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.

what doesn't kill you still hurts like fuck

i've been trying to sit down and write this for well over a week now.

i've been through a full season of friends while procrastinating, worked on the house, mowed the lawn, sat starting at nothing for a good many hours, talked to friends, gone to work...hell, i even went on a small shopping spree trying to avoid this.

yet here we are.

i've started, restarted, hand written, cussed and discussed with friends, i can't seem to make this one come out the way it needs to. or maybe the way i think i need it to.

so. if i can't make it come out the way i think it needs to, then how does it REALLY need to come out?


two weeks ago i was quietly minding my own business when a voicemail came in:

"hi there, we're on our way to town and wanted to know if we could stop and say goodbye to the boys. (insert tragic crying here). we're moving to alabama and wanted a chance to say hello and goodbye."

thanks. MOM.

yeah. my mom calls and gives me an hour notice she's moving across the country. spiffy.
 
so i called back. told her she could stop by but her husband still isn't allowed near my house. i have this funny rule about not letting pedophiles near my kids. strange, i know. overprotective bitch of a mom i guess.

"but you'll be there the whole time..."

no. not sorry at all. WILL NOT let a pedophile around my kids. PERIOD. end of sentence.

"oh. well then i'll be in contact."

oh rejection. we meet again.

my mother is moving across the country, gives an hour notice, and AGAIN (still) decides a pedophile is more important to her than her own blood.

*sigh*

at least i've learned that it's not ME. i've done nothing wrong. her choices are HER choices. i'll never know why. i'll never be able to change it. all i can do is stand my ground, protect my kids, and let the rest roll off.

if you know me at all, you know how hard it is to write that small paragraph. let it roll off.  it's not me.

so. i call my brother to find out what's going on. long story short- job changes.

BUT. my brother happens to mention that he came up on memorial day for a goodbye party at mums house.

i'm sorry.

WHAT?

he drove through town with his family TWICE. there and back. TWICE. and didn't bother to call, stop by, give me a heads up or anything.

so. yeah. that rejection thing. twice in under an hour.

ouch.

oh, and remember that whole break up thing just a few days before?

how many hits can an ego take in three days?

so. there it is. three strikes. fucking ow.

surprisingly, that all didn't rattle me as much as i thought it would. at least not in the way i thought it would. i didn't go through the rejection feelings i normally would. i didn't feel wrong or broken. i didn't feel at fault, or damaged. i know it's their decisions. i know i'm still ok. i know i can't answer things for them or change their minds. i know that it will only drive me bat shit crazy trying to answer the why. i know that i just have to say THAT SUCKS. that really fucking sucks ass. it hurts like a mother fucker. it isn't the way it should (yes, i understand that should's are a problem in themselves) be. IT FUCKING HURTS. even if i'm ok not knowing why. even if i'm ok knowing it's not me. even if i'm ok still loving who i am- IT STILL FUCKING SUCKS.

so i say that. i recognize that. i own that.

and i move on.

or i sit still in one place it turns out.

i'm not hurt, but i'm also not moving forward.

here it is a few weeks later and i'm drifting. i've got my head up my ass making some shit decisions, letting myself get lost in a few strange/unexpected ways.

and then another blow to the good old ego.

my mom stopped by today completely out of the blue. just pulled up to my house at noon on a friday.

a) why the fuck isn't she in alabama?
b) why the fuck is she stopping by without calling?
c) what the fuck could she possibly want?

no answers to a or b, but the answer to c was apparently to prove to me again why i'm better off without her in my life.

she had a bunch of shit for me. while cleaning out the house she "found" a bunch of stuff from my dad. his john denver records, some necklaces he'd given her WAY back in the day (30ish years ago), and some other random shit.

best way to start off a conversation?

"i have some stuff from your dad for you."

ummm- my dad's been dead THREE YEARS.

any stuff you "have from him" should have been handed over a fuck of a long time ago or left alone.

but of course it can't just be a one two punch of her showing up and finally turning over my dad's stuff. good things come in threes after all, don't they?

what other great parting shots/gifts does she have for me?

how about a giant fucking poster board from my WEDDING RECEPTION.

yeah. that domestic violence marriage i fought like hell to get out of 10 years ago?

OF COURSE i would love a giant reminder of that.

couldn't have just taken the pictures off and passed those along? had to pass on the whole fucking poster board too?

obviously the effort went in at some point to remove his photos. couldn't just pop out the other ones and trash the board? literally took about 15 seconds to do this afternoon. but...you know...why NOT pass along the whole reminder of the marriage and just rip open that scar too?


*SIGH*

so here i sit tonight. i've done a LOT of writing the last few days and more this afternoon. the actual physical writing stuff. pen to paper, empty the brain, work through all the shit that's been back piling and distracting me.

i don't know if i have any answers. i do know that i recognize things aren't going where they need to be, my head isn't where it needs to be, and my decision making sure as fuck isn't where it needs to be.

i know that my issues are bullshit at the end of the day; there's people with real shit going on. more than someone stopping by with a poster board. more than a few hurt feelings over a break up or a brother not visiting while driving through town. i realize that i need to keep perspective- there's people dealing with cancer and death and unemployment, people losing their homes, PTSD, REAL SHIT.

i didn't know how to start this and i don't know how to end this. this week is a "mommy vacation" week- the spawns will both be gone for a few days so i'm going to take this time to get my shit together, get a plan, get back on a track at least and start making some movement forward again. i'll finish up the house, get it listed again, start considering work again, get some sense of purpose and, hell, maybe even a plan.

i know. crazy talk. me with a plan. next thing i'm going to have a 5 year goal.

oh lordy. i crack me up.

anyway.

best.week.ever.

i don’t write posts like this very often. i probably should. it’s good to acknowledge and document when things are going REALLY well so that the next time the shit hits the fan you can look back and go- well, that week was kick ass and i’m sure there will be another one soon.

i had a deep thought type thing today- almost posted it to facebook since everyone knows that’s THE place to share deep thoughts. but i didn’t. so it’s here instead, then we’ll get back to the main point.

deep thought of the day: every morning it’s good to take a moment to look back at what was, what never was, and what never will be. BUT JUST A MOMENT. then get back to what is and what you want to be and what you can make it be.

how fucking deep is that shit? people always tell you not to look back or dwell on the past and i say NAY PEOPLE. that’s a fancy word for no if you weren’t aware. I SAY NAY. you should look back. acknowledge it for what it was. recognize the past is what go you to today. just don’t dwell on it. take a moment- not even a minute, just a moment. look at it. acknowledge it. give it a cool guy head nod. then get back to kicking asss today.

i know. i just blew all your minds. all three of you that read this. you’re welcome.

now back to the main point of this post. i have had, quite possibly, the best week i can remember in my entire life. exaggerating? really not. jinxing myself because it’s only thursday night? probably. but even if friday sucked, the average of the whole week would be enough to keep this one in the top five for sure.

it’s actually been quite the streak as of late- can’t even limit it to this week- last week was pretty damn good too- great wine night saturday with friends, dinner and a productive meeting sunday. but monday really did just kick this week off in a big ass way.

monday i was a real, true grown up- got up in time, did the whole getting ready for work, grabbed breakfast, remembered my vitamins and my lunch AND made tea. doesn’t sound like much, but in my chaotic morning life (i hate mornings with a deep pure hate) it was a big thing. made for a great/productive day at work. not too shabby for a monday. got home that afternoon and in the mail there was an unexpected check waiting for me. not sure how or where or what, but it was one last check from my dad’s estate. honestly, no clue how it came to be. it’s been over 2 years. i thought everything was long since settled. it came at just the right time. between switching jobs again, trying to get caught up on bills, trying to stay above water, it’s been tight on the basics. then there’s all the other stuff- property taxes, parking tickets, cub scout uniforms, school dance clothes, miscellaneous bills, walmart runs that have been postponed...all the CRAP that ends up stacking up when you’re not looking. i’ve been treading water for a while which is a huge success in itself, but this- the check wasn’t gigantic, but it was more than enough to cover all that stuff listed. i have been stressing about my property taxes for months. didn’t pay the first half because i plain and simply couldn’t. now the second half is due and still no clue how it was going to get paid. i didn’t have the ability (or honestly remember that i was supposed to) “pay myself rent” and set aside money each month for taxes. turns out that buying a home thing doesn’t end when you sign the papers. this check covered that. my dad is still watching out for me 2 years later and helping bail me out of my mistakes. EVEN BETTER- when i looked at the tax slip to pay the bill, i noticed a “prior owing” section for the second half of LAST YEAR’s taxes. are you fucking kidding me? i didn’t pay those either. FUCK. now instead of 2k, it’s going to be 2,863. shit. called in to the county to verify- oh, i was looking at an outdated form or something, the second half of last year was paid in february. by me. totally don’t remember writing that check (they had it on record as my personal check) but i’ll take it! i guess i can be a responsible adult when i’m not looking.

so taxes: PAID. and for $800ish less than i thought. AWESOME. not bad news for a tuesday. paid up all the parking tickets (“stupid tax” hurts!). paid all the regular monthly bills, paid of a few other measly little accounts, tried to do the responsible adult thing. i’ve been able to get the kiddos the things they need from picture money, school dance fancy clothes (the big spawn got invited to a high school homecoming dance), cub scouts uniforms. they say money can’t buy happiness, but it sure as fuck can relieve a LOT of stress and make it easier to find happiness in other places...

like GREAT FUCKING FRIENDS. seriously. i feel so lucky right now with the great people that i get to interact with all the time. i have some of the best people a girl could ask for: people that are real, honest, supporting, loving and just THERE when i need a boost up. the crew for the magazine is GREAT. we’ve gone through some rough patches as a growing publication, this week has been no exception to the growing pains, but through it all we’ve worked together, supported each other- core team, design team and beyond. our crew is just fucking phenomenal to work with right now. it’s people that are involved because they WANT to be involved. we’re all passionate about it in different ways and the overall effect of that is fucking CRAZY to watch. it’s beautiful and inspiring and exactly what it needs to be. it’s been great. inside the magazine i love that the people i’m working with are teaching me i have talent, ability, a valuable opinion and voice. those same people outside the magazine are kicking my ass every day teaching me that i’m a beautiful person inside and out. i deserve good things in life. i deserve happiness and good people and a positive environment. they support and accept me as i am, they believe in me. they’ve helped me boost my self image and self value and HOLY FUCK does that make a huge difference in EVERYTHING.

back to the main point again- this week has just been fucking phenomenal. it’s not about the money that came in (although it helped for sure). it’s about the fact that good things have been happening. good people have been happening. i’ve been able to support the people around me and they’ve supported me back in turn. i’ve been able to spend great time building friendships new and old. i’ve been learning to listen to the positive voices- random stranger on the street telling me i’m beautiful to friend that have been trying to drill the same thing into my head for the last eight years (i’m learning sir, thanks for being patient) and set aside the old horrible voices that just kept wanting to tear me down. i had a huge moment last week where i went through some crazy deep, raging anger but i had people there to listen and hear me and help me work through it and address and dismiss the source of it. do you know how fucking great it feels to let anger go? and how great it is to have people that not only listen to you and help you through it but also take the time to help you find the lesson in it and help you grow in a healthy way from it?

i had dinner last night with an outstanding, adorable gentleman where we were able to talk and enjoy each other’s company for 4 hours. it was a positive, fun, thoroughly enjoyable evening. i’ve been able to spend afternoons and weekends with the spawns for quite a while without  crazy and drama and arguments (within reason- there is still a teenager in the house, we have our moments). there has just been positive and good from all directions.

it wouldn’t be me if i didn’t say that there is still a part of me that’s holding out- in the back corner there’s this little voice saying it’s too good to be true, when the other shoe drops it’s going to be fucking hiroshima around here, there’s something else going on, it can’t be all this positive without a huge backlash coming around the bend.

maybe. i don’t know. maybe there is something coming. but i can’t worry about that today. i’m learning that. i’m learning to silence that voice. the voice that says things can’t be good for me. the voice that says it’s only good because something bad is coming. i’m learning to ENJOY THE GOOD. why should i worry about tomorrow when i have NO IDEA what it will bring? why waste that energy when i can be celebrating all the GREAT things that are happening right now? the little spawn has been selected for a special tutoring program. the big spawn is off the charts in his school placement testing. i’m part of a team producing a successful magazine. TODAY there are great people around me and GREAT things going on. and you know what? i’m going to fucking enjoy it and appreciate the shit out of it. i’m going to be grateful that all these healthy people have been in and are still coming into my life. i’m going to take the time to look at today, look at the last week, be the annoying obnoxious happy pollyanna that won’t shut up about all the cool shit happening.

it’s been a fanfuckingtastic week. and i appreciate that. and i’m excited about it. and whatever tomorrow brings, today was a great fucking day. and i’m so thankful i’ve been able to say that so many days lately.

broken pieces

i've had writers block since this summer. i've known exactly what was causing it but haven't wanted to face up to it. i've had the words. i've known what i wanted to say a thousand times over in a thousand different ways, but i just couldn't say it. and when you know there's something you need to say but you're being stubborn about saying it, well, it makes it really hard to say anything else.

i'm ready now.

i'm broken. i have a hard time in relationships so i avoid them. i thought i knew why for a long time but this summer there was a flat, bold face, plain as day answer given to all the things i've thought over the years. it's ugly and it's dark. but i know what it is now. what i don't have is a solution for it or a way to move past it yet. maybe finally saying it will help.

ok. so maybe i'm not ready to say all of it. part of the writing process you can't see: i've typed and deleted several paragraphs trying to decide what to include and what to leave out to get to the main point of this post. readers digest version that i'll get back to at some point when i'm more ready: my mom is married to a pedophile. her husband was inappropriate towards me growing up and i found out after moving away from small town USA that he had also been grooming my youngest son. i told my mom about it at one point when it was just me, and again when i found out it was happening to my son.

i'm sure you can imagine how much more is packed into that one paragraph if it was allowed to unfold itself.

when i told my mom about my experiences she looked at me and said: "well, what do you want me to do about it? it's already happened." when i told my mom about my son she told me that i was just projecting my own experiences on him and there was no way it could have happened.

perhaps now it's making a little more sense to some of you why my mom and i don't have the best relationship.

it's been really hard for me over the last few years to see her stand beside this pedophile at the expense of a relationship with my kids and i. as long as he is anywhere around, we won't be. my older brother has taken her side. he doesn't believe there's a problem and i'm just being the stubborn kid that i've always been for no reason. after losing my dad and my younger brother, it's unspeakably hard to not have any connection to what blood family i have left.

the biggest thing over the last few years: i felt like the one who was wrong. i felt like maybe i was being a little harsh or maybe it was all just in my head. maybe THAT was the reason i was so broken: i made things up and i was unreasonable.

this summer my mom asked me to go to therapy with her. she'd been trying to work out why she and i don't have a relationship and her therapist suggested that maybe i should come in to talk over some things. a mom is a mom and there's countless studies to show that no matter how bad things get, our primal instinct is to call out for our mothers. i want my mother. i do. so i decided to go. maybe we could work it out. maybe she would see my side and understand why i was protecting my kids. maybe she would say she loved me and chose me for once.

we sat in that office. i talked about what it was like growing up. i talked about why i had separated myself from her. i talked about how it felt having her chose a pedophile over me, her daughter. the therapist heard me. she pulled together my pieces with the things my mom had talked about. the therapist, a trained professional looked at the whole picture and i was honestly, truly shocked by what she told me: i wasn't crazy. my experiences were real. my decision to protect my children was the right one. knowing what she had worked on with my mom and then hearing my pieces, it made sense and fit together and i wasn't being the unreasonable terrible daughter i believed i was. the therapist flat out said if she had known the whole story from the beginning her work with my mom would have been totally different. she believed me.

i can't tell you how powerful that moment was. someone validated me. validated the things i knew to be true. feelings and experiences i'd been wanting someone to believe. the things i though made me crazy and broken weren't right. things i've hated about myself since i was a teenager weren't my fault. i didn't ask to be treated the way i was. i didn't cause things that happened to me. it wasn't right that i had been ignored. it wasn't right that i was made to feel bad for protecting my kids. the therapist told me i was reasonable and level headed and the things i was doing were on the right track and i shouldn't waiver or back down. it was so powerful to have someone on my side. there. in the same room as my mom. my mom HAD to hear it. she HAD to know. she HAD to see it and acknowledge it and it would be different.

but just as quickly, i lost that moment. just as quickly my mom looked at the therapist and said i was crazy and heard voices in my head (she literally said exactly that). that i made things up. my own mother said that none of my experiences, none of my memories are real. she was so scared of the truth that she flat denied it and just shattered me. she looked straight at me and said nothing i remember, none of my experiences will ever be right or true. ever.

THAT.

THAT MOMENT. that is the real reason i'm broken. as powerful as the moment before it had been of someone believing me and validating me had been, THAT MOMENT was a thousand times more destructive. my mother doesn't believe me. she doesn't think i'm worth protecting for fighting for. i'm not worth loving. my mother would rather protect a monster than love a daughter. in that moment she threw me away. my own family rejected me. my family thinks i'm broken and damaged and not worth fighting for. i am not loveable. i am not good. i am not worth anything.

and if my own family, my own flesh and blood feels that way, what hope is there of ever finding a partner in life to accept me?

NOW: I KNOW. i know i have friends that love me and accept me. i hope there will eventually be someone on the life partner level that will feel the same way. but there is a whole fucking canyon between hope and belief. and before i can even begin to cross that canyon i have to have even the smallest confidence that it's even possible. and i don't have that. i don't have even a small piece of that confidence. not even a sliver. the feeling of rejection is so ingrained in me that anyone who tells me they love me must lying. it's an instant deal breaker for me. they want something. they're using me. it CAN'T be true. it's not physically possible for it to be true. i wholly believe that. i know. fucked up.

so there it is. my broken pieces: what's left of my family has rejected me. i truly don't believe i'm loveable. i don't believe i will ever find someone that wont go away or let me push them away. i don't believe there will ever be someone to fight for me and with me.

there are my pieces. now. how do i fix them? how do i teach myself that those pieces aren't right? how do i teach myself that i am loveable and that someone will want me? how do i believe what that therapist saw? how do i teach myself not to destroy chances at good things because they're foreign? how do i make pieces that are right and put them all together?

i recently tried my hand at a true, talked about it, put a name on it, give it a shot, relationship. it didn't make it very far. among several of the red flags that i filtered through, the biggest one was that he dropped the love bomb on me. after only a few weeks. and i INSTANTLY shut down. instantly. something must be wrong. it couldn't be true. now, there was more to it. there always is. but i don't know if it was real. i don't know if he really did love me or if it was because we had a small argument and he thought it would make things better. i don't know because i didn't give it a chance. like i said, there was more to it, but i couldn't even look at any of the more because i was DONE. that moment i fully shut down, completely shut off because there was no way it could be true. he must have been lying because no one can love me. people who have know me my whole life can't love me. how could some one that's only known me for a few weeks say that? and so i destroyed it. it's done.

how do i NOT do that? how do i not shut down? how do i not instantly want to call someone a liar? how do i start to unbelieve that bad and really believe the good? i have to start to believe that i'm loveable. i have to. the hard part of that is i don't know where to start. and i don't know if i ever will believe it. i don't like that. i don't like that i'm questioning it before i've even started the process. it's going to be a helluva journey. there's a lot of damage to undo.

the good, the bad, the excited

well, there are MANY updates waiting to happen- don’t worry, i’ve kept a list of all the goings on so you won’t miss out on all the shenanigans.

BUT: the biggest update:

I BOUGHT A FUCKING HOUSE!

that’s right- me, the gypsy, the girl who has moved 11 times in 11 years (soon that will be 12 for 12). the girl who swore buying a home was not in any plan in any future in any way.

A HOUSE. a real house. a 1901, covered front porch, back deck, 4 bedroom, 2 bathroom, dining room with a small bay, purple kitchen HOUSE.

i’m still a fuck-ton scared of it. i mean- this means if the water heater shits out _I_ have to replace it. if there’s a leak in the roof _I_ have to repair it. when the lawn needs mowed...well, you can bet your fucking panties i’m calling someone else to do that last one. but it’s MINE. i can knock out walls or rearrange the kitchen (both of which i’m planning). i can PAINT it, rip up carpet, dance nekkid, ANYTHING I FUCKING WANT TO.

but. you know me. for every good there has to be a wrench in the works...here it is:

i called my brother the other day to wish him a happy birthday and he mentioned that one of his friends had let him know i bought a house. why hadn’t i let him know myself? well, because i knew something like this would happen. i’m chatting along, telling him a little about the house, how i’m nervous to buy it, how it’s a TON of money to spend all at once, and he drops this bomb:

“well, it’s not like it’s your money anyway.”

yes, asshole. i realize it’s not _my_ money. i realize i did not earn this money, this is not a nest egg that i saved up for years to make a purchase like this. i realize that this is my fucking lottery ticket. LUCKY FUCKING ME. you fucking asshole. i’m damn well aware of where this money came from. and, more than anything, that makes me extra nervous to spend it because i means that much more to me. i’m that much more on alert about buying a house my dad would be proud of. he always said he wished he could buy me a house and take care of me, and now he’s doing it. i want to make sure to pick out the best house i fucking can and make the best use of the money he left me. it’s been a HUGE pressure to me to not let my dad down. i realize that this is death money. i realize that several people died to provide me this opportunity. i’m more than well aware of that fact EVERY. FUCKING. DAY.

i remember more than once when my dad helped me move he would just shake his head and look around and be SO UPSET looking at the places i was going to call home. more than once he chewed my ass for picking a place he thought wasn’t up to his standard. he was always worried about me having a nice roof over my head. this is his way of taking care of me. it’s a shitty fucked up way, but it’s happening. and i want to make damn sure that it’s one he would approve of. in my head i know he’s still skeptical. he’s a dad. i know he would be looking around, poking at things, worried about something or other falling apart on me. but i also know that he would be so proud that i’m giving my boys a place of their own. i know that after the last two moves he learned to trust me that i can take ANY place and make it a good home for my spawns.

“it’s not like it’s your money.”

FUCK YOU. fuck you for shitting on such a big event for me. fuck you for not realizing how much time and thought and emotion i’ve put into this. i know it’s not what he wanted me to do with the money so therefore it must be the wrong choice. i know i was supposed to not quit my job, invest in college for the kids, make smart decisions.

WELL GUESS WHAT: THESE ARE FUCKING SMART DECISIONS. and they’re the RIGHT decisions for me. NOTHING can replace time with my kids. nothing can replace having a whole summer with them. NOTHING can replace giving them their own spaces to OWN.  they won’t have to move again. they won’t have to share a room. they can decorate, paint, make it THEIRS. i never had that when i was a kid. sure, my mom bought a house, but i wasn’t allowed to decorate it or put up things i wanted or make it my own space- i want that for my kids.  i want the quintessential hollywood kids room with wacky paint and posters all over the wall and a mess that keeps you from seeing the floor. i want them to have ownership and security.

and i ran out of steam about half way through that.

brass tacks: it’s the RIGHT FUCKING DECISION FOR ME.  IT’S A GOOD DECISION FOR MY KIDS.  i am damn well aware of where the fucking money came from.  i’m well fucking aware of how it isn’t really mine, and i’m making the smartest use of it that i can. i KNOW, hands down, that my dad would be proud of me for doing this.

back to the excitement:

I BOUGHT A HOUSE! i’m writing the check out for it today and i will OWN it, free and clear! i’m so excited

family legacy

my grandmother is 81 years old. it’s not the longest run in history, but it’s a damn good one. it’s interesting to think that she was born in 1929. that was the year of the wall street crash, the beginning of the great depression, the st valentines day massacre, the opening of the san fransisco bay bridge. in the same year martin luther king jr was born as well as audrey hepburn and anne frank. (read more here: 1929)

i found out last wednesday night that my grandmother has cancer. she will not be a cancer survivor. this will be the final chapter for her. by the time they found the cancer it was beyond any treatment options. the best they can do now is give her pain meds (which she doesn’t like to take because they make her too groggy) and wait for the end.

i’m angry at the universe about this. i get that 81 is a good run, but this is NOT a fair way for this amazing woman to go. there is NOTHING fair about this. here’s why:

my grandma is where i get my rebellious streak. there’s pictures of her in college holding hands with boys. i know- doesn’t sound so scandalous until you realize she went to a college with separate mens and womens dorms. not very unheard of at the time. but then you look in the background of the pictures and you see signs about men and women not being allowed to fraternize together. pictures of her holding hands with a boy with a sign about no fraternizing in the background. there’s also a picture of her and several girlfriends standing on a wall directly over a sign that says “no sitting or standing on this wall.” she had a strong wild streak to her. granted, i’m basing this off two pictures, but they do say a pictures worth a thousand words. she was also very in love with her first husband and there may or may not have been less than 9 months between their marriage and the birth of their first son. unfortunately at that time it was not at all something that people could deal with like they pretended to do when it happened to me (minus the marriage part). it caused a rift in her family and she was (i believe) disowned due to it. if not actually disowned it caused a large rift that caused great pains later on.

my mum was born in 1955 when my grandmother was 25 or 26 (forgive me, i don’t know her exact birthday- we’ll stick with 26). a few months before my mum was born my grandmother’s husband was killed in a plane accident. i can’t even imagine. 26, baby on the way, suddenly alone. in 1955. additionally, my mum has 3 older brothers. at 26 my grandmother was a sudden single parent of 3 small boys and a baby on the way. can you even imagine? i made the choice to become a single parent at 23 leaving my marriage. granted, not a choice i really wanted to make at the time, but still it wasn’t like having my whole life ripped from me. it was damn hard with two little guys. i can’t even begin to imagine three small boys and a baby on the way. she had to scrape together a few thousand dollars to have his body railed (yes, by train) back to his family AND pay for burial costs. you’d think at a time like this her family would step in and help. remember that whole great pains? they wouldn’t help. his family stepped in to help, but still. she was on her own. talk about a hard knock. she did it though.

in 1958 she married again and had two more kids. six total. that alone deserves sainthood.

now. our family has pretty tight lips when it comes to history but over the years i’ve heard a few things consistently enough to know that there’s a strong truth to them. still, please understand that this is a generation removed and a that no one is willing to talk about what went on.

my grandmother’s second husband is a pretty horrible person in my opinion. he is the type of person that never had qualms about using brute force to get his way. my mum talked only a few times about growing up with him and it was never good. one thing she remembered was my grandmother in the bathroom giving birth while he was in the kitchen demanding dinner. she talks about how when they got in trouble as kids (which was a continual thing due to the type of person he was) he would grab whatever was handy to beat them- a hairbrush, a belt, a metal rod. my grandmother and the kids went through this- no one escaped. in addition to that demeanor, he was also very politically defiant. he has strong ties to branches of the aryan nations and different supremacy groups. it was not 6 degrees of separation to our family when things like ruby ridge happened. it was maybe 1 or 2. hell, the wingnut even started his own “church” and considers himself a minister. hand in hand with all that goes a distrust of modern medicine, resistance to “government tracking” (drivers licenses and birth certificates), stockpiling weapons and food for the end of the world- the batshit crazy just goes on and on. did you know that if you eat mushrooms and ham you’ll catch aids? and that if you snort enough cyan pepper you can cure cancer? (one snort and i would NEVER complain about another medical problem as long as i lived. kind of like the egyptian answer to headaches). he is, to the core, in every way possible, a terrible person. even now, as my grandma is immobilized by cancer he’s demanding that she just needs to get up and walk more and she’ll be better. he gets angry with her for struggling through the pain and being confused or groggy. he talked yesterday about the “good old days” and how when they would argue she would simply say “you’re the head of the household” and that would be the end of the discussion. does anyone else catch the undertone to a discussion like that?

my mum did her best to keep my brother and i away from that whole mess growing up, one thing i am extremely grateful to her for. we rarely visited my grandmothers ranch and we NEVER spent time alone there.

53 years. my grandmother has endured 53 years of abuse after losing the love of her life, having her family shun her and being left on her own in 1955 with three kids and one on the way. she stuck with it because it’s what her generation does. you stay. there is no other option.

and she still maintained the beautiful person that she is. hidden in there peeking out when the coast is clear is that rebel. the amazing woman that gave me my love of vintage books. the first person in our family to go to college. the young lady in the picture standing on the forbidden wall. the woman that i look up to for what she went through and continues to go through. she raised six kids. SIX. she ran the ranch for over 20 years with “small” gardens that would put most gardens to shame (ACRES of gardens). she provided food for countless families that passed through and stayed on the land at different times. she made (and hand tied) quilts for all 9 of us grandkids. every year since my kids started school she helped make sure all their supplies were provided. visiting her over the last week i’ve still seen an amazing sense of humor, beautiful intelligence, unimaginable strength and patience. it breaks my heart to think of how much i missed out on growing up because of what she was stuck enduring.

and i’m angry at the universe because she never got a break. a few years ago her husband was very sick and it didn’t look like he was going to last very long. i was so excited for her thinking that finally she would be away from his tyranny. she would be able to get a nice little place in town and live a few years of her life in peace. a few years away from the constant abuse. a few years with her kids who had all distanced themselves as adults. a few years with grandkids, great grandkids that had been kept at a distance. instead he’s pulled through and is in fine health (aside from dementia) and she’s in the worst possible pain, completely overtaken with cancer and no chance of pulling through. no chance of peace. no chance to have the life she deserved. no chance to be the beautiful independent, free spirited woman she once was. i’m so angry. i’m so filled with hate and rage to see the scales once again not balance out. i don’t understand how the universe works. i don’t understand why things like this happen.

i’m also terrified.

my grandmother has lived with 53 years of abuse. my mother grew up in that household. i have to acknowledge that experience and how it shaped her adult life and approach to relationships. i have no question that her marriage to my dad was unhealthy. i love my father with everything i am, but i am not blind to his faults. i know that he had affairs. i know that he was young and didn’t treat my mother the best he could have. i know they were both young and both came from hard upbringings and didn’t have the healthiest examples of how to be a young married couple. i honestly believe that my mother would have stuck with him forever if he hadn’t come home and announced he was in marriage counseling. with the other woman. if he hadn’t left, my mother never would have. she would have stuck in an unhealthy relationship because it’s what you do. how do i know this? because she’s doing it now. she’s married again to a horrible man. a man that has lied to her, mistreated her, hidden things from her, abused her kids. she is in an abusive relationship now and she is sticking with it because that’s what you do. my grandmother married a second time because she needed help raising four young children. my mother married a second time because she needed help raising two young children. both stuck out abusive marriages because it’s what you do.

i’m TERRIFIED. i’m TERRIFIED to be a third generation of this. and i KNOW i’ve already broken the mold. i was in an abusive marriage and I GOT OUT. but the fact remains that i was in an abusive marriage. i followed their steps. i did it. i married an abuser. a third generation. i did get out, but i’m TERRIFIED that i don’t know any better. i don’t know what a healthy relationship is. i don’t know how people are supposed to work together. i don’t know what the good things are to look for and it’s damn hard shopping when you’re only going off the avoid list.

on the other end i’m terrified of avoiding relationships and not trying to find someone to try to give my kids a healthy example to look up to. no example is just as damaging as a bad example. they need something good and healthy and strong to learn from and aspire to. but i don’t know how to give that to them. i only know that i want to protect them from an unhealthy one. i don’t want to fuck up a fourth generation. i don’t want my kids to look back 15 years from now and be in the same boat facing the same fears and the same bad experiences. how do you fix things like this? how do you unlearn what you grew up with? how do you change the family legacy? i don’t want to be the third generation single mother who marries for help and stays no matter what.

and so what do you do? you’re terrified to get stuck in a bad one and terrified to not have one at all. i want to break the cycle. i want to be the generation that does it right. i want to be the generation that is healthy and happy and successful in a partnership. i just have no fucking clue where to start.