Fair Weather Friends and Broken Hearts

Posted by Slackermama.

I've hinted at this topic before on my blog, but I've always known that I would have to give the topic a good "airing" out. Mostly because whenever I think of it, a nasty taste fills my mouth and I start to feel my "Grinch-ometer" start to skyrocket. And ya'll, that's not good. I don't want to have such negative thoughts. And now with the New Year upon us (or after us since I've put this off so long), I'd really like to put this behind me once and for all. Of course, the best way for me to exorcise these demons is to blog about it. I've always been the sort that achieves the best therapy through writing and this is no different. The only reason I haven't blogged about this before now is because I didn't want to hurt feelings. The reason I have my blog in the first place is to talk about things in my life that are important to me and this is important to me. I can't really worry all the time about if feelings will be hurt, because it only results in my own feelings being hurt. Which would be tolerable, except that after my feelings are hurt then my family members' feelings are hurt. And that, well, let's just say that it's a deal-breaker for me.

I tried to speak about some of these issues before, back in August. But feelings were hurt and in the interest of keeping peace, I removed the posts from public viewing. Apologies were made profusely, by me, and I hoped that the bygones would soon be bygones. But, you know, I don't think they are. I don't think the bygones have EVER been bygones. People SAID the bygones were bygones, but I happen to think that actions speak louder than words in most cases and the actions have told me that I am VERY much still in the doghouse.

Let me backup. Some of you are probably scratching your heads going, "Wha?" This involves my friends. These are friends I've made recently and my son goes to school with one of the women's kids and is friends with him as well. It's a "group friend" sort of thing and as of last spring, was one of the best things in my life. See, Kile and I have lived in Reno for a long time but we've never had really close friends. No one we've ever felt we could really count on. No BFF's forever or anything like that. We've had plenty of friendly acquaintances, but no one who will stick through us in thick and thin. We've always wanted friends, but it's harder to meet people when you're an adult. When I met these women, I felt like this was a great opportunity to finally have some close friends that I could hang out with, laugh with and rely on. And for quite a while, that's exactly how it was. It was GREAT. Our husbands even enjoyed hanging out together, which thrilled me to no end. The kids liked each other, the husbands liked each other and we liked each other. Couldn't get much better. I was really happy to finally have friends and they seemed to genuinely care about me and my family.

I'm not sure exactly what changed. Or when it changed. It may have started around June. Not for me, as I was still in "Blissful Ignorance Land, a place I often find myself in situations like this. But things did change that month and I definitely can't hold that against my one friend. She had just had a baby and that was a huge shift in her life. The boys were out of school for the month so I didn't see a whole lot of either of my friends that month. But then, there was VBS. I'm sure you remember me talking about VBS. I didn't really want to help out with it, because working with kids makes me nervous. It's definitely NOT my calling. But I fouled up and I didn't tell my other friend that I didn't want to do this. Which is definitely what I should have done. I fully admit that was my bad. I handled it all really badly and flaked out terribly on my friends, leaving them to deal with a lot more than they would normally have had to. I worried that my one friend was really upset with me. She assured me afterward that she wasn't, and I apologized anyhow. I thought the issue was over but I wonder now, here on the other side of things, I don't think it was. I think my friend was upset and was trying to let it go but never did let it go. I hope that makes sense to you all.

July was pretty good, as I do believe my friends were trying to let the whole VBS thing go. The boys started school that month, we went to many awesome drive-in movies and we had Liam's birthday party at my friends house and had a great time too. As far as I was concerned, VBS was ancient history. After all, there wasn't anything for me to be upset with anyone about as it had been pretty much all my fault. And no one else seemed too mad at me so I let it go. I went to BlogHer and while I was gone, my one friend watched Liam during the day for Kile so he could go to work. That was such a lifesaver.

I came back from BlogHer and it was nearly August by then. Harry's friend had had a birthday party a day or so before and reportedly there was a lot of leftover pizza. A casual invitation was made for us all to come back that next day and have pizza. After Kile picked me up, he called them to check on what time we'd be getting together only to find out they had made other plans instead. Fine, whatever, I was beat anyhow and just took a nap instead. But I could tell Kile was disappointed. Again, it was something I didn't really focus on until future situations caused me to reflect on it. Not a big deal by itself, but when combined with everything else, it forms a pattern. At school that Monday, I was probably a bit quieter than normal. I was still tired from my trip, reeling from the events in Chicago (so much fun!) and just feeling vaguely off. I remember wondering if I was coming down with a cold or something. My friends asked if I was okay and I told them I was because as far as I knew, I was. This general mood continued for the next week or two and I stopped wondering about a cold and started wondering about depression or something. My moods were definitely down and lot more unpredictable than they normally are. I wondered if it was a really bad case of PMS, because it was reminiscent of something like that. But I'd never had really bad PMS before and couldn't think of why I'd have it now.

My one friend's son had a birthday party one weekend in mid-August and I was really looking forward to the opportunity to hang out with my friends and have a good time. But when we got there, I could tell I was still feeling rather moody. And I did try to keep my mood to myself as best I could. After all, this was a child's birthday part and a moody grump like me had no place in an event like that. I was also feeling rather tired, another recent occurrence and by the end of the evening, I just wanted to go home and put my feet up. I also wanted to leave before my moods got the better of me and I did something really awful and hurt someone's feelings. Kile took me home and then returned to the party to play Wii and hang out and I felt myself calming down as I relaxed. I wondered if I should have gone to the party at all, the state I was in. My one friend called to check on me, worried about my exit and wanting to make sure everything was okay. I assured her that I was okay, just didn't feel in the mood for socializing at the moment. No worries. And I figured that was that, but apparently, it wasn't. The next day was another birthday party, my other friend's littlest son and we went to that as well. I was feeling a lot better and actually had a great time at that party. I thought my one friend might have been a little quiet with us, not as friendly as she might have been otherwise. But I had no way of knowing if that was because of something I had done at the party the night before (Kile seemed to think not) or if because of something else that had nothing to do with us. I chose to believe the latter.

That evening, Harry talked to us about his friends sometimes calling him names or being mean to him. We had a frank discussion about what he should do in those situations, trying to bolster his confidence in himself and assuring him that he should come to us if he found himself feeling uncomfortable. We wanted to be sure to deal with any possible situations right away, before they blew up into giant problems that would cause a lot more damage if gone unchecked. I thought would be the best thing to do in order to preserve friendships. I just didn't know that my new resolve would be called into service quite so soon.

The next morning, when I went to my one friend's house to walk the kids to school, I found she was again being a little stand-offish. So I did start to wonder if indeed it WAS me. All this was running through my head on the walk down when Harry came to me, crying. One of the boys had called him what Harry considered a bad word. Now, you have to understand that Harry is pretty puritanical yet about such things and what he thought was a bad word was actually pretty mild. (It was "butthead", by the way) The way he was acting, you would have thought one of them had just shot his dog. But what I thought was important was how he felt. He felt very hurt and being my boy (and my baby, besides being almost 8 years old), I wanted to help him anyway I could. He told me he would like it if I would pick him up in the van after school and then drive him down to school the next day. I never had the impression he wanted this to be a permanent change, but that he felt he needed the time away from the "walking down to school" routine. Since I was already thinking that perhaps my one friend was upset with me, I thought it was probably a good idea. It would help things calm down, perhaps. Then, in a couple days, it could all go back to normal. Problem solved, right? I told my one friend when we got to school my plan to pick up Harry and drive him to school the next day. She seemed maybe a little surprised, but otherwise showed no concern. She didn't ask why or seem upset by it so I figured she took it at face value. See my problem here? I don't play "politics" very well, I don't read between the lines well and I don't have good people-reading skills. It's just an empirical fact. I tend to wear myself on my sleeve and I wrongly assume others do too.

When I got home, I was still feeling moody (yes, STILL... you think I would have caught on by now) and starting to take it out on the month itself (nope, NEVER done that before). And, as I've said before, I like to use this blog in order to air my feelings so that they don't fester and to work through my feelings. So I wrote a post about what happened on the walk to school, among other things and expressed my interest in August being over as soon as possible. That was pretty much it. After I wrote it, I felt a lot better (which was the point in the first place) and put the matter out of my mind. That is, until a couple hours later when I found a comment from my other friend. And she was MAD. She said that I had called her son a bully (Hu-wha??), that I had been rude at the birthday parties over the weekend (Okay, maybe the first one but the second one??) and how I had abused their friendship so horribly. I honestly felt like a knife had been shoved into my heart. Was this a joke? The level of venom in that comment was mind-blowing. I cried. I read it again a while later and cried again. I didn't know what to think or what to do. What had I done?? Had I done anything? I couldn't think of anything and I couldn't understand why she was SO mad at me. That night I got an email from my one friend's husband where he basically read me the riot act. I felt like a kid in school, getting her hand slapped by the principle. I felt shamed and I still wasn't sure what exactly I had done wrong.

I talked this all over with my husband at great length. I told him how I wished that my other friend had emailed me her concerns rather than commenting. If she had emailed me, I could have addressed her concerns and if necessary, removed the post on the spot. As it was, other people had seen the post and her comment and had replied in my defense. God bless them for it too because while these commenters may not have gotten it all straight, I was just SO happy to have someone on my side for a change. I did take the post down that night, as I promised my one friend's husband I would. What else could I do to make things right? I wasn't just concerned for my own friendships, but for my son's friendships as well. My other friend wouldn't reply to me, and my one friend's husband (just him, she didn't email me at all) kept insisting that I had hurt her feelings so badly that she was just devastated. And indeed, I felt very bad for hurting her but what about MY feelings? I felt absolutely CRUSHED through this. I was crying all the time, on top of this nagging moodiness and just felt wretched. No one, save my own husband, seemed to care about that. Seeing as how as I was being viewed as the "perpetrator", I guess I can understand why.

Kile was sympathetic to my plight, but aggravated by my constant moodiness and interested in finding out once and for all WHY I was this way. He got a pregnancy test on the way home from work and promised me when he delivered it into my hands that if I wasn't pregnant, he was taking me into the doctor for a hormone test. Because something was the matter. This wasn't normal for me. Still, I was STUNNED when the pregnancy test came up positive. And I felt like it answered EVERYTHING. Kile did too, and interested in finally clearing the air with my friends, he emailed them the news that I was pregnant. Surely this would give them a reason for any fishy behavior they may feel I'd been exhibiting, right? And good friends cut each other slack on such things, right? Especially if they just found out they are pregnant.

Only? Not so much. No, they were still pissed at me. And again (for what, the 10th time that week?), I was crushed. This was a miraculous event for me. Anyone who knew me at all knew that getting pregnant this way was nothing short of an act of God and something I would have loved to share with my dear friends. I wanted to be excited and I wanted others to be excited with me. What I got was more angry emails and more cold shoulders. I felt abandoned. I felt that maybe this friendship had been all in my head. That I had imagined the closeness. My heart was, quite literally, broken.

The olive branch was finally extended later that week. And even then, even when I tried to explain my situation as best I could and how I never meant to hurt any feelings, I was told that there were still hurt feelings and that it would take some time before trust would be regained. I figured it was better than nothing and against my better instincts, decided to just turn the other cheek and let it go. It was more important to me to try to preserve the friendship at that point. I've never been one to be interested in holding grudges anyhow.

We never did have it quite as good as we did back in the spring, but it was better. I felt I could relax again at last. My one friend didn't have me over very much anymore, but she had her hands full with the day care she was starting up so that didn't bother me too much. Things were going okay, which was more than I could have asked for back in August. October was another month off for the boys. We had talked before they went on break about having a Halloween party for the kids at my one friend's house at the end of the month. We had done one the year before and the kids had enjoyed it so much. We also made tentative plans to have a couple play dates during the month to keep the boys sane. Well, the play dates didn't happen, but that wasn't too surprising. After all, life goes on. Harry went out of town for a time, and then my one friend's family went out of town for a while and that's how it goes. My other friend called towards the end of the month to touch base and she mentioned the Halloween party. She said that she figured the party would be happening on the Tuesday before Halloween but wasn't sure of any other details. Before we hung up, she assured me that one of them would call me either that weekend or Monday and let me know the final details. Great! It was a plan. Harry had been pestering me about it and I could finally tell him that YES, the party was going on on Tuesday.

I saw my one friend with her family at a local restaurant on Saturday night. I didn't think to ask about the Halloween party or I would have. We just made a little small talk before heading to our own table. I realized later that they were probably eating out for my friend's birthday which was in a day or so and I probably should have wished her a happy birthday. But... I kinda suck that way. I don't think on my feet too well and I missed an opportunity. I figured I would give her my birthday wishes at the Halloween party in a couple days. The weekend ended, however, with no phone call with party details. And then there was no call on Monday. Strange, I thought. But maybe they got busy and forgot. Surely I would hear something come Tuesday morning, right? Especially once they saw I didn't show up and realized that no one had told me when to show up. Right?

Yeah, not so much. I had to tell Harry that I didn't think the party was happening. The only thing I could think was that someone's kid was sick and the party had to be canceled. I thought it was strange that no one called me to tell me, but then I didn't get a call with details either. And I do realize that I could have called and asked what was up. But a) I am not good with making phone calls, avoid it like the plague and my friends know that and b) I didn't text either because I didn't want to "pester". It wasn't my party to hold and if there was something to tell me, I figured the hostess would let me know one way or another. Harry was DEVASTATED, of course, as only an 8 year old can be. I felt pretty bad but didn't know what else I could do. I think he held out hope that maybe the party was just postponed and would be held later on in the week. I told Kile later in the day about the lack of party and he too thought it was odd. Only, he doesn't have my hangups so he texted my one friend and asked her about it. And she texted him back that there HAD been a party that day. But that since I didn't show up, they assumed I wasn't feeling well. End of story.

When I heard this I felt a wide variety of emotions. I felt anger (no, make that FURY), disappointment, sadness, guilt, and hurt. Oh, the hurt. See, I had to tell Harry that there HAD been a party and we had missed it. And I had to watch him cry because he missed out on something he had been looking so forward to. And yes, I did wonder if I should have checked sooner. But that led to the anger and hurt. Why hadn't they called me?? My other friend had said that one of them would. And when they saw I didn't show up, why didn't they call me then? If they thought I wasn't feeling well, well, wasn't that worth a call to see what was up? Wasn't I worth at least that much from them?

The answer came to me plain as day and twice as ugly: Apparently, I wasn't. After all, friends who cared about me would have certainly called me at one point or another. They would have noticed and cared that I wasn't there. And they didn't. They didn't care about me and this apathy had led to my child's feelings being hurt. I didn't know what else to think. And I honestly think that's when I gave up. Kile pleaded with me to keep relations nice. Harry's birthday was coming up in a week and he was worried that any friction might interfere with the birthday plans. Kile also wanted to spend Thanksgiving with our friends who had earlier invited us to their house that day. We got an invitation from some of our family members who live down in Sacramento for Thanksgiving and we normally would have gone. They had a new house that we were interested in seeing and my parents would be there and it would be fun to see everyone. BUT, we had made these plans and Kile really wanted to follow through with them. I was a bit nervous about relations, considering the Halloween Snub, but ultimately agreed. I "let it go" yet again (though felt considerably more wary), and relations seemed to be okay. No one even mentioned the Halloween party, which I didn't even know what to think of that. But, whatever. Like I said, I think I was through caring.

And Thanksgiving went really well. We had a great time over at their house and they were the perfect hosts. The kids had fun, the adults had fun and I really felt like it was a little taste of what things used to be like. We had tentative plans to do dinner for Christmas too, since both of us don't have any family in town and were planning to stay in town for the holidays. And Kile had been talking for MONTHS about having them over for New Years Eve. See, Kile's idea of the perfect New Years Eve is to have friends over for a very fancy dinner, followed by games or movies until "the ball drops". He's wanted to do this for years, but we've never had really good friends we could do that with. This, he figured, was his chance to fix our friends a fantastic dinner, use the nice china and really do it up. He was already planning out the menu, even. Not my cup of tea, as I mentioned in my "Anti-social" post, but I was excited for him. And it would be nice to have New Years plans.

Shortly after Thanksgiving, Harry told us he wanted to take the bus to school instead of walking down. This is something we'd been talking about for a long time. Probably since he started school back in kindergarten. But with the new baby on the way, we'd been talking about it a lot more. It had pretty much been decided that he would start taking the bus when the baby came, because it would be way too much for me to lug the two kids down in the van twice a day when the bus basically drops him off and picks him up at the bottom of the street. Then, my mom would get after me on the phone whenever we would talk about it. She would urge me to get him on the bus this winter, so that I wouldn't have to worry about the snow and ice on the way down to school. Given my past history with ice, she was worried I would fall on the ice, wreck the van or SOMETHING. Even though I've done this in previous winters and previous pregnancies. But, whatever. Still, the deciding factor was Harry telling us that he wanted to take the bus. It was ultimately his decision. I want that to be clear as crystal. Neither Kile nor I in any way influenced this. Neither of us influenced either him wanting to walk down by himself just a week later (sob!). I let my friend know that he was taking the bus. This bus thing started up amid some pretty nasty weather and with her day care business, my friend wasn't able to walk down as much anyway and was having her son get rides to school fairly often. There was a time or two that she forgot to tell me that her son had a ride and it caused some confusion. This way, it would be one less thing for her to worry about. I wouldn't have to drive down in the mornings either, so it was a win-win situation.

At least I hope so. There has been a play date since then where us friends got together on a half day and the kids played and we had lunch and had a great time. No one seemed upset with me about the whole bus thing so I counted that as a bonus. However, there haven't been any play dates since, but it is the holidays and people do get busy. So I don't read too much into it.

Now, my one friend did let me know at this play date that her husband had decided they would go down to his mom's house on Christmas day and stay there for about a week. She told me this after I asked she would like us to bring over for Christmas dinner. Okay. So I guess that meant we were on our own. No biggie though, we've been on our own before. We would just buy our own dinner fixings and do it up ourselves (which we did and it was marvelous, btw). But later on, after I'd gone home, I thought about New Years Eve. It sounded as though they planned on being gone through New Years, though I hadn't gotten any confirmation on that. Still, I knew that New Years Eve was not going to happen. Kile was upset upon hearing this, but I think he held out hope. At least, he did until recently when he finally emailed my one friend's husband to ask about New Years Eve and was told that, yes, they would be out of town.

I figured as much, but Kile was pretty disappointed. And I felt disappointed for him, because I know he was looking forward to it. And I think he felt abandoned. Like his New Years plans were good enough until something better came along. So I suggested that instead of staying at home and doing our own New Years thing like we always end up doing, that we go to Elko that weekend and visit his family. So that's what we're doing. We're going on Sunday (that's the plan right now at least, we'll see what the weather does) and will come back on the 2nd. No use in sitting around here feeling sorry for ourselves. We're going to go out and have plans, darnit. One way or another.

So yeah. Feelings have been hurt. Theirs and ours. And I hope this (extremely long-winded) post gives you a look at something that has been bothering me lately. This is everything as I remember it, as I felt it and from my perspective. I don't know if any of these involved parties will even see this post. I don't really mind if they do or if they don't. I didn't write it for them, I wrote it for me. I needed to get this off my chest. Kile worries that if they do see this, that it will impact Harry's friendships. I'd like to think we're all adult enough for that not to happen. And I hope that they can understand my need to talk about my issues on my blog. They haven't understood it in the past, unfortunately, but I can't really say that that's my problem. No disrespect meant at all. I just need to be able to feel like I can speak my mind here, in this cozy forum of HBM. And maybe now some of you understand why I feel hesitant about friendships. Once bitten, twice shy and all of that.

No Pregnancy Glow

Posted by Anonymous

*Update below*

I really want to write about this on my own blog, but I can't. I normally post on my blog daily, but I have been so bummed I have not done anything with it since mid-December.

I found out on December 7th that I am pregnant with baby number three. THREE. A number I did not think was going to be in my vocabulary describing my family. I had sold the pack n' play on Ebay, gave away almost all baby clothing to friends and relatives, and was ready to donate or freecycle what I had left that people I know did not need. December was a month spent mostly in shock of my situation, (getting pregnant while not missing one single pill!) and when I wasn't thinking about it I was really, really nauseous. I never throw up, but just feel gross and have lots of heartburn. At the moment my salad and chicken I had for dinner is erupting into my esophagus. And I am so tired I fall asleep when I sit down to play with my kids on the sofa.

A small part of me is excited, but most of me is dreading being pregnant, and dealing with waking up every 2-3 hours to nurse this baby once he or she is here. I dread dealing with another episiotomy healing, having no sex life, bleeding for 6 weeks, and being fat. Maybe I will be more positive when I don't feel sick every day. I was not this sick with baby number one and two. I had major PPD after my second child, and I am already feeling depressed just thinking about how exhausting having 3 is going to be. I am one of those people that was never into babies. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids dearly, but I am not one to ask to hold someone else's baby. After I had my second child and he woke up EVERY HOUR at one point, to nurse because of his acid reflux, and would not sleep because he was in pain every time he was put on his back, I started to be repulsed by infants. I wouldn't even go near my infant nieces and nephews. I have really begun to enjoy not carrying a diaper bag with me everywhere, and like not needing a stroller if I go out with my kids. I love that my kids play together and I don't have to be on top of them, I love not needing diapers.

I am afraid mostly because I think back to when I had my newborn son and my 18 month old daughter way back when, and I ended up having suicidal thoughts. I was so exhausted I got mastitis twice in a month, with a fever over 104. I was at the lowest point in my life, beyond exhausted, dealing with a child that would not sleep because he was in pain, and having to take care of a toddler still in diapers. The only thing that helped was time and eventually going on Prozac. Sleep deprivation nearly killed me after I had my son.
I am just hoping this time is easier.

Thanks for listening.

UPDATE: Anonymous has just discovered that she is, in fact, carrying twins. So these will be babies THREE and FOUR. (Biggest hugs to you, Anonymous.)

His 'n' Her Bad Mother

Something else that we learned from the test results:

What To Expect When You Think You Maybe Want To Be Expecting

Posted by Assertagirl.

For someone who was determined to remain child-free, I sure do have a lot of baby on the brain. Someone offered up a copy of "What to Expect" on Freecycle, and I jumped at it. It's sitting here on my coffee table, beckoning, filled with facts and secrets I haven't been privy to because I'm not a mom. Yet.

I really didn't expect to feel like this but I have come through something in the last year, gone through some sort of metamorphosis. I'm not sure but I think my new-found longing to become a mom myself has something to do with having figured out some important aspects of my own relationship with my mother. Ever since I came to the realization that It's Okay to Put Me First, I've felt more like I want to have a baby. It's ironic, I know, because becoming a mother means that you basically never get to put yourself first again, so maybe it's more that it's okay to put My Family (those of us who live together under the same roof, day in and day out) first.

I've been reading mommyblogs for awhile, but they suddenly have new relevance, and hold a new fascination for me. I can learn from the mommyblogs. I can feel more prepared for the road ahead. I feel like these fantastic ladies and their endless stories, good and bad, are an amazing resource, and I know that no matter how tough it gets (and it will get tough), I will have company.

I wish that I could write more openly about these feelings on my personal site, but I'm not ready to expose these thoughts to my family members who might read it. I almost have enough to say about this that I could start a separate blog, but I don't want to go that route, because I am not two separate people. I'm still me. With options!

Five Minutes To Never

Posted by Anonymous.


The wineglass is at my side. I've had some already. Here is my deepest
darkest secret, the one that will make you hate me.

I am 48 years old and I have never had a boyfriend.

Not one. Not even close. Not like guys were asking and I said no.

No matter how bad your situations are, I hear you thanking God you're not me.

I've never been loved, never been in a relationship. In fact I can
think of precious few occasions that could even have been called
dates. I've had sex with six or seven people in the past 28 years,
depending on how you define sex. Most of these were one or two times.

The older I get, the more I keep thinking about never having had a
boyfriend, but then I look in the mirror and see the cellulite and
sagging and wrinkles, well, it is clear that if the window of
opportunity for getting a boyfriend hasn't closed, it will very soon.
I couldn't get one even when I was young and hot, and here I am now
five minutes to never. Which is why I can't stop thinking about it
now, but I have no idea what to do about it or if it is even possible
to do anything.

Why? is the question I have been asking myself my entire adult life.

You don't know me, so let me say I am not a total loser (total losers
have boyfriends) though my face is ugly. I am not fat and am tall,
blond, blue-eyed, and very fit. I do not smell and I don't have three
hands. In some ways I am like many other adults. I have supported
myself since age seventeen, graduated from college, bought a house,
invested, raised a child (from a one night stand) by myself, have
written books, do public speaking, dress well, drive a car, travel,
enjoy lots of sports and when you meet me you don't say "What the hell
is wrong with her?"

It's as if I am a radio that works perfectly well but can't tune in
one frequency that all other radios get. That frequency is sexual
relationships. Since about age 20, I have thought of myself as
asexual. That doesn't mean I don't want sex or physically can't have
it---I've had painfully passionate sexual attractions to men all this
time and still do
It means that I lack completely sexual attractiveness and competence.
This is so even though in my day I had an absolute killer body (and
have the photos to prove it) and the remnants of it are still visible.
It takes much more than a perfect body to have relationships---in
fact, I'm not sure the body is that important. Why have I never had a
boyfriend?

Here are my theories:

1) My face is quite unusual, if not ugly. It is decidedly
asymmetrical. The two sides don't match at all. My nose is large and
decidedly crooked but more, my entire face is crooked. Eyebrows aren't
level, mouth and chin are lopsided, etc. At 17 I had a failed
rhinoplasty which did give me a kind of placebo effect for a while. I
felt more attractive and become much more outgoing. I did meet a lot
of men back then. I tried my heart out to get a boyfriend at that time
of my life when I was in college and at my most attractive, and
failed. (In other words, if the problem wasn't my face, it should have
been solved then.)

There is a lot of scientific research about facial symmetry and how
humans are hardwired to look for it in sex partners and mates (without
even being aware of it). It may be that the marked facial asymmetry
simply repels people, sending the unconscious message that I am not in
the category of a possible sex or relationship partner.

I am considering plastic surgery which, this late in life, would have
to include a face lift. At best it could straighten my nose but there
is no way to make my whole face symmetrical. If I don't have the
surgery, how will I ever know if my fact is the insurmountable
obstacle to ever having a boyfriend? Wouldn't it be tragic to never
have a boyfriend if only about $6000 of surgery could get me one?

2) It is possible I have the equivalent of Aspergers (high level
autism). I never learned the social skills most other adults learn in
high school, since I pretty much spent those years hiding in the
bathroom and never talking to anyone. I find that for the most part,
people just don't like me, and in order to have any kind of human
relationships at all I have to work very hard, and still have little
to show for it. The fact that I have never ever had a job where I
worked with people, and so don't meet anyone, doesn't help. Mostly
when I try to make friends they don't last very long. The effort I put
it is not enough and the other person is not willing to make the
effort to sustain the relationship. After all, it's hard when you
don't have any opportunity to interact with people spontaneously and
must make appointments to do so. The problem may be less that I can't
get a boyfriend than that I lack the social skills and/or strength of
personality to get any friends at all. (I don't have much in the way
of personality, I admit. I have many good qualities, but they're all
under the surface and it takes a long, long time for people to see
them, and furthermore they're the kind that make people admire you,
not like you. But hell, don't other women with no personalities get
boyfriends?)

In case this is the main problem, I have contacted an Asperger's
therapist and will look into seeing if it is possible to learn basic
social skills at age 48. It's less that I believe in Asperger's or
think I "have" it than a practical strategy: where else will you find
someone to teach you social skills? If this worked, I wouldn't need
plastic surgery. But what if I need both?

3) I have asked people who know me well (both back in my 20s and
today) if they can explain why I can't get a boyfriend. The most
common answer, by far, is that I send out "vibes" which keep men (and
lesbians) away. No one has been able to give me specifics. I don't
know what I can do about possible "vibes" I am not aware of sending!
Other answers: I am cold; I am "unhuggable." I was actually shocked
when I was told this. Is it possible to be so unaware of something
about yourself that is obvious to the rest of the world? And if
you're so unaware, how can you change it? And even if you are aware,
if you don't know the reason you give that impression, how can you
change it?

4) There may be no reason at all. I never had a boyfriend because it
just didn't happen. Is that possible?

I am so confused. Maybe I have been misled by Hollywood screenwriters
and there are plenty of other perfectly normal 48-year-old women who
have never had a boyfriend and never will. I have been made to feel
like a freak, like I am the only person in the world in this
situation; but is this true? How can I find out? If there are others
like me, how would I find them? Is there somewhere I can look this up?

Is it not having a relationship that is so troubling, or feeling like
a freak? But how can I know when I have never had a relationship and
don't even know what it's like?

Do I really want a boyfriend because I want one, or because I have
been made to feel that a relationship is the central, defining,
critically important experience for any human being to have, and that
without one you are not fully human? Come on, you cannot breathe in
this culture, cannot turn on your TV or go to the movies or read
anything without feeling the constant pressure to be sexual. And from
Disney movies onward, the message is drummed home: Love is the most
important thing in life.

I would hate to go to my grave without ever experiencing the most
important part of life. If it is indeed the most important, I should
do everything in my power to get it before it's too late, no matter
what the cost. At least that's what Sleepless in Seattle and every
Hollywood movie ever made tells me. How can I separate out what I
really want and what the culture relentlessly pressures me to want?
How can I want something I've never had?

At the very least, I am so-o-o-o-o-o-o curious about what it is like
to be in a relationship.
And I want to have sex again before I die. I can't tell you how much I
want that. I think about sex constantly. I've gone as long as 13 years
without it. It sure doesn't seem bloody likely it will happen again at
my age with my cellulite (formerly great) ass.

What should I do? Is it possible to learn how to get a boyfriend at
48, or should I just give up and accept that I am not a sexual person?
(There would be some relief, and integrity, in that.) How can I know
why I never had a boyfriend? Am I just plain too old to be even
thinking about men anyway? How can I stop? The only way I can think of
that I could ever be at peace would be if someone came up to me and
said I was not alone, that X% of women never have even one boyfriend
in their entire lives and that it is OK and normal. Even if it was
only, say, 10% of all women, I would not feel like the onliest,
loneliest one. But there is no such person who can tell me that!

Wal-Mart: A Rant

Posted by HopeRadio.

I went to Walmart tonight.

I hate Walmart.

I hate the lights.

I hate the oblviousness you see in the eyes of people as they shop.

I assume they are thinking the same thing.

I assume, given they are not looking out of watchful eyes-- only glazed over ones, they have succumbed to hating Walmart a long time ago and have given up so...why fight it?

I try to go in to this store at a good clip. As if by bringing up a full head of steam, my chances of not coming out of there a pod will be greatly increased.

I steel myself in the parking lot, grab a cart and bless myself. Well sometimes I bless myself. Other times I scan the parking lot for the cars of people I least want to run into...this step varies and is dependent on my level of sleep deprivation, prolactin and other hormonal fluctuations brought on from hitting 40 soon. No matter the digression, I contend Walmart is the most likely place to run into people you least want to run into. It's some sort of universal truth.

Another universal truth about Walmart is that at Walmart I always see the same things.

Women screaming at their children with bulging eyes. Demanding that they "get over here right now!" Said children walking over and from their expression simultaneously wondering why they are being called stupid for not getting over THERE fast enough. Who walks up to a bulging eyed, madwoman for the imminent smack, willingly? That would be...like--stupid, but not nearly as stupid as the same maniac showing the love in front of 15 or 20 people assuming the whole time their invisible button is switched to ON.

I pass children in baby carriers screaming for their mothers, who with one hand mindlessly pat their foot, telling them "oh, you're alright" while with the other debate between the three pak of Irish Spring

or the six.

I wait behind people from church who stop in the middle of the aisle to talk about their Dillon or Courtney and why they are never going to leave the house or get out of jail or take care of their children as well as they do.

I pass racks of girls children's clothes which suggest that the age for general prostitiution has been lowered--a decision reached by some mysterious, unposted consensus and collectively forwarded to Walmart buyers.

When in Walmart I don't look up.

Ever.

I am absolutely certain should I ever actually risk it, I will see the no hack dementors they have hired at a bargain outta Azkhaban to swoop around and suck the life out of people when they least expect it. I would bet the only problem HR had was getting them to wear the blue vests.

You can sell ANYTHING to the soulless.

Inevitably, no matter what pace I start the shop, it is a very short time in before the very air in that place starts soaking into my skin, wieghing me down.

Then there is checkout.

Just in case the dementors don't get you, Wallyworld architects leave the checkout lane all buffed up super duper and ready to recieve anyone on the brink of stuffing a feeling with candy or in sore need of escape from whatever bit reality they have managed to hang onto,"Holy crap is Brittney looking fat or what???Damn... I can't believe she actually lost her kids!!" As a matter of fact not only can it be a nice escape for some, but that kinda shit does much for self esteem.

I call checkout time my lala time only I don't stick my fingers in my ears. I also don't look at the flat screen tvs which discuss the merits of Slim Fast or at the big boxes of honey buns conveniently flat packaged so they can be slammed under a seat or bed to be binge eaten at a later time.

I concentrate instead on the people around me.

I make up stories in my head about who they are, I organize my crap on the belt and ready a check-- anything to convey how ready I am to get the hell outta there. I do whatever I have to do to avoid looking up and to keep from soaking up too much Wallyworld lest the dementors take a liking to me.

Pretty/Unpretty

Posted by Anonymous.


For a flirty girl, I never felt very pretty. I was one of those girls that was just sort of there, friendly to everyone; never a threat to the other girls, because the boys never really considered me as dating potential. I wasn't ugly, but being good looking was an afterthought (as in "Oh, she's such a sweetie, and she's really funny. Is she pretty? Yeah, I guess she is. I hadn't really thought about it")

I met my husband when I was 20, and was just coming off of a really bad time in my life. We've been together through job searches/changes/losses, through health scares (mental and physical). We've had over ten years of marriage, three children, the buying and selling of two houses. He still makes my heart jump when I see him in a tuxedo, and he likes the way I look in my low rise jeans since I made a decision that I needed to start exercising more.

But there's this guy at work. I thought the initial attention was what I had seen so much of in high school and college- more of the joking flirting that happens when both parties don't actually expect anything to develop for real. But after a few drinks together at a conference, he told me that he was willing to take things wherever I wanted them to go. Whether I wanted to leave it at a few cocktails when we were two time zones away from the office, or whether I wanted to take it to another level. And, then at least, I was too taken aback to even consider the options.

And more than a year has passed. We've had happy hours where we've barely spoken two words because there were so many people nearby. We've had highly charged chats where the only thing holding us back from making contact was the fear of someone walking into the cubicle. A few weeks ago, we ended up at a co-worker's party, each of us alone (his wife and my husband both declined to attend due to work commitments, but encouraged each of us to go on our own and have fun.) We left the party as part of a small group, but lingered together for awhile before parting company, and we went out for drinks last week, just us, to a bar near the office, but in the opposite direction from the regular haunts. He's put the offer on the table, if I want it, that we can go away overnight and he will take care of the details under whatever cover story I want to use. But I'm not there.

The reason I need to get this out, the things I can't say on my own blog, have nothing to do with needing advice about what to do. Because, seriously, I know how much I have to lose and what I can't do. What I need to pour out is my frustration, my anger, and my disappointment that no matter what happens now, things have changed. It was flattering to have someone find me attractive just because. Not attractive, despite having given birth three times. Not attractive with the strings of having taken care of him when he's sick and supported him in his career. Just attractive. Period. For a couple years, there have been people who hinted at us having chemistry between us. But because there is that chemistry, we have to avoid each other. The interactions I have with other people in the office, the jokes and the smiles and such, can be perceived differently now. So, whether I do something that could damage my marriage or whether I don't, I've lost a friendship because of what it might look like.

And that is a bigger blow to my self-esteem that being the "not pretty" girl ever was.

Mother, Love.

Posted by Anonymous.


How long do you allow yourself to stay angry at a family member before either taking it on or letting it go?

Should you let it go?

I've been angry with my mom for a very long time. For dozens of things, big and little. Nothing really damaging, nothing that's really a relationship-breaker, but a whole lot of frustrating stuff, spread over the years, that's been weighing on my heart. Some stuff that's stupid, some stuff that's not so stupid, but all of it selfish - all of it having to do with ME wanting my MOM, wanting her to be more overtly caring, more solicitous, more eager to be a mom, and not just a friend. Wanting her to want to do those things - to come visit, to see her grandchild more often, to spend more time, to spend more attention. To be the mom that I want to be to my children when they're grown, and they need me, like I need my mom, sometimes, now.

She and I have spoken about these things. She thinks that I'm being silly. She does love me, she says. She'd do anything for me, she says. But she wouldn't, I know that she wouldn't, I know that she wouldn't even do anything that put her out too much, unless it was really dire straights, and that hurts.

Am I silly? Should I just let it go, and just love the mom I have, and stop wishing for the mom that I lost long ago?

No Love, No Reason

Posted by Anonymous.


I've been married for eight years. We have two beautiful children and a comfortable life. He is not a bad person. He doesn't drink, smoke, gamble, hit me, cheat, spend hours in bars or looking at internet porn. He's a good guy, he can make me laugh, and he loves me. The problem is that I just don't love him anymore, and honestly, am not sure if I ever really did.

We got married young, not an excuse, just a fact, and I'm not sure if the circumstances had been different if I would have ended up married to him. I was young, had made a mistake, and was trying to prove to everyone, and myself that I had done the right thing. It was also an issue of security. I felt like I had no where else to go, and did not want to be alone.

After our oldest was born he became very resentul of the time and attention that she took away from me. I feel like that for the past several years he really has not been there for me. He worked alot, and I spent many nights alone with the baby, and she was not an easy baby. I had thought he would be such a great dad. He wanted kids, I wasn't so sure, so I expected alot from him and when he didn't deliver, I think it really hurt me. He also said some very hurtful things to me in those years. I really thought about leaving him when she was a baby, but I wanted another baby so two years later our son was born and it was pretty much the same story. I was the sole parent, anything I asked him to do was a chore and I felt bad for it. He never got up in the night, never did baths or feedings, he spent a lot of time away at work or in front of the TV.

We've talked about all this, been to counseling over it and the way I feel about it, but it's pretty much just my problem. He understands that I feel that way, but he doesn't agree with it, and I just have to get over it. To his credit, he has made an honest effort to improve over the past year, but he still isn't the husband
and father I thought I was getting. I have to give him credit for trying though.

Now, ten years and two kids later, I don't know what to do. I've been to counseling, we've been to counseling together. I have told him how I feel, but he just does not accept it. He says that he can make me love him, he thinks that because we don't fight everything is fine. When I have talked about leaving he called be a selfish ***** and reminded me of everyone I would hurt by leaving, our families, the kids, him. So now when he asks what's wrong I just lie and say nothing, because he doesn't want to hear the truth anyway.

I wish I had a reason to leave. Everyone thinks he is great and I'm so lucky, so they wouldn't understand. If he would mess up just once, I could leave, I could justify a divorce, but the way things are now, I can't. Life isn't horrible, it isn't good, it just is. I have my kids and my home, but I don't have a partner, a companion. I dream about a place of my own, just me and the kids, where I could do what I wanted, decorate how I wanted, cook how I wanted.

Why can't I leave? Why can't I bring myself to stand up to him and just tell him that I can't do this anymore? Why am I so worried about doing the wrong thing and what everyone else would think? Also, I hate to disrupt my kids' world. They are young, 5 & 3, and I hate to tear their lives apart on a whim. I don't want to waste my life unhappy when I could have a shot at being happy by myself or with someone else.

Other than more counseling, any advice? Has anyone been in the same situation and what have you done? Am I just being selfish, idealistic? Are all marriages like this after awhile?

Is It Wrong...?

Posted by Anonymous.

Is it wrong that I have, on very bad days, on sick days, on tired days, TRIED to get my child hooked on television?

Is it wrong that I have, on a very few occasions, let her eat onion rings dipped in ketchup?

Is it wrong that I sometimes let a wet diaper diaper go a bit longer than it should before changing?

Is it wrong that I just don't feel like going to the park some days? MOST days?

Is it wrong that I am sometimes a really, really lazy mom?

Am I a bad mom?

Dear Mom

Posted by Charlene.

Dear Mom,

Has it been three years since you left us so quickly? How is not possible they never saw you had an AVM but knew of everything else that was wrong with you? It does not seem possible but then I realize I’m still harboring feelings of guilt, sadness and anger regarding your death. I wish I could get past these feelings but I can’t. I guess this is the way to handle it and work through these feelings and then maybe let the flame go to a flicker.

Let me tell you about the guilt side of things first and then we will work through the rest of complaints. I have guilt I was not there when you started feeling bad and I could not fight with you to go to the hospital. This was our way of dealing with your health issues. A mother and daughter showing who had the stronger will on what was needed at the time. Dad and I usually won the battle for you getting well but not without a fight from you. I wonder if I could have saved your life. I have guilt of having to tell your baby that mom collapsed and they are taking her to the trauma center over the phone. I wish I could have told her face to face but as the primary caregiver to many things were happening to have those few moments. I wish I had to time to call your parents to let them know what was happening but I chickened out and left it to your brothers. I harbor the guilt that your son did not get to see you before they took you to surgery. The anguish on his face sticks with me today.

The sadness is you not getting to know your grandson. You had five precious months with him but it was not enough for me or him. Also, you have not seen your granddaughter turn into such a lovely girl. You probably have been looking down and laughing at the antics that your grandchildren do but you are not here to witness the joy they provided us. I’m sad that I can not call and confer with you when I’m having parenting issues. Dad does ok but you were the one that could talk sense into me. You were the queen of how to handle children without being too stressed out. I wonder how you did it because there are days I struggle.

The angry side is going to be short but vicious. Your family is/was obnoxious through the process of losing you. They never extended themselves when we were in the depths of our despair. I could have used help but they did not make them available. I finally figured it out that is the way they work. Also, it is wrong of you to hide your baby’s drug problem. It came to light after you passed and know has created much tension for all of us. I want to call you and say how dare you but you would defend her as mothers do.

I guess I should stop rattling on and let you know I still love you. That these feelings will dissipate one day but they still burn on with me. Hopefully, the burning slows to a flicker not a flame. Also, I’m not sorry about telling your oldest brother to put the phone away or I was going to put it where the sun does not shine. He deserved it when he crossed the line of calling everyone that was not family. I get told I’m like you more often than not. I take this as a compliment because you taught me right from wrong and how to defend my actions. I hope you are enjoying having your mom with you because I know she has missed you the past three years. Tell her we love her. I will see you one day.

Love, your Daughter

Charlene

Mother Trouble

Posted by Anonymous*

I tried to ask for financial help from my mom... I'm currently earning $10 per day (that is due to demographical reasons, I'm not in U.S. and she is) I asked her for like $200 atleast.. I know it is much. she's earning more than $20 per hour... and that is not my point. That is her money. I just don't want her to say that THE ONLY WAY SHE COULD HELP ME IS WHEN SHE DIES AND I GOT TO HAVE HER INSURANCE BENEFIT. It hurts so bad, God knows that I am not looking forward to it.. and I just needed a little help. She could have just said NO or just ignored me... I couldn't wait the day I could give her money, and can afford a vacation for her at my expense and show her that if ever I would be successful, I wouldn't be like her... how I wished I could afford an insurance and make her my sole beneficiary and that I would be the first to die so she can benefit from my insurance. I wanted to say to her that she could erase my name from her insurance, even if I am her only child, but it would hurt her.. but why does she keep on hurting me while I am asking for help? I have never been a burden to her.... it hurts so bad... I wanted to die.

*originally posted as comment to Her Bad Anger.

Working Hard For No Money

Posted by VioletMama.


We are the working poor. Trying SO hard to get ahead, or even caught up, but can't. This is what we have doomed ourselves to. I don't want it to be this way. I hate being broke. Every week, we go through the same thing. Do I pay the credit card, or buy food? Do I pay medical
bills, or pay rent? Do I pay utilities, or buy my meds? It shouldn't be like this.

We used to be doing ok. After our 2nd child, we had a bit of a problem, but got caught up, and pretty much stopped creditor calls. Then, we moved. and got pregnant. High-risk pregnancy = bills not covered by insurance. Then MAJOR emergency dental work. Now we are back to square one, or even negative. Creditors calling, threatening letters, no money.

I just want what is best for my kids. We've given up a lot. My 2 little guys no longer go to daycare, as we can't afford it, the only reason we have phone, internet & cable is that it is offered for FREE as part of my husbands benefits package. I work when my husband is at home, so that we don't have to pay babysitters. I shop on sale with coupons, and buy clothes either on clearance or at thrift stores. And it's still not enough.

Bankruptcy is not an option. The sad thing is that our debt (besides our car payment) is less than 12,000 and we still have no way of paying it. Our families can't help, we make too much money to quailfy for public aid. I'm scared. I hate feeling worthless, and stressed all the time. I hate telling my kids no. I hate never having anything for myself. I hate never seeing my husband. I hate having no one to talk to about this. I just don't see a way out, and it's killing me.

Finding Friends

Posted by Kendra of Heart Wide Open.


Throughout my life, I have always had 1 or 2 very good friends. The type of friends you can sit and be silent with or laugh until you cry. Since graduating from college 3 1/2 years ago, my friends have scattered all over the country and a few outside the country as well. We see each other a few times a year. We email daily and we talk on the phone. I miss them. But they are in grad school or just starting out in their jobs. They party every weekend and don't understand that I don't do those things anymore.

I got married 2 weeks after graduating college and I love my husband very much. He has been my best friend for 6 1/2 years. His friendship was enough for me for a long time after college. We have an almost 1 year old daughter. I love the life I have, but something is missing. We moved 2 years ago to a small town in the midwest. It's the type of town where pretty much everyone has been there since they were kids. They grew up there and somehow I don't quite fit in, which is weird to me since I grew up in an equally small town an hour away. I never realized how easy it was to be accepted because you had lived there your whole life. I joined a volleyball league and a bunco group, but I have no close friends like I did all my life up to this point. I don't know why, but lately it seems to be all I can focus on, the not having close friends, especially the last few days. I've talked to my husband about how I feel, but he doesn't know how to help me. I tend to be shy at first when I meet people, which I've worked very hard to over come, but still it is there.

I seem to be at a loss on how to cultivate a good friendship, someone I can talk to about anything and have their understanding. My husband is my best friend, but he is a guy and doesn't always understand the things like a girl friend would. I work 40 hours a week, so I don't get to attend group things with my daughter where I might meet other moms my age. The two women I occasionally do things with have formed their own friendship and do things together every day while I am at work. They know each other inside and out and when I am with them I feel like an outsider. I don't blame them for that, I am just as bad about not inviting them to do things.

How do you find friends? Why can't I be happy with the wonderful life I have? I love my husband and my daughter and I wouldn't trade my life for anything (well except being rich enough that I didn't have to work). Why is this lack of friends so important that it is all I can focus on? Writing has been my outlet and I didn't feel I could post this on my blog. Since I started my blog when I was pregnant, it didn't seem like the right place to air these feelings, even though my blog has become as much about me as my daughter. I'm hoping that just writing this down will help me focus on the positives in my life, like my family. I'm not really looking for answers to these questions, but wanted someone to know how I felt and maybe hear that someone else has the same problems.

Don't Know How To Help

Posted by Selzach.

My mom is bipolar. She suffered post-partum psychosis after my birth and tried to kill herself. She was hospitalized for a year and eventually got well when the doctors realized she was bipolar, not just depressed, and got her onto the right meds. She was an great single mom and was mostly stable for over 20 years.

About 9 years ago she suffered neurological damage, we think from her meds. Her then-psychiatrist wasn’t monitoring her as frequently as he should have. It was awful – at one point she didn’t know who I was and couldn’t do simple tasks like dial a phone or balance her checkbook. Eventually another doctor figured out what was going on and put Mom through a series of neurological tests and got the meds straightened out. Mom improved, but was never the same. She went on disability because she can’t cope with stress and can’t really learn new skills. She now averages 3-4 visits to the psych unit a year. Her personality has changed as well. She used to be fun and kind. Now she’s judgmental, rude, and has a warped sense of entitlement. I don’t like what she’s become. If she was a friend or acquaintance, I would have written her out of my life years ago.

She’s pushed my husband to the point where he wants nothing to do with her. We do what we can to help her and we get complaints and a nasty attitude in return. I don’t feel like I can talk to him about it, because he’s (rightfully) angry at her. My dad understands what I’m going through, but has little sympathy for my mom after all he went through with her…it’s hard to
hear one parent be brutally honest about the other. Most of my friends have no idea what it’s like and have little comfort to offer. A few others ignore the subject when I bring it up – I guess the stigma of mental illness is too much for them.

This weekend my husband and I had her involuntarily committed. We went out for a few hours and she took an overdose of some meds. It’s not clear if she was only trying to go to sleep or was hoping to die. I sat and held her hand while my husband called the sheriff’s office. I don’t know what will happen when she’s released from the crisis unit. She can’t live alone, and staying with us isn’t enough anymore. I’m so scared for her, and I’m near my breaking point.

I don’t know how to help her or if I can help.

Better Time

Posted by Anonymous.

I’m a mess. I don’t want to be a mess. I want to be strong and healthy.

Vibrant and worth knowing. I don’t want to cry at the drop of a hat or the shadow of a drop of a hat. I don’t want to be a drain on everyone I know.

I took beans off of my husband’s plate the first night I met him. I didn’t ask, I just took them. Where is that confidence? I hardly knew anything back then, just having my brain reset and all, but what I did know, I really, really knew. And now? None of that matters. And I don’t know anything. Maybe less.

I’m tired of being tired and sick of being sick. I’m willing something new to come along and make me forget how deep I hurt. And I fear there is nothing coming, ever, that can change the way I feel.

And long after everyone else is tired of hearing it and wishes I would just shut up already, I’ll be feeling it and thinking it and wishing I were dead but too afraid to do it because of how that would make my kids feel. (Is there a way to make it look like an accident?) It scares me
how much I mean those words. But I don’t think I’m allowed to say them out loud. So they stay in here, in my head, bouncing around and echoing off the walls.

And instead I’ll just drink a little too much and cry a little too often and plan on the inevitability of feeling sad the rest of my life.

It sounds so dramatic when I read over those last paragraphs. Like an emo teen, full of righteous indignation against the Man, even though she doesn’t know who the Man is.

You know when you start thinking of a million reasons why the people left in your life would be better off without you, it’s probably not a good time to make any major decisions. Like, death. But, when is a better time? I mean, I wouldn’t seek it out, but I wouldn’t say no, either. Know what I mean?

Wishing For An Intervention

Posted by Anonymous.


I just got off the phone with my dad. Again. And we spent another hour talking about my sister. Again. I can't take it much longer. I know that this is my role--that as the responsible one that has always had a special communication bond with him it is my duty as a daughter to let him get this off of his chest before his hypertensive heart just gives out from the stress. And as the big sister, it is my role to make peace between them and to field the frustrations, interpret the angry accusations and bridge the gap that neither one seems to be able to deal with. Alone they stand with that gap between them, hurling angry words and misunderstandings. And then I enter and I try to shield them from each other and unlock the truths. Calming them down, pulling the bits of love and advice and concern out of the shouting and handing them over to each, like peeling away the sharp spines of a cactus to find the delicious nutritious fruit inside.

But I'm getting sick of it, because this time my sister is just plain wrong. And we can't seem to get through to her and so I find myself lobbing the same angry question at her: "How can you stay with him?" It's a loaded, painful accusation to her. Pointing out his faults. Her naiveté. Her stubbornness. Her mistake in being with him in the first place. That her obvious answers, which we are clearly aware of, are not enough. That the whole story is clearly one of miserable choices, lies, and mistakes.

But the whole story is just so sickening we don't bring it up in entirety too often. And we don't bring it up in polite company. And so I'm here to vent.

Two years ago my sister had a good job as a manager at a small bank. She worked part time at a local convenience store to pass the time, and stuck the money away. She was dating a nice guy who had proposed but she had stalled because she was wanted to wait. She had a nice car, fully paid for thanks in part to a generous gift from my parents. She had her first house which my parents helped her make the downpayment on a few years earlier. I don't begrudge her these things. My parents helped me buy my first car and gave us money to help furnish our first home. They aren't wealthy by any means--working hard labor hourly jobs in a tired rust-belt town years after their bodies should have been given a break--but they're responsible about money and loving parents and so they give more than they probably should despite our protests. All six of their children. And we all appreciate them deeply, except this sister. She has always felt slighted. Victimized. Defensive.

And yet my parents helped her out and helped her get settled. Dad worked 14 hour days and then drove to her house to replace old pipes, replace an old window, and remodel her laundry room without charge before going home to do farmwork. She would come home from the bank, change clothes, and watch TV for 45 minutes. Never offering him a drink or a sandwich. Never thanking him for the thousands of dollars worth of work he was doing for free and paying for himself. Never bothering to ask how he was doing. Just sat and watched TV and then left to go to her second job. She'd complain to me that he was over too much, was doing things without asking her, and was intrusive. He was angry that she was so ungrateful and didn't take care of her house. I intercepted, interpreted, and bridged the gap.

Then that fall a guy moved in. We grew up strictly Catholic and premarital anything was unspeakable. And yet he moved in "as a friend" with "no where else to go" just "for a few weeks". She had a crush on him; he was married. With kids. And a criminal record. And his wife was divorcing him for his criminal behavior. She called my sister to warn her, but he told her the ex was just jealous. The same story covered the ex-girlfriend with another child by him who called with the same warnings. She was just jealous because she wanted him back so they could be a family. But he was tall, blond, tan, charming, a singer, a little wild, and played the victim card. Everyone was holding him down. He was a victim. He just needed a fair shot at life. He understood her as no one else would and she had found a "soul mate". She was completely suckered in.

Within 6 months he had drained her bank accounts. Four months later he had convinced her to refinance her house twice for almost $45,000 and it all disappeared. Then he had her use her car title to get more money. Then a few pay day advance places. Within a year they were in so deep they had no where else to go and nothing to show for it. He was gambling it all away, but we wouldn't know that--wouldn't know any of this--for another month. In January she found out she was pregnant. It was, of course, his. That next week--knowing full well she was pregnant with his child--he had her write checks for thousands of dollars and he cashed them at an unsuspecting bank. A criminal act. The police got involved, and finally, so did my parents.

It all came out in ugly waves. Everytime we thought we knew what we were dealing with another wave deposited more of their mess. And my parents stepped up to clear her name of bank fraud for the thousands of dollars of checks. Tens of thousands for the payday advances and car loans. The house was not salvageable. They owed entirely too much and the bank would be taking it eventually along with the thousands my parents had invested as help with her downpayment. My parents bailed her out as much as they could, more than they should have, but they couldn't protect her completely. The bank she worked for fired her for the bank fraud. Unemployed. Bankrupt. Pregnant with the child of her criminal boyfriend. Soon to be homeless.

The bank moved slowly on the foreclosure so they sat in the house for months, as utilities were turned off around them. Garbage bags piled up in the garage to the point that it was overflowing. They stopped mowing the lawn. His car broke down and so he took hers when he went out, which he did often. They found temp jobs and she opened a new bank account and put his name on it. We all protested and she said it was just easier that way and that we were unfair to judge him. He lost his job within the month. She continued to work 10 hour days with a 1 hour commute each way, catching rides with a coworker so he could take her car and go gamble the money away as fast as she earned it. Faster than she earned it. Bounced checks for $800 each piled up. He left for days on end with her car and her cell phone, leaving her in their unowned house with no car, no phone, and 8 months pregnant; working 50 hours a week in a temp job for money she never saw. Dad came over one afternoon to clear out the truckload of garbage from the garage, unthanked, and hauled it to the dump where he paid $50 to get rid of her garbage. If only it were that easy.

In July the guy came home with a pile of cash and warned her that it was best if she didn't know where he got it and then he left in her car with her cell phone "for the night". He came home four days later, all the money was gone and another thousand had been pulled from the bank. The police showed up a few days later with a check written on her old account from the bank she had been fired from. He had found an old bank book, written it for thousands, and forged her signature. An act, we then learned, he has previously served time for. She swore she had no idea and he swore she was innocent. He was going to "be a man" and "take the fall" which sounds a bit overly heroic for a guy just admitting his own rotten guilt.

And you would think, after all of this, that she would have had enough. That she would kick him out or move out. And we've offered. We have a spare bedroom and private bath with a small sitting room, perfect for mother and child and she can live here for free if she leaves him. My parents offered to remodel their upstairs to put in a bath and small kitchen and she could live there for free if she leaves him. A friend offered to take her in if she left him. And yet she sits in that house with him, hands him her car keys, and says we just don't understand love.

She's overdue with his son who she plans to name after him. The bank is finally kicking her out this week and her baby was due last week. He has criminal proceedings being brought against him this week. My parents continue to offer to let her live with them and she says she'd rather live on the streets. She refuses to talk about it. In an hour long chat yesterday she talked 20 minutes about finding a changing pad for a diaper table, 10 minutes about how nice his parents were to buy her a 79 cent ice cream cone (they just get her, don't you know, and obviously care more than her horrible parents ever have), 25 minutes about labor and delivery and this upcoming baby, and 5 quiet tearful minutes about what might happen this week. Most of those were silence on her end as I tried to bridge the gap.

And tonight dad called me and agonized over his daughter. And I tried to intercept and interpret, but I just don't get it either. I don't know this woman anymore and it breaks my heart.



PostScript: since this post was sent to the Basement, Anonymous has sent the following update -



"She (my sister) was induced and he has pled not-guilty to his charges of 2 felonies so that he can continue to hang out as a free man for a few weeks while the justice system sets up court dates. The jails are full, so he's still lounging around her house when he's not out gambling away the welfare check. This is what my sister's life has come down to. It just kills me! We're from a good family, with hard working parents. We were given the chance to go to college if we helped pay for it--in fact, I'm a professor now and my brother is a computer engineer at an aerospace center! Another sister started college yesterday, my older brother is a farmer with a nice house and 2 kids and a very cool wife, and my baby brother is taking classes part time while he works 2 full time jobs. And this sister was working toward building up money to be able to save up enough to work part time and take paralegal classes. We were given every chance to do right in life and she was doing great up until this worthless waste of a man showed up."

Needing Strength; Needing Mom

Posted by Anonymous.


I don't even know how to write this.

I took my mom to the ER this morning to get checked out -she'd been having stomach aches. I expected the call to tell me she had kidney stones or appendicitis. I should say that my mom (in addition to being my best friend) is also the caregiver for my 2-year old daughter during the week. As my father (her ex) watched my daughter for me while I readied for a conference call at 3:00, the phone rang and it was my mom from the ER. "I have pancreatic cancer."

I can still hear those words echoing in my head. That was approximately 10 hours ago. She was finally admitted into a room around 10:00pm and we still have no more information except that it does not look operable. I notified family and close friends and thought that I would really like to tell my "friends" from the blogosphere, but I don't have a blog so here I am. I know that tragedies happen all the time, all around us. I know that I need to be strong for my mom and my daughter, but right now - at 1:15 am, all I can do is cry onto my keyboard and fight the panic that threatens to send me running out into the dark street. All I wanted to do was to shake an ER nurse or doctor and yell "THIS IS MY MOTHER, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HELP US" because I truly don't know how I will move past this, how will I enjoy a Saturday morning at the farmer's market without my friend/my mother? Who will stop to get me a special coffee on Monday morning just because it's Monday? Who will be there for me when I take the leap to have a second baby??

I know this happens all the time, people get sick, people die, but right now, my heart is breaking into tiny pieces and I. can. not. stop. crying. If these are the times when you're supposed to find your inner strength, please let me find mine. Mom, I love you.

Follow Up: Hope and Fear

Posted by Anonymous. Follow up to 'Hope and Fear' (originally posted Nov. 23, 2006).

Back in November, I contributed my story on having a miscarriage and subsequent surgery to remove an ovarian tumor. At the time, I wondered if that pregnancy was my only chance at having a family.

I just wanted to say... I'm pregnant! Almost three months now. The Basement's readers' comments helped me a lot - they were supportive and kind. Many people told me to have hope, that it would happen for me, and I fiercely held onto that.

As you can imagine, I'm very excited and wanted to again say thanks to you and your readers.


Ed. note: Thank YOU, Hopeful Anonymous, for sharing your wonderful news with us!!!

(And, to any other former posters out there, if you'd like to share updates to your stories, we'd LOVE to hear them.)

(Hint, hint.)

Imperfect

Posted by Anonymous.

I'm not perfect by any means. I've been a piece of shit since I was born, my parents told me so... I hate being a piece of shit and no matter how hard I try I'm just not good enough. I grew up poor, beaten, verbally abuse by a drug addict father and absent mother. When I graduated high school I looked at my college forms my mother filled out, they made $17,000/yr in 1999. I went to an all black poverty ridden school (I am white) but graduated with honors and paid to start college but quit after 1 1/2 years b/c I couldn't afford to pay for college and it was too hard working 20 hours a week going to school full time. I had no help or support. I moved out of my house at 17 and never returned. My husband and I bought our first house when I was 20 years old and I worked (as an ophthalmic technician) until I had my first son.

I am 26 years old, 123 lbs, 5' 2", stay at home mother of two boys (3 yr old and 1 yr old) and married to a wonderful man. I live a middle class lifestyle in a modest home and should be thrilled but I'm not. I'm not thin enough, I'm not a good enough mother, I'm not a good enough wife or even a decent woman to know. Here's why...

I'm definitely not thin enough! Someone my height should be somewhere around 110lbs. For the last 5 years I've been 150 lbs not pregnant and right before I delivered my last baby I was 194lbs. So in the last year I lost 70 POUNDS but it's not good enough. I should've done better. I'm a compulsive eater and I hate it. I've struggled with it for years and I still do. How did I loose all that weight being a compulsive eater you may wonder? I started compulsively eating healthier things but it doesn't change the fact that I eat when I'm sad, happy, frustrated, angry or any other reason besides hungry. I also breastfed and that helps a lot too. Which brings me to my next problem...

I'm not a good enough mother. I stay home with my boys and I'm supposed to love it. "These are the best years..." is all I ever hear when I tell people I stay home. I resent the mother who says "I could never stay home all day, I'd go nuts" because that's exactly what is happening to me. I'M GOING NUTS! My children are on a strict schedule, they almost never eat sweets, I make my own baby food, I breastfed for the full year (that the aap recommends) for both boys, I've read more than 10 parenting books (that makes me an expert, right?), they watch little t.v., we go for walks, make projects, do art's and crafts, exercise together E-V-E-R-Y-D-A-Y. That's not good enough, I should do better. A really good mom would do all this with a huge smile across her face, with a sense of humor and more. I never hit my kids, my 3 year old gets time outs but that's not good enough, a really good mom would just lovingly explain that stealing toys isn't the nicest thing you could do, right? I yell, I scream, I have to take time outs myself, a good mother would never need to do that, right? Patience would come in an abundance. I'd have an endless supply of fun everyday for the little ones, right?

My poor husband, we've been together for 9 years and married for almost 5. He's beautiful, I mean the most wonderful man anyone could ever come across and this poor man has to come home to me. He's attractive, intelligent, hard working and, most importantly, a really loving father. He works 8 hours a day, that's it. He's a software developer (programmer) and he's expected to stay longer but he never does, his family comes first. What men do that these days? When he comes home he sees his house in disarray, toys everywhere, a sticky kitchen table, kids screaming and an unkempt wife who is usually miserable. He doesn't deserve this! I make his lunch everyday and dinner. I wash and fold his laundry. Give him BJs once a week (he'd like it more but I HATE HATE HATE doing it, I'd rather chew on glass) and sex 2-3 times a week. But that's not good enough. I usually don't have time to straighten my hair or put on make up but I do try to make sure my hair is neat and dressed nicely. But a good wife would be dressed her best everyday, wearing the pretty diamond earrings her hubby bought her and having her hair straighten with make up on, right? A good wife would put her needs on the back burner and give the BJs when he wants them instead of limiting them to once a week even if she does hate it, right?

What makes me a indecent woman? All of the above and the fact that I have no interests or hobbies or LIFE of my own. I have no real friends and I eat, breathe and live for my children and husband. There are things I'd like to do but they come last or not at all most...I mean all of the time. I feel like an empty shell and my head feels like a jumbled mess that is constantly stirring around. I can't think and I can't even process what the hell is going on. I don't know if this is a quarter life crisis but I know this is 100% my problem. I love my children and husband and wish I could be a better me. I'm sure my childhood has a lot to do with this but I don't know how to shake it.

HELP!