My Tate took this picture of me. We had so much fun enjoying the sunshine this weekend.
This one is taken by Newt. I'm lucky the top of my head wasn't cut off. She seems to think my head stops at my eyebrows and the top of my head is always cut off.
I guess that sums it all up for me. I can’t change my past. I can’t change his past either, neither can he. I have to accept that our pasts have made us what and who we are today. So, no matter how painful our past may have been, it still brought us together and that’s not bad.
We both have to learn to accept our past, but not let it affect us, and control us. We need to learn the lessons but let go of the baggage. My insecurities about his feelings and our future are residue from my marriage. By allowing my insecurities to affect my actions and reactions, that is still giving my ex power in my life that he doesn’t deserve.
By pulling away, and holding me at arms length out of fear of getting hurt again, he’s still giving power to his ex. She hurt him, and he’s allowing his fear of being hurt again to keep him prisoner.
By giving our past power in our lives we are missing out on the full potential of what we could be. By remaining guarded, we’re short change each other. We rob each other of the chance of real happiness. We’re not giving our relationship 100% of ourselves and that’s not fair to either of us, or to us as a couple.
It is what it is. That’s some deep wisdom passed on to by my sister. It is what it is, nothing more, and nothing less. The problem is I don’t know what it is. I could spend so much time trying to figure it out, beating my head against a brick wall. But in doing that, in trying to figure out what we are, and trying to define our relationship so that I’ll know if we have a future, I run the risk of missing out on today and the joys of the here and now.
I have found a new blog that is an addiction to me. I have read every post from the very inception, like a novel. It is a very real, very moving love story and tragedy all rolled into one moving real life story.
The author is in an abusive marriage, only she didn’t realize just how abusive it was. Ironic that the victims are programmed to believe the abuse is what they deserve and it’s not so bad. She didn’t realize she was abused because it was never physical and there were never any marks. It was all emotional and mental.
But that’s how abusers start. They start small and they start with the head games. Slowly stripping away your strength and your courage and your self esteem so that when the physical begins, you’re too weak and meek to fight back.
I feel her pain. I know the life she is living. She has found her soul-mate, a woman, who lives across the ocean, some 4000 miles away. They are limited to sporadic phone calls and email and IM’s. Without her lifeline she would be lost in a sea of uncertainty and guilt and shame, all of which he readily heaps upon her.
He controls and manipulates her out of his own fear and insecurities. What she can’t see (and what I couldn’t see either) is that she’s stronger than she seems, braver than she believes, and smarter than she thinks. He is aware of this and does whatever he can to make sure she doesn’t realize this.
I wish her and her family (she has 2 children to consider in this too) and her soul-mate all the luck, hope and love. I hope that she finds the courage she needs to get her and her children out of this dangerous marriage. I hope that she realizes that there is always help if you ask. Don’t stay for financial reasons, the money always seems to be there just when you need it, and never a minute earlier. God has a way of providing. Have faith, and don’t give up, no matter how hard it is. In the end it’s worth the fight, no matter how ugly and messy, to get out.
This is my beautiful Tate at her 9th birthday party. She's holding a card of earrings she got from her great-granny.
Sometimes I look at this child of mine and am in awe that someone so beautiful could come from me. She's not just beautiful on the outside, her heart and soul are beautiful too.
She is kind and gentle and caring. She always thinks of everyone else first, which sounds nice, but I worry that it will cause her great grief in future years. She feels things totally and completely. Nothing is ever half way with her. If you're sad, she's sad with you. If you're happy, she's laughing with you. She wears her heart and feelings on her sleeves and sometimes it causes her to get hurt.
She is my middle child, and because she's the quiet one, sometimes she gets lost in the shuffle. I have to make it a point to carve out Mom and Tate time because she won't ask for it, she hates to make demands.
I am terribly proud of her, and I love her to death. She is special beyond words, and beautiful beyond description, inside and out.
Happy Birthday, (a few weeks late) Tate. I love you.
Nothing makes me feel prettier than a new french manicure. When everything else in my life seems to be a mess, a new french manicure can lift my spirits and put a bounce in my step like nothing else can. It's hard to be down when your hands and nails are so pretty. At least for a short while.
I especially love new manicures in the spring and summer, after I've been tanning for a while and my skin finally has that warm glow I can't seem to get anywhere else.
Yes, I know the dangers and the risks. Please spare me the speaches.
I did both last night, tanned right after work, and got a mani right after that. I went home feeling beautiful and special. These are two little treats I give myself. The rest of my life is given to other people, my kids, Boo, work, family. But last night I had 2 hours of uninterupted pampering and I loved it.
That in and of itself is worth the money.
I think this sums it all up for me. Sometimes I create more drama for myself and more unnecessary angst because I tend to over think things. I need to do more work on moving beyond my over-thinking mind and work on connecting with my emotional body.
When my mind gets involved and I start looking behind every action, and looking between the lines of every phrase uttered for hidden meanings and signs that he loves me, then I get into serious trouble.
Why can’t my heart and mind just stay out of things for a while and let my body enjoy? Ok, maybe that’s not what I want either. Why is it that I can not be happy and accept that for close to 4 months now we’ve been ‘whatever it is we’ve been’?
With my knucklehead I am content, and always have been, to have a relationship with him that defies definition. What we have shared for 2+ years has never fit neatly or easily into any of societies pre-defined relationships. Society wants to label and pigeon hole everything so it all is nice and neat and easy to understand. Sorry, life doesn’t always conform to society’s need for neatness and labels. Love, never does.
Why is it I am so hell-bent on labeling us, defining us? Why do I need this, or think I need labels and definitions? Why can’t I let it go, enjoy it for what it is, and be happy? Demanding more, demanding a label for us, a definition, may just make him feel more tied down than he wants to feel and cause him to run. After all, up to this point, he’s been faithful and loving and attentive and wonderful and everything I’ve wanted? Why do I need to add a title to it and screw it all up?
See, more rules to a game I’m not sure I know how to play. I definitely don’t know how to play it well, or how to play to win.
It can’t be love if it hurts this much, right? Love shouldn’t hurt, should it?
I knew the rules going into the game. The problem is, the rules were written by a man and a woman can not play a man’s game in a man’s way and win. Besides, the rules sucked. They were stupid. They were there for a reason, and I ignored them. Stupid. It was a stupid game with stupid rules. A part of me knew I would never win, but I thought I could handle playing for a while. Wrong again. I know the best way to win now is to stop playing, but a part of me won’t stop playing.
LadiBug says “Tell him to F@#k off. Walk away. Screw him, he’s being an ass and you’re better than that.” Yeah, I know that. At least in my head. Tell my heart to tell him to f#@k off. Not so easy.
If I push him away, hoping he’ll push back, I lose, because he won’t push back. If I push him away, he’ll just walk away, and never look back, and never miss me. If I build walls between us to see if he cares enough to knock them down, the walls will be there forever. I will be the one who tears down the walls, only to find he’s gone.
Isn’t that answer enough?Even as I write this, I find myself telling myself ‘Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he’s just blowing smoke. He’s done that before. It doesn’t mean anything. Don’t do anything rash and drastic just yet.’ And yet, sticking around doesn’t make it easier, it makes it harder to accept the truth, whatever that is. I don’t know any more.
I’ve been lying to myself all along. And letting everyone around me help me believe those lies. Recalling things he said or did, editing for content, so that it was a bigger deal to me, and sounded more like the real thing, than it really was. Building high the pedestal I put him on. Building it out of hopes and dreams for a tomorrow that would never come. Ignoring him when he said and did things to rip the rose colored glasses from my eyes and made me face the cold hard truth, that his heart was off limits and would never be mine, no matter how hard I wished it otherwise. After all, didn't he tell me from the very beginning, "Don't fall in love with me?" Didn't I go and ask other people's opinions? Didn't they tell me to believe what he said? Didn't I have fair warning, and I chose to ignore it. That means, I've got no one to blame for this pain but myself.
How do I find the strength to walk away now? How do I find the courage to once again admit I fucked up and lost? How do I deal with the fact that I have managed to find yet another one who can’t/won’t/doesn’t love me? How to settle this in my head, that he was wonderful, amazing, and everything I thought I wanted? I thought, I finally found what I deserve, I finally found a good one, only to wake up and realize Nope, I didn’t. This one is just like all the rest.
I can sit here and make excuses for him. I can sit here and rationalize everything away. I can sit here and convince myself he didn’t mean what he said, after all, he’s done that before. He’s said things that could have hurt me if I had let them, but they turned out not to be true. Maybe this is just another example of that. But if it is, why should I have to play that game at all? Why does he feel the need to push me away and hurt me? M aybe he's not playing games. Maybe the only games being played here are the ones I'm playing with myself. Maybe it's the fact that I've built everything up in my own head that's the game that's being played.
And that right there is the reason to walk away. The games he wants to play with my head and my heart aren’t worth playing. I'm not even sure he's playing games. Maybe it just seems like games because of my expectations and my hopes and dreams. Maybe it's the way that I look at things he says and does. Maybe he's been nothing but honest from the very beginning and I just read way too much into way too little and pinned too many hopes and dreams on something that's not really there. It’s not love and it’s not good, and it’s not healthy if there are sick and twisted and painful games being played with my head and my heart.
Please, whatever you do, please, please don't send me an email telling me how sorry you are that I'm hurting, again. I know that you mean well, but it doesn't help. It just makes me feel like a bigger idiot, a bigger fool.
I'm beginning to think love doesn't exist, and it will never be a part of my life. I'm beginning to believe that I'm destined to be alone and I should just start getting used to that fact. Maybe I should get a cat, or two or ten. I don' t know how to play this game! I don't know how to win. I don't get it. I don't understand.
Amazing how much can happen in a year. This weekend Boo was sharing with me that last year, April, he left his home to come to Missouri for a job. He left his mother, his friends, his girlfriend, packed his life in his vehicle and moved to a new state, to live and work with his older brother. He spent the night before with his girlfriend, saying good-bye and making memories to hold them and survive the distance. At 5:00 AM he got up and started driving. He arrived in Missouri on April 3rd 2005 at 4:00 PM.
Flash forward 1 year. The memories weren’t enough to bridge the distance, and the girlfriend has moved on, found someone new. Boo has moved out of his brother’s house, into an apartment, and is doing great things, performing small miracles at work. April 3rd, 2006 at 4:00 Boo will be signing papers and closing on his first house. Amazing how much can change, and how far he’s come in a year.
A year ago I was still fighting to hold on to the second chance with my ex husband. I still believed that he honestly wanted his family back and wanted a second chance to make things work. But the light was dawning and reality was slowly creeping in and burning away the fog that had caused me to believe a second chance was viable.
I’ve finally put my past behind me. I’ve finally reached a place in my life where my ex is only on the fringes of my life, and that’s where he needs to be. I’ve gotten him out of my heart, out of my life. Well, maybe that’s a bit delusional. He’s still kind of obsessed with my love life, but I can’t stop that. That’s his issue, and I am resigned to the fact that I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life cleaning up the messes he creates in my life, doing damage control, and protecting those that I love. I hate that fact, but when you’re dealing with someone who has a less than firm grip on reality, it’s a price you have to pay.
This year, I’m with an amazing man. He’s funny, smart, sexy, loving, caring, responsible, and he makes me deliriously happy. He’s not jealous, or controlling, he’s trusting and respectful, and polite. My life is everything I’ve always wanted, but never thought I’d have. I’ve seen my dreams come true. Not all of them, but some of them, and there is hope for a bright, happy future.
Look where we were a year ago. We didn’t even know the other existed. Now, we’ve been together almost 4 months, 4 glorious, wonderfully happy months. Where will we be in a year? I can’t wait to find out.
My ex has been living with his witch of a girlfriend and her two brats for about 2 months now. In that time, she has been less than nice to my daughters. I just add that to the long list of crimes against my family she has committed in the past two years, and it all adds up to I hate her.
I pretty much leave my ex alone to live his life however he sees fit. The only thing I am free to comment on is how is choices affect our daughters. This is a choice I couldn’t keep quiet about. When Newt comes home and says that S yelled at her and told her to shut up and go to bed, I tend to believe it, and I tend to act on it.
I called my ex and explained what Newt had said and that Tate backed up her story, independently, so I tend to believe them both. I will not allow anyone to talk to my child that way, especially someone who came in and moved in on their territory, moved into their house and took the biggest bedroom away from them. I will not allow someone who doesn’t respect me, or my children or my relationship with their father to talk to anyone in my family that way. I told him ‘Muzzle and leash the bitch or I will’.
I got the phone call last week, he told her she had to move out, he was done with her attitude towards his family, his friends and his daughters. The kicker of this is, he gave her until the end of April, 6 weeks. 6 WEEKS! When he called me one cold day in January to tell me what I didn’t get moved out of the house that day I would lose forever, he gave me just 6 hours to move. I was his wife and the mother of his 2 children and I got 6 HOURS. She’s just the controlling manipulative bitch in his bed and she gets 6 WEEKS!?!
I know what happened. His balls have been in mommy’s purse for so long, he actually forgot he was supposed to have a set. When the witch moved in with him, mommy handed his balls over to her and she put them in her purse. One day, he found them in her purse and went to get them back. But once they were in his hands, it felt so damn good to hold them and play with them again that you lost his train of thought and completely forgot to kick her ass out. She caught him with them, took them away again and convinced him to give her till the end of the month to find a place to live. Translated to witch-ese, that means “Give me plenty of time to get those blinders back in place, convince you to see things my way, and find a better, more secure hiding place for your balls.”
And in true man form he said ‘OK’
The fun and games and negotiations have already begun. He just called to tell me that she sent him a text message today "If I give you a 'back door pass' can I stay?" She will continue to up the ante and the offers, she will continue to lower herself, and degrade herself to please him and hopefully change his mind.
Sports fans, I called that one right on money.
This morning has been nothing but a haze of unbelievability. I’m still in some kind of shock and disbelief and am at a loss as to what to do.
Yesterday, the girls each got a new pen from school. Tate’s was blue, Newt’s was pink, and otherwise they were identical. Last night, they were both writing with their new pens, and Tate asked Newt if she wanted to trade. Newt said sure, so they traded.
This morning, Newt grabbed the blue pen again, and Tate got upset because it is hers, after all they traded. An argument ensued, and in the midst of it, Tate got stabbed/hit/poked in the head with the pen. I didn’t see it; I don’t know how it all went down. All I know is that Tate has a small puncture wound in her head, and Newt is somehow responsible. Lots of tears followed and a small amount of blood.
I’m not sure if Newt ‘stabbed’ her sister, or if she threw the pen and by a fluke it stabbed Tate in the head. I don’t know how intentional it was. Moreover, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it. I believe Newt should be punished in some way, but how? Tate needs to know that her sister will be punished for her actions.
Newt has a temper, just like mine, just like her father’s. I’m not proud to admit that for the first 4 years of her life she saw a lot of violence in her life. Her father was physically violent with all of us, and the kids lived in fear. I had my stubborn pride that would not let me back down from his rage and anger. I stood up to him in the midst of the storm. Rage, anger, and violence are not strangers to her.
In her 6 years of life, she has only acted out twice (this time included). She bit her sister once, and got punished for it, and has never bit anyone else, ever. Now, her sister has a small puncture wound in her head. I’m not sure if it was accidental or intentional. It doesn’t matter much, Tate still suffered from Newt’s anger.
Listening to both sides of the story, I don’t think Newt understood it was a forever trade. I think she thought the trade was just for a while, just for last night. Newt got to pick her pen, her color. Tate didn’t, it was just handed out to her. Not that it makes any difference in the grand scheme of things.
Now I am faced with sorting out the truth, which will have faded from their memory in the course of their day at school and the sitter’s. Tonight, I will get different, altered versions of the events that unfolded this morning. I will probably never get the truth from either of them. From what I know now, and whatever I find out tonight, I’ve got to dole out some sort of punishment.
I wish sometimes I could just run away. It never surprises me what comes out of my mouth in regards to my kids. Things like ‘Don’t put those keys in the outlet.’, “No, you can not cut your own hair”. “Untie your sister and get her out of the closet”. “Don’t sit on your brother’s head”. Now, it’s ‘You can not stab your sister with pens”.
I have my hands full, and my work cut out for me tonight. Grant me the wisdom to chose the right punishment, that will satisfy Tate’s need for justice, and will teach Newt the right lesson.
Signs your parents love your boyfriend
| You Are Most Like Charlotte! |
 You are the ultimate romantic idealist You've been hurt before, but that hasn't caused you to give up on love. If anything, your resolve to fall in love is stronger than ever. And it's this feminine optimism that men find most appealing about you. Romantic prediction: That guy you are seeing (or crushing on)? Could be very serious - if you play your cards right! |
I got a message from Boo today and it started out "Who's the Man?" That's my clue he's worked another miracle around here. I have warned him time and time again that continuing to do that will only cause the suits above him to expect more and more from him. But he has this insane work ethic, he gives 125% of himself and finds solutions to every problem they put in front of him.
For that, I am SO Proud of him. Today was no exception. They came to him with a problem that was costing the company thousands, if not millions, of dollars and asked him to find the solution. It's been stressing him out for 2 weeks now, to the point where he can't sleep at night. He knew the problem was a design problem but couldn't find the support he needed, and couldn't produce the data he needed to confirm what he knew to be true. Until today. Today, he did it. He explained it all to me in short hand and it was all greek to me (even in long-hand it's still greek) but it sounds terribly impressive. Bottom line is this, he's going to save the company close to $2 million this year alone. TWO MILLION! That's huge!
Yesterday he got two mentions in the weekly newsletter put out by the company president. Two other problems solved, and many, many thanks from the boss himself. Next week Boo will make the newsletter again.
So, I've said it before, and I know you'll give me reason to say it again and again... Way to go Boo! I'm terribly proud of you. You the man!
I have a new guilty pleasure web-site. Totally love it. Cracks me up every time I’m there.
Unsorted Mail is the cutest, funniest, 30 second break in a boring, monotonous day. They write the funniest, truest, 1-line letters every one wishes they could have/would have written.
An example:
Dear Sunshine,
I fall in love with you, only to get burned.
Love,
Josh
Dear Water,
Why can’t you taste as good as Diet Dr. Pepper?
Love,
Katie
Gotta love this little sight. Go to the archives and go to February 2006, or go to the ‘letter’ to Dear Cool People Who Are Actually Reading This to find out how it all got started. That’s good for a chuckle or two as well.
If you have any fun/cool/interesting websites you visit daily and want to share, I’d love to hear from you.
Why do you decide to take the fat from my chest (where I need it most) first instead of my hips (which has an over abundance of it) ?
Love,
Becky
Remember when you were a child and would draw pictures on the sidewalk with chalk? This guy takes it to a whole new level.
Check out Julian Beever's Pavement Drawings
Check out Julian standing at the top of the globe. This drawing is done with chalk on a sidewalk.
This is the same globe drawing from the side view. It is 40 feet long.
The drawing of the 'hole' in the sidewalk is so realistic looking that people are actually walking around the hole. From this point of view it looks pretty real.
| Your Sexy Sandals Are |
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Friday night, I spent a couple of hours with one of the knuckleheads, the young, nomadic knucklehead.
He’s a huge Jr fan and I had some pretty awesome pictures of Jr, his car, his pit crew, and his pit area from Daytona. I offered him copies of the pictures.
So, I went by his place of employment, only to be told he’s no longer there. So I called him.
How do I find you?
I’m not at work any more.
I know, I just left there.
I’m at the house
Can I come by?
I guess, if you want to
Just to bring you some pictures.
Sure, come on by.
I went by to give him his pictures, and we talked for about 2 hours. He’s clean and sober and hasn’t had a drink in 70 days. He’s in therapy, and the only meds he’s on now are those prescribed by the therapist. 3 months ago, when he shut me out, and started closing down, he was on the downhill slide to his rock bottom. He finally hit it, and now he’s getting help. He’s got a long way to go, but there is hope now.
We could talk about him, me, and us without hurt, anger or accusations. He knew me well enough to know that he could hurt me a little by walking away but I’d survive and ultimately so would our friendship. He was smart enough to know if he stayed around and drug me through his hell it would kill us and destroy our friendship.
It was good to talk to him and I’m proud he finally got some help. It was also good to walk out of there without the empty feeling or heaviness in my heart. I care about him, I probably always will, but I’m not in love with him. I don’t want him back. It was fun while it lasted, but we’re beyond all of that now, and we can be friends.
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