scratch the surface

i've been doing a LOT of processing and working through things lately.

i've been digging deep into my past, why things are the way they are, why i am the way i am. i'm finally resolving (or working on) trauma and weird shit from the last 37 (fuck, almost 38) years on this planet.

i've delved really fucking deep into recurring nightmares, grief, choices, all the different paths life has taken.

i've gone DEEP y'all.

and it's been (mostly) good and healing. 

but, oddly, it's the super shallow stuff that's made a really big difference for me.

because people are shallow y'all.

and i mean this in the best way possible.

see, i've been single for basically my entire life. i've dated here and there. i was married for a whopping 23 months. most "relationships" don't make it past the 2 month mark. i've been on countless horrible first dates. i've been on plenty "meh" first dates. i've been stood up for an embarrassing number of never-happened dates.

and i took it all so, incredibly, painfully personal.

every rejection, every ghost, every failed attempt it was because of ME. like, ME. the deep me.

i don't have success dating because I'M A TERRIBLE PERSON. my very core self if like if every serial killer and political dictator and perpetrator of ethnic cleansing and generally horrible person on earth merged into one horrible, disgusting, repulsive, intolerable sample of humanity packaged into a chubby brunette body.

imagine packing this image of yourself around year after year.

except...

maybe not?

because here's the thing. most of those people never even got to know me beyond a few text messages and phone calls.

hell, most of them didn't even bother to show up to try to get to know me.

so...maybe people are just shallow.

ya think?

maybe people didn't like me because i'm brunette instead of blonde. cool. i have been blonde(ish), red, blue, pink, purple, black, and for a very short time, a horrid forest green after an attempt at color correction went very wrong.

maybe people don't like me because i'm fat. i've been heavier. i've been lighter. ive been a bigger size, i've been a smaller size. in high school i weighed 140 and had a 28" waist. now i'm almost 40 and have a 28" thigh.

maybe people don't like me because i have kids. i'm hesitant myself to date other people with kids because it's a HUGE responsibility to be in a child's life, for a short time or a long time. even a one time memory can have a lasting effect.

maybe people don't like me because i have tattoos and piercings.

maybe people don't like me because i pronounce words wrong/different.

maybe people don't like my views on politics or religion or which grocery store is the best.

maybe people don't like me because i still own dvd's and refuse to make a digital library. I LIKE THE ACTUAL DVD'S. LEAVE ME ALONE.

maybe it's because i don't like the right music.
 
maybe i talk too much about weird topics (how many people do you know with a book of drawings done by a guard at the gulag?).

maybe it's because i like pineapple on pizza.

maybe it's because they found someone else they have a better connection with.

maybe it's because no one is required to like everyone else on the planet.

maybe i have man hands and don't own a pirate blouse and those are the only two Seinfeld references i know. 

not every rejection is a meat cleaver to the chest. sometimes it's a papercut on your pinkie. sometimes it doesn't even leave a scratch.

people are shallow ya'll.

and that's actually a good thing.

it means maybe i can give myself a break. maybe i'm not actually a terrible monster of a person. i'm just a weird little duck. even weird little ducks can have a great life. 

not everyone hates me as much as i hate myself.

which is actually helping me hate myself less.

funny thing how less hate leads to less hate.


but you know, all those shallow people? it's a time saver. if they think i'm not a match because i don't eat anything purple? how the fuck are they going to handle me when i'm in full PMS rage ranting about who keeps putting the milk back in the fridge on the wrong damn shelf?

sure, it would have been nice if a few had stuck around a little longer.

there's a lot of things that would be nice if they happened.

accidentally becoming uuber famous with endless money to help people out and travel with friends, but without any of the paparazzi or internet trolls? that would be SUPER nice if it happened.

but in the mean time, i'll take a little shallowness and a whole lot less self hate.

that seems like a pretty damn good place to start.

statistical nightmare

i am a very shallow person.

i care a great deal what people think of me and what labels people attach not only to me, but my kids, our family, our life.

i spend an insane amount of time and money crafting what i want to be perceived as. i work really hard to not look sloppy or lazy when i go to work, the store, sports practices, parent teacher meetings. i work hard to have a nice house- mostly clean, nice furniture, decorated in my quirky personal taste but still pleasant for anyone who visits. i work hard to have a nice life.

and my kids.

good. heavens. there is no limit to what i would do for my kids. i have gone toe to toe with teachers, principals, coaches making sure my kids aren't labeled or treated differently. i've battled my own kids to make sure they know how to behave, how to be polite. i've all but drug them into the shower to make sure they aren't the smelly kid in class. i put extra effort into snack days to make sure we have the "good" snacks. i made sure they had nice clothes (not name brand, but nice, none the less). i've made sure they were able to participate in sports, have friends over. i've sat through so. many. conferences and open houses and band concerts. i've volunteered in the classroom and on field trips. i want my kids to be smart and successful and decent contributing members of society.

i feel like i have, and will forever be battling the stigma and statistics of being a teen mom. i made it a point to go to college with a baby on my hip because he deserved a mom that could provide a good life. i fought so hard to get off public assistance (daycare and food stamps) after college and again after my divorce (housing assistance and food stamps (again)). i fought to leave an abusive marriage because i didn't want that life or example for my kids. i have worked so hard to not be the failure and drain on society that is expected from someone who "had a baby while still a baby."

and yet here i am, 17 years into it, becoming a grim statistic.and it's killing me on so many different levels.

last monday my son was arrested.

my 17 year old kid spent a night in juvy for assaulting his dad. he will appear before a judge in a few weeks and there is the possibility that they will charge him with assault 2 as an adult due to his age (he would probably be 18 by the time it went to a jury) and the severity of the assault. that's a felony.

that's his adult life on the line. that's every college application, every job application. that's strike one on the three strike law.

he's a junior in high school, opting into running start for now. he still has a full year left before he graduates. what would it look like to have a felony before you graduate? how would it impact his education? he is SMART. incredibly smart. he could have any career he wants. but not with a felony on his record.

he is SO ANGRY and mean. he has been for years. that's why he doesn't live with me any more. he has refused help, counseling, reason. he has wallowed in his anger for years letting it get stronger and increasingly mean and violent. he brags about threatening and intimidating kids at school. he thinks vandalism is funny. he took a few swings at me in the past, and now not only took a swing at but connected with his dad resulting in serious injury.

everything i've worked so hard for feels like it's slipping away. and it sounds selfish and petty, but I DON'T WANT TO BE THE TEEN MOM OF A FELON. i don't want us to become another statistic: a single mom with a kid that's "in the system." i don't want to be a failure. i don't want him to be a failure.

i don't know how to help him. he's finally agreed to counseling. whether to avoid jail or to actually get help remains to be seen. i hope, with everything i have, it's to get help and resolve his anger and remove the violence and urge to settle things with his fists. he HAS to learn that he can't act this way. he can't start swinging in a bar. he can't start swinging at a boss. he REALLY can NEVER start swinging at a girlfriend or spouse.

and here's where it gets SUPER shallow and petty:

i don't want to feel like trash but that's all i feel like right now. i feel like i should be living in stained, faded, holey "pink" sweats, a smoke saturated worn out oversized hoodie, stained and worn out uggs (knock off brand of course), living in a trailer park in a trailer that has buckets strategically placed on rainy days, where keeping the lights on or groceries in the cupboard is an either or, not a both. i should be driving a car that you have to start with a screwdriver, have a snot nosed baby stuck in a playpen crying all day long while i finish smoking pack 22 of american spirits while i watch soap operas and yell at husband number 17  to quit scratching his belly button and get a damn job already. AND I KNOW THAT'S SUPER JUDGMENTAL AND STEREOTYPICAL AND MEAN.

i had a date scheduled for last monday before all this happened. i got the call monday night as i was getting ready and decided that since there was nothing i could do across the state, i may as well go ahead with the date. i was on the phone with my brother discussing appearances and charges and what all the legal jibberish means as i sat in the mcdonalds parking lot waiting to go in and meet the poor date guy. i probably should have cancelled, but i didn't want to be a flake. so in i went, and tried to take a quick moment to pull myself together. didn't work so well. i ended up telling poor date guy: "...give me just a second, trying to get in the right head space, didn't want to cancel on you, but just found out my son has been arrested."

GREAT START TO A DATE.

awesome. not only a chick with kids, but a chick with kids IN JAIL. gee, why haven't i heard from him again?

I KNOW. I SHOULD BE MORE WORRIED ABOUT MY KID THAN MY DATING LIFE. I FULLY ADMIT TO BEING A HORRIBLE PERSON.

of course, when it rains, it pours, at the same time all this is happening, the small child decides it's time to test boundaries too. he made a stupid comment in wood shop class, a girl went home and repeated it to her dad, dad went to the superintendent of the school district and wanted to press sexual harassment charges against my son (incident went something like this: they're making wooden c02 cars to race: girl: i know what you're going to use the c02 hole for. my kid: we know what you're going to use your dildo car for."). so my son gets 2 days in-school-intervention and has to change his whole school schedule so he won't have any more classes with the girl. he just got done with a week of lunch detention for being caught in the middle of a fight (that he was trying to break up). he's also failing science.

so one kid in jail, one kid in school detention of one form or another.

SUPER SUCCESSFUL PARENTING MOMENT. frame that fucking snapshot and put it on the fridge.

i am not a bad mom. i am not a bad person. i don't want either of my kids to be delinquents. or felons. or failures. we have some hard days ahead. there will be parent teacher meetings and court appearances and hard decisions and consequences all around. but, in the mean time, please don't think poorly of me. please don't label me the single teen mom statistic. please don't judge us too harshly.

gone fishing...

i'm pretty sure i've posted something similar to this before. maybe not. maybe i've just thought it a hundred and twelve times but never written it out. a QUICK (i scanned) review of my last whatever blogs under the "dating" tag didn't make this sound like a repeat, so for all intensive purposes, unless you can prove me wrong, let's consider this a brand new shiny post. here we go:

so, as it turns out, i am either a) a complete idiot, b) a glutton for punishment, or c) both.

i have signed up, yet again, on one of those online dating websites. I’M BORED. ok? shut it. plus? you guys get all the good reading without any of the permanent personal trauma. you know you love me for taking this bullet for you.

there’s one thing that is abundantly clear looking at these sites: GUYS ARE DISGUSTING MONKEYS (no offense to any male readers, but you kinda are).

now i’ll admit it right up front: i’m a shallow, petty, snarky bitch. and when i say bitch, i mean: judgmental, catty, mean, and did i say shallow?

I WILL JUDGE YOU BASED SOLELY ON WHAT YOU CHOSE AS YOUR PROFILE PICTURE.

i’m not sorry either. if you can’t take the time to pick a decent picture, i can’t take the time to look at you in any way other than to make fun of you.

here’s what is NOT a decent picture:

anything showing JUST your bare chest/stomach. two strikes: if you have such a picture but list yourself as looking for a “serious relationship.” umm…BULLSHIT. you know you’re looking for sex. i know you’re looking for sex. just list that you’re looking for sex, call it a day and i won’t have to hate you for being an asshole liar AND a total douchecanoe.

any form of a wife beater in the picture. DOUBLE THAT if said wife beater has stains on it. REALLY? you couldn’t find a picture with a real shirt without stains to post as your profile pic? and you wonder why you’re still single? it’s a fucking mystery.

pictures of you sitting at your computer desk with a stack of laundry/dirty dishes/trash piles in the back ground. REALLY? and let me guess, our first conversation will revolve around which level you’re up to on w.o.w. nice. get off your damn computer. get outside. interact with other REAL people. vomit.

pictures of you with any other woman: REALLY? i don’t care if it’s your mom/sister/bff/kidney donor. NO. just NO. are you fucking kidding me?

duck face? it’s bad enough on women. on men? OH HELL NO YOU DIDN’T.

pictures of you with your kids. i get that you love them. do YOU get that this is a free site and any creepy pedo can jump on here and snag your precious spawn for their disgusting library? do you really want to put your kid at risk like that? i get that your world revolves around them and they’re your #1 priority and you’re a fantastic family man…you made sure to say it 900 times in the 3 sentences you posted about yourself. but PICTURES? REALLY?

bonus tip: i know that whatever’s in the picture with you is what will take top priority in the relationship be it friends, cars, pets, kids, family, whatever. if i see anything besides YOU in the picture, i’m skipping it. you on a mountain top? nice. well done. i’m not hiking up a fucking mountain with you, and it’s a sure thing that i’ll be asked at some point. no, i don’t care that you restored that car by sacrificing every weekend (and every penny) for 80 years. kinda figured that’s where the single thing came from. your MOM? cut the fucking apron strings already. save the freak show for a third date. let me get used to YOU first.

now, as to the actual profile: IF YOU CAN’T USE REAL WORDS IN REAL SENTENCES YOU’RE DONE. while we’re at it: YOUR, YOU’RE. i hate you already.

“i’ve never done something like this before…” i don’t give a fucking rats ass, you’re here now so let’s just start there.

“i’m not sure what to say about myself…” then i’m not sure i want to spend any more time even considering you. “i’m a pretty normal guy…” BULLSHIT. we’re all crazy to some degree. own it. fly that freak flag proudly.

“i’m just getting out of a long painful relationship…” i’m not dr. phil. fix your shit, THEN sign up on here. i’m not going to waste my time making you all better cause guess what? I CAN’T. that’s all on you freakaziod.

“no drama, no games…” cue freak show music. this means you’re ALL drama and ALL games. you just don’t want competition.

email: general rule of thumb: the number of words you type in your email is exactly equivalent to the amount of time i’ll spend considering you. if “hi” is all you can manage? GONE. “wuzz up?” PISS OFF. “you’re pretty hot.” DUH. FUCKING IDIOT. get the trend here? send me a REAL message and show me you can string together more than three syllables and form a coherent thought without hurting yourself. MAYBE then you’ll get a response.

i’m a being a picky selective bitch and is this probably why i’m still single?

yup.