Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Posted by Anonymous.
I don’t want to post this on my blog because it’s totally humiliating.
I got a phone call from my daughter’s school the other day. The teachers and staff wanted to add my kids’ names to the gift tree they do there every year. The guidance counselor said that she knew we were struggling and she wasn’t trying to insult me, but that she thought we could use the help.
I told her that I wasn’t insulted, just embarrassed. Because the thing is, she’s right.
We are broke. I bought some presents for my oldest last week because I’d had a little larger than expected paycheck. But I had to return them because we ran out of oil. And if you think that doesn’t suck, you don’t know jack. I hadn’t bought her much – pajamas, mostly, and a book. Nothing extravagant. But if I didn’t return them, we wouldn’t have eaten much beyond beans last week. So I took them back. What really sucked is that I bought them where I work, so, yeah. Fun.
I feel like I’ve really cut back a lot on our expenses. We never go out to eat. We may order a pizza once a month, but other than that, I cook every meal. I buy dried beans and cheap cuts of meat. We eat a lot of rice. I get my bread on the day-old shelf and buy produce from the about-to-go-off shelf. I obsessively check the grocery store ads for savings and will even go to the hated Wal-Mart if they have better prices. I bake my own bread and I don’t buy convenience foods. I buy 99% of the girls’ clothing at the Salvation Army and Goodwill. The only new things I’ve bought for myself in the last year are two bras and a package of underwear. We don’t rent movies, we don’t have NetFlix, we never go to see a film in the theatre. I don’t own a cell phone. I keep the heat at 64 and we all wear sweaters in the house. I never wash my clothes in hot water. I Freecycle like a madwoman. I haven’t been on a vacation of any sort in four years.
I could cancel cable and the internet, but I think I might kill myself if I didn’t have the internet. At $70 a month for both, it wouldn’t save us all that much anyway. I could hang my clothes to dry, but I have a very, very, very small house and three kids and a husband in plumbing. I do 4 or 5 loads of laundry a day – I don’t have the space to hang stuff inside in the winter.
I feel like such a failure. I’m not a stupid person. I have a part-time job, my husband has a decent job making decent money, but we can never seem to get ahead. We lost our house to foreclosure last year and are now renting in a rather sketchy city, somewhere more affordable than the college town we used to live in.
I don’t want to accept these gifts from my daughter’s school. I told the guidance counselor that I wanted us to be at the bottom of the list, that I’m sure there are other families out there in much more dire straits than we are in, who are in more need. She was very sympathetic and nice about it. I’m really hoping we don’t get anything – picking up charity gifts is going to break my heart.
But the upshot is that I can’t really afford Christmas for my kids. Sure, they’ll get some things and I don’t want it to be all about the presents, but still. It’s killing me.
(Ed. note - submitted before Christmas. I'm so sorry for these posting delays!)
Monday, February 23, 2009
My husband and I are moving to a big city, in a different province, in 8 days. EIGHT DAYS!!! we've gotten rid of basically everything we own. Our bed, dressers, couches, everything! Were moving because my husband is sick of being told if he's going to work or not, and for how long. In August, he was laid off by a company he worked for, for 3 years. I mean, it's completely understandable that they had to lay him off, they were shutting down. He was jobless for two weeks. Then got another job, at another mill. He's been there all of 2 months, and was recently told that, for Christmas there taking two weeks off. Everyone has to, there's no odd jobs he can do. On the following Monday, they held a meeting to inform their employees that, after the two week break, they will promptly going down to 3 shifts a week. WHAT!!!! you have GOT to be kidding.... So now, my husband is seriously pissed off, yet again he's going to be laid off. He has no seniority at the new job, so chances of him even being on the three shifts a weeks, is basically non-existent.
He wants to move. He wants me to move away from my family (and the rest of his) And head off to Alberta. What really, really makes this suck so much. Is because i made the final decision. I can't back out now!! I mean don't get me wrong, the only reason were doing this is because his brother has a job lined up for him. So its not like were just winging it. And there kind enough to let us stay with them, until we get on our feet. Which i couldnt be happier about. But i know myself, i don't do well in big cities!!! don't have my liscence and have had somewhat bad experiences with transit and greyhound bus rides. Although, i heard it is easier to get your liscence there. We'll see.
The upside, is that there's way better job opportunities there for me! Should I feel bad for feeling so selfish?!?!? I know he's scared and nervous about it too, he asked me not to voice how I felt, because then we really would be backing out. We can't turn back now, his two weeks notice was already put it, we leave in 8 days, i don't have a job anymore, and ALL of our stuff is either gone, or spoken for, and leaving this weekend. The reason I keep re-thinking our decision, is because in one day, I was asked by my dad, his step-dad and my other sister's best friend's mom if I truly wanted to do this, and do I have any doubts, and basically just begging me to tell them i'm scared shitless. I've never been so scared of the future in my entire life. I've also never been so excited about it at the same time.
I was hoping that writing how I felt out would help me feel better. In a way it has, but I still feel doubt....will it ever go away?!?!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
We have been married for nearly 15 years.
We stopped having sex 10 years ago, right after the baby was born.
You were dishonest with me.
You used me.
You married me because you wanted to have a child.
You knew that I was scarred from my divorce and the distance from my oldest child.
You knew I wasn't the kind of man who would walk away from his own child.
I know that you like me. I know that you are fond of me. I know that you might have some feelings of love for me... but the truth is that you don't really respect me.
Do you know, or would you even care if you knew, that I get sex elsewhere? Probably not.
You know... in blogland, most people think that I have the greatest life. I should be more honest with the people that read me... but I guess I am as dishonest with them as you have been with me. We have a nice home. We have nice, responsible, respectable jobs. We are active in our church and community. We take family vacations and smile in the pictures.
We are full of shit.
You may be happy with all of this, but I'm not.
It's 7 A.M. on Sunday... and in two and a half hours, I'll be at church, teaching Sunday school... I haven't been to bed yet. I don't know what to do. I just don't. I am fucking miserable.
When our child graduates from high school in eight years, she will be going off to college. When she leaves, I'm leaving, too. I gave you the best years of my life, and as much as I still love you, deep down, I hate you for it... but, you probably don't care about that, either.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The phone ran a year ago. My silence shattered. My sister on the phone. Crying. Nothing new. Her life stained in a bad neighborhood. With drugs and gangs. There she raised her children, no matter how much family tried to help. She stayed.
And life fell apart. With that phone call and with the tears, her life ended. Her son's life ended, all because her son.
Took someone's life.
The unthinkable. No words could say how I felt at that moment. All my love and all my hate swelled up in my throat. I had no thoughts. I was sick.
Sixteen, on drugs, an alcoholic. Sixteen. And he had killed another man.
In a instant too many lives change. My family shamed and stained with the choice of a young man, a young man taken in by so many, hands that tried to reach. And still he choose that road.
This is the unspoken at parties. We laugh. And talk, but over our heads is this darkness. The unspoken child sitting in a cell, for the rest of our lives, for the rest of his. And we go on. Our life goes on. But his stands still, forever. Till the day he dies.
And that unknown family that mourns. For the father, husband that is forever lost. They shares in the darkness of the brutal. Unthinkable. The pain of losing someone they loved and cared for. That cared for others. And dreamed of happily ever....
And I know no words, no thoughts will make it go away. But sometimes I close my eyes and wish it away.
Wish for that boy to walk the earth again and do good. To know we loved him.
For that father that is gone to embrace his family. Whole.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
What do you do when you can’t get over the anxiety and fear that your husband might betray you?
I have, on the surface, a perfect marriage. We have a beautiful daughter. We have a lovely home. But I spend every day dealing with a fear that my husband may not be able to fight his demons and be too weak and take prescription painkillers (opiates).
It started in February 2005. He became ill and went on the painkillers (doctor prescribed) as a result. But he got hooked and after the doctor stopped filling his prescription, he secretly bought them online. Then he faked a back injury to get pills at the hospital. And finally, he came clean to me in June of that year. He said the pills got rid of his social anxiety. Made him feel like he was Superman at work. Made him feel “on top of his game.” I felt so betrayed and so angry.
He went to a shrink. Got on anxiety meds. He took a urine drug test whenever I asked, to help me feel secure. And I guess I got over it, at the time. Time passed, things were great, and we had a child.
Then, last year. He had to have surgery on his leg. Serious surgery, and he needed pain meds. I kept the bottle and dispensed them to him. Things seemed okay, but then he began having major stomach issues, unrelated to the leg surgery. We’re talking pain that landed him in the ER over and over again. After months of doctors saying, “I have no idea what’s wrong” they finally removed his gallbladder and viola! He was better! The bad news? He’d been on pain meds (between the leg and stomach issues) for nearly seven months.
After the surgery and some recovery time, I tried to wean him off the meds. He got angry and demanded the pill bottle. He took nearly a whole bottle of meds in a 24 hour period. His anger and irrational behavior scared me, and I realized that months on these meds had made him dependent on the drugs yet again. Even though he wasn’t LYING to me, I felt sick about the whole thing. I felt scared. I realized that these drugs can get a grip on you and never let go.
And now… fast forward to today. It’s been a YEAR since he stopped the drugs (that I know of) and every.single.day I battle fears that he is using some sort of opiates. My husband has taken drug tests whenever I ask, and they have always been negative. He offered to go on a drug that would make him ill if he took opiates. He tries to understand why I live in fear of this, but I can tell he gets frustrated. I do feel like he makes an effort to help me feel secure, but it’s not working.
EVERY DAY I look in his eyes and evaluate his pupils. Do they look super-small (a sign of opiate abuse)? Do they look huge (a sign of withdrawal)? My whole goddamned life revolves around this FEAR I have of being betrayed and of him getting hooked on something that will ruin our life. I obviously don’t trust my husband… I don’t trust that he can fight the possible urge to do those drugs, and I have this NEED to be in CONTROL. To be VIGILANT. To KNOW if something is wrong. It’s like I REFUSE to be betrayed again, to be a FOOL who has no idea what is going on. But my hyper-vigilance is ruining me.
It’s going to ruin my life and my marriage. Already, I feel numb and I feel like I am letting happiness pass me by, because I am so obsessed with this. I just don’t know what to do. I’m going to a therapist but so far I haven’t seen any difference in my feelings.
Friday, February 13, 2009
I really need to hone my powers for good rather than evil, but where would the fun in that be?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I noticed it on her nightstand as I was tucking my daughters into my mother's bed after an evening of early-Thanksgiving cheer. I know I shouldn't have read it, but there it was--my mom's prayer list. And on this list of prayer concerns: mine and my husband's political views.
I know my mom and I don't see eye to eye on politics. But is this really something of such concern that it requires prayer? Can't she trust me to prayerfully come to my own conclusions about politics and the leadership of our government? And better yet, shouldn't she ask me what my political views are rather than assume they are cause for prayer? Is that too much to ask? Or is it that there is only one godly choice and anyone who votes otherwise is outside the fold and needs prayer to bring them back? Is this really something that a parent needs to critique about their adult child?
I won't lie. It hurt. It bothers me. And, unfortunately, I'm not going to say a word to her about it because I don't need the drama. Thanks for listening/reading.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
I am smart, kind, and generous. I am loving and lovable. I am a great mother, daughter, sister and friend. I am open-minded, gracious, well-traveled and successful.
My ex-husband is none of those things.
He is, however, jealous of me because of who I am. And because of that, he spent years tearing me down. I was "old and fat and ugly." I was "not fun". I was "dragging him down". I "ruined his life". He mocked my friends, my business, my parenting skills, my brother, my clothes and hair, my weight. He was never proud of me.
And now, when I know he's seeing someone else, started seeing her a few days after he "left my ass"? It makes me crazy. I can't stop thinking about it. And I'm jealous.
I can't believe myself. I know that if this woman is anything like me, if she's as good as I am or better, it's only a matter of time before he starts tearing her down, too. And if she's not, if she's like him, or worse, then what do I have to be jealous of? Let them have each other.
For my kids sake, I hope she's great. I hope she's smart and lovely and kind to them. But I'm stuck in the "why her and not me?" loop. And I really, really, want to get out of it, because GOD he sucked as a husband, and God am I better off now without him and with full custody of our beautiful kids.
I wanted to write this because I wanted to see the things I am in black and white. Because I'm hoping if I say it enough, if I think it enough, that I'll start to believe it.
I don't love my ex. I don't like him. I don't want him back. And I really don't want to care about who he's seeing. I want to move past feeling discarded. I want to know who I am.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Let me give you a little background on my relationship with The Ex. We were together for four years. We have a soon to be 2 year old daughter. For the first couple of years, our relationship was fine. Up until right before I got pregnant, that is. That was the first time he cheated on me. I was devastated, but not yet a believer in the old adage, "once a cheater always a cheater." I forgave. I let it go. All was well for my pregnancy. Then, a month after I gave birth to our daughter, he says he is leaving me. He has met someone and fallen for her. Says he has wanted to leave since before I got pregnant and just decided to try and stick it out. Once again I am crushed. The bottom has fallen out of my world. I am terrified, alone, and a mother. How will I deal with this? I feel desperate. I will do anything if only he would come back to me. Acting so pathetic makes me disgusted with myself, but I do not care. I love him. Lo and behold, suddenly he wants to come home-and so I let him. But there is a catch. He does not break it off with her. I tell myself that this will just be temporary. If only I can stick it out, we can be happy again.
This goes on for weeks. Then months. Before I quite know what has happened, a year and a half has gone by. This woman is still in his life. It's been going on for so long that it almost seems normal to me. Then, again. One night he comes home with a hickey on his neck. I know where he was, and it wasn't with her. There is yet another woman. An old friend of his, whom I had always been friendly with. I realize I am simply a member of his harem. I finally get angry. For some time now I have been harboring a secret lust for my neighbor, K. He knows what is going on with The Ex. Many times he has told me how wrong it is, the way he treats me. He knows I am about at the end of my rope and to my surprise, starts making tentative advances. He drops hints. We have long conversations, sitting outside on the stairs, smoking, late at night when the Ex is with her and my daughter asleep. He is a whole different world from the Ex. He doesn't insult and degrade me.
One night, when the Ex is out for an overnight fishing trip, I invite him in. We spend hours curled up on the couch. Ever so gradually, as if he's scared I will run out of the room if he moves too quickly, he inches closer. There is, finally, a kiss. There is much cuddling. He lets me set the pace and does not pressure me. Eventually, one thing leads to another. It is amazing. I haven't been with anyone but the Ex in 4 years. I had forgotten what it feels like to be with someone that hasn't hurt you so terribly-for it to be easy, and simple, and to have nothing niggling away, reminding you of past hurts. At first I think, this will be it-a one night stand, my private victory over the Ex for all he has done to me. Petty, perhaps, but also cathartic. But a few nights later, a conversation with K, coupled with the fact that I haven't been able to stop thinking about him, changes that. I tell the Ex we are done. I tell him to get his things and leave. He rages. He yells. He cries. He swears he will change, asks what I have to lose by giving him another chance. I think of K. I stand firm. Finally, I have taken a stand. Never did I think I would be strong enough to do this. I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
And now, there is K. For a few months, all is well. I am constantly amazed by how much easier things are with him. There are no fights, no screaming, no name calling and no cheating. He treats me as though I am some fragile creature, and he is afraid I will blow away in the wind. He is calm and kindness after anger and chaos. He is amazing, and there is a fiery passion between us that had been missing for far too long in my life. I start to fall in love with him. I feel as though he is safe-I sense none of the coldness or cruelty in him that the Ex had. Being near him centers me, calms me. Whenever he is around I feel as though nothing can touch me. He is safe. He is my courage. Alas, happiness seems to be fleeting. One day, after an offhand remark by him, I realize he is not so perfect. It seems he has problems staying in a long term relationship-not because of cheating, mind you, but because as soon as he starts to feel something real he takes off. He refuses to stay with anyone for long. I am floored again, and tearfully I tell him that if that is the case, then I must cut my losses and go now. I am too close to being head over heels in love with him to wait around for him to bail out on me. I must be the one that walks away. And so with one last hug, I do.
And now, I am afraid. K gave me one thing-he helped me to move on from the Ex. Now there is no longer any danger of me taking him back again. I feel nothing for him but a tired sort of tolerance, in that he must be in my life because of my daughter. But he no longer owns me. But he was so big a part of me, for so long, that I feel strange and empty not loving him. And I am still hurting over K-I let myself feel for him because he seemed safe, I thought he would never hurt me. I know he felt something real too-there is just no way to fake what we had. So I am hurt and confused over how he could just turn his back on it. So, twice heartbroken and wondering what to do, here I sit. I feel so battered down and beaten by everything I've been through, I just can't seem to find any reason to try anymore. Now, I'm not suicidal, don't take it wrong. I just feel like giving up on life. What is the point of risking yourself, of trying to find something, when all it does is turn around and bite you on the ass? Why even try? I am so utterly tired of being hurt, and used, and never good enough for anyone that I feel like I should just slam the door to my feelings closed and throw away the key. I'm sick of giving myself to someone only to be thrown away.
I have my daughter to raise, and I feel as though that should give my life purpose and illumination. But it doesn't. I love my daughter fiercely and completely, I would lay down my life for hers, but that does not automatically make me immune to the trials and tribulations of life. People speak of parenthood as though it should be your one purpose and goal in life, as if you cease to be a person and are merely a child raising automaton the second you give birth. But I am still me. I still have all the same doubts and fears, I still love and still hurt and still wonder what it's all about. I can't help that. But I just can't seem to get back on my feet this time - I don't know how to find the strength to keep trying anymore.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Posted by Anonymous.
I literally cannot forgive my mother, but the problem is, I can’t forget her either. My life would be so much easier if she were to just disappear to a far away planet so I would never have to deal with her again.
My mother is in her early fifties and she has eight children, four of the eight are under the age of 11, and the other four don’t speak to her. We try to avoid her like the plague. She is bi-polar, manic-depressive, with a splash of OCD.
I found out about a year ago that her bi-polar had got so out-of-control that her house had filled with junk from the top to the bottom. She filled it with random things, literally anything that she could buy. Shopping feeds her need. I am not sure what that need, or hunger is but I know that it is insatiable. The house was in such despair that there was no food, and the silver ware drawers were filled with roaches.
They have absolutely no money. My mother has a Masters in Biology and my Stepfather has a Ph.D in Business Communications. They both were at one time very successful but this lifestyle, and all of these problems now control their lives. They abuse prescription medications and spend most of the day in a drug induced anti-depressant comma.
In my mother’s last manic moment, she decided that she wanted a divorce. We found out that she was emailing some random man in Oklahoma, who I later discovered was the same man that destroyed her first marriage. She picked up last Christmas day, left her children and moved to Oklahoma. She bought a car along the way, but she basically just drove the thing right off the lot.
My sister is a little older than me, and she was in a position to take the children. She took them last spring until my mother could get her house under control. My mother sent the children with a stash of medicine, enough to feed an ADD army of children. We promptly called the doctor that was prescribing the medication, and then put the rest down the toilet. The girls said that they needed this medication because their mom said that they “were stupid”. Oh, I forgot to add that they were withholding them from school.
We sent the kids back after a few months, because my sister said that my mom got one more shot. We make sure that the kids are in school, and being fed. My mom finally got a job, but she is still the same. We are good for the next few months, until she does something manic again.
It’s this never-ending cycle. It wasn’t always this way, and I think that’s the part that hurts the most.
I haven’t seen my mom since my junior year in college, about four years ago. I spoke to her last May, when she told me she wasn’t sure if she could handle that I was a dirty liberal and dating a Jew.
She doesn’t know that I just got my first job as a law clerk, or that I know that I have found the greatest man and that I am going to spend my life with him. There are a few milestones in life that you want share with your mother. Sometimes I pick up the phone to call her, but then I hang up, because I know that the woman on the other end isn’t the mother than I know, or want to know.
I have a Step mom, but it isn’t the same. I think she tries to love me like a daughter, but I don’t have mother-daughter moments with her, like I did with my mom.
I keep hoping that she will come back to me, and be the mom that she was when I was little.
She sent me a birthday card yesterday. She is trying to talk to me again.
I don’t know if I am strong enough for her games this time.
Does anyone know if this gets better? Any advice on how to deal with her or people with mental illness?