The Darkness Calls Me Every Night

Posted by Anonymous.


I am wishing and hoping to succumb to the darkness. I wish for and pray that it will take me in my sleep. I only wish that it will happen soon. I need someserious help and my only hope is that it comes in theform of death. I pray for the lord to take me every night.

I have a problem and much of it is my fault. Many years ago at the age of ten I was molested by a man who was my mother's boyfriend. My mother got pregnant by this man and had a little boy named Jason. He was such a great boy and I ended up raising him. This man named Adam, my molester, would call and tell me that if I did not put my mother on the phone he would tell her "what I did". I was so scared as a child!

I am now a mother of two small children. I recently contacted my molester and he has had no contact with his child, Jason. He begged me and preyed upon me to convince my mother (who I have no contact with) to tell her what a great person he was and I should allow him to have contact with his own son. I felt some kind of remorse and called upon my mother to have a small amount of regret for her shortcomings! I told her that I lied about Adam molesting me and she should allow her son to contact his father. She was an absolute hateful and disgusting person in my life...but I wanted my brother to know his own father. Well, guess what? My mother and Adam decided to get together and tell my little brother that I was a piece of shit and that I lied my whole life about Adam molesting me! So they both came up with the following story: I accused Adam of molesting me and I was a liar... my mother said that she could not in good conscience tell her son that his father was a child molester! But, know that she knew I lie yet, she felt like she had an obligation to tell him the "truth;" IE his father was a child molester.

So, now Adam, my molester, is in contact with his son. Now my brother hates me because he thinks that I kept him from his father for all these years. I know the truth! I remember when he tried to stick his dick in me when I was ten. I remember when he tried to fuck me in a garage! When he tried to hold my hand when my stupid mother was in the same room. When she forced me to go with him in his Nova (car). I hated it. I hated them all. I was a terrible child because of this and thus was seriously hated by everyone in my family. My sisters (I have two) and my brothers, Jason and a little guy named Cameron. They all now HATE ME! They think I am the cause of everything that has ever gone wrong in their lives.

I am a very successful and educated person. I have two degrees and am working on my third degree. No one in my family is accomplished. However, it really doesn't come down to that... they so hate me. I am the most hated person it the world and it hurts so bad. My little children ages 4 and 6 have a grandmother who hates their guts. I am not a very tolerant person and I have to admit that I fueled the fire in these people because I think they deserve to be humiliated like I have! I have called them nasty names and told them about the secrets that they harbor. I know that is wrong but I can't forgive them. I feel like I need to punish both my mother (for some many things not explained here) and Adam for molesting me as a little girl.

How come I can't get over this? What am I missing? I have tried to put a bullet in my head to just stop this all... I missed... a very very sorry mistake on my part! I would miss my children terribly, but, I would not feel remorse for me not being in their lives. I am not a good person and I know that. At this stage I am depending on alcohol to get me through my nights. I am now a serious alcoholic. I can not risk treatment for fear of them taking my children away. I only drink at night when my children are asleep... yeah I know not an excuse but a way of acknowledging that I am not hurting them! I am so fucked up that I can not even think! I just want to kill myself because of this asshole! How the fuck can I get over this?

Please anyone who has been in my situation please help me. I want to bury this man but I can't ~ How can I execute revenge and feel good? I need him to suffer like I did! At this point the only people who are suffering are my husband and myself! I want REVENGE!! Please advise! If I do not get revenge I am fearful of what may happen to myself!

**********

Note from HBM:

For Anonymous, and anyone who is living through this kind of pain: please, please, please find someone to talk to - a counsellor, a doctor, a religious advisor, anyone. We'll give you all of the help that we can here, but please find some support offline, as well.

Some resources, as a start:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Adult Survivors of Child Abuse

Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network
RAINN Crisis Centres
Adult Survivors of Sexual Abuse, Support Groups
Darkness To Light - Resources for Sexual Abuse Victims

National (US) Helpline for Resources/Info/Support for Victims of Sexual Abuse: 1-866-FOR-LIGHT (367-5444)

(Anyone know of other good resources? Please leave them in comments.)

Dear Anonymous, we're right here, holding your hand. Please do whatever you can to find even more hands.

xo, Catherine/HBM

Scared in the Sunshine

Posted By Anonymous.


I'm in a very dangerous place at the moment. I'm standing in a sunlit dining room with a rosy cheeked 21-month-old playing happily beside me, but my mind and my heart are in a very dark, dangerous, scary place.

I wish I weren't here. I wish I weren't anywhere. I don't want to die. I just wish I could cease to exist. I think everyone around me would be better for it. At least I wouldn't have to feel like this anymore. This sucks.

About a dozen and a half times today, I've had the unbearable urge to scream at my child. Or cry. Or just put her safely in her crib with a sippy cup, some crackers and a book and drive far, far, far away. I didn't do any of those things.

I'm exhausted. Tired from getting four hours of sleep a night. Tired from being everyone's support. Tired of feeling like I have to work stupid hours so we can live in a good neighborhood, save for retirement and maybe, *maybe* take a vacation or get a new car one day. Tired of hearing my husband say how much his job sucks. (Dude, maybe if you had gotten your shit together when you were 20, you wouldn't be trying to figure out what to do with your life and I wouldn't be in the position of being the major-income-earner-benefit-provider-and-everything-else-under-the-sun.) Tired of feeling like I've screwed up my life with a series of really bad choices.

My child threw a fit this morning when I wanted to wear a skirt. I'm tired of that, too. Tired of not being able to wear or do what I want when I want.

I'm praying that naptime comes easily today because if it doesn't....well, I still probably won't scream or drive away or stick my head in the oven. I'll cry into my pillow for a while, suck it up and go get the kid. Because that's what I do. For now.

Not Your Everyday Family Dilemma

Posted by Anonymous.


Just now, when I was on the phone with my little sister, she told me that her boyfriend left to go rob a nearby convenience store -- he says he needs the money to pay bills. WTF? He has a pretty darn good job in the billing department of the largest hospital in our state. Has he not heard of a budget?

What happens to my little sister and her kids when this guy gets caught & arrested? Should I tell someone? Does knowing and not telling make me an accessory?

Wondering How To Cope

Posted by Anonymous.


Let me start at the beginning. OK, this is long, but I feel like you need a background and my analysis in order to give me some new ideas.

My husband and I met at college and graduated at the same time in the same professional field (a male-dominated one). He started working and I went to grad school. After grad school we got married, and worked at different places, but basically doing the same thing for the same pay. Everything was so equal shmequal it was cute. We felt proud of ourselves for having such a great relationship, where we could talk about everything and I was happy to be in a relationship and job where I felt equal to my male peers (including the hubs). Our arguments were mostly about trying to get him to help with the housework, and that I felt inferior to him athletically (which duh, guys ARE stronger, and gee I would love to have that body now). Pretty normal stuff, and made for some happy times. We were pretty much the epitome of DINKs.

About 5 years ago my husband started getting migraines. He got on some meds for them, and he hates being on meds. He went to about 5 doctors, had MRIs, the works. Diagnosis = migraines. His are the kind that are constantly there, not so debilitating that he has to hole up in the dark, but a pounding head all the time. I can imagine it is frustrating, distracting, and damn hurts. His temper grew shorter. I made concessions on things like picking up the house so he could rest, etc. to the point that I was doing everything around the house (shopping, cooking, cleaning, bills, caring for the pets, you all know what I mean). I could handle it, but it was juggle. Our sex life was typical, I think. Two to four times per week, sometimes just for him, but usually we both wanted it. Over the years his salary started to diverge from mine, and he made more, still doing very similar work. I coped but I didn't feel quite so equal.

Then we got pregnant. I told him early on that in order for me to manage this working mom thing he would need to pony up with the house stuff. He agreed. We tried division of labor, lists, all that. He has good intentions, but puts things off to the point that I end up doing them (you can only "put off" the bills for so long before it costs you, right?). Sex was pretty normal during pregnancy, but at the end I just was too tired a lot and many times said no, much to his frustration. As with new parents we devoured all reading and advice material, and were excited for the arrival. Learned that I was not supposed to have sex for six weeks after birth, etc. He had been growing more and more frustrated with my putting him off, and said things like "Men need sex. If I don't get it from my wife I will have to find other methods." I was enormously pregnant with an alien in my body, freaked out about the future of balancing work and home and a kid etc, and less and less able to be happy about sex. Although he never said it, the thought that he would cheat on me made me feel powerless because now I had a kid and therefore no escape route. I think I was pretty normal, but this was completely demoralizing and I felt like a cow at work, where no one at my company had ever been pregnant before. I started putting out for him just for him, and I hated it. Resented it. (For the record, I know he has not cheated.)

After the birth, he kept asking when we could have sex. At five weeks, he became very insistent, and said that he "read that the best way to get back into a normal sex life after birth is to just do it, bear the pain, and it will get better over time." Ok, I've read that, too, but hello reality! Anyways, I put out (in much pain), and cried as he fell asleep two minutes after. Anytime I would be affectionate with him, he seemed to perceive it as an invitation for sex, and would try things like fondling my boobs (which were NOT in the mood to be fondled while struggling with breastfeeding, which I eventually failed at after three months of trying-- four ounces per day was not going to stop the hungry cries!). Eventually I resisted being affectionate with him because it always led to putting out for him or some confrontation about it. (Yes, I recognized that I was getting all the affection I needed from the baby.) There was no cuddling after sex either, which I would have liked, since he falls asleep within 2 minutes of finishing. More grumpiness from the headaches.....

So you say "talk to him and explain how you feel!" Well, I tried. He says "I don't want to TALK about sex. I want to HAVE sex." All the while the migraines have gotten worse, predictably I would guess from the stress of being a new parent, less sleep, less time for himself, etc. We were both pretty grumpy, I admit. One conversation we did have, I said the grumpiness was affecting me, and he said that I should have sex with him whenever he asked for it and that would make him less grumpy. So from then on I tried (and still do) to put out when he expects it. Usually 2-3 times per week. I resent it and it makes me feel like that is all he sees in me. It does not give me a good self image.

This has been going on for 2 years. His headaches are still there and the resulting grumpiness and short temper. I work full time and take care of everything at the house. I finally hired a cleaning lady that comes every other week (even though he does not like the fact that a stranger is in the house while we are gone). By now his salary is about 10% more than mine, still doing similar work. As the baby became a toddler, he has gotten better about doing his share of childcare, and takes her to daycare and the zoo and swimming etc. We both love our child immensely.

In January, we decided to take a new approach with the headaches: diet. Migraines are often triggered by certain foods. A mighty long list of foods. So my task of meal planning, shopping, and cooking became very difficult. (I bought recipe books, etc, for headaches). If I miss something and serve the wrong thing, he gets frustrated-- with me for not knowing the list by heart (he says "you don't care about my headaches"), with himself because he wants to eat the food but won't and because he is in general just so sick of the headache issue. So am I, buddy.

Here is my point (finally). Under the surface I am so angry all the time. I scream at him in my head all the time, although we have NEVER yelled at each other or called each other names. On the surface we are very respectful to each other, and appear fine in front of our child. I do not want to cross that line of names and yelling. Something in our marriage would break at that point and be very hard to fix. I am angry about the sex issue and feeling demoralized about it, I am angry about all the normal mom stuff (not losing the pregnancy pounds, lack of freedom, balancing work and home guilt, general exhaustion), I am angry about feeling like a less powerful woman in the workplace in terms of salary, I am angry that I have to do all the damn house stuff. I feel that if I brought it to a head with him it would just make his head hurt all the worse. Everytime I say anything that might be a pity party for me, he gets defensive. So when he asks "What is the matter" I just say "I'm fine" and smile. So when I am feeling angry or sad, I try to block it all out by saying over and over again in my head "It doesn't matter (that you don't feel like sex), it doesn't matter (that you want to sleep through the night), it doesn't matter (that you are so fake/fat/underpaid/etc), it doesn't matter (that your favorite shirt just got stained with juice)." Really, though, does it matter???? I am normal to everyone who knows me, but I feel horrible about myself all the time, about my weight, about sex, about work, about my husband. The only thing that is good is our child, a typical challenging toddler, but wonderful and well adjusted and all that.

So you say "get therapy". I think I would resent that, too. With all we spend on daycare, housekeeping, doctors, etc, I know we can't afford it. (And I know because I write the checks and pay the bills.)

So you say "exercise and you will feel better". I try, but it is pretty irregular. I try to go to the gym at lunch, but that is also the time I have to run the errands. I went to an aerobics class last night and when I got home the dinner he prepared our child was marginal, the house was chaos, and I could tell his head was killing him, and he was a grump. I wondered if it was even worth my outing to the gym.

As I read this, it sounds like my husband is an ass. He really is not, and I love him very much, and the headaches are real issue that he is not being a wimp about. I am just so angry...... And now he wants to have another child, and I would love to, but the stress and anger would not go away and I think I would break in two.

So, tell me I'm normal and that I should just get over my pity party.

Chatty Cathy Speaks Her Piece

Posted by Anonymous.


I hated high school. Now, I have issues with women who say they like me, are friendly to my face... but really don’t enjoy being around me. (kind of like high school) They are too chicken to tell me. This pisses me off.

I’ll give you some background here. Then you’ll understand why this post is being aired in the basement. I sure as hell couldn’t post it on my blog. I do get controversial there occasionally, but, well, you know who reads my blog. My mom. My husband’s mom. Some of the women who are two-faced. Enough said about that. This could get long- it’s a complicated situation

I have a bit of what some would call, a personality problem. I can’t be quiet. I will talk to you in the grocery store. I will hand you a piece of clothing in your child’s size at the Value Village even when I just laid my eyes on you 2 minutes before. If I am waiting to pick my child up on the playground and I hear that you are car shopping, I’ll tell you all about the car I test-drove last weekend. I can’t help it. I love to talk. I love the sound of my own voice. I love to meet people and give them whatever information that I find to be currently fascinating. My son? Well,
he’s 5. He’ll talk your arm off as well. (runs in the family and that is another post)

I am a scrapbooker. A rabid one. I love to go to crops and sit my bum down and... talk. (sometimes I scrap) This whole thing started when I joined a cropping group in my town with people that I don’t know very well. The crop is sponsored by a woman who I really like. She’s funny, she is passionate about her kids, she runs a rockin’ business and she is very generous with her time and her money. Herein lies the problem. I come to scrapbook, and I talk. And talk, and talk, and talk. With people I know well, this is not a problem. They like me and will tell me if they want me to hush up. They will grin, and say “Hey, are you ever quiet? Enough already!” We laugh and move on, a bit more quietly. This woman? She is too polite to say anything. I was driving other people away and she still didn’t say anything. I, being so self-centered, didn’t figure out that I was the problem. Two weeks ago, I figured it out.

I felt mortified. I felt embarrassed. I was pissed off. I still am. Here’s how I figured it out. As a stay at home mom married to a workaholic, I have to find things to keep me sane. One of my sanity boosters is a message board for scrapbookers. I was reading along one day and came across a post by a scrapbooking consultant. She was complaining about a “toxic, chatty Cathy client”. She was relating that she has many fewer customers because this client had chased them away. She wanted to know what to do. Advice was given and she replied further down the thread, describing her “toxic customer“ in detail. I didn’t recognize the user name of this person posting. I kept reading. Further down the thread, she signed her name. Her real name. You guessed it, my crop hostess. I checked the date on the thread and realized that she had dropped me from her mailing list about that time. I then posted anonymously and asked consultants to please be honest with a client if they had a problem with her. Really, they owe it to themselves and that person to say something, nicely. I could have gone away months prior to this and saved her a whole bunch of angst and anxiety, to say nothing of less of a negative impact on her business. It really chaps my ass that she didn’t say anything to me.

So, what have I decided to do about this? First of all, I can’t be 100% sure that the client she had trouble with was me. I am too chicken to go and talk to her right now. That could change in the future. After my anonymous post, I changed my avatar to a picture of a Chatty Cathy doll. My tag-line now reads “Chatty Cathy in Recovery”. I hope she sees it and feels guilty. I really do. That is mean and petty and right now? I really don’t give a shit. I now have a learning experience on my hands. I went to a new crop at the invitation of another gal on the message board a few weeks ago. I got a lot done. I listened. I answered direct questions. I asked a few questions of the gals around me. I didn’t share any tools or supplies unless asked. I made a small purchase from the consultant and I left. I was invited to come back again the very next day. I enjoyed myself.

Part of me is really grateful that I now have knowledge and I can learn and grow and make changes to my behavior. Part of me is still really ticked off that she was nice to my face and trashed me behind my back. Part of me is disappointed because I have lost what I thought was a friend. The rest of me? I’m going on with my life and choosing to be happy. I’m choosing to continue meeting new people and enjoying them. My mama taught me to keep quiet if I didn’t have nice things to say. Evidently her mama taught her that as well. I wish she hadn’t learned her lesson so well.

But what should I do? Should I contact her or let things go?

(Do) You Gotta Fight?

Posted by Anonymous.


I think the appropriate place to ask this is in the Basement.

A few months ago there was a lot of talk about feminsim on various blogs, what it meant, etc. I didn't weigh in, because to me it was a non-issue. Not that I didn't care. I just never thought about it that much. My mom is a feminist, and she raised me in an environment where I never questioned women's rights.

I still don't mostly.

Except for one thing in my life.

I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb here if I say that a lot of women have dealt with the issue of their sexuality in the workplace before. I have. My friends have. Being a woman is not easy. Entering the work world, unless you are in a decidedly female environment introduces you to it. Sometimes, I use it to my advantage. Not in the sense of sleeping my way to the top, but I know that sometimes some men are more willing to help me out because I'm pretty

But then something happened that shouldn't have.

A man, who I used to respect, and still do respect, did something he shouldn't have. He said stuff that I won't repeat. I was shocked. I was a little angry. I was mostly just surprised - partly that he felt that way and partly that he would express himself.

It was the situation. It was a social setting. Drinks were flowing. We were enjoying ourselves chatting. But, then he said some stupid things. I didn't know how to reply. So I didn't. I just let him talk. At the time, and looking back, I know it was a shitty moment for both of us. But we've all had them. We go for drinks with friends and colleagues. We say dumb things. It's the alcohol talking. And then the next day we wake up and think "shit. Did I say that?" And we hope that it's not the scandal of the day. We hope that the person we made the comment to gets over it, is maybe flattered by it (depending) and moves on.

This is how I took it. A booze induced slip of tongue that shouldn't have happened but did.

The problem? It was overheard. What's more of a problem - that now it's growing and lots of people know and lots of people want me to fight for my (feminist) rights.

My question - should I?

I have already spoken with him about it. I've already cleared the air. I was okay with it the next day. I'm not embarrassed to see him. I don't want to do anything about it. I want to accept that he made a mistake. I don't feel the need to "speak to someone about it". It's not that I don't think the various options available to me aren't great. I just feel that in this situation they are not necessary. It was not a huge deal.

I've closed the door. I'm not willing to re-open it.

But now there is a feminist backlash. There are the naysayers. The ones who are telling me that by not using every option (i.e. harrassment policies) out there I'm setting women and the feminist movement back. All the rights that my mom and my grandmothers and all feminists have been fighting for - they are all being destroyed because I won't do anything about this and I am willing to forgive him.

When I said no to laying any sort of charge I thought this was over. I really did. But I just found out (this week) that since I refuse to claim harrassment it is being claimed for me. The reasoning, because I am too "weak" to claim it for myself. There is literally nothing I can do. The charge is going ahead. I can't stop it. My only choice is to fight back and defend him and say none of this is true - but I don't want to do that either. It did happen. But, I want to say he made a mistake, apologized and I fogave him. How do I do that?

So here's my question - by refusing to claim harrassment was I hurting the "cause" of feminism?

And, an additional question. What now? Now that this is over my head and I am the unwilling victim how do I stop it?

Scared and Confused

Posted by Anonymous.


I am 28 years old and I have never had a loving relationship in my life. Perhaps that’s because until I was 25, my priorities were school and work.

My close friends describe me as educated, smart, successful, well spoken, funny, cute and very kind. Usually when guys meet me, the first thing they say is “you seem like every guy’s dream girl. How come you are single?”

4 years ago, the guy that I was in love with, broke it off because it turned out that he was cheating on his girlfriend with me for a year! I really had no idea! A coupld of other guys I met, never loved me or left me for someone else.

This year, I met someone at work and it seemed like it was instant connection. After about a month, I realized for some health reasons he was rather depressed. But I didn’t want to push him. My grand mother passed away and I decided to spend 2 weekends with my family rather than him. On a Sunday that we were supposed to meet for brunch, he didn’t show up. I called him for 12 hours and I was convinced that something had happened to him, until I saw him at work on Monday morning.

He apologized and said that he couldn’t return my calls because he was with someone else. I still shiver when I recall that conversation.

He said he didn’t think I would be so upset because I am a strong woman and I can have any man I want. Some of his words still buzz in my head: “she is a friend from before. I wasn’t planning on sleeping with her, it just happened.”

He apologized for a whole week and eventually we made up. With have been dating for more than 2 months after that incident, since.

He has introduced me to all his friends and even told his parents about me. This past weekend he met my parents.

I am still very curious about that weekend 2 months ago. He has a lady friend that lives close by and he doesn’t want to talk about her. I am pretty sure she is the woman he slept with.

Sometimes when he doesn’t pick up the phone, I can imagine him with her in bed and I start crying, despite the fact that he has bought me a promise ring, he says he loves me and he will never hurt me again.

I can see him sleeping with someone else if I get pregnant. I picture him saying “it just happened, I wasn’t planning on it”.

I care about him a lot. He is smart and sweet. He is very clean and even cooks for me. We have the same taste in food, clothes, furniture and movies. But I know he is a bit messed up.

I know when he was a child, he was molested. So was I, but I dealt with it. He tried to get married twice before, but was unsuccessful due to bad luck, mostly. He is emotionally unstable, I think.

I am beginning to think that I am emotionally unstable, too.

I am almost sure whoever I meet, will cheat on me eventually. I have always loved to become a mother. But now, I am afraid that the guy will leave me. What if he wants sex and I cannot give him that during pregnancy? What if I get fat and he doesn’t want me anymore?

Why do I hear on the news that 80% of men cheat?

I am pretty sure by now that I don’t deserve love and commitment. I am destined for heart break. I am very scared and confused.

Angry Mother, Bad Mother?

Posted by Anonymous.

I have become a bad mother. Not a “ha-ha bad mother” but one that you would certainly turn your shopping cart around to avoid. I rant and rave and go on and on and on about trivial crap. I swear. I stomp around. I am Angry. All. The. Time.

Well, not all the time. I am happy when I go to my class, or am creating art or going out to see live music. All of these things I am able to do more, now, than I have in a long time. But when I am NOT doing these things, I am an unbearable bitch. And since I have 3 children, I can only really do these things after they go to bed.

I feel like I was a good mother up until the birth of the third, and I just don’t have it in me to be kind to all of the people all of the time. My husband is more helpful than he has ever been, but still significantly lazy. (Not “doesn’t hold a job lazy”, but “takes a 3 hour nap 4 hours after waking up, and doing nothing if importance in the meantime” lazy).

You would think that with 3 kids I would have a handle on what I am doing, but I don’t. The older 2 are 11 and 10 and are going thru all the “tween” issues. But I haven’t found a “What to expect- elementary years” book. I don’t know what responsibilities they should and should not have and I don’t know what to expect on a cognitive level. I probably expect too much, but it is also met with eye rolling and sassy attitudes. I am lost.

I do know this with the 2 year old. The issue with him, is that he has an audience with the older ones, so all the behaviors that I should “just ignore, and will go away for lack of attention”, don’t go away, but get a laugh instead.

And I have no consistency in my parenting because I am so very outnumbered that things may or may not get disciplined, depending how much I have on my plate.

I know that others have it worse. I can recognize all the wonderful things I have in my life. I take anti-depressants and I exercise (not as much as I should, but they recognize my face at the gym). I love my part-time job. I don’t have cancer…there are so many blessings that I can see, but I don’t know how to stop being so ANGRY.

Does anyone have any similar experiences or advice??

In Paradisum

I could not blog light-heartedly this evening.

You may not know Rob, or his blog, How About Two. Or maybe you do know him, and have followed the stories of his wife's pregnancy with twins, and his efforts to prepare himself for fatherhood. But whether you already know him, or don't yet know him, you should know this: he's one of us, a parent who is embracing parenthood with his words. And he, and his wife, his family, have just suffered a devastating loss.

Please, go and visit. Send whatever love that you can. Offer warmth and hugs and good, strong wishes for the well-being of their hearts. Help them say goodbye to the angel that has flown, and say hello (joy-filled hellos! for she is an occasion for much joy!) for the living angel that remains in their arms.

And tell Rob thank you for sharing his story, and his grief. Say thank you, because his words remind you to be so, so grateful for the children that you carry in your arms. And because his story reminds you that true love lives always, eternally, in the heart.

Much love to you, Barron family. Much love, and thanks.

Doss Donovan Barron, in paradisum deducant te Angeli.

Secret Heart

Posted by Anonymous.


Secrets have a life of their own, don't they? I am careful to only share this secret in places where I know my family won't tread. Because, regardless of all the secrets I have told them... this isn't one of them.

I'm a birth mom. I had a little girl for whom my heart aches, daily. She is the product of a relationship I am still in, with someone I dearly love. Her timing, not so great. I was 5 months pregnant when I actually found out that I was carrying a little life.

I do realize this paints me as some ozark cave dweller with zero body consciousness. I was still having menstrual cycles and I had only gained 3 pounds. Needless to say, I was not the only one surprised.

We made the decision, swiftly, quickly, to place her for adoption. We were simply not ready to be parents. I will be honest, that while I don't mourn my decision...I long for her. We see her once a year, and her parents keep in good contact with us, they are giving, wonderful people. But, when I see her curls and hear her laugh, I want to wrap her in my arms and cry as I breathe in her smell. I want to trap it in my brain and take it home with me so I can pull it back up when I feel alone.

She asks her parents about me, she pulled her mother into her room one day, where a picture of her, biodad and I sits on her dresser. She held it in her sweet, little girl hands and asked "Is Christine ok?"

Oh, my heart. This was the right decision, but it doesn't mean I don't hurt. I can't even send out mother's day cards without feeling as though I am about to break. I don't know what I want from this... I just needed someone to know.

(Not) Living The Dream

Posted by Anonymous.


I feel terrible writing the things I said here, but I'm hoping that getting out the evil thoughts will feel better than letting it fester within me: I have a gorgeous little girl. She's bright, full of energy, and incredibly beautiful. The problem is, I hate being a mom. My career was just starting to take off when I (accidentally) got pregnant. Being newlyweds who eventually, probably wanted kids, we never considered NOT having the baby. I went into this thinking I would have a partner (I don't really), thinking my immature husband would start acting like an adult and taking some responsibility (he hasn't). He often works late. Yes, he's earning the money we use to pay for everything and that's a form of being responsible, but he works late because he goes in late and he goes in late because he stays up late playing video games or farting around watching TV (and ignoring the dishes, laundry, etc). So he's worthless in the morning and is often home too late to even see his daughter. I often wonder if he's not just stupid. I ask him to do something, he has to ask me a thousand questions to get the task done, and even then, he's most often fucked something up.

I'm exhausted. I'm sick of effectively having two children when I'm not sure I even wanted one. Now, I'm stuck. My career is sort of a strange one. Where we live, I can only really work freelance, so I'm trying to do that at home at night and on weekends to keep things afloat until I can work more. I keep asking my husband to just watch the baby and hang out with her so I can have a few hours to work at the weekends instead of in the middle of the night, but he doesn't really. He wanders off to play a video game or check his email. Or he brings her to me to say, "Hi." Of course, once she sees me, she doesn't want to just go back in the other room. Or he's suddenly inspired to do dishes and ignores the baby. Often he doesn't even know where she's gone (she's a year old so she gets around well and is into everything). I would leave the house to work but countless times he was supposedly "watching" her and then she's hurt herself, albeit not seriously, or he's forgotten what he was doing and then when I ask where she is, he says "she was in the bathroom with you!" (I wasn't in the bathroom) so I feel like I have to at least stay in the house to keep an eye on what's going on.

I know his shortcomings in this area have more to do with his discomfort with his role as a father than anything else, but I'm at my wit's end. I'm sick of staying up working until 3 am and in addition being the only person who gets up to comfort the baby when she cries at night. I'm sick of being the person who does nearly all of the work in the house, as well as nearly all of the work with our daughter. I'm sick of him acting like what I do all day is easy and all fun. I'm sick of telling him he's going to miss his train, which he almost always does, never mind that he should be taking one that's at least an hour earlier. I'm sick of trying to convince him that we can't afford to spend money the way he does. I'm sick of having to justify my needs and explain why I need a tiny bit of free time.

When I write down most of the stuff he does, it doesn't look like that big of a deal, but it's just the exhaustion of doing everything and having to redo or undo everything that he does and having to be the nag just to get him to even participate. It's his constant lack of attention to what's going on and why. Every day, he is eating away at my love for him. It's not unusual for me to think about how much I hate him and fantasize about being a widow. I try concentrating on the good stuff. I go away and come back filled with good feeling for him and the future and thinking I might even *gasp* sleep with him. He manages to kill those good feelings in less than 24 hours. For example, I stay up until the wee hours of the morn working several nights in a row in order to meet a deadline and at the same time take care of the baby all day and am the only one to do it at night. When the weekend comes, who gets up at 7 with the baby? Me. Who sleeps in? Him. When I insist he gets out of bed, he spends all day whining how tired he is (after 10 hours sleep) and insisting he needs a nap and is completely useless. I've tried being sweet. I've tried being mean. I've tried ignoring him being late and stupid. I've gone one strike and not done any of the housework. Nothing I do or don't do seems to change anything.

Enough about my husband. Like I said, I hate being a mom. I think it sucks. Yes, the smiles and the cuddles and the "mama"s and all that are great but I still think it sucks and is boring and sucks and sucks then is incredibly awesome then is boring and frustrating and sucks. I've finally come to terms with being responsible for someone else morning noon and night, but I had (have?) a career and I had a thousand things I wanted to do. I can't do any of those things any time soon, especially not without the support of a partner. It's driving me mad to be at home. I count the hours until my husband will arrive so I can have *a little* relief and adult conversation (though he's usually an hour or two later than he promises and often too late to even see the baby) and I count the time until the baby will sleep and I can just start working and ignore the man I never should have married.

I feel like I'm a terrible mother. I am just so bored. I don't think I talk to my daughter enough and I don't think I play with her enough. Maybe I'm just like my husband. I just don't know what to do with her. Every day I promise myself I'll do better tomorrow and every day, I feel like I'm falling down on the job. I can't muster the energy and enthusiasm to play and sing and come up with things to do. Whenever I look at old photos of her, I want to cry. She was so beautiful and spunky. She had this energy, like she just loved and was so excited about life. I'm afraid she's not like that anymore, or not as much as she was. I'm afraid I've ruined her. I don't know what to do. I feel like she'd be better off with someone else. Not my husband, certainly, but someone else. How can I be so awful when I'm fortunate enough to have a gorgeous, healthy, smart girl? How can I keep doing this and getting through every day?

I don't regret having my daughter because I love her so much. I do regret the rotten, resentful marriage I'm stuck in. I regret letting it get this bad and I regret that I don't think I even care enough to bother with therapy. And I regret that I can't be a better mother because my daughter deserves it.

If you got this far, and even if you didn't, thanks so much for allowing me to let off steam.

Another View of Labor

Posted by an anonymous doula...


Brook and I had been in constant communication leading up to the birth of her second child. Her first child was born within 4 hours of her first contraction, so she was concerned that her second would be born even faster.

When we initially made contact she went on and on about how unsupportive her husband is and that is why she needed a doula. I also did this birth for free as she talked about all of her financial hardships. (I found out there had been a cruise within months of me giving my services for free… among lots of other inconsistencies) I should have known this was going to be not what it seemed when her husband seemed anything but unsupportive. He really loved her and was all on board to be her man and be there for her.

I called her at 7:20 to check in with her. She had been having contractions for about an hour. She talked to her midwife at 9 that evening and was encouraged to take a bath. At 11:45 pm I got the call to meet her at the hospital. I met them within the hour and at 12:50 am her midwife checked her and she was 4cm dilated and 90% effaced. She was GBS + and needed to have antibiotics per hospital protocol. She had her first dose of IV antibiotics at 1:10 am and then was free to walk around, use the tub, etc.

I encouraged her to take advantage of early labor and try to get some rest, but she was unable to settle in and she decided to do some walking to get things moving.

This client was personally very challenging for me. She needed a lot of attention as opposed to support. She seemed to exaggerate things in every aspect of her life, including labor. I had a lot of compassion for her because it was clear that she didn’t know why she did this or that she even did it at all. It made for many challenges for her during labor. It was impossible for her to rest in early labor as she seemed to really not be able to settle into things without an audience. She and her husband did very well walking but she wanted me to walk with her, but not too closely….so I spent a lot of the night walking 10 paces behind her. At about 3am she hooked up to the intermittent monitor for 15 minutes and then resumed walking with her husband while I trailed behind.

By morning she was truly exhausted and I was worried about her. I encouraged her and her husband to go soak in the Jacuzzi for a while in hopes of getting her to rest her eyes a bit and give them some quiet time as a couple. At 9 am she was uncomfortable and was also ready for another round of antibiotics. At 9:30 am she was checked and was now 100% effaced but still only 4 to maybe 5 cm. Clearly, this was not going to be the same labor pattern as she had with her first baby. She was very discouraged by the lack of progress and was given the option of AROM by her midwife. At that point she declined as she was very committed to a birth with minimal interventions.

By 10:30 her contractions were 1-2 minutes apart. She was feeling very nauseated, exhausted and in low spirits. At 11:30 she decided to try and rest in bed a while with warm blankets. She also had a vaginal exam at that time where she was 5cm and still at -1 station. At this point she did have her waters broken. There was something about this client’s personality that proved challenging not only to me as her doula but the midwife and the nursing staff…creating a very uncomfortable dynamic between her caregivers and myself. The nurses wrongly assumed I was ‘anti pain relief’ and would whisper to her husband to let them know if she ‘wanted something’. She was extremely committed to a natural childbirth completely outside of any thoughts I hold about childbirth. It isn’t my role to make decisions for her. In all honesty, I was worried about her exhaustion level and wondered if she could have used something for rest before the pushing stage. As this was NOT her wish, I never suggested this and I supported her desire for a natural childbirth.

I did my best to help the client relax and encourage her to rest as best she could between contractions. I proved unable to make this an appealing option for her. At Noon the midwife came in and seemed annoyed with me that her patient was so chatty and talkative. She gave my client a stern motherly talking to, drew the blinds turned off the lights. I was truly relieved as Brook seemed to respond to this and finally sink into herself and focus on the quiet internal work of childbirth.

All the while, some crazy goddess worship music is on repeat in the background. It was bad yet catchy. It went on for probably 8 hours of the 19+ hours I spent along side her. Being sure this birth would be fast given her prior labor pattern I didn’t pack snacks….in fact, I hadn’t slept since Saturday night (It was now Monday), I had been on a 15 mile hike Sunday, and in four days I would get the completely unexpected news that I was expecting my first baby. I was deliriously tired, and feeling quite guilty as I was not the one in labor.

At Noon time Brook is sure the babe is coming. She is clearly uncomfortable but starts to do some pushing. She pushes and pushes and pushes and pushes and pushes. She does rest at the midwife’s command. She is nauseated and uncomfortable. She needed a lot of quiet encouragement, which I could give her. This was more of my element as a doula. She did seem to at least be more within herself and focused than she had the entire labor. I was happy for her.

In walks repair guy. Big annoying hospital repair guy to futz with the phone. The room was crowded with people and it somehow seems to only be ridiculous to me that someone would choose this laboring mom’s transition stage of labor to be clanking around the room.

“Is this quite necessary right now?” I ask. Apparently, yes it was. This day couldn’t seem to get much weirder. And yet, it does.

Brook finally was ready to push. Her baby was coming down and crowned for what seemed to be an eternity. Maybe it seemed so long because the client was insistent that she wanted multiple pictures of her baby crowning. Surely this would come in handy one day for her son. Okay…I can do that. I start to snap pictures…Lots of them. This was her wish and I was her doula helping her get what she wanted even though it wouldn’t have been my choice. A nurse starts yelling at me to stop, this was not allowed; they do not let people take pictures of birth. Um, whatever lady. Believe me when I say it wasn’t my idea. Yet, it is her body, her birth, her baby. She can have video of it as far as I am concerned.

The midwife eventually cuts Brook so the baby can be born. I was pretty horrified that the midwife gave her an episiotomy. As far as I could tell from the tone of the room and what the medical staff was discussing, this baby was not in distress. I get shivers thinking of her doing that to Brook.

Her beautiful son was born late in the afternoon. He was over 9 lbs and was healthy and beautiful. Brook and her husband were thrilled.

As I was leaving the hospital I had to get paperwork from the Midwife regarding my role as doula. I was collecting feedback for certification purposes. The midwife lays into me at the nursing station about how laboring mother’s don’t need all that hand holding and being told ‘oh that was a good job, you’re doing wonderfully’ talk. They need to be quiet in a dark room so that they can move deep to labor. She acted as if I had somehow disrupted this process and made more ‘work’ for her as a midwife. She didn’t give me great feedback and wrote snotty comments that weren’t especially helpful or offering of guidance.

As soon as I walked into the elevator I burst into tears and cried all the way home. I drew myself a hot bath and was sobbing in the tub when my husband got home from work. I really wondered if I was cut out to be a doula.

In the end, Brook and her husband were ecstatic with their labor support. I feel proud about the way I handled myself in retrospect. Two of my own pregnancies and childbirths, and several other births as doula, and almost 4 years of life behind me I still think of this family now and again. I can’t believe I went on to attend the births of other women after such a difficult experience.

The Thin Red Line

Posted by Lara; cross-posted from her blog, Life: The Ongoing Education.

If you follow my blog, you have been reading for quite a while now. Those of you who've recently joined, well, even you have most likely heard or read about the Depression Series by now. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you're either a random passerby, in which case I say "Hello, and have a great life!" because you're probably not coming back, or you should take the time to go read up a bit, so that you won't be left behind in this (and future) post(s).

So, as I'm pretty sure you all know, I'm a cutter. I haven't cut in over three months now (as of last Wednesday - hooray!), but I'm still a cutter. I'll always be a cutter, because it'll always be there, in my mind. But I don't always have to cut. I have the power to make other decisions. I have the power to choose not to cut.

At any rate, that was a mini pep talk for myself that sort of strayed from my intended topic here. I'm a cutter, and I've admitted as much to anyone and everyone who might stop by here to visit. Part of my reasoning for that was that I wanted the freedom to talk about myself and my problems; when I wrote the Depression Series, I did so because I needed to share all the crap inside my head and my heart, and that included the cutting. But there was also a part of me that chose to talk about the cutting because I know it's not something that's often talked about. The amount of attention it receives in society is completely out of proportion with the number of people dealing with it. The silence about it upsets me, because if I'd known about it, and about how many others were struggling with it, it might have been easier for me to get help sooner.

So I wanted to put it out there, shout out to say, "Hey, I'm here and I have this problem, and it doesn't make me a freak." And what I realized at the time, and what has come to be proven since, is that people probably have a lot of questions about it. Most people don't know about it, or know very little if they do. And, more importantly, most people don't know where to go to ask about it.

So here I am. Ask me.

I want to tell my stories. I want to answer your questions. I want people to know more about this problem that so many out there have. That's why I'm giving myself out as a resource. Anything and everything you've ever wanted to know about cutting, I will do my best to answer. You can leave questions in the comments, email me, IM me, call me, whatever. All questions will remain anonymous and will be answered here in a future post (or posts, if there are a lot of questions). And forward this to anyone you think might also have questions, or even post a link to it on your own site if you're willing. This, while perhaps not a "cause," per se, is my thing. I care about it, the way Her Bad Mother cares about muscular dystrophy , the way Julia cares about diabetes, the way Little Shot cares about global warming. I want people to know more about it.

One thing to keep in mind, however: I am not a pyschologist. Clinical questions about the disorder might not be so easy for me to answer, and would probably be answered by a lot of Googling. Questions about the personal and emotional experiences are going to be more my strong point. But as I said, I'll do my best to answer any questions you toss my way.

So really, please, what do you want to know? Because I want to talk.

Taking a Stand Against Taking a Stand

Posted by Anonymous. (If you'd like to share a post here, anonymously or otherwise, e-mail Her Bad Mother at herbadmother@gmail.com...)

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In a few weeks a friend of mine is going to prison. On purpose. She took part in a protest at the School of the Americas and out of 20,000 plus people she just had to be one of the 16 people that went through a hole in the fence and trespassed onto government property.

Why? She says it is a step in the direction of peace, she says she did it to spread love, she said she had to take a stand.

I say this. Fuck that. No one has heard of the god damn place, and you have 3 young children that are freaked out because their mom is going to prison. You have a husband that you did not discuss this with and are now informing him that you have arranged for strange women to MOVE INTO your house while you are gone to help him out and be there with the children because you are a stay at home mom who home schools. He is angry, your kids are scared and quite honestly I am very disappointed in you and more angry than I may have a right to be.

How can you leave you children for something that will not even make a difference? How can you make those sorts of life altering decisions and not share them with your husband? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Every email and post is about you, how you feel, how you have been chosen to do this by god, how you are going to make things better. Let me tell you sister, when you have kids it stops being about you. Period. I know you want to change the world, God knows so do I. If you feel like you have been called to be an instrument of peace do that, go to the protest, keep your happy ass on the right side of the fence, home school your children about the great people before us that gave their lives for peace, teach them about Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Theresa, Gandhi. Do not dare send me another message about holding your family in the light and by the way can you stop your life and drive my kids to where they need to be because you will be taking a writing class in prison, and plan to make this into a book.

On Being Pregnant

Posted by Anonymous


I hate being pregnant!! I tired so hard to get prego - used ovulation strips for days after my cycle to figure out when ovulating and then had sex at all the right times, and it still took over a year. The husband had some mixed results with
fertility testing that we thought would be an issue so I was ecstatic when we found out we were expecting.

I found out right away when I was pregnant especially since I was puking from day one. I have puked in grocery stores, on most major highways, at my desk, in the washroom, and I have thrown up in the garbage can while using the washroom. The puking was crazy and lasted til just about one month ago. (I am 27 weeks now). Diclectin helped though it wasn't perfect.

Now as I am getting farther along, I have heartburn every time I eat. Tums doesn't touch it and what can you do??

The pregnancy has not been great. I have had intermittent bleeding all through the 2nd trimester which I am nearing the end of. I am on limited activity, no sex, no exercise, and no lifting. I find that I am soooo out of breath and my Cardio
system is shot. I have had fatigue, headaches, low energy, mood swings. I have had to have a few days here and there of "rest" after spotting and cramping.

Then I sprained my ankle and am on crutches for the next week. I am off work and watching daytime TV - bored, listless, and would rather be at work.

It is cool that the baby is moving like crazy and all but I am feeling guilty about the fact that pregnancy kinda sucks and I hate it and can't wait for it to be over!!

I am wondering if others went through this experience. I know, I know things could be even worse, that I could be on bedrest. I should be grateful being it took so much effort to get prego in the first place, that I should be "enjoying" this when really - I can't wait til the end comes.

Anyone want to share their experiences or reassure me that I ain't the only one who thinks this pregnancy is not "BLISS"?

Where Do I Go From Here?

Posted by Anonymous. If you'd like to share a post here, anonymously or otherwise, e-mail Her Bad Mother at herbadmother@gmail.com...

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Being anonymous is something I covet. Everywhere I go I'm someone's mother or daughter or even thought of still as someone's wife. The internet, most times, affords me the opportunity to let loose and if met with resistance, simply press 'delete.' It would be simply magnificent if life had a backspace, delete or reload button.

I digress.

I've been accused of overanalyzing and over thinking, although that is my nature. It makes me who I am. It's why therapy is a good value for me. I cut right to the chase, no time needed to get acquainted or beat around the bush. I need to sort things out, like a two year old. Each thought or person in its place with things just like it in one way or another. Neatly compacted and easily identifiable - that's the way I like things.

Too bad I'm shit out of luck on that.

Entwined in what I would call a new relationship, I find myself not really certain of what I want or what I'm even looking for. And letting things happen as they may, well, doesn't really sit well with the massive obsessive planner part of my brain, but I'm working on it.

When you meet someone new, be it friend or lover, you are bound to find out things about yourself in the process. I have found that I am very set in my ways, and am not really looking to change them significantly. I'm not looking to have someone help me raise my children, I'm not looking for a hand-out, or a savior. I'm also not looking for someone else to raise, I have kids. I'm not looking for someone to train, I have dogs. I've always maintained that I would need and want someone who fits into the life I've built...and now I know that to be true, because I've met someone very nice and I'm not sure that he does.

Which makes me think I'm a snob, because rich or poor, it's nice to have money. And I have none for so long, then I had a lot, then I had none again, and now I'm just fine and in line for always being OK. And I like the lifestyle that I've grown accustomed to. I don't, by any stretch, live a five-star lifestyle...every day...and I know that material possessions do not inherently bring happiness.

Except for Coach purses.

But truthfully, it's not all about money. It's about lifestyle and expectations for oneself and one's children. It's perception of self and others and yes, even perception of money.

Then I think I'm not fair because I've had an adult lifetime of extraordinary experiences that have shaped me. I can't expect everyone to have had those. But it's important to share some fundamental similarities with people you're close to. I do not believe that opposites attract, at least in the long term.

The reason for this post is because I do like this man...but to me our differences are glaring and he doesn't see them at all. I enjoy my time with him, although it has been very limited and also very much the same every time. That is due to time and financial constraints which is attributable to both of us. But I wonder if with our wagons full of different ideas and expectations, if there is the potential for more than just pleasantries and burgers.

I've said that I need to take it slow, I've cited our differences, and that I don't know where this will go, if anywhere. For now, status quo is the road we are on.

But when I think about my future, I know I do not want to be alone. My kids will grow up and move on and out and up and here I'll be twiddling my thumbs, blogging? I want to share my life with someone and I want to give this guy a chance. But those differences I mentioned, which also include our children who are more than ten years apart in age, just stick out to me.

I know you're thinking to take it a day or a date at a time. And I'm trying. I swear I am. But I'm also trying to figure out, because of all this, what is really important to me, what I need and what I want...out of life and out of a relationship and out of myself when it all boils down.

And since for some strange reason I told this man about my blog, I can't write about him there. I have nothing awful to say, but I don't think it's fair to search my heart and soul so openly and have him read responses that are about me, or him.

So I'm hoping he doesn't know about The Basement.

Toxic Friend?

Posted by Anonymous.

If you'd like to share a post here, anonymously or otherwise, e-mail Her Bad Mother at herbadmother@gmail.com...

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I guess I'm writing this to express my disappointment in someone, or maybe just the situation. Feedback (constructive of course, I'm a wee bit delicate) is appreciated.

I'm friends with this person, we meet at grad school, work together in the summers, and get along well. She's always been harsh (mean comments about appearance, unnecessarily blunt to people) and says whatever comes to her mind and I accept that about her, knowing it's just who she is and you can't take things personally.

I think it's fair to say I've been a good friend to her - chauffeuring her to job interviews more than 2 hours away, driving her to see another friend an hour from there, and home. I did things like make dinner for her and her partner when she was in a minor accident, and the like.

As it turns out when school's done we both end up with jobs in a city far away from where we met and so our friendship becomes closer given that I'm a long way from friends and family. She was one of the only people I knew outside of work in the new city, and we got along great and hung out all the time.

While we're there, I get engaged, and, given how close we had become, I ask her to be in the wedding party. Even though we hadn't been friends for too many years, I thought it made sense to ask her, and did. You can likely see where this is going.

With the goal of making it easier on her (she makes it clear on a regular basis that she hates weddings and anything to do with them) I told her about the dress I had picked out and colour I liked (sage green), sent her the pictures, and places near her where she could see it. I offered to order it for her and pay for it myself and then bring it to her (4 hour drive) so it'd be more convenient for her. Once I've done that she calls to tell me how awful the dress is and how much she hates it. In a move I'd like to say is uncharacteristic of me, I cry about it because I'd worked so hard to make things easier for everyone.

A few weeks before the wedding, her and I, our partners, and extended circle of friends all go out for dinner and a few drinks together. Through dinner she makes comments my fiance interprets as rude and pointed at him, and they eventually exchange words, him saying he was "tired of her fuckery," a sentiment that was largely based on her comments that night, and partially what she'd said about me earlier.

She emails to say he's no longer welcome at her house (where we were staying for another wedding a couple of weeks later). My fiance emails to apologize to her for having lost his temper but never gets any kind of response or even acknowledgment.

Since the wedding a few months ago she and I both attended a wedding shower for a friend of mind, and she went between being curt to me and ignoring me. I joked at the shower (where a four course meal was served to more than 200 people and the bride announced at the front of the room with a microphone what she got, which included things like large appliances) that it was "fancier than my wedding," given that I'd never been to a shower that was so over the top. She told me to "shut up."

At a wedding we all attended she pretty much ignored us, to the point that people asked what was wrong.

I know we'll be in neighbouring cities over the holidays so I tell her when I'll be there and offer to get together. She has dinner with mutual friends in town where we are, but never calls me. I've called and left several messages since my wedding that were never returned.

Is this friendship a write off? I'm tired of feeling like the schmuck.

Anyone, anyone?

It's been pretty quiet, here in the Basement. Which is fine - good even - if it means that a) we're few or none of us struggling with issues that can only be aired in a very safe place, or b) finding other venues for the airing of our issues.

Me, I could use some airing/venting, but it's kind of difficult for me to speak anonymously here, especially when the space has been otherwise quiet. It's something of a catch-22 for me - if the Basement is busy, I feel that I could slip in unnoticed, and post anonymously about something that's been bothering me... but if it's busy, I don't want to crowd out someone else's story. On the other hand, when it's quiet - like now - there's ample room for superfluous HBM ranting... but in the quiet of the Basement my voice is more likely to get recognized.

Does that really matter, having my voice, and so my darker or more embarassing stories, recognized? Probably not, but I'm still not ballsy enough to go there with some things - my pseudonymity hasn't really got me covered in real life, and there are just some things that I'd prefer colleagues and acquaintances and extended family members not listen in on.

I'm feeling a bit cowardly - I've really prided myself on my bravery in writing, on my willingness to look silly/stupid/incompetent/insecure - but it's a reasonable sort of cowardice, I think. And so I'm sitting down here, in the Basement, waiting for someone else to speak up, so that I can throw my voice in, uninhibited.

Which is to say - this is a rambly and long-winded way of asking if anyone out there wants to get talking? On, say, post-partum physical insecurities? Challenging in-laws? Challenging relationships generally?

I've got wine, and tea, and cookies, and a sympathetic ear, and stories of my own. Wanna share?

Moments You Regret

Posted by Anonymous.

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I feel so wretched! My children were sleeping in the car and I ran in to TJMaxx to return a shirt. Was gone for 15 minutes tops. When I came back police were all over the car and I was almost arrested. I feel like such a sack of crap for putting my obsessive need to finish the errand above their safety. Luckily, the police did not arrest me. But I feel like the worst and stupidest mother in the world.

For The Love Of Pizza

Posted by Gidge.

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Tony’s Party Pizzas have always made me horny.

When I was in my twenties and in a torrid love affair of dubious quality, we were broke. We spent all of our money on booze, clothes to wear to clubs, cover charges to clubs and what was left went to food. Ramen noodles and Tony’s party pizza were staples. The pizza was preferred. It went better with beer, and was easier to eat sitting snuggled up on the loveseat we’d drug up from the Goodwill down the street.

We declared our love for each other constantly, and with huge grins would fall onto each other as if it would be the last time we ever said the words. A lot of party pizza would get smashed into the couch when the moment would strike us.

It wasn’t love, but we didn’t know it. It was lust. We had both found that first person you can be uninhibited with. The someone you can do anything to or with, and they stare back at you smiling……willing to do whatever you want. Nothing was off limits, nothing was wrong or a sin…….and everything began or ended with beer and party pizza.

I worked a second job to subsidize airfare to keep this relationship going. I spent every extra dime I made on airfare, sometimes flying 2000 miles just for a two day visit. The fact that he didn’t reciprocate was probably a sign, but I didn’t notice it at the time.

Arrival, sex, dinner – Party Pizza, after dinner, sex, go to club – contemplate further sex, go home – possibly covert sex in cab or on bus, get home, more sex, go to sleep, wake up in the middle of the night, more sex, wake up for the day, more sex, shower – sex during shower, breakfast – party pizza left? Eat if so, if not, go out to Denny’s and flirt voraciously so that you have to go back to the apartment for more sex rather than go do whatever you intended to do.

Tony’s Party Pizza punctuated with passion filled sex.

One of the best combinations ever.