safe?

well, as the superstition goes, bad things come in threes.

i've taken my three punches in as many weeks. it's been a helluva run at my house it seems.

i've been hiding while i sort through each happening, but hiding hasn't stopped more from happening. nothing will stop more from happening.

as forest gump so adequately said: shit happens.

i'm fortunate enough to have great friends that understand both my need to talk out and my need to hide. i've been able to reach out to my sounding boards and support systems as needed to work through some really shitty stuff. i'm also fortunate enough to have a therapist that doesn't deal in traditional talk therapy- i do enough of that on my own and it only gets you to a certain point. she is trained in non-traditional therapies (you may remember me babbling about hakomi therapy lately) and understands the way the body processes and knows physical ways to deal with and eliminate negative experiences. AMAZING balance when i've reached the limit of what logical analysis can do.

aside from the friends and the therapy- WRITING is my biggest outlet. i haven't been writing because- well. it's hard. i don't want to talk about terrible things. i don't want pity. i don't want people to look at me different.

BUT I ALSO DON'T WANT TO HIDE AND KEEP IT INSIDE.

so. here it is. the ugly, horrible month i've had:

a few weeks ago i was raped. one week later my house was ransacked (not robbed, but they made a good mess). last night my son was stopped on his way home from school by a person asking him to get in their van and give them directions somewhere.

any one of those is a pretty nasty blow to a person's sense of security. all three of them together has me reeling. the ironic (?) thing is that i *just* went to my therapy yesterday to get better tools to deal with the rape and ransacking then i get home to my son being violated. still recovering from a left right combo and the universe lands a core body shot.

i don't know how to handle all this. i want to take my son and move far away and hide somewhere. i know however that shit like this happens everywhere. there is no "safe bubble" that we can move to. there is no place that is exempt.

but what do you do when every sense of personal security is stripped away and violated? i've learned tools to work on how i respond to the individual events, but how do you regain a sense of security as a whole?

i know people would say: GET A GUN. what the fuck good would that do me? the rape was someone i thought was a friend. someone that had been to my house countless times and just...i guess decided that respecting me was not on his list of things to do. a gun wouldn't have helped. the ransacking happened when i wasn't home- if there had been a gun on the property now they might have it. not great. and what good would a gun have done my son last night walking home?

i do the easy things- i've cut communication with the rapist. i make sure my doors are locked ALL THE TIME now. i'm researching personal alarms for my son to carry on his backpack (the leading contender).

but what do you DO? i'm the type of person that worries about having the cops at my house two weeks in a row and getting on some annoying citizens list. i don't want to go crazy and install razor wire around my property and adopt 6 junkyard dogs and a personal body guard to walk my son to and from school.

i don't know how to fight back against the unkown. the rape was...easy? to deal with. i knew the person. i cut contact. done.

but when you don't know who's been in your house. when you don't know what stranger is stopping your kid. how do you fight an invisible shadow? how do you feel safe again?

but i'm not giving up this fight. i'll keep swinging even if it's just at shadows. i'm going to make sure my son doesn't live in a bubble of fear. i'm going to make sure our house feels like OUR HOUSE. i'm going to not let one drunk asshole make me scared of being touched.

but like any fight, it's exhausting. i worry too much about burdening other people or sounding like a hotbed of drama by talking about it. so i bottle it up and try to deal with it as quickly and simply as possible. i have days when i feel safe again. then days when i don't want to open my curtains or look outside. and i realize i'm still at the epicenter. these things just happened. i'm still in the first few circles of shock waves. i think (and hope and beg the universe) that all the shoes have dropped for a while. we've taken our three hits. just like when death came calling. it took our three and we found a way to make it through.

i don't know if there's a point to any of this other than just pure brain vomiting. calling the demons by name and acknowledging their presence.

it's been a rough few weeks. but i'm still here. licking my wounds and hiding but still here. staying back and plotting/figuring out a battle plan, but still here.

i have the silver linings- at least my rape wasn't brutal and bloody and violent. at least my house wasn't robbed and destroyed and left a total loss. at least my son knew to run away straight home and i'm not contacting the milk carton company today. i have my pillars of support. i have my horribly morbid sense of humor that handles dark shit like this in a terrible but therapeutic way.

this too shall pass.

painfully like a kidney stone.

but this too shall pass.

fishing. again.

well, you knew it was coming. along with the submission to the horror that is online dating comes the tales of the stupid and scary and plain WHAT THE FUCK.

this week its a seemingly innocuous thing that is actually a HUGE affront to women.

here’s the run down:

guy with no picture in his profile contacts me. not such a big issue- many people don’t have pictures for a variety of reasons- public jobs (fire fighters, cops, politicians, etc), “screening out shallow people”, not having a picture available (total bs by the way), etc.

this guy wants to take me out for a drink. standard-ish first date idea. i prefer coffee or something where alcohol/behavioral altering substances aren’t in play. i know. total prude.

i tell him that i don’t think the idea of a TOTALLY blind date (no picture, few profile details, etc.) where alcohol is the main goal is a good idea.

so he asks for my phone number to send me a picture.

HOLD UP. you CHOOSE to not post a picture (his reason was that the guys at his work print/post profiles to harass each other and he doesn’t want them to know he has a profile) to protect your privacy/safety but you expect me to TOTALLY give mine up right off the bat?

you want to meet me where there’s alcohol involved- not safe.

you want me to give you my personal cell phone information to send a picture? NOT SAFE.

he tries to play stupid- “what am I going to do with your cell phone number?”

REALLY DUDE? REALLY? because facebook searches or google searches by phone number TOTALLY don't exist. you won’t find all my personal information, address, work, friends, etc from “just a cell phone”, yeah. sure. would you like my social security number too?

now maybe i’m being a bit over reactive. my gut tells me i’m not- especially since this guy WILL NOT LET UP. 

last thursday when the drink invite happened i told him i was busy at baseball practice for my son. he proceeded to message me every 20 minutes to see if i was done and ready for a drink. i told him no in as many ways as i could think of then stopped responding.

he messaged the next day to ask if i wanted to get that drink- i told him i was at work then busy babysitting all weekend. so he messaged to see if i wanted to stop by to say hi to him when i got off work or go out for lunch or something else. again, i just stopped responding.

TODAY he is right back at it again. at this point i’m just going to use the nifty little block button since this guy just. doesn’t. get. it. 

NO MEANS NO. not responding means no. I MEAN NO.

it might not seem like much- not posting a picture may seem reasonable. but using not posting a picture to troll for phone numbers? NO. its dangerous and rude and creepy and just- its an asshole move guys.

asking someone out to a drink- not always unreasonable. refusing to accept an answer? NOT OK

less than a week back in the old dating pool and i've been reminded SEVERAL times of how much chlorination the water needs. it’s disgusting out here. seriously- degrading, disgusting, disheartening.

and i know the response- just GO OUT and meet people. uh huh. sure. you mean like baseball/hockey/arena football games? wine tasting events? concerts? grocery shopping? coffee shops? hell, i’ve even tried “singles mingle” events (someone tranquilize me if i ever mention going to another of those again). i’m out there. i’m not the most social person, but i will start a conversation with someone if i’m interested (which rarely goes well, but that's a whole different problem).

i’m out there. i’m not HUNTING but i’m always open minded.

maybe i just need to get a burner phone or get comfortable with passing out my information like acid stickers at Woodstock.

dating blows.

16

my kiddo turns 16 tomorrow.

he doesn't want to see me and he won't talk to me (or text or email). 

he moved 24 weeks ago.

I've been blocked on Facebook and completely iced out. I've been accused of abandoning him emotionally and financially.

I didn't get to see his first season of track. I won't be there when he gets his drivers license.

I hope that some day his anger will pass and he'll come back home or call or something.

but tonight that isn't happening. and it hurts. I'm missing milestones. tomorrow I'm missing a huge milestone that I'll never be able to get back. and that...that's damn hard. 

functional (barely) depression

FUCK DEPRESSION. 

fuck it right in it's fucking face.

i fucking hate depression. i've battled it...fuck. forever it seems.

but i've never been "depressed" in the official clinical sense.

as in sitting in a dark room sobbing all day, unable to function, wishing to be off this planet, weeks on end without a break of anything depressed.

you know- the kind they show in movies where the heroine stays in bed for weeks at a time until a friend brings over a cute sweater and a cup of coffee and the world is magically back to rights.

FUCK THAT.

see. some of us can't do that.

i don't get the luxury of staying in bed crying all day, no matter how much i want to. there's bills to pay and a dog to let outside and a kid that needs a mom.

i have to go to work and grocery shop and do the laundry and attend functions and exist.

function depression. smiling depression. "being a bit blue." there's plenty of articles on google that talk about what it is.

basically you just keep going even when you don't want to.

i go to work. i smile and chat with coworkers because i'm supposed to. i go out to events with friends and YES, i have a good time, a brief respite. but bet your ass as soon as i'm back home i'm back to melding with my couch and barely moving or functioning.

every day is the same. wake up late, rush to work, bust through the day (i'm still damn good at my job, depressed or not), wait for 4:00 just to go home and...sit.

i don't have energy or desire to do anything once i'm home. i've learned that once i sit down there's no going back so i try to get as much done as i can before that first sit. if i can stay in the car and pick up the kiddo then i can manage a few errands and maybe some grocery shopping. if i get home and go straight to the kitchen maybe we'll get a real dinner and some straightening up done. 

but if i hit the couch- it's over. and i know it just sounds lazy. part of it probably is. part of it is...i just...can't. i can't think about bills and dishes and mess and signing up for summer sports and planning weekends. it's just..i can't.

i'll sit and stare at my computer for days thinking i just need to open it for a few minutes to pay bills or write but it never gets done. i'll walk into the kitchen for a glass of water and just stare at the dishes in the sink. 

no matter how much i shame myself or berate myself or tell myself to JUST DO IT...i just melt into my couch even more.

weekends are a pathetic blur of no energy, sleeping all day and barely functioning AT ALL.

here's a few other things about functional (barely) depression:

IT'S FUCKING EXPENSIVE.

it's si much easier to eat out which isn't cheap (or healthy).

i buy groceries in a short burst of trying to be a grown up then never do anything with them and they waste away in the kitchen- not cheap.

bills aren't paid on time so there's late fees.

i don't give a rats ass about non-essential bills so there's a growing stack of unpaid parking tickets, a red light ticket, medical bills, property taxes, credit cards that i've been in one sided pissing matches with.

i know it's all snowballing and not going away. not paying them isn't doing anything besides destroying my credit so if i ever eventually want to take out a mortgage to fix a few things around the house and maybe consolidate/pay off those bills i'll have no chance at anyone financing me.

i get it. i'm shooting myself in both feet. and i can't even find the energy to care.

there's the "self care" splurges that i keep telling myself will help- and they do. a little. hair and nails- i like to still look good. if i at least look a little pulled together and like i care about myself, it's easier to pretend when i do go out with friends. and sometimes it's easier to fool myself- SEE, you look pretty. you can't REALLY be that depressed. pretend i'm not a TOTAL train wreck that has to be pulled together- just a car or two derailed.

it's also easier to  hide from people when you're moderately pulled together. if i went out in slippers and sweats with a greasy pony tail every day (the walmart uniform) people would KNOW something is wrong and ask questions. if i can pull myself together and function on some level then i can keep my depression to myself and not have to talk about it and not let people know there's something so wrong with me.

it all adds up...quickly...and adds to the always stressful finances. which i worry about but can't make myself fix...it's a death spiral. 

aside from finances, there's so much more- there's not having energy to do ANYTHING, let alone exercise or try to get on a better plan. there's late nights which make late mornings. insomnia and depression like to pal around together which- i mean- everyone needs a friend, but really? those two? also tagging along? over-analying annie.  and she's a BITCH. won't shut up. ever. 3 am and she's yammering on about all those bills and all the things you SHOULD be doing. only time that bitch shuts up is after a good smoke (hey, it's legal in my state) and a few drinks.  THEN there's a few moments silence until she starts analyzing the silence.

i worry that i'm alienating my friends but i can't make myself do anything about it. i think- how hard is it to get a pack of cards and mail someone a message every now and again. EVERYONE likes mail that isn't bills. but then i never do it. i think: "just call them and meet up for drinks" then i talk myself right back out of it because budget and i'm not dressed for it and they're probably busy anyway. i know other people have issues and need a friend or some support but i'm so scared that i'll end up talking about my bullshit and not listen to them, so i just don't make contact (super healthy choice, by the way).

and it's not like i'm not trying- i'm taking vitamin D which does make a difference. i AM signing up for things for the summer- a swim pass, a family pass to miniature golf/bumper boats/etc. i'm keeping commitments- if i say i'll be somewhere, i won't let myself cancel. i'm finding things like not sitting down at the end of the day and forcing that to happen more often. i managed to go grocery shopping AND prep a few lunches and snacks for the kiddo, make a chore chart for him too AND straighten up a bit on monday. doesn't sound like much, but it was a feat.

i found a new therapist that practices Hakomi therapy (think chakras and images and tree hugging hippie touch therapy) and i was really excited to find a way other than talking to work on things- it feels like i've talked and reasoned and written so much about things that words have lost their power. i really wanted to find a way to get my words back. but then insurance decided to be typical insurance and preferred providers and co-pays and whatnot. bullshit. but. it is what it is. still trying to find a work around on that one.

for those of you who know my bitter cynical self- this may throw you for a loop: i took the time last night to focus on a washing the darkness out of my aura and brightening my chakra colors.

yes.

i just said that.

i even analyzed which colors i couldn't get to light up to know what areas to focus on improving.

but you know what? as tree hugging, socks and crocks wearing, patchouli bathing, granola munching hippie as that sounds? it worked and i was able to get to sleep at a fairly reasonable hour.

i guess there's not much of a point to this besides to say functioning depression is a thing. just because you see someone out, working, going out with friends, still managing to not rot away in a corner doesn't mean all is right with the world.

i'm still battling. i'm still trying to find answers. i'm still functioning. not as well as i would like to be. i want to look forward to things again and not struggle to make plans or keep my house in order or keep in touch with friends. i'm finding small pieces and fitting them together.

i know my kiddo needs a FULLY functioning mom, not a barely functioning mess. he's the only one i have left- he deserves better. and i'm trying to get there.

purging even more posion

i had a huge realization last night after spending HOURS writing a letter to my mother purging all my hatred and hurt and everything that i've been holding onto when it comes to her.

as angry as i am at her, and as much as i've battled to let that go over the years, i finally realized that maybe the reason i've never been able to is because i've never addressed the REAL source of all the hatred and anger. as angry as i am at my mother, she isn't the cause of all the hurt. her choices that i react the most strongly against are the result of someone else's actions, actions that i've never been willing to address head on.

until now.

my mothers husband, my step father, is a horrible person. he is a pedophile, an abuser, a terrible, destructive person. he hides behind religion and fear. he has done damage to my family for over 25 years. my reasons for cutting my mother out of my life are due to her support and allegiance to him.

i have never spoken directly to him about my anger and hurt and damage.

i've been afraid. i've been ashamed. i have been worried sick that if i wrote or talked about growing up then friends, boyfriends, people wouldn't want to associate with me. they would look at me with pity or disgust. i didn't want people to know how fucked up my head is. i didn't want guys to know what i battle inside my head every time one is interested in me.

i'm tired of being ashamed. i'm tired of hiding. i'm tired of letting him win by keeping quiet. i'm tired of holding onto anger at other people because i've been to scared to say what my real anger is.

i know this will be considered airing dirty laundry to some. but i don't fucking care any more. i don't care if it's dirty laundry. i don't care if people find it gross or sick. this has shaped who i am and is one of my biggest battles. people that are worth having in my life will understand that. everyone else can fuck off.

airing dirty laundry, letting skeletons out of the closet, i don't care.

i'm taking my voice back and letting people know what an abuser is and how many different ways it can hurt.

michael gates:

i fucking loathe you. i have wished a thousand times for your painful, torturous, death. i used to watch news reports of car accidents in my home town and wish it were you. i have wished you weren't such a coward and that you would leave my mother and go off and rot in an unknown corner like you said you thought about doing so many times.

you are a demon on earth. you cause pain and destruction while hiding behind intimidation and religion. you are only "sorry" when you get caught, not because you're actually sorry or wish to change. you think that if you cry a little and lead a few songs at sunday service all will be forgiven. 

i. fucking. hate. you.

i hate you for all the things that you taught me. for teaching me what it feels like to be backhanded by someone twice my size. for teaching me to be afraid to speak my mind. i hate you for all the times you backhanded my brother. for all the times you made me scared of you because he was scared of you. i hate you for lying to and hiding things from my mother your whole marriage. i hate you for teaching me a warped twisted version of marriage. i hate you for hiding thousands of dollars in debit from my mother and taking advantage of how hard she worked for things. i hate you for your fucking locked briefcase and all the secrets that you kept. i hate that i'm so scared of ending up with someone like you that i would rather be alone.

i hate you for teaching me at 11 years old that i needed to learn how to give blow jobs for boys to like me- a voice i still hear every. single. time. i'm with a guy. i hate you for teaching me that i needed to learn how to shave "down there" or everyone would think i was disgusting. i hate you for telling me about all your sexual experiences in the military. i hate you for telling me about your mother daughter threesomes. i hate you for telling me how terrible my own mother is at sex and how she never put out enough for you. i hate you for teaching me to lie to my mother and hide things from her- "there's some things mom doesn't need to know about."

i hate that my few friends were uncomfortable at our house. i hate that the few times i tried to talk to anyone about what was going on, i ended up being in trouble and socially ostracized.  

i hate you for hiding your porn collection in my first apartment. i hate you for ordering videos and having them delivered to my house. i hate you for masturbating in front of me to those videos, in my own home. you took away the safety of my very first home.

i hate you for making me ashamed and making me hide everything. i hate how you were only momentarily sorry after i was forced to talk about what happened. i hate that you never owned up to being a fucking creep, only reacted to a few specific things.

i hate that you introduced me to my husband/abuser. i hate that when i finally left you maintained a friendship with him. i hate that to you it was more important to look good at work than worry about the protection of your family. i should have known that abusers would bond over a shared target.
 
i hate that you started playing the same games, teaching the same lies to my son- "there's some things you don't talk about. only kids will get in trouble, not grown ups." i hate that my own mother called me a liar and believed you over me. i hate that she told me i was just projecting what happened to me onto my son. i hate that you let her think that. i hate that you lie and hide and manipulate causing a second layer of abuse because the first just wasn't enough.

i hate that you took my mother away from me. i hate that she believes you. i hate that she told me nothing i say will ever be true because that's easier to her than believing the real horrible person you are. i hate that you've taken away what family i have left. i hate that you spend time with my niece and nephew and everyone thinks it's ok. i hate that you encouraged my mom to have a daycare in her home. i hate that you allowed a foreign exchange student to live with for a year. i hate that you have countless high school and students as your friends on facebook. i HATE that people actually believe the bullshit that "because you had a hard time making friends as a teenager, it's okay for you now, at 50+ years old, to have teenage friends. i hate that you are allowed around innocent unknowing people.

i hate that everything is my fault. i hate that you tell people that i made it all up. i hate that you make my VERY VALID concerns that this is still happening to other kids just "misguided accusations." i find it very odd that you supposedly had some big tearful coming clean to your church but then shortly thereafter switched churches.

i HATE. more than anything. that you've tried to convince my own children that i'm a liar. i hate that you flat out plain text told my son i am a liar. i hate that you told him you never did anything to me. i hate that you lied and tried to play the pity card to get him to sneak to come visit you. i hate that you tried to use other peoples position of trust and authority as a reason my children should trust you.

i hate that you lie and twist truths and keep getting away with it. i hate how many people believe you.

i hate that i've let you stay in my head for so long.

i will never forgive you for twisting and warping my childhood. i will never forgive you for trying to do the same to my son. i will never forgive you for making my mother choose between us. i will never forgive you even long after you're dead and rotten and not able to cause any more harm to any more people.

but i choose, right now, to not let you continue to ruin my life. i will never have anything to do with you or my mother ever again. i will stop worrying about things i can't control, people i can't change. i will no longer believe all the things you taught me when i was so little. i will learn to turn off your voice in my head. i will learn to forget thing that should have never happened.

i will continue to protect my kids and anyone i can from you. i will stop waiting for an apology that will never come. you have ruined enough years. you have damaged me more than should have ever been allowed.  i will not be ashamed any more. i will not be afraid of what people will think.

i know that things will never change. i know that you will never stop lying. i know that you will never stop hurting. i know that i can't change that. but i also know that i can stop letting it affect me.

it's not my battle any more. i'm done with you.

purging the poison

they say when youre angry at someone you should write a letter and stick it in a drawer, let it sit, go back and read it, if you still feel the same, send it.

i've been writing this letter in my head over and over for years. i've stuck it in the mental file drawer a thousand times. i keep coming back to it. i keep adding to it. it the same emotions, the same feelings, the same everything- only difference is it keeps growing and getting more angry and poisonous.

it's killing me.

i keep waiting for it to go away. i keep trying to find ways to purge it or look past it or move on from it. but it seems everything, especially lately, keeps circling back to it and it's killing me. i'm depressed. i'm hiding from friends. i'm barely moving off the couch when i get home from work. i've reduced my circle of people to almost none and i keep fighting myself to not push the final few away. i'm SO ANGRY. all the time. and i actually AM angry instead of just feeling angry. it's affecting my actions, decisions, interactions, posture. i know the difference between feeling and being. and i'm being angry.

i know the hierarchy of negative: anger is a response to fear which is a response to pain which is a response to an unmet need (6 basic human needs: consistency, variety, significance, love/connection, growth, contribution). i know that the way to resolve/move past the hierarchy of negative is to find the need that's not being met, work on a solution.

i also understand that the solution i most desire is not possible and i'll have to find a way to be okay with that. THAT'S THE HARD PART. the solution i most desire are the significance and love/connection chunks. 2/6 of the whole. and the person i want those from, my mother, is the person least able to provide those pieces. and that makes me angry.

second verse, same as the first. you can see how this little circle can grow to be exhausting.

i think the hardest part for my logical brain is the denial, the lack of validation, being told that nothing i say is true or real and it will never be.

i don't just say things. my brain processes NON-STOP. it always has. i know what i'm saying is real and true. i know my experiences and my memories happened. to be ignored or told otherwise...it just does not compute. so i keep thinking. i keep trying to find another way to present the information hoping this time it will get through.

i'm sure this won't be my last attempt. but this is my biggest attempt. this is me purging all the poison. getting it all out in a logical, concise, concrete form. this is me coming to terms with those two missing pieces. this is my last shot at significance (value, importance) and love/connection. i'm laying it all down. i know i won't get the answer and the resolution i want. i know that my mother will never see it. i know that if she did it wouldn't change anything. i'll have to work on a way to be okay with that. but here's my letter. i want to be done with this anger and start moving forward again.


mom-

i hate you. i am so hurt and battle scarred from so many things from so many years. i hate that you are this overpowering negative voice in my head that i can't turn off. well, that i haven't learned to turn completely off anyway. the FUCK YOU that i yell every time i hear you is getting louder and stronger. but you're still there.

i hate that i can't wear the color red without hearing how it will make all my acne/flaws stand out. i hate that every time i look at my self in the mirror and think i look nice it's followed by "for someone your size." i hate that i feel like a bad mother when i want to buy a new shirt without buying one for my kids. i hate that every time i correct my kids or punish them i hear in my head "if anyone else saw the way you treat your kids they would turn you into the state." i hate that i feel shallow for liking curling irons and make up. i hate that i had to read the instructions on the tampon box because i couldn't ask my own mother about how to use them.

those are little things. there's so many more from the closet where those are stashed.

the real pain and anger has it's own fucking wing, not just a dark little closet.

i HATE that as far back as i can remember i was never wanted. i HATE that i know you didn't want to get pregnant and you were on birth control and my dad was having an affair with the nurse and that made it a terrible delivery and the whole thing from day one was torture for you. i hate that not only was i mistake from the beginning, but you drilled it into my head my whole life.

i HATE that when you got married the second time it was "because you needed help raising your son."
where do i even begin with that one? did i not exist? did you not care about raising me?

how about the other side of that coin? how far it has pushed me to NOT be that single mother that "needs help raising her kids." do you know that is one of the biggest reasons i'm single? because the minute any guy mentions that maybe i need help, i rebel and instantly get rid of him to not be that weak, pathetic mom that will marry any abusive pedophile to take over for her.

i hate that you didn't even notice me until my brother had graduated high school and gone off to college. i was 15 the first time you noticed i had a sense of humor and 24 the first time you told me that. i hate i was threatened and bullied from grade school through high school and all i got were lectures about how to make friends. how many hours did i spend researching bible verses about how to be a better friend because it must be my problem? i hate that when my brother told me he was ashamed of me and embarrassed by me for being into theater and books- instead of defending me or letting me be myself you encouraged me to do things he approved of. HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT? you cared more about him not being embarrassed in front of his friends than about who i was. i hate that when i had problems you shoved me in counselor after shitty ass counselor instead of just talking to me yourself.

i hate that when i got pregnant the your response was "well, we've been expecting this." did assuming the worst about me just come natural? did you even care that it was my FIRST time? did you even ask? did you really not care enough to talk to me before hand? if you expected it, why didn't you even attempt to...ANYTHING? you worked at the community health clinic for fucks sake. education. birth control. ANYTHING. instead, not only was prevention ignored, i was shoved into the fucking abstinence class when i was seven fucking months pregnant. i mean. WHAT THE FUCK?
 
i hate that when i was in an abusive marriage all you could do is point out over and over again all his affairs and how horrible and damaging it was, but when i left you couldn't help me because he worked at the same business as your husband and you didn't want to make it awkward for them at work. ME, MY TWO CHILDREN. your own child and your grandchildren. DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. and you didn't want it to be awkward for two grown men at work.

i hate that you never listened to me. i hate that you asked me to attend counseling with you only to be looked straight in the face and called a liar. i hate that you told me, without hesitation, without second thought that nothing i say will ever be true. i hate that when i talked about things that happened to me growing up you looked at the counselor and said "she's making things up in her head." i hate that when the counselor asked you if you heard what you said about your own daughter YOU REPEATED IT. you bold faced called me a liar and a crazy person in the same sentence. YOU. SAID. THAT. ABOUT. ME.

i hate how weak and ignorant you choose to be. i hate that you are not only married to but stand up and defend a pedophile even though it cost you ever having any type of a relationship with me ever again. i hate that you defend him. i hate that you still have small children in your home around him. i hate that you make excuse after excuse for his behavior. i hate that you refuse to do anything about it and are so willingly allowing him to hurt other people. i hate that you are so stupid to sign a pedophiles name to children's birthday cards. i hate that you have no clue how many teenage and high school kids your husband has on facebook. i HATE that when i told you how he had groomed me growing up you looked me straight in the eye and said "what do you want me to do? it already happened." i hate that you shamed me into keeping quiet so he thought it would be ok to start grooming my child. i hate how you tried to blame my three year old child for making things up in order to excuse your husband. i hate that you choose to be ignorant against the statement and conclusions and opinions of several professionals.

i hate that i have tried to cut you out of my life but you're still there. i hate that i had to cut my own mother out to protect my family. i hate that when i my dad died i needed my mom and you weren't there. i hate that when teenager moved away i needed my mom and you weren't there. i hate all the bad days and holidays and occasions when i just want a mom to talk to, when i need someone to tell me everything will be ok- there's no one there. i hate that every time someone ask about my family i have to tell them i have none.

i hate that you're the voice in my head. i hate that you're the example i grew up with. i hate that i'm trying SO HARD not to be you that i have no clue what i need to be.

i hate that i have been cut out of my sons life. i hate the pain that i feel from it. i hate that i know you must feel the same pain. i hate that i feel bad for you.

i hate that i'm questioning my decisions. i hate that my choosing to protect my kids is even remotely blurred with your refusal to protect yours. i hate the irony: the thing i most need help with right now is the exact same thing that's keeping us apart. a child so angry at their parent that they can't talk to them. my choice to cut you out to prevent one kind of damage has instead been replaced by another.

i hate the thought that my son could feel the same way about me that i feel about you. i have tried so hard to protect him and stand up for him and go to battle for him. you have never once done that for me. i'm worried he doesn't see the difference and that makes me so angry. all he sees is the dysfunction. i hate that i've been forced to choose between protecting him and having my mother. i hate that this fucked up mess is the example he'll grow up with.

i hate that i'll never be of value to you. i hate that i'll never be accepted. i hate all the negatives. i hate that you're so scared of whatever you're scared of that you've chosen to stay where you are. i hate that you've chosen to stay with an abuser. i hate i'll never be good enough for you to choose.

that's a LOT of hate.

a LOT of poison.

i now from here i need to learn how to let go of all that. i need to find out who and what i want to be and quit focusing on what i don't want to be. i need to turn off her voice in my head and find my own voice. i need to stop looking for value and significance from others and find it in myself. i'm not sure what all that looks like, but i'm ready to find out. i'm tired of being angry. i'm tired of carrying all this bullshit with me. i'm tired of drinking the poison.

 i know i have a long unknown path from here to healthy. i don't know what tools i'll need. i don't know which direction to go. but i'm ready to find out.

where i get it

my dad was born april 5, 1955 in akron, ohio.

he would have been 59 this year.

almost 60.

i honestly don't know what 60 looks like. it seems like people are either close to my age (27-69) or OLD (70+). i'm lousy at guessing ages. but 60. my dad would have been 60. 

i don't know how he managed to be born in akron, ohio but raised in anaheim, california. i don't know way too many things about him. i do know his dad died in 1962 when my dad was 7. i know he was an eagle scout. i know he was part of a baptist church youth bell choir.

that's about it.

what i DO know is that my dad would drive from the yakima valley to spokane every year for my birthday in my adult years and take me out to a nice dinner. since his death i've claimed april 5 as steak and beer day in his honor. he can't take me out to dinner on my birthday anymore, but i sure as hell can enjoy his favorite meal on his birthday for him.

i never appreciated his driving 2.5 hours each direction for my birthday when he was around to do it. this year the small spawns adopted grandparents drove to spokane for his school concert/birthday dinner. about 2.5 hours. i truly appreciated it. i managed not to snot myself during dinner, but i sure snotted all over the car on the way home from dinner.

some people are just...amazing.  you know?

my dad was a grizzly bear. as kids we had to draw the short straw to wake him up for work. he was not a morning person.

that's where i get it from.

he also snored like a cartoon character. i still swear that if he wore socks when he slept you would have been able to see them blow back and forth when he snored. you possibly could have seen the walls of the house flex in and out too.

that's where i get it from.

one of the very last things i learned about my dad was that he loved musicals- chicago in particular.

that's where i get it from.

that whole side of the family- the miller side- not exactly a petite genetic structure.

that's where i get it from.

my dad loved all things related to a good steak dinner.

that's where i get it from.

my dad had some great sayings too-

"close the door, you're letting all the bought air out."

"wow. your legs go all the way up to your hips."

"i don't mind if you work at a stip club. just let me know which one so i'm not surprised."

he always called my brothers either "fuzz nuts" or "son" without exception.

he whistled john denver songs on car trips.

he always stopped at long horn bbq on his way out of town.

and best of all- he knew he had made plenty of mistakes in his life like we all do. he told me his job wasn't to judge me, it was to be there and help pick me up when i fell on my face.

i hope i get that from him.

happy birthday dad.