Enough

I haven't written much, lately.

Life has been surprisingly mellow until very recently, and still, the turmoil is all inside of me. Nothing outside my mind and my soul...

I am blessed. Lucky.

And yet I can barely function.

I am going through the laborious task of weaning off of xanax. Comparatively, as difficult to quit as crack. And more dangerous than any other withdrawal. You can die, if you try to go cold turkey.
2 months in, I am down to 1/3rd of my highest dosage. That's huge, really.... everything I've researched assured that 18 months is an optimistic estimate for weaning off this drug.

But I am in hell.
I can't sleep at night. I sometimes can't help but sleep during the day. I am falling behind in every aspect of life. And without the cushion of the antidote to the anxiety that has accompanied me since I was 3 yrs old... I find myself .. frightened. Unsure. Disappointed.

Because I think about where I could've been right now, if I hadn't failed, continually, constantly. If I hadn't given up on everything, every day.
I am 28 yrs old, and I don't have a paying job. I have, through my insecurities and weaknesses, lost many people whom I was very passionate about. Lost opportunities that could have saved me.
Lost the ability to be what my children need. To give them what they deserve.
There is no worse feeling than looking at the people you love the most, and knowing that you have let them down. Knowing that you COULD HAVE done better, could have given them what they needed. And trying to think about how to do that in the future, you simply feel helpless. Paralyzed. Useless.


Knowing that you are on the speed train to destroying all the good that you DO have....


Every little victory I've had seems like nothing in this moment. It seems like a lifetime of work for no reward. Actually, for a negative benefit.
It's even harder to know you've given your all and it wasn't enough, than to know you didn't give your all.

It's horrifying to know that your all is 1/100th of most people's half-assed effort.

All I've wanted, all my life, is to be passionate about my life and to bring happiness to others.

Instead I observe the destruction that I have left behind me. I struggle to repair the cracks in my relationships. I fight the tears, nightly, that come unbidden as a result of the losses I have suffered merely because of my inherent personality.

I just want to be enough.
I don't care if I'm epic. Amazing. Famous. Rich. Successful...

I just want to be enough, for fuck's sake.. just enough.

If anyone's ever wondered how someone could want to take their own life, this post is a testament...
When you know what your potential should be, but you can barely step foot out of bed in the morning... it's very hard to see the point in continuing on.



PS, I can't afford therapy right now. Sorry.

"Pro-Life" is so misleading... my journey from Pro-non-choice to Pro-Choice.

I think... I wish... that we could change these opposing opinions to "Pro-Choice" and "Pro-Non-Choice". Because "Pro-Life" as opposed to "Pro-Choice" is so... misleading. So ridiculous. They are not opposites. Can't I be pro-life, and pro-choice?

Yes, yes I can.

The thing is, a lot of "pro-lifers" think of "pro-choicers" as "pro-death". I think. And it simply. Isn't. So.

You see, I spent most of my life, most of my 28 years, very hardcore "pro-life". Anti-abortion, I should say. I felt there was no situation in which an abortion was appropriate. Because I know.. I know what it's like to have life inside my womb... I know what it's like to see that heartbeat and realize, there's a human being in there. I KNOW.

Let me crunch some numbers for you that you will judge me for, harshly.

I have had 10. Count 'em.... TEN miscarriages.
I have had 2 babies.
I almost had one abortion, but I changed my mind.

And that one instance changed my life and my entire stance on politics, "pro-choice", women's rights... everything, really. EVERY. THING.

You see, I took responsibility for every one of those other pregnancies. In a way, I even took responsibility for the last one. The one I almost aborted. The one that was a result of rape. The one that when I actually canceled the abortion,and then miscarried, I mourned.. and mourn to this day.

But THAT Experience made me see everything so much more clearly.... so very much.

Because when that pregnancy test came up positive..... I felt I had two choices. Abort my baby, or commit suicide.
Abandon my two living children, whom I had solid relationships with.. who I have worked my ASS off to be there for, to be a good mother to... who I have pushed myself to and through the limit to be a decent mother for.... ?? Or abort that baby. Live with the guilt forever, but know that for Sophia, and for Eli, I was doing what was best for THEM. Because I was alone. So. Very. Alone. And broke. And single. And barely emotionally stable.... on the brink of cracking, at any slight notice. And I didn't make the choice that led to that pregnancy. In fact, I took the morning after pill the very next day....
I put myself through the agony of a rape evidence kit at the ER. I filled out a statement that has probably been put through a paper shredder by now.

You guys, if you think reporting a rape is EASY.... if you think people do it for fun, or for vindication..... you need to go shoot yourself in the foot.... because no. It's humiliating. They ask you the worst questions you could possibly have to answer in the aftermath of being violated. They violate your privacy after your body has been violated to prove that your body was violated. They stick needles in you... I passed out cold, twice. I ran into my attacker, twice, afterwards, and was advised by the detective not to act as if anything was awry, because it could mean compromising my safety until they brought him in for questioning. Which they still have not. 8 months later.

I've been contacted by women's advocacy centers a million times..... but I have nothing to tell them. I have no evidence. My evidence hasnt' made it past the police dept that was dissolved within a few months of this. I can't. prove. anything. Short of saving the miscarried fetus and doing a DNA test (which wasn't exactly on my mind while I was in physical pain WORSE than either of my labors, and emotional pain i can't possibly describe).... I had nothing. Nothing at all to prove.


And this ... and so much political debating.. and so much hatred and venom and nastiness flying around this election... this is all why I am saying this right now.

I am pro-choice.
I have friends who have performed coat-hanger abortions ON THEM SELVES. Because it's so goddamn scary and shameful .. and EXPENSIVE... to get a legitimate, safe abortion. Because people are placing the life of a fetus so high above the entire family unit that existed before it. Because EVERY case is different but people are generalizing. "It's a child, not a choice"?
Well, excuse me. But Me, my daughter, and my son, are people. And had I carried this last pregnancy any longer, I can't promise I'd still be alive. My family could have dissolved completely. My daughter may have ended up with her "father" who doesn't even know her.. thousands of miles away from the family that has helped raise her. My son would be with his wonderful father, but without me... and without his sister, who has loved him so beautifully and completely since the second he was born.
All of that.. ripped apart....

I chose not to abort. I was going to adopt out. And that would have crippled me emotionally (even more than I am) for life.. but I was going to.. because I saw that heartbeat. And I didn't want to take the life of another human being.
But.
Had I  not had the choice, that first week.... I was in bad shape even WITH the choice. But without? I would've been dead 24 hours after the second line appeared.
I actually considered every possible form of "back alley abortion" I could think of. Because I couldn't afford a legit one, but a wonderful woman came forward and lent me the money. Which I ended up spending on necessities for my family, and still owe her.... But she understood.  She, among many others, kept me alive.

When I told my mother what was going on, finally, she simply hugged me and said "no wonder you're so exhausted... you've been shouldering all this on your own." My conservative, mormon, pro-life mom.....
She was pro-MY-life. Because I am her child.

Because reasonable people understand that SHIT HAPPENS.... that you can't control. And you have to make a decision after that... a decision that could affect more than just YOU.  Two, Three... 5... 10 people... more... whole lifetimes....
These aren't decisions that MEN have to make. NO person.. man or woman.. should be legislating what we can or cannot do as far as our bodies. Birth control... early abortions in extreme cases... anything......
People are going to DO what they feel they HAVE to do to survive.
People kill ADULT people every day. People do very wrong things every day, like taking away women's rights... like taking away their choice.. like raping women, children.... I started my menses at 7. So, what if I had been raped and become pregnant then?
Would you all have been so adamant that I be forced to carry that baby to term when I was, literally, still a baby myself? even as an adult, giving birth to my first child broke my body... cracked my pubic bone.. couldn't walk for weeks... my second child, I hemorrhaged more blood than a normal sized person can live without.
I AM as PRO LIFE as one can be.
But I am pro choice..
Because until you've walked in someone's shoes.. until you've lived their life.. their dreams.. their fucking NIGHTMARE... you have NO RIGHT to make that choice for them, about what they will have to live with for the next ETERNITY. Because it's not just 9 months, you guys. It's forever. We live with it FOREVER, no matter what choice we make... not you. Us. So back the fuck up and understand.... that yes, there are assholes out there who don't care and abort babies for no good reason but their own selfishness. But there are so many of us who truly make these decision painstakingly, carefully... and at our own expense.. the expense of our own wellbeing and happiness.... knowing that we will NEVER ever forget or fully recover.. because we have to take care of not only ourselves but others as well. Because we have to consider 20 or 30 or 40 something years of a human life that we may not be able to sustain in such a situation, as compared to a fetus whose 2 day old heart may or may not be beating.. who may or may not feel anything at 6 weeks of pregnancy...

I do not deign to know these things...
I couldn't stomach killing the life inside my uterus despite the fact that it was emotionally killing me.
But I do know one thing:

If we take away the right for a woman to choose how her body is used, what happens to it... what grows in it and what comes out of it....
We may as well just take back the last 100 years of progress. We may as well just make women slaves.... we may as well accept a horrific suicide rate .. and accidental death from "back alley" abortions... because YOU can't understand a situation until YOU ARE FUCKING IN IT. You can't. And you should NEVER be allowed to make that decision for someone else, because you will never BE THEM. Ever.

And this is why I don't vote.
Because I can't possibly vote for someone who would think to take away my rights to my body....
But I can't vote for the alternative either.. I just hold tight and pray. :(
The only thing I could really rally for at this time is harsher punishment for rapists, really. While mine runs free, driving a brand new car, working for the BLM, living under pseudonyms, and doing what he pleases with god knows what other women.

This isn't really all that productive, but I had to say it. I had to.

Random...

This post could go a lot of ways. And probably will.

I'm home, when I had planned to go to a fun night of Zumba and possibly a little karaoke after, because Crohn's attacked unexpectedly, and I'm now barely able to move... joints swollen, intestines screaming, fever on and off... the usual. But it' sbeen a few months. And this is the first time it's ever beaten me out of my plans.
Does it get continuously worse?
I know nothing... and I can't see a doctor to find out. It's incurable and barely treatable, so why spend the money? I just wish I knew... what I am in for.

It's been a difficult 24 hrs. Without disclosing intensely personal information, there was an incident last night that was meant completely benign.... but brought back severe sexual assault flashbacks. And I haven't been okay. It's made me question my solidarity... my feeling that "I'm FINE" about all of it, that finally knowing and accepting the truth has been all the healing I needed. Because I wasn't fine, and I'm still not really fine.
And it's nobody's fault.
Nobody in my real life anyway.

The thing is... those men who took advantage of me in the past.. from god-knows-when/babyhood til I was 7/8... and when I was 13... and my entire adult life up until this May...  do you even have a CLUE what you took away from me? What I have to work so hard to try to restore? How it affects my beautiful, happy relationship with my boyfriend, the man I intend to spend my life with? How it has affected my entire life, my self-worth.... my will to live?

All of it just makes me sick at heart. And I know there are many who have suffered far worse than I.... and that makes me even more sick, thinking about how the hell those people have survived. How they cope every second of every day. how they ever maintain healthy relationships.


I'm tired... of not having enough money for my kids' regular preventative care.. let alone if something happened. I'm tired of not being able to even consider my own personal health. I'm exhausted from believing that I don't and will never be justified in taking money away from our income to go see a therapist, even though I need it. Badly. I don't HAVE anyone I can talk to like that.... about everything.... the people i thought I had have been taken away from me, because life is a bitch that way.


I want a baby, and my boyfriend doesn't, so every month is a fight between me hoping my period doesn't come and him rejoicing when it does... me fighting my disappointment and trying not to be angry at his relief.
I want to get married, but practicality gets in the way. Because men...

I want to be completely past the things that have held me back and hurt me. I want to forgive. But there are things i can't seem to just will myself into fixing in my heart and head.

I want to be grateful for what IS...
and I am.
I've never had it this good, and I'm happier than i've been in a long time.
Believe it or not.... (everyone needs to rant sometimes, even happy people)....

But my arthritis is flaring, a 2" piece of pizza has rendered me incapacitated.. I had to miss my favorite part of the week tonight... My boyfriend has to go to bed before I'm even sleepy. Every night.
We still don't know how we're getting his stuff moved in.
I'ma  horrible homemaker and I WANT to be better, I want my house to look good but it's not in my GENES, I don't think....
I just...
want the boring life. White picket fence. 3 kids. (5). Cars that work. A house with flooring that isn't full of mold and vomit, or cement because I couldn't handle the disgusting carpet.
I want to be pregnant and have people be excited about it with me.

I want to forgive....I REALLY want to forget... I want to turn back time for so many reasons.
I want to reach for my dreams but I'm too busy keeping things from crumbling in my personal life. Being practical.

Sometimes I think my heart is just giving up. And maybe that's okay..............

Dear Imaginary Person In The Sky:
Please let my pills kick in soon.
Please don't let me have horrific nightmares tonight.
Please help me be functional tomorrow because nobody's going to do it for me.
Please strike down the HOA owners.

Thanks.
-Faith.

No more "good" or "bad"...

A friend of mine posted a beautiful memorial today about a miscarriage she had long ago.

It made me cry.. and it inspired me.
I've been aching to write lately, but haven't had time nor the organization of thoughts to do so...
Not saying this will be organized, but it's time for me to let some things out.

Part of this ^ is that I'm having a bit of a "Relapse" of my "never heard" victim complex. I feel invisible, unheard, and like what I have to say and what I do in this life are not that important, and not important to the people I love.
This has been a huge issue since my child hood for multiple reasons.. I can't place blame... circumstances just shape different people in different ways. My circumstances made a quiet child quieter, shyer, and without an ounce of self worth.

As an adult, this is kind of silly. If I want to be heard, I  need to just yell. If I want to be seen, I need to stand up. I need to shine instead of letting the darkness overtake me when I feel lonely and upset about these things.
And yet old habits, sometimes, truly die hard......

Next month, I would have given birth to a baby. A boy, probably. The result of the rape I experienced back in March. I nearly aborted that baby, but after an ultrasound, and seeing that little heartbeat, my heart was bound. I couldn't do it.
And yet sometimes though you try to steer and direct your path in life, nature will take it's course, and I miscarried anyway. Possibly a result of all the unhealthy habits I was partaking in at the time though I cut them out as quickly as possible... possibly just because.
When I had originally decided to abort it was because I felt strongly that I was not strong enough emotionally to carry myself through a pregnancy when I was barely making it as a mother to the children I already had. No, not even barely.
I felt it wasn't fair to them. I felt my already-crippling depression would kill me.

And yet I still couldn't take that baby's life of MY own will.

And to this day I think about it. And many days and nights I lay with my hands on my belly and wish there was life growing inside of it... and so many of my friends are having babies or finding out they are pregnant right now.. it makes it sting a bit more.

But I've been thinking about the idea of not putting a label of "good" or "bad" on experiences. Though so many things I've been through in the past few years could be defined as bad, horrible, traumatic.... unbearable....
If I look at it from a peaceful, clear perspective, I see that everything has simply served to bring me to where I am today, which is a better place than I've been in a very, very long time. Healthier. Happier.

During the period of time when I was making decisions about that pregnancy, dealing with the physical and emotional pain of the miscarriage, and losing friends left and right, including the man who I thought was the love of my life.... I had to learn to trust my son's father again. Because I NEEDED him. Eli needed him. I couldn't be there, and he IS his dad. And I let go of my fears for just long enough to see that he was safe with him AND that his father is a good person, a kind person.

I learned to trust my mom with the darkest side of me, and learned that she loves me no matter what.

I learned to forgive people who don't have the ABILITY to be empathetic about situations they have never been in.

I learned to really appreciate my children... and even on the hardest days to make sure I hug them and make them feel important.

I learned to let go of many things, and many people, and many ideas. That even if something feels "meant to be" perhaps we don't know in WHAT WAY it is MEANT to be. That perhaps the 4+ years of my relationship with someone that I thought was meant to be FOREVER was really meant to be.... but only for that time. Only to teach me a lesson... about unconditional love. For someone else... and for myself. How to respect myself, and to ask for what I need from someone. And to move on if they put me down or make me feel bad for asking for those things. Really, I learned not to NEED from any one person... but to just accept what they CAN give and accept that the rest, they aren't capable of. And that's ok.

Today.. I still love Dan, and I still miss him, but I know for a fact that we are NOT healthy for each other any more. That we should not be in each other's lives right now.
Today, my family is TOGETHER... Eli's dad moved in last night, and I never had a moment of true doubt about this decision. We are all happier. I am loved and I have what I need emotionally. I am seeing my relationship through very, very different eyes.. we are the same people we were 4 years ago and yet so vastly different.

Today, I am grateful for my community service job, for the people I have met, for the people I am able to serve, for the things I have learned. Despite all the pain that the DUI case caused me, it brought me here, too, and so how can I call it "bad"?

I still am sad sometimes. I still fail. I still feel old habits and thoughts creep in some days... but I'm getting stronger....
I think.. I've finally learned enough to allow myself to have some happiness.

Yay. :)

Insanity or .....

So, someone recently pointed out to me the fairly famous saying, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

Mmmhmm.
I can agree with that.
And you see, I've been doing a lot of things differently in my life.
In fact, someone came into my life that gave me an opportunity to basically REdo my relationship with an ex-lover who ... well, let's just say our relationship was THE Definition of insanity. We did the same things. Over and over. And kept hoping it would turn out better, but always crashed and burned.
We had good intent, we loved each other, but neither of us could change our ways, our reactions to each others, etc, enough to get a truly different result, until ultimately, we had to cut off contact completely because we WERE DRIVING EACH OTHER FUCKING INSANE.

The past few months have been months of healing and recovery for me from that. Looking back and realizing what was not acceptable, what I could've done differently, what I should do differently if faced with the same situation again. What I wouldn't put up with again. What I should be more kind and forgiving about.

And then ... along came this new guy. I literally probably only knew him for about a month. But that month could've been a near copy of exactly my first month or so with the ex I'm speaking of.
In many ways, I saw exactly what I needed to do differently, and I did it.
Until my worst case scenario happened, and then without even REALIZING it, I immediately reverted back to my old ways. My old reactions. My clinging. My complaining. The blame-placing, the trying to make him see he was wrong, the beating myself up over "being so wrong" and not being able to trust my heart when something seemed SO right.

I'm not going to say I'm totally past that, but I realized over the past.. er... 24 hours... that the universe had given me the opportunity to do things differently. It never promised I wouldn't get the hard parts of this. It never promised I would get the result I imagined.
It just gave me the opportunity to do things differently. Because if I did, there WOULD be a different result. I don't know what. But different.

I'm nowhere near perfect. I preached "living in the now" and "changing behaviours" and "letting go of outcome" and "not having expectations" for a month. I believed it. I tried to apply it to myself but then I found myself hanging on for dear life, crying over disappointments because I expected something I shouldn't have... weeping over a future I imagined and over the past that I am still mourning.

Today, I promise myself to try to do better.
Tomorrow, I will start my day off by promising myself to do better. Again.
And the next day.
And I might fuck up.
But then I'll recover, and promise myself to do better next time.

It's odd because I'm watching the very person who quoted me this.. I'm watching him repeat something in his life that didn't work in the past.
But maybe he's doing it differently. Maybe he'll get a different result, I don't know.

And on the other side of the coin, there are SOME things I do and will continue to do that aren't wrong. I will continue to be kind, even to people who hurt me. I will continue to be forgiving. And giving. Even though it often results in me getting stomped on.
And I don't expect different results.
Sometimes I will hope... but I do not expect...
and I don't think that makes me insane. As long as I realize that other people may never change. They may never grow, or they may have a lot of growing to do to catch up.....
That won't stop me from
Being Honest
Being Kind
Being Loving

and scariest of all, it probably won't stop me from trusting, again.
I do hope that I'm a little more careful with my heart though.
And that others will be, too.

Maybe I'm crazy......
Maybe that's okay.

Right now mainly I could use a hug. I can talk the talk but right now I'm not walking the walk very well....

What Makes Your Life "Worth It"?

And for that matter, what makes YOU worth it?

What makes you "successful"? What ambitions are worth your time, money and devotion?

If you don't have material possessions, or a Ph.D, or a flashy job, was it a waste of your time?


Considering what I'm seeing from ... well, mostly the MEN that I've dated (which is just.. fucking messed up) but even a lot of women that I associate with.. if you haven't gone to college to get a degree for something that will make you a lot of money... if you aren't working at least a 9-5 office job... if you aren't driving a nice car and have a pretty lawn and a boyfriend or a husband.. if you can't put your kids in the best (or any) dance classes, soccer teams, etc...

Well, then what the hell are you doing with your life?  Apparently nothing worthwhile.

According to society.


Which would account, I think, for a LOT of the depression among mothers in the world. For the vast neglect of the needs of the small children of those mothers who are made to feel that caring for and being there for their children is NOT ENOUGH. It's not a good enough example (?!?!). If all you're doing is being a mom, then you are a .. failure.


And what if you're a single parent? I think the pressure is even bigger... to "make something of yourself."

Well, trust me, I have hopes and dreams, but have we become so deluded that we believe that raising children (really raising them, I mean YOU, not a nanny or a babysitter or a daycare) is not worth anything? That you are... "nothing"?

When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, I was 19 years old, shortly to be 20. I knew as soon as the second line appeared that her father would not be involved or helpful.
I had a choice to make, and I made it. I made the choice to be grateful for her existence. To take joy in the experience. To never let it be known that yes, sometimes, kids are a burden. That being a single parent is fucking difficult and sometimes even soul-crushing.
SHE is worth it, and I was bound and determined to make the decision to show her that.
And I've done my best. You know how? Maybe in a different way than some other mothers, and I'm not here to tell you that if you busted your ass to go to college when you had young kids, or that you worked 3 jobs to get by that you were doing something wrong. We ALL have different situations.
But in my situation and my life, the best way I could be there for my baby was to live with my parents for a while, not go back to work until she was old enough to go for a few hours between breastfeeding sessions, and take a part time job close to home where I could actually go home and feed her on my breaks.

From there, when she was 2 and a half, I got a job waitressing, because the hours were flexible, and the money I could make per hour was far better than any full-time desk job I could find. Really.
I had people telling me I was "too talented" to be "slinging pancakes". That I was doing a job beneath me. That I should get an education and reach my potential.
Meanwhile, I was working 5 hours a day and spending the rest of my time nurturing my relationship with my daughter. To its full potential. Learning how to be the best mom I could be to her.
It was worth it.

I won't go over in tedium all the choices I've made over the past 8 years of my life as a mother, but I will say that all of them (as far as work, living arrangements, etc) were made with the best interest of my children and our family unit in mind. ALL of them.
Is that not worthwhile?
Does that make me lazy, unmotivated, unsuccessful?
Because that's what people are telling me.

Men are telling me, they've worked hard to become successful in their careers, in their lives, they make good money and are good at what they do, and they deserve a woman who is just as ambitious.

I want to say....
so here I am saying:

I have worked hard to become a good mom, and I continue to work hard at it every day. It is and always will be the most important thing in my life. ALWAYS. I have other dreams that I strive to work into my life every day. If an opportunity comes up to chase those dreams that won't interfere greatly with my life with my children, or damage our relationship, I take it.
I nurture my love of music both through work opportunities and by doing little things like taking voice lessons when I can, going to karaoke to keep away the stage fright and strengthen my performance abilities...
I keep music around the house constantly and it is something that binds my family, and has for generations.

I am good at what I do. I'm a good singer, I'm a good pianist. I get good jobs because I am a good pianist. I feel happy when I sing. I use my voice to soothe my children, to sing my babies to sleep. I use my hands to wash dishes and clean house and cook healthy meals and apply ointment and bandaids to scrapes and bruises, I exercise and dance alone when I can, and sometimes I dance at home with my kids. I use my arms to hold my kids when they cry and to cuddle them when we have quiet moments together.
I may not be rich or live in a nice house, but I work hard to keep the house I have in order, safe, and comfortable for me and my kiddos. I may not be the best accountant in the world, but I manage to keep my kids clothed and fed, and when I have surplus, I usually use it to take them to do fun things that will be treasured memories for all of us.

I am ambitious. I am successful. I have beaten many odds, I have fought severe depression, anxiety, PTSD, etc... alone. While raising two kids, alone.
And I have not failed, we are still fighting. We are still together. We are healthy. The kids are happy, smart, safe, and loved.
And as they get older and spend more time out of the nest and out of my care, as older children will do (*sniffle*), I will then spend more time using my hands and my arms and my voice and my body and my ambition and my brain to succeed in other things.

But when I am old and dying and looking back on my life, I know one thing for sure:
I will not regret spending these years being a mom. I will not regret being "unsuccessful" or "not ambitious enough" for the shallow minded men and women of this generation.
I will be glad that I spent the extra hours with my babies while they were babies. I will be glad I saw their first steps, and heard their first words.
I will be glad that even though we struggled financially, constantly, they always knew I was there for them and that somehow, I would find a way to take care of them. No matter what.
I think they will be glad, too. I think they would rather say "my mom was there for me. I have so many good memories with her as a child", than, "my mom had such a great job and a degree, and I only saw her for like an hour a day but she could pay for swimming lessons and dance lessons and soccer camp and expensive clothes and a pretty car".

I think.
I hope.
That is what I believe.

I also believe that in all actuality, a man or woman who doesn't believe that, is not worthy of me, and in fact, is not all that successful in life after all.
I won't be the one with regrets later, even if your comments and insults hurt now....
I will look back and be satisfied that I did the most important job in life that one can do, and did it as well as I possibly could. On my own, no less.
I have screwed up, I do screw up. I make mistakes. I have fallen down and had a helluva time getting up. I have had to ask for help. I still sometimes have no idea what I'm doing, except that I'm doing my BEST.
But any of you out there who haven't screwed up once or twice in your endeavors...? Let me know and I'd love to take a class or two from you.

I am ambitious, I am successful, I am driven. I'm worth it. My kids are worth it.

If It Makes You Happy (then why the hell are you so sad?)

So, sadly but somewhat amusingly, the relationship that I spoke of in my last entry is now over and done with. It was pretty sudden, but everything about that relationship was a clusterfuck of confusion and jumping the gun and being overly impulsive, but.. happy. For a minute.


A friend of mine (big time blogger Dan Pearce at danoah.com) once wrote a blog about how time is a relationship's friend. I will paraphrase it badly, but basically the gist of it was, we get so scared of things not working and WANT this happiness so badly that we force it, we jump too fast, we figure if we can lock things down sooner, then better, because then we're.. um. Trapped.




Yeah, trapped.. doesn't sound so good now, does it?


But the thing I've learned about life is that you're never trapped. If something isn't working, you can either try to fix it or you can let it go. If it isn't fixable you better let it go, or you're gonna be really unhappy.
When you have two people involved in the "will it work?" equation, then both have to be totally on board if you want to try to fix it. Obviously.
Or it should be obvious, but again, I've learned that people (ME) are silly and .. will try for ages to carry a relationship on their hope and love alone, when the other person has a foot or even both feet out the door.


In most of my relationships, one or both of us have had a foot out the door in some way. Maybe we didn't want to admit it to even ourselves, but we did.


I did it with my first long-term relationship.
The one after that, the other guy did it, in a huge way. And got me pregnant, and then had two feet out the door, running. And that was the beginning of me learning how to be dysfunctional in a relationship. How to have a backup plan at all times. How to assume that when a man looked me in the eyes and said he loved me, that was probably lying to get laid.




So, this time, I started the relationship with a foot out the door. And he started it without an ounce of trust. So the damage was done before anything got done... And we both just made it worse, day by day, meanwhile trying so hard to love each other and make it work.


We are both good people. We both really cared about each other. We both really wanted it to work.


But two good people do not a great relationship make, and here we are.


We lied to each other.. he went behind my back. He invaded my privacy, I broke his trust. He did things that put my family's finances in jeopardy, he lied when he told me everything was okay... he broke my trust too. The day I was ready to get my foot out of that door and be all in, he did some things that proved to me that WE would never be okay again.


I was so scared to let that relationship go, even though it was a weight on my shoulders.. always being watched, always being judged, never being good enough. I was scared because for the first time in years I felt like I was LOVED. I felt stronger because of it.. I got more done in that month than I've gotten done in a year. I was motivated and... mostly happy.
But I was sad, too. I cried at night after he fell asleep. We fought because he made me feel inferior, because HE was insecure.
We were the perfect mirrors for each other to see our own ugliness, magnify it in the other person and hurt each other, all in the name of "happiness".


The thing is... I'm not upset.
I'm a little sad, and I will be for a while, but this time, I KNEW when it was time to let go. And I just did it. Cut the ties and walked away and kept walking, and amazingly, instead of walking back into the arms of someone from my past like usual, I'm just walking ahead. Alone. And it's okay.
For the first time, I feel like I can do this. And I don't need to be loved my anyone but me and my kids. And we're okay.


We are okay.


I'm redefining my happiness, and it's kind of cool. I love learning lessons... I love finding out how strong I am. Even when it hurts.


I don't like this sunburn, I could go without that, but at least I won't forget sunscreen again. Like, ever. Ever.


And if there's another relationship in the future, I'm either putting both feet in or none at all, cause that's the only way to do life. All in.




Now if I could just get my house put back together.. I will be sleeping on the couch for a while. :-p