other friends were commenting on a picture of their dinner that was not in my newsfeed. Really? Those that I knew almost exclusively through facebook, the subscribers, the friends of friends, the I just met you find me on fbers.. those people sent me a message. (not all but most) Sometimes the messages were not kind, slut and liberal whore and baby killer and n*-lover were usually sprinkled through the text, but at least I knew where I stood with these folks.

I knew which friends I did not see eye to eye with, I would post an Obama thing and they would post a romney thing, but we still talked. We agreed to disagree, then they cut me out of their lives. I do admit to cutting three people from my friends list, with messages to each of them, each of them a rather distant acquaintance. I did not un-friend a single person I actually knew.

Well, I suppose that the person you become is never the person you were, but many of the friends I lost spent so much of their time pretending the person they were never existed.. it doesn't surprise me too much that they simply cut me out. It can be difficult to live your lie when you have a friend that embraces her mistakes and shares every inappropriate memory ;) To each their own, I will miss those friends.. but not too much.. they were obviously not too concerned with losing me.   

I like the nightlife baby..

I was once a party girl, hard to believe I know, but true. Staying out all night, drinking, dancing, going home with strange boys.. no drugs though (except for about 6 months when I was a teen) If there was even a hint of a party.. I was there with my mini on!

 Fast forward a few years, and I was married with baby.. the mommy/wifey thing. The marriage didn't work, but I was doing my part in the responsible adult dept. working, staying home, devoting my life to my daughter. Married a few more times.. I like the IDEA of marriage, just not the prison feeling of it.. and another little munchkin brought me to my 30s. I so desperately wanted the picket fence life. I chased it to every dark and dank corner, making mistakes at every turn in my manic quest for Suzy Homemaker-dom. After my most recent, and devastating, breakup I realized something..

I am still a party girl at heart. A slightly more adult party girl.. but that chick was in there.. screaming for release!  I live for going out, for dressing up, dancing, having a drinky poo or two (or seven if I can afford it) flirting with my "safe" boys. I am still doing the good mommy thing, my youngest daughter is clean and fed and homework done every night, we play and make cookies and snuggle on the couch watching cartoons. I simply crave a different life for just me.. not my kids.. but me.

I am breaking out of my safety zone, not so much an adult party woman.. My inner wild child is bursting through, and be damned how people see me. It is time for me to stop pretending and be who I am, a party girl who makes no excuses for being one. No more innocent eye-lash batting at men I can't have, if I bat those lashes you better know you will be taking off your pants for me. I am gonna drink, I am gonna dance, I am gonna go home with men whose names I never bother to find out. My morality, or lack of it, does not define me as a woman.. I define me and I am good with who I am. I am a free girl,  Let's go ;)

40.. really?

Today, I am 40. Holy fuck.. I am actually 40. I don't now when that happened, yesterday I was 18.. wasn't I? Wow, that number looks so weird, sitting on the screen like that. 40, hmm.


What have I learned in 40 years? I have learned that when a guy says "trust me".. he has an agenda. I have
learned that childbirth hurts a thousand times worse than they say it will. I have learned that no, rubbing club soda on a stain will not remove it.. it will however make the stain more noticeable because it is now surrounded by a huge wet spot. I have learned that regardless of how hard you try, one person can not make a relationship work. I have learned that the heart is not near as fragile as you think, it heals very quickly when you let it. I have learned that boogers can be found anywhere, except in the noses of children. I have learned that fear and pain are temporary, happiness is just a blink away. I have learned that you can, and will, be better off if you follow your heart in all matters.. even if everything blows up in your face. I have learned that Fruity Pebbles do not taste as good coming out as they do going in. I have learned it always gets better. I have learned that families are not perfect, but they love you. I have learned that sometimes your best friends come into your life from the oddest places.

Above all, I have learned that this is the life we have.. we can live it, or we can hide from it.. either way, it will be over before we are ready.

Maybe 40 snuck up on me. I don't have any idea how to be a 40 yr. old woman, but I don't have a clue about how not to be a 40 yr. old woman either, so I guess I will be me and hope that works.

Happy Birthday me.. here's to the next 40!

Midlife crisis.. Like a Boss

I have decided.. I am going to have a midlife crisis. Not some mamby-pamby girlie "what have I done with my life" kind of crisis either.. but a full on "like a man" kind of crisis. Let's be honest here.. the ONE thing guys do better than any woman out there.. is indulge in some serious self-centered ass-hole narcissistic chest thumping when they decide to have a midlife meltdown.

 That's what I'm looking for.. get some new hair, a fake tan, some huge and gaudy costume jewelry (ok.. I already own a fair bit of it.. Not my point) and strut my stuff like I am the hottest tramp on the strip.

My muse for this crisis is an un-named gentleman whose Peter Pan antics were witnessed this past Saturday night. With his toupee-like hair, over-large medallion necklace, and half unbuttoned shirt,  I caught a glimpse of confident greatness. It didn't matter that women were laughing AT him, it mattered that he was not invisible to those women, and we all know you can't get laid if you are invisible. (well, you can.. but that takes on some creepy rape fantasy undertones)

A man's midlife crisis stems from a fundamental need to be seen as young and virile, still being that studly hunter who can put the antelope on the table and then do the little woman till daybreak. The fact that these men wouldn't even KNOW an antelope if they saw one, or that the only way they are doing ANYTHING till daybreak besides snoring is with some help from the viagra fairy, does not matter one whit. It's the perception of youth and manliness that MUST be maintained.

So, how does a woman go about having a "man style" midlife throwdown? Maybe I just need to hit on EVERY single 21 yr old guy I can lay my eyes on.. eventually one of them is bound to accept. Let's forget for a second that any 21 yr old boy I bang is gonna make me feel like a pervert (my daughter is 20).. How exactly do I face my friends with my little puppy in tow? Oops.. already made a mistake! Men do NOT concern themselves with such trivial issues like age and friends acceptance! Ok.. back on track. I just need to get out there and BE young and hot.. I can do that :) Will keep ya'll updated on my progress.. just so everyone can be jealous of my awesomeness.

hmmmm..

I think.. that in this time of over glamorizing and down playing teen pregnancy, I am going to have to finally write a book. Telling the REAL story about being a pregnant single teenager, and all the bad and nasty things that go along with it. No cameras following you around, no covers of magazines, no multi-million dollar endorsements or book deals or motivational speaking gigs. The choices real girls are forced to make every day, and the sacrifices made to have a child when your age still ends in teen. Yea.. I think it's time. It won't sell.. but I'm gonna write the fucking thing anyway.

Settling.. (original post date 6/24/11)

  Settling.. we have all done it at one point in time or another. We have accepted mashed potatoes instead of baked, bought the black heels because they didn't have them in red, or watched a reality show re-run when our favorite show is preempted by weather coverage. We also can settle in our romantic relationships, and not even realize it.

 Every woman has a list in her head, usually one that has remained virtually unchanged since her early teens, of what it takes to be our "perfect" mate. My list, when I was 15:  tall, long hair, blue eyes, cute butt, hairy chest, smart, sweet, funny, honest, open, exciting, romantic, someone I could share my life with. The physical qualities were a direct result of the first boy I loved, however, the men in my life have run the gamut from thin, bald and a few inches taller than myself, to heavy, dark eyed and almost a foot taller. The rest of my list has remained the same though, with a few additions, over the years.

   How can we know if we have settled?

  Look at the man you are involved with. With naked honesty, really look at him. Do you still find him physically appealing? Can you not wait to run your hands over his chest or back or butt? Do you still get that little shiver when you imagine being intimate with him? No.. then you have settled. Yes.. let's move on.

  We all know that sex plays a powerful role in any relationship. Many a relationship that looked perfect on paper has been felled by bad sex. Let's take a peek under the covers and see what kind of action you have going on there. Have you told him what you like, and has he made an effort to do those things? (the key here is you being honest and telling him, if you haven't done that, he really can't be blamed) Conversely, have you told him what you don't like and has he made an effort to not push for those acts? Does he approach sex as an emotional and intimate act? Can he give and not receive on occasion? In short, is sex with you an act of love and closeness, with each partner having their needs met, more often than not? Here's a tip ladies, if the sex feels disconnected and anonymous, then it is not good relationship sex. If your lover doesn't kiss you, or hold you, or look into your eyes on a regular basis, then in his mind, you could be anyone. Good sex.. no.. you have settled. Good sex.. yes.. then we continue.

  Now it's time to move into the insides of your guy. Find that list in your head, and really focus on the important details, the things that haven't changed. Does he know what is important to you? Your dreams, wants, hopes? Do you share a passion for anything, like books or music or animals? Is he honest with you about his life? Are there shared goals, common ground? Does he lift you up, offering a hand when you fall?  Do you feel loved, wanted, needed, and important to him? Does he say, and show, that he loves you every day? Can he make you laugh, and does he try to? Can you honestly answer that, yes, he firmly fits the most basic needs and desires expressed in your list? No.. you have completely settled. Yes.. then there is more.

  Before I go on, let me address those of you that have decided you settled. My grandparents (on my dad's side) had nothing in common, they lived almost completely separate lives throughout their entire marriage. Anyone meeting them would never ever guess the person each was married to. I remember my nonny hiding in the bathroom to smoke cigarettes, because grandad believed women that smoked were trashy. My grandad would  hide his checkbook, because nonny was a saver and believed that anyone that gave money away was just asking to go to the poorhouse. There was no common ground in the raising of their kids, or politics, or even what kind of car they drove. Yet, they loved and respected each other. Nonny knew she had settled, so did grandad, but they were married for almost 50 years before he passed away. It was a good marriage, and a good life for them both, even though it should have been hell. Compromise was the key. He knew she smoked in the bathroom, he pretended he didn't and she wouldn't fall into his "trashy" category. She knew he gave money away, she pretended she didn't and could remain confident that they were financially stable. They each gave the other what they needed, sometimes in a round-about way, because they loved each other. My grandad never left the house without a kiss and an "I love you" to nonny, and they never went to bed and turned their backs to each other.

  So before you decide to pack up and leave the man you settled for, in search of the man that fits your criteria, ask yourself if there is love and respect there first. If there is, then you haven't really settled.

  There are some warning signs to watch out for, regardless of how well your man fits into your list. Any kind of abuse is a deal breaker, be it physical or mental. Yes, if he says you are stupid or ugly or lazy, if he calls you a bitch or whore, if he blames you for his faults and shortcomings, that is abuse. Does he withhold affection, take back promises, or make you work for his attention? Does he cheat, or make you believe he is cheating in order to get you to do things you don't want? Doe he make decisions based solely on his wants, treat you like a servant or a one night stand, or use the word "I"  instead of "We" almost entirely, then it you should go. He will never be what you want or need, and to stay would be the worst sort of settling.

  In the end, it's simple to tell if you are settling. Do you feel good in the relationship? Can you be yourself with him and know that you are accepted? Do you want him to feel the same way? If you can say yes, then you haven't settled. If you can't.. then you have and must make some hard decisions.

  For the record.. I settled. I am paying for it now.

Truth.. (original post date 5/23/11)

  I believe in TRUTH, no matter how much it sucks, although I won't tell someone the truth for the sole purpose of hurting them. I also believe in the Silver Lining, an eternal optimist to the nth degree. Sometimes these two ideals don't play well together, to that end Silver Lining wins every time. I have been accused of not believing in truth, of twisting it to fit my own agenda or to protect my perception of myself. To that I say bullshit! My biggest flaw may be to hide truth from one person in order to help another, or to keep someone else from being hurt. In those instances, it is the Silver Lining part of me that is in control. Yea, I guess maybe the hard truth usually comes in second now that I see some of this is print.

  My point in all this is that there will be blogs telling the blunt and bare faced truth, and blogs that tell the truth colored by my optimism, it is up to you to decide how you see your truths in my words. I'm not writing to change your mind, or to force my truths on you. I am writing to express and share those things that make me think, that make me believe, that are the very me-ness of me.

  Somewhere in this hot mess of a mind there is a desire to write, to make my mark with the words I have always adored, to enable someone else to find the same solace and joy the written word has brought to me. I have to clear out the selfish desire to have an army of people that hang on my every word, the tendency to rant and rave about the things I am most passionate about, and find my inner poet. That voice in my heart that allows me to put hand to keyboard and turn the passion and need into something beautiful.

  I may never progress past this blog, sharing my mind with the few that will find me in an ocean of other bloggers. Sad to think, but still a possibility I am faced with. However, it is my hope that even if you are the sole reader of my words, maybe there will be something in them to touch you, to make you think, to believe, to talk about at the dinner table.

Moving Day..

I am shifting a few posts from my other blog.. enjoy!

Winner take all..

I try to keep this blog and my "hate" blog completely separate.. but recent events determined the need for a cross-over. My last blog, melodramatic as it was, seemed to be a turning point for me. Finally.. maybe.. I certainly hope so.. because if I am not sitting upon the cusp of an emotional break-through, then I am teetering off the edge of a mental break-down.

Over the past 10 months, I have not cried.. I have not mourned the death of my relationship.. I have turned a blind eye and deaf ear to the internal hell I have been suffering. I have bitched, I have complained, I have riled against the fates.. but I have in no way opened the door, not even a crack, on the devastation my id has been dealt. The id has kicked that door open. Completely. I am crying.. the things that I avoided to protect myself have found their way to me instead.. I am raw and exposed.

The boot that kicked in the door was music.. and fiction.

While watching a television show, I was faced with this song:

Which started the tears.. I have come to realize that no matter how horrible the man was that he became, the boy I fell in love with would always hold my heart. I loved the man that boy should have been. The fact that he failed, that he was not able to live up to the potential within him, is something I have to live with. I expected him to be something he was incapable of being.. and for that I apologize. I never loved the man he really was, I loathe that man in fact, but the fault lies not with him being incomplete.. but with my knack of overlooking that simple fact. I will always love John Chidester.. the idea and the dream of what he could have been.

The second fictional life and song.. hit too close to home:

. In the game of "us".. John won. He got everything.. and I was left standing with not a shred of anything. I had hoped that in the grand scheme of things.. I would come out the winner.. but the world doesn't work that way. He drew first blood, he won. He walked away with not a scar, not a tear, only laughter.. because it was only ever a game to him in the first place. I have come to understand.. I was not the prize to be won.. but the competitor to be vanquished. The relationship we had was nothing more than an extended battle, the  trophy was my begging him to stay with me.. my terror at watching him leave.. my tear stained face looking at him, and him laughing back at me. I couldn't understand.. couldn't begin to fathom.. how can a person look at the one they swore to love, and laugh at their desperation? He didn't love me. He wanted to hurt me, to rip every last bit of self respect, self confidence, just plain self..  from my hands. He wanted me to crawl.. and he wanted to kick me in the teeth when he got tired of the game. He won, he is the undisputed champion of our relationship.. the winner takes it all.


Knowing now.. how cruel and cold he truly was towards me.. I can finally stop blaming, stop wondering, stop trying to finish the job of destroying myself that he began. Maybe I can actually allow myself to grieve and move on.. the man I loved never existed, and the man that despised me is not worth giving any part of myself to anymore.. not even hate.

Broken..

I know there will come a time when I do not feel heartbroken, I wonder when that will be. The reality is, it has been over for  almost 9 months.. I could have baked a human being in this length of time.. But it sometimes feels like it happened yesterday.

 Now, most of the time, I am ok with this feeling of big hollow empty.. There are moments however, that the feeling is still overwhelming.

 I am ready.. I tell myself that anyway.. Ready to have my life back. Ready to laugh and dance and flirt and date and even have sex with someone that isn’t John. I know how toxic and abusive the relationship was, how horrible he ended it, how far down I allowed him to pull me. Not any of that matters to my heart.
I will never not love him, never, and that’s hard to deal with. How can you love a person that was so bad for you?

I know people that ended marriages of 10+ years around the same time John and I split, and they have moved on already. New relationships, new lives, in some cases new bodies as well. Here I sit. Yea, the body is certainly new (fatter counts as new right) but no new love affair, no new happy life.  I am still stuck in the depression, I am drowning in it. I had hoped that putting a little more distance between the break-up and my life now would make a difference. We left the condo, I attempted to leave the hate and pain and depression there, but it followed me to the apartment. I wake up every day in this bright and beautiful home I have created for my little family (there is nothing I can do for the outside, but inside our place it is so cheerful) yet my heart remains black and rotting.

I just don’t know if it will ever end. I have not ever been this destroyed by another person, so pathetic, so broken. That’s the word.. Broken.. I am broken. Can a person be put back together, like a battered cup? The cracks still show, everyone knows it was almost trash. Does that matter in the long run, really?

During the course of a discussion about this, it was brought to my attention that this was not the simple break-up of a 4 yr relationship. I have, in all actuality, been in love with John since I was 16. This was the destruction of a love affair spanning 22 yrs, the total and complete annihilation of my hopes, my dreams, everything I had ever wanted. Having a second chance at “us” was incredible, we would finally have the happily ever after we were supposed to have. Unfortunately, John used the second chance as a tool for revenge. In his eyes, it was his opportunity to abuse and be-little me, to push me as far into the dirt as he could, then walk away the winner.

There is not a day I do not pray for release from the pain I allowed him to inflict..yet I remain Broken. I have no words of wisdom, no sage advice on how to get over a break-up because I seem incapable of doing so myself.

All this heart-felt introspection is making me nauseous.. must get a grip.. and try harder next blog to not be so damned morose!

But Why..

Every one of us has been rejected. Not just by lovers, but by employers, credit cards, banks, friends, some people are rejected by their families or kids. My point is, no one is immune to rejection. Our first thought upon being turned away is.. "But why?"

Most of the time, you never get an answer to that question. True, the bank or credit card company can and will give you an iron clad reason that you have not been accepted, but not so much when you are dealing with actual people face to face.

Human beings tend to color the actual truth with their own biases and experiences. Each of us sees things a little differently than the rest of the world. This is not a new concept, it has been dissected and analyzed by better minds than mine, but it is still a valid and ongoing observation. For instance:

When my relationship ended, rather abruptly I might add, I asked "But why?" I got an answer. Well, I got the answer he wanted me to have anyway. He had, in his mind, created this scenario in which I was the villain and he was my unwitting victim. He tossed out accusations that I knew to be untrue because they were things I know I didn't physically do, such as cheating, as well as theories that I couldn't absolutely refute because they were more abstract and dealt with feelings or tone, such as mocking him. I know what I meant when I said something, yet he heard something completely different. In my opinion, he heard what he wanted to hear, but the fact remains that what I said was not what he perceived. His version of the truth was tailor made by him to put me in a bad light, therefore allowing him to leave me for another woman with no guilt or remorse. Was it the actual truth? Not exactly. However, my version of how things happened was totally skewed the other way, with me being the long-suffering martyr and him being the lying douche bag. Anyone watching from the outside had their own view of what the truth was as well, depending on which of us they were loyal to. So the "But why?" became a moot point, because there was no concrete reason or absolute proof for the decision.

Or

My best friend and I recently had a falling out. We are no longer friends. When I saw things were going wrong, I asked "But why?" Her response was, naturally, completely out of sync with my view of our friendship. Again, her accusations and statements of fact were laced with untruths, but because she felt the need to justify her behavior, these lies had to become truths. I saw myself as her secret keeper and head cheerleader, never judging her or calling her to task for the stupid things she did, being her shoulder to cry on and her sympathetic ear. She viewed those same actions as conniving and manipulative, and convinced herself that I was not a friend but someone that used her. The "But why?" was again not answered satisfactorily because it was not based on fact but on perception and appearances. 

Or

I interviewed for a job recently. I was qualified, my resume said so. My "girl suit" was clean and ironed, my hair professional and my nails french tipped. I went in feeling on top of my game, personable and knowledgeable, smart and approachable. I believed the interview went well, we chatted, we smiled, we even laughed. I left the interview feeling confident that the job was mine. It wasn't. As with most failed interviews, there was no reason given for not being chosen, just a thank you for your interest but we have gone with someone else. So, when I ran into a friend of the woman I interviewed with, I asked "But why?" The reasons (according to her friend) she did not recommend me for a position in the company were all personal. I wore a red top under my brown suit, a color combination she is not fond of. I spoke using "big words" so she assumed I was talking down to her. Finally, because I was well dressed, she didn't think I really needed the job. Yep, I didn't get the job because she didn't like my color choices, was able to talk about the job using common industry lingo, and appeared too well dressed to need a job. In this instance, my "But why?" was answered with stupidity.

All these examples show how people can see the exact same relationships and interactions in completely different ways. My rejection was based on personal bias and a desire to show a different face to the world. 

Everyone wants to be seen as a good and decent person. That's why we all create our own truths, our own answers to the "But why?" We must find the things we value most, and then build our version of the truth to fit the person we want the world to see. No guy goes around telling people he dumped his live in girlfriend because he was cheating, no friend says they threw away a friendship because she wanted to cause drama, no employer is going to tell anyone that they didn't get the job because that person wasn't a slob. Everyone is going to present an answer that benefits them, and in reality, one that puts the rejected person in a position of  undesirability. 

Asking "But why?" in the context of human interaction is a useless and discouraging endeavor, you will not get the closure you are seeking. In fact, you will most likely walk away with more questions. As difficult as it may be, because we are curious by nature, your best option is to accept the rejection and walk away. The answer to the "But why?" is never going to mesh with your truth anyway.

Coffee for one..

As I was thinking about this blog, I realized that although I have several topics in the works, I haven't actually posted anything in a few months. Where does the time go? Ah well.

Today being Valentine's Day, I have noticed the huge number of single people out there over 30 (many of us pushing 40 if we are gonna be honest). It wasn't always like this people. I remember growing up with a single parent, thinking our little family was so different from my friends families. Even my best friend's gay mom had a life partner. My mom was the only grown up I knew that went on dates, went to the gym, and wore stiletto heels. Every other adult I had any contact with was married, most of them since their early 20s.

 I didn't want to be a single anything, so I got married and had a baby. That's all I wanted to do. Then, I got divorced and have been more single than not ever since. I did try though, I tried to be a couple, tried to be the little suzy housewife I saw all around me as a child. I didn't want my kids to grow up without two parents. Single life, to me, was not "normal".

 We all paired up, but so many of us are walking the single path today. Out of the 100+ people I know, roughly 75 are single right this second.

Maybe divorce was too easy, or we got married for the wrong reasons. Maybe we just make BAD choices in who we chose to marry. It's a proven statistical fact that there are more single people today over the age of 35 than there have ever been. EVER!

We are single. Why? My mom was single because she preferred to be. My dad died and the two other love affairs she had ended badly, so she stayed out of relationships. She raised my brother and I, and that was that. Mom dated, and had an active social life, but there was no man in her life for any length of time. That was then.

 Today the biggest hurdle we face as single adults is unrealistic expectations about the person we want to share our lives. Men want (insert name of 20 yr old famous girl here) with boobies. Women want (insert name 40 yr old famous guy here) but ten years younger.We are single because we have become so focused on the superficial that we don't take the time to find the substance. Everyone wants someone young, rich, and hot. No 21yr old heiress/heir is gonna show up at Antique's or Gasoline Alley and beg you to whisk them away in your 2008 Honda to your two bedroom apartment off Powers.They aren't going to offer to take you in their concept model sports car to their condo in Aspen either, it doesn't work that way.

I don't really enjoy being single. I don't want to get married, or even live with someone, but I am good at relationships and I miss that connection with another adult. Ok.. I miss sex too. I really miss sex. My point is, I prefer to be a part of a couple, I am happiest that way. The men in my age range however, are looking for my daughter (she is 20) not for me, and I just don't think I could be a successful cougar. 

Until we all start looking for that someone who really exists, the guy or girl that will happily do laundry with you or bring you soup when you are sick, we are doomed to remain single. Let's face it, no one really wants to be alone when they are 80.