Thursday, June 30, 2011

“Wigger” and other horrible things people came up with in the 90s

In 1990, I was at the ripe old age of 11. The same age my youngest son is now. Most of the stuff that I remember about my childhood happened after this time period.

Like all generations, you have things that you remember about your significant developmental years that you just had no idea what you were doing at the time. How do I understand that you have no good reason for doing something that you really didn’t want to do?

MC Hammer Pants.

Pegging your jeans.

Big Bangs.



Men in cut-off jerseys, baring their midriffs.

Calling people “Wiggers”

Boy George.

Yeah. I went there.

How did we allow these atrocities to occur at the hands of our generation?

It’s a question I will ask myself in horror every time I watch the “Fly Girls” on “In Living Color.” Why, would we think it was acceptable for a man to wear a sleeveless shirt of any kind? You should NEVER see armpit hair unless you are at the beach or at home.

They are simply, crimes against humanity.

And like combating hunger, AIDS and genocide…we have to band together to never repeat the same mistakes twice.

We need change. (This is why I voted for Obama)

We need…

The New Kids on The Block. NKOTB. And Marky Mark…because he was an original member of the band.

“Donnie D’s on the backup. Drug-free, so put the crack up.”

I wonder how creepy it is for them to perform to audiences on their tour with the Backstreet Boys, and have 30-40 year old woman throwing their bras and panties at them? It’s got to be a life filled with lots of beer goggles and broken dreams. I wonder how many of their illegitimate children are introduced to them at their concerts?

“It was a starry night in Omaha, after the concert. He smelled like Drakkar Noir and Wild Turkey 101, and I was dressed like Donna from 90210. He kept wanting to call me Karen, even though my name is Jenny. It was magical.”

Every generation has their kryptonite. Those things that suddenly define you as a generation that you really wish didn’t. Like leisure suits and mutton chop sideburns. I mean, people HAD to be on heavy drugs to think that was attractive. For my children, it’s letting Miley Cyrus become famous and wanting hair like Justin Bieber.

In my day, we called that haircut Amish. It’s a bowl cut, folks.

I guess we just have to sit back and hope the next generation comes up with stuff that is more embarrassing than what we did.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Class Reunions are like car wrecks…

You really don’t want to see them, but you can’t help but look.

Like most people, I keep in touch with the majority of people I care to from high school or my youth. And I actually do a pretty good job at it. Sure, there are a few people I don’t get to talk to, or wonder what ever happened to them because they dropped off the face of the earth. And this is why I get drawn in to going to Reunion events.

And also to see people I hated, because in my head, I will have the balls to tell them to fuck off now.

I am still waiting to have the balls, in most cases.

Don’t get me wrong, the last few years of high school were pretty enjoyable. I had a good group of friends. But there is always a chain of insecurity in high school that pulls you down from being your true self. Maybe you were a dork who never got a date. Maybe you were popular, and felt pressured to be perfect. Maybe you were somewhere in the middle. You felt pretty good, but there were always a few who made you feel not good enough. That was me.

I like reunions to see how ugly the people are now, who I hated in high school. Some of them, you have to wonder why they were even popular to begin with, because they were ugly and not funny at all. How does it feel now, to be average like everyone else? You thought The Gap was high-end and didn’t even know what Prada was. You didn’t marry a plastic surgeon and move to Beverly Hills. You peaked at 17, and now secretly hide your addiction to meth, as your hatred for your life builds.

I also like to see the married couples who met in high school. I wonder if they really married their soul mates, or if they always wonder if they could have done better?

I also like reunions to be able to cheer for the underdog. Remember that girl who was really fat and quiet that you always pitied? You always wondered who she was? I love it when I see that they have lost all the weight and are gorgeous now. Because those are the people who deserve it. And then at reunions, when people say, “I don’t even remember you”, they can say, “Yeah, because you were a self-absorbed asshole.”

Most people in my high school thought they knew me, based on what little they did. I was blond and blue-eyed, bubbly and silly. I liked attention, and making people laugh. Self-deprecating humor has always worked for me, although I really have a healthy self confidence. People mistook my need to entertain for being dumb, when in actuality, I am smarter than most of them. It worked, because they underestimated me and then I didn’t have to put out as much effort.

People also thought I was a slut, because I got pregnant at 16. In reality, I had a boyfriend for a year, who was 18 and a German exchange student. Right before he left, I lost my virginity to him after my sweet 16th birthday party. I talked to my mother beforehand, to be responsible, and went on birth control, in case I went through with it. After this, I never saw him again because he had to go back to Germany. I was heart-broken, and 3 months later, I rebounded by having a summer time fling while on vacation. It was meant to make me feel better. What ended up happening, is that the guy was mentally unstable and abusive to me and I got pregnant because I hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone and went off birth control. The day I found out I was pregnant, I broke up with him because I hated him. My biggest thought at the time, was that no one would ever take me to my senior prom. That was how I knew I wasn’t ready to be a mother. So my mom asked me if I wanted an abortion, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do. We went away to Baltimore for a weekend, so I could make a decision to have the baby or have an abortion. I had pretty much settled on an abortion, as I wanted no contact with the father what-so-ever, and made my choice to do so. And then it started to snow. The “Blizzard of 96”. And as it started to snow, I started to bleed. By the time we got back to Lancaster, I had miscarried. I went back to school a week later, and everyone thought I had an abortion. I would have, but I didn’t end up having to make that decision. It was made for me, and I am glad for that now. It would’ve been horrible to live with the guilt of that, even though it was the best choice for me at the time. People talked about me…how I was a slut because I got pregnant, even though they were sleeping with their boyfriends. Guess they didn’t realize they could’ve had the same problem very easily.

I didn’t become a slut until much later.

But it was that was fun. I had two years of casual sex before I got married. I didn’t do it because I had low self esteem. I didn’t do it to make boys like me. I did it because it was a blast and I was a goddess. And I have some hilarious stories, and slept with some people that most girls in my high school dreamed about. Why should I feel bad about that? Because it’s immoral? Could I have casual sex at this stage of my life, if I were single? Definitely. I am a sexual person. I’m not going to apologize for being myself. But I can honestly tell you that I have never cheated on my husband, from Day 1 of our marriage. I can keep my vagina in my pants.

I feel sorry for the closed-minded idiots that I went to school with. Those who took themselves so seriously that they didn’t bother to BE themselves. You might have sat at the “cool table” or the “smart table”, but you missed out on knowing me. So if I see you at the reunion and you are curious about what you might have missed, come over and say hi. I’ll give you a shot. Because if we haven’t grown at all in 14 years, then what have we done with our lives?

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Camping? Oh Shit.

I can clearly see how, in a state of emotional turmoil, my decision-making skills were hijacked by the need for a distraction.

Like making the choice to go camping. FOR A 3 DAY WEEKEND.

I have only recently begun to contemplate what this really means.

3 days of hearing my children bitch and complain that they are bored. 3 days of not being able to send them away because I am sick of hearing them bitch and complain. 3 days of not letting them watch tv or use video games. 3 days of ME not being able to watch tv or lay in a real bed. 3 days of no climate control, which could screw me depending on extreme hotness or coldness, both of which will most likely occur. My dogs or children will probably pop my air mattress at some point the first night, leaving me tired, cold and uncomfortable.

I have only camped during one period of my life...when I was 20-23, living in Alaska, and drinking heavily. In fact, I drank heavily every time I went camping. And it was never in a campground, but the wilderness. What happens when you camp in a campground? Do people really come over and say, "Howdy, neighbor!" Do they invite you to come sing camp songs? Am I the type of person who would SING camp songs, or make fun of the campers at the next site over singing them?

I think we all know the answer to that question. I am really only looking forward to the hotdogs.

Yet, sometimes I wish I was a happier, stupid person. That I wouldn't feel uncomfortable leading the crowd in singing, "Happy Birthday" to my kids. That I was more "Mom-ish". That I could get simple enjoyment out of spending quality time with my family, when I would much rather leave them all at home and go to the casino for a day.

Is this type of mom even real? Has any mother in history really "liked" that mom crap, or are some just better at pretending, and then slip out of the room to take a gulp out of their vodka bottle, neatly hidden in a stack of perfectly folded towels? Or how many are popping "Mommy's little helpers", Xanax, Valium or other medication to keep from slitting their wrists in their mundane realities?

Do we all feel guilty for this mom image we have put on a pedestal? Of who we feel we SHOULD be, and how we know we never will?

For the most part, I just don't even bother trying, because I know it will make me miserable, and let's face it...I am miserable enough with life the way it is.

But, what the hell...I am going to give it a go this weekend. If nothing else, I may be able to embarrass my children, which would give me great amusement.

Monday, June 27, 2011

What the hell just happened?

I am too tired right now to begin to put together the events of my weekend, but, "for the art", I will give it my best efforts.

Friday was like torture, waiting for everyone to arrive. I was a wreck...Andy was a wreck. It was a mess. I made all this food, and then there was no one there to eat it. I found out that my in-laws were in town already, but they went out to dinner, even thought they knew I had made food because I told everyone I was.

Of course, everyone arrives within the same time frame, so chaos ensued. It was a fun weekend, but very emotional too. But when I laid down last night, and Andy asked me how I was, I said "Good". I haven't felt good for a long time, so it was a relief.

The sad thing is that it takes a trauma to be able to get together with my friends. It's harder to justify when life is good, as if you "need" them less. I laughed pretty hard this weekend, I cried, and I ate a ton of food.

But it was like a and then it's gone. But it was lovely while it lasted. Sharing secrets, talking about life. We all have sons too, so it was pretty funny. My boys were so good, playing with the little kids. This worked out perfectly...mine were old enough to babysit all their kids, so the moms could relax a little. Everyone pitched in and helped out with everything. It was a family. We ARE a family. And it's something that we all are not used to, because we live far away from each other and our we were all used to "doing it on our own" and it was nice to just not have to worry about everything because one of us would get it if there was a problem.

I wish life was like that. It makes me crave family and friends being around all the time. Few things in life are as reliable as the comfort I felt this weekend, even in its awkward moments...and there were definitely some.

I am so glad to go out to California next month. I feel better about it already...stronger. And I felt so good this weekend, I know I will be okay and have fun then.

Today, though, I am exhausted and feel slightly ill. And tonight, I need to just rest, because tomorrow, I start getting packed for this weekends camping trip.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Girls just wanna have fun!

I am so excited. I'm surprised I slept last night.

My friends and family arrive tonight for the weekend, and I can't wait to laugh.

I need to laugh.

Last night we had some good thunderstorms in the early evening. I was sitting in my garage, talking to Andy. Was a deep conversation and we were both emotional. The garage door was open, and it started to pour.

I love thunderstorms and rain showers. We used to get them all the time when we lived in Georgia. Frequently, I fight the urge to just walk out and stand in the pouring rain. To feel it wash over me, like a shower.

I didn't fight it yesterday. I got up, took off my socks and walked out in the storm. It was cold, but it felt so good. I just felt the water and the chill, and it relaxed me. Made me feel alive and free.

Must have scared the crap out of Andy, because he came out a few minutes later and grabbed me and forced me in the garage. He looked scared. Then he ran and got a towel, because I was cold and soaked. Then he shut the garage door, in case I got a little skitzy and took off again.

Made me giggle a little.

Is it crazy? I don't think so. There are plenty of people who would think it was, though. But to those people, you can't explain how a good thunderstorm can "set you right" again, at least temporarily.

Also, I booked my boudoir photos for August. Now I just have to figure out what to wear, which is always the problem.

Tomorrow I renew my vows. I can't say I am excited for that. I feel more like it's just something that I am driven to do. It's not the same as when you get married the first time. You are innocent then. (Kind of.)

But I have the hope that this time will not end in pain. That its the beginning of the rest of my life.

I can not wait to see my friend's boys. CANNOT WAIT. I love them. It's just as amazing to see what they created as it is to see my own kids. And they are all young and sweet, not mouthy like mine are.

Gavin got mad last night because he wanted to sleep at his friends house. He's been to sleepovers the past three weekends, so this time I was not giving in.

I was promptly rewarded with a text that told me how much he F****** hated me. (It was texted just like that, with the stars.) Evidently, he thought that as long as he didn't spell it out, it was not a big deal.

He thought wrong.

So I called him in our room, where Andy and I had just put in "Nightmare on Elm Street". Andy grabbed the remote to turn off the start menu, because it was mildly scary, but I told him not to. Let it scare the little bugger a bit. The movie hadn't started, just the reel that plays in the start menu.

Ha. Alternative parenting.

He walked in with an "angry" look on his face. Pursed lips and redhead scowl. He would've sat there for an hour and kept it up because he's stubborn as shit.

And then he realized what was on the tv screen, and his attitude quickly vanished, as he moved closer to Andy and I.

And then the anger flew away.

I am so smart. And a little twisted.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Stop the coaster, I wanna get off!!!

Every day is so up and down.

Just when I think I am making progress, I fall backwards. I know it's going to be that way for a long time. I just can't help but be disappointed. And it pisses me off a little at myself for not being tougher. Then I realize how much energy it is pulling out of my body just to get out of bed in the morning, and I back off beating myself up.

Andy has to go to the field for a week after we go camping. It scares the crap out of me. I made it through a 24 hour duty two weeks ago, where he didn't come home. I had a beer and watched "Under the Tuscan Sun." I went to a happy place, and I fell asleep quite nicely. But I knew he was coming home the next morning. This time, he will be gone from Wednesday to Wednesday. That's a lot of time to not have a physical reassurance. It's not going to be pretty. He's not gonna be too good either. By the time we get home from work every day, we need to just lay down and hold each other to calm down from the damage our own brains inflict upon us. I guess it's good practice for when i go to California next month. I am so excited to go. I just want to be able to have fun, and not be afraid I will freak out a little bit. Trying to get that under control.

I may need a refill on my Xanax. I have done PRETTY WELL with not taking the Xanax, I will have you know. In fact, I haven't taken one for over a week. I am taking Zoloft every day...I'm no robot. I need chemical help for this shit.

On the upside, I have to say...I feel MUCH better than I did a month ago. The hardest thing about the first 6 weeks, was that the bad feelings didn't ever go away. I felt horrible 24/7. I was desperate to do anything to feel better. Like, in a "sell my soul to the devil" kind of way. That was truly scary. But then it started to settle, and as it did, I was able to start sorting out thoughts and feelings in a manageable way. And it gets better every week. Now, I not only hope that I will be happy again, I actually have periods of happiness already. Smiling helps. One of the meditation exercises actually makes you close your eyes, breathe in, and when you breathe out, Smile. Yeah, you feel like a douchebag, but after you do this enough times, the realization you LOOK like a douchebag makes you smile, and even laugh. So you really do feel better, although, I don't know if they intended you to think about being a douchebag.

I have to go grocery shopping tonight and get a pedicure. My last pedicure was the weekend before "D-Day", in anticipation of Andy coming home. I got my nails painted black with white flowers. Never painted my nails black before. Maybe it was an omen. Anyway, now I can see how much they have grown since this happened. It's a visable distance of how far I have come. Sounds dumb...but today I am ready to move forward.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

What is normal?

I will probably not get to see the President...sounds like it's going to be a rushed appearance...very cloak-and-dagger.

The kind of event you need a Purple Heart or other war recognition.

Unfortunately (or fortunately!) I don't have any of those, nor does my husband. We are average. Nothing outstanding to see, people. So we don't warrant a special meeting with the Prez.

Oh well.

Things have been very up and down lately. I have intense feelings of forgiveness when I go to bed, only to have that ripped to shreds by bad dreams through the night, to wake up scared and unsure again.

I try to take my obsessive, unproductive thoughts (flashback images of my husband doing things that are not good, nagging questions that I don't know if I trust the answers he gives or if I just doubt that I am credible enough to myself to believe them) and I stuff them in a mental trashbag and lock them away. I am getting better at blocking this stuff out. But it takes time and a concerted effort to do.

I am my own worst enemy. I wage a war on two with my relationship and one with myself. I will win because I have to. Living in fear is not optional. I am not acting like my demons don't exist, because they do. Somehow, people want to give me advice to not think about any of it and put it out of my head. Just think about something else. Ha. What else is there? This is my life. But they don't see that in order to conquer it, I must face it head on and defeat it. I don't want to be in denial that I am okay, because I would just be leaving myself open for a mental breakdown in the future, or a divorce.

The pain from this is searing. But I feel awake. I notice how much I was sleeping for the past two years in my life. I was numb and complacent. I am determined to never let myself go back to that mental state that I think everything is okay. Sometimes, I guess it takes almost dying to appreciate life. There are silver linings to this mess. And this is one of them. I have a new appreciation for living and doing things better.

I understand Buddha now. I feel enlightened by embracing my pain, working through it, making changes and accepting the way things were. But they don't have to remain that way for the rest of my life. I have power to change them and be a better person in my relationship, as my husband does. Now we are free to just be who we are honestly. I feel like my husband sees me as a whole for the first time, and I see there is so much more to him. I am not at this understanding all the time...I regress during the day. But in dealing with my emotions rather than shoving it in a corner of my mind, I lessen the chances I will be caught off guard again or damaged by my own insecurities.

Am I torturing myself? I very easily could be. The difference is pushing out the unproductive thoughts, and dealing with the productive ones. It's actually a very good exercise in meditation, and something I needed to do anyway, because my stress level was out of control, thinking about things I cannot change and/or have no control over. Those are what I have to let go.

It's hard to trust again, but not as hard as I thought it would be. I already have glimmers of trust. Part of me knows I will never be as devastated as I was. The kind of hurt I felt initially will never happen to me again, because it was a loss of innocence in our marriage. That is gone, and it's sad. But it was glossy, and kept a film over seeing what is real. Does it feel better to be deluded? HELL YES IT DOES. But once you have the wool removed from your eyes, you can either choose to put yourself back in a situation where you continue to delude yourself, or see life through clear glasses. If you look at things for what they are, and accept changes that need to be made, then you can be whole again down the road.

My husband could hurt me again because I choose to stay. But he will never hurt me again like he did, because it's not possible. And now I know it won't kill me and I won't go crazy. And if he does hurt me again, I will leave him and take away the power to do any more damage.

Again...I know everyone who is not going through a trauma like this right now is reading this and thinking "SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY. YOU ARE NOT INTERESTING WHEN YOU ARE ALL INTROSPECTIVE AND SHIT."

Yeah, I know. I have time for funny later. Right now, I am trying to get this crap out for the people who have commented or emailed me that they too, were going through a hard time. Because I have been searching far and wide online for SOMETHING to guide me through this crap and let me know I am not alone. So I am leaving my trail of breadcrumbs here so other people have that comfort too. I can't tell you what to do. All I can tell you is what I am doing and why.

If you feel uncomfortable with my pain, then take a break from me if I talk about this. Recovery IS talking about it. And I need to be selfish to recover, even if it is at the expense of someone else's comfort level. So do as I am doing, and get over it. It happened. I won't pretend it didn't to make you feel better. It doesn't make ME feel better to ignore it.

That being said, I am planning on having a fantastic weekend this weekend with my friends and family. This weekend is about celebrating and the future. And I can't wait.

Monday, June 20, 2011

As if friends and family weren't enough of a reason to clean my house, now the President is coming!

Today I found out that President Obama is expected to show up at Fort Drum on Thursday for our annual "Mountainfest" celebration. It pretty much is like a big barbeque with musical acts. But the news speculates he will speak about the drawdown in Afghanistan. I certainly hope so. The last thing I need right now is the threat of another damn deployment. I am ready to be free and clear of the army, as employer to my husband. At least I have no chance of being deployed, even though I work for them too.

I actually like Obama, which is unusual for a military spouse, as most are staunch republicans. I voted for him. I liked George W and Clinton too, because even if our polical ideologies didn't match, they seemed like funny guys to have a beer with. I know my bipartisan attitude pisses people I will leave it at that. No matter if you like the President or not, it's still the President of the United States. And it's a big deal. I have shaken one President's hand, and seen another from 10 feet away.

So I will be pretty busy this week...I have a bbq at work on Thursday as well, where I have to bring a potluck dish. I have mountains of laundry to put away, bathrooms and carpets to clean and bedding to wash. We have company coming for our vow renewal on Saturday. Being busy is a good thing. It keeps me occupied and less time to dwell on unproductive thoughts.

Home projects, family visits, scary movies, pending weekend trips and work. These are the things that are helping me get through the past month.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Alas, the weekend beckons me...



Since being a kid, Friday is always the day you can sigh and know that you don't have to get up early. It is synonymous with fun and the possibility of doing something great.

Today it means going after work to pick up my new rings, getting a pedicure, and eating a turkey dinner. It also means trying to get my kids to watch "Paranormal Activity" with us, so we can see them get the crap scared out of them. It's really the little things in life that make me happy. (snicker)

This weekend, we are getting the house ready for our visitors next weekend, when we renew our vows. We also have to accomplish grocery shopping and camping shopping, since we are going camping 4th of July weekend.

I have lists. Lots of them. I need to make lists OF my lists, there are so many.

Food for normal grocery shopping for the next two weeks.
Food for camping.
Camping supplies to buy.
Camping trip stuff to pack.
Who is coming to the Vow Renewal?
Food I need to order for the Vow Renewal.
Food I need to still buy separately for the Vow Renewal.
Food for Friday night, when everyone gets in town.

Really, its disgusting. I have post-its everywhere on my desk. Reminders because my brain doesn't keep an itemized calendar.

It's going to be a busy next few weeks. I'm actually glad about that. Life almost seems normal. And I am so grateful.

Does anyone have ideas of what to eat when you are camping, besides hot dogs? I think that's all I've ever eaten when I camped. But I haven't camped in 9 years. Or any camping tips? Things I need to take? Help a sister out!!!

Thursday, June 16, 2011

"Heyyyy youuuuu guysss!"

So yesterday I woke up with what I thought to be a large zit coming in, right by the crease of my eye and nose. It was noticeable only to me. As someone who only gets random pimples, I thought it was an odd place for one to appear and kept poking at it, so that it would rise up through the skin and I could defeat it like an enemy.

Well, evidently, I got played.

This morning, I woke up to get the kids on the bus. My "friend" was now twice as big and red as evilness. Still convinced it was a zit, I poked and squeezed at it some more, and drifted back off to sleep.

An hour later, Andy came home and woke me up, saying, "What happened to your eye??!!"

That is not the first thing you want to hear when you wake up.

I got up and looked in the mirror, and I looked like a had a stroke on one side of my face. My eye was all droopy, and was starting to puff up and swell shut. I quickly took a benedryl, took a shower and got ready to go to the urgent care center, thinking I got bitten by a Brown Recluse, and was sure the flesh-eating was soon to follow.

Obviously, this was no zit.

So first I went in to work, to show my boss that there is actually something wrong with me, and I don't just have an objection to working a solid two weeks without some major Then I went to the local urgent care center and was forced to sit in a waiting room filled with urchin children...the little kids/toddlers that are covered in a crust of snot, put everything in their mouths, and the mother that think they are so adorable that everyone in the world must be exposed to their little "gift from God" to make their day a little brighter. This, along with being a school chaparone to Sesame Place and petting zoos, is like the 7th level of hell to me.

Yet, I survived, because I am tough. lol.

Anytime your face is mishapen, you look like hell, or have some other embarrassing affliction, you never want a hot doctor. Well, again, I got screwed. In walks "Dr. Caleb", with his gleaming grin and muscular build, and I thought for sure I would die.

Turns out, my "bug bite" was not a bug bite. It is a bacterial infection, and it will take ten days of antibiotics, taken 4 times a DAY, and plowing myself with coma-inducing Benedryl. If it doesn't get better in two days, I have to go back and let Dr. Caleb give me a steriod shot in my ass.

Because this isn't humiliating enough.

I asked him if he was sure some bug didn't drop its eggs in my face to hatch, (half-jokingly), and to my horror, he laughed and then said he was NOT sure, although he had never seen that before, and if its not better then come back so they can rule that out.

"?" What??????!!!!!!!!!

Then Dr. Caleb informed me, "It's not THAT bad. You're still pretty." To which I replied, "Yeah, if you've got an affinity for Sloth from "The Goonies."

Thank goodness, I have a sense of humor. Some days, it is the only thing keeping me from flushing myself down the toilet.

(Resigned sigh and Giggle)

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Apparently, I am a sucker for romantic literary references…blech.

I had this thought two nights ago, as I was trying to drift off to sleep:

What if my husband got a tattoo of a “Scarlett Letter A”, to always visually remind him of the mistakes he has made, and to also remind him that every negative action has consequences and how he has the power to stop them? I have thought of the term “adultery” several times going through this mess, and to think of that word made me think of that book, and how people were forced to wear the letter pinned to their chests, so that everyone would know their sin.

I mentioned it to him yesterday, and he didn’t understand the reference. He grew up in Canada, and therefore didn’t read “The Scarlett Letter” in high school. I explained the story to him and the significance of the “A” on Hester Prynne’s chest.

Do you know what he said?

He wants to do it.

He wanted it over his heart. But I talked him in to the wrist, so that he can see it at all times.

He has no idea what a flagrant display of his own shame like this does for me, and being sure of his intent. That he is willing to do it because he wants to, not because I thought of it…since I didn’t push at all, only brought up the notion.

He is not an intellectually minded person. He is an average Joe. A man who doesn’t read or look for symbolism. Doesn’t believe in superstition. If he IS romantic, it takes careful planning and yet still ends up being flowers or candles. Never anything not already done and over-played. Never anything that ever lived up to the unfulfilled notion of romance and creativity in my head.

Yet, he is willing to wear his mistake on the outside, for everyone to see. Wear his heart on his sleeve in an artful, yet completely honest display of humility.

That is a man worthy of my forgiveness and my love.

I don’t think anyone has ever done ANYTHING that I have ever found more romantic.

We go on Saturday.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Why do I work again? Oh, I can eat.

I hate getting up to go to work. And I really have no business bitching about it, because I have an awesome boss and I don't have to be there until 10am. And I work less than a mile from my house.

I know...shut up already, right?

But I really intensely dislike getting out of my bed. It's so cozy and comfortable. Especially on rainy days.

Lately I have been considering if I should start writing a book, but my problem is that I don't know what I would write about. That's the best thing about blogging, I can write about whatever I feel like that day. Writing a book takes dedication to that subject for months or years. And I don't know what subject I would care that much about writing a book about.

It's not easy to be a working writer. Most make ridiculously low pay. I made $10/hr as a staff writer for a newspaper, and had no real work schedule, since I had to be available to cover events as they happened. Was it fun? Sure...I loved it, other than the fact I had a baby at home and I was pregnant at the time. But the financial gain was small.

If you get lucky and manage to get a column, that would be probably my dream job. I could switch up my topics and give opinion pieces. But you have to work your way in to that.

And so I continue to plug away in my mindless job, like everyone else, wishing I could do what I really want for work. But I am very grateful that I have a job, since I know what it is like to be unemployed, and that is so much harder.

Until I win the lottery (ha!)

Monday, June 13, 2011

Duct tape should be a gift given at baby showers for expectant mothers...

Not necessarily for when they are babies, although I have seen many out in public that would've given me a pause on having children. Thankfully, my kids were good babies, or I probably wouldn't have had more than one.

But when they get to be around, say...11 going on 21, duct tape is the first thing that comes to mind in a "New Mother's Toolkit".

We have officially begun the "everything is about me, and driving me around pre-teen years."

Gavin had his first school dance Friday night. I got home from work, and he was "G'd" up, hair moussed and shirt inappropriately unbuttoned halfway down his bony, pale chest. No T-shirt underneath. And his most ripped up, yet clean, skinny jeans. Thankfully, he IS skinny...but men should not wear skinny jeans. Clearly, I think he is making serious fashion faux pas.

We drove him out to the school to drop him off, where he made us park far enough back that no one could see my rockin sport utility wagon, OR me. They had the dance outside, which I have never seen done before...nor have I seen so many scary looking middle schoolers. When I was in school, there was one or two fat kids. At THIS school, there were too many to count.

As a "curvy" adult woman, I know it's a struggle to lose weight. But there is no excuse for most kids to be fat. That falls on the parents to make them get out and exercise and control what they eat. My son Taylor has gone through chunky stages...but I stop buying junk and started buying healthy snacks and limiting portion sizes. It just really makes me mad, because kids have it hard enough as it is...they don't need their weight giving them problems too.

Anyway, I had to ask Gavin about ten times after we picked him up if he was making out with any girls, because Taylor told me he had planned to kiss his girlfriend in the bathroom. (eye roll) This conversation prompted a more detailed Q&A about sex which I was horrified in a "saw your parents doing it" kind of way as they asked me the following questions and made the following statements:

"How do men masturbate?"
"Do women spurt anything out when they come?" (How they knew the term "come", I will never know. But I had NIGHTMARES, people.)
"Is there a mens birth control pill?"
"Men wear condoms...which are rubber things that go over your weiner."
"I know I am too young to think about sex, weiner is too small."
"I hear you and Daddy in your bedroom, and I know what you are doing when you close the door."

I am so screwed. Please Lord, let me make it to my 40s before becoming a grandmother.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Things I am Grateful For...

Despite all that has happened in my life, I haven't lost hope. I would like to consider myself a realist, but I have enough childish imagination left to dream about the ways in which my life will improve as I heal. Even without those things, I feel guilty for even falling apart, since there is still so much that I have, when others don't.

I have the most wonderful friends anyone could ask for. Some, I have had for 20+ years. They know me, listen to all my bullshit, they support me even when they have no idea if what I am doing is right, and they love me unconditionally. I have newer friends, my readers and people who were acquaintances who have shown me that they see something special in me, and have helped me to keep the motivation to keep going.

I have two amazing sons, who I love more every day. They make me laugh, roll my eyes, and swear a lot. But even when I wonder why I had children, I watch them learn and make decisions, and it facinates me.

I have a large, extended family that have shown me, in ways I may have doubted before, that they love me. Even when you don't always get along, doesn't mean you don't have someones back.

I have a lovely home, with things...but I realize more now that those things don't matter as much as I thought they did. I don't sleep on the ground, I don't starve, and I can provide my children with the things they need. Half the world can't even do those things. And my kids are worried about getting an XBox! I don't go to sleep at night and worry about being homeless. I have a job, which in this economy is a blessing.

I also have a chance to have the marriage I thought I did. I have the chance to live the rest of my life with him, and overcome obstacles together, rather than separately. We have a chance to be stronger because of this, and really let each other in.

I've also learned a lot about myself. What am I made of? It's so much easier to run away from this...avoid feeling pain and heartache, tough conversations...just go numb and move on. It would've been so much easier to walk out the door and start a new life. I really wanted to. I always thought I would if this ever happened. But I guess I am more than I thought I could be. The thing that made the difference, is that I see what he is going through, and I see his physical pain. I see how he tortures himself with what he did, and that he was the cause of this mess because he was weak. It makes it easier to forgive him, because I know he may not ever forgive himself. If I caused this, I know what I would feel, and that he has to be hurting more than I am. He didn't blame me...he accepted responsibility. He apologizes daily, as tears come out of his eyes. This man who is so strong and unemotional for 14 years has been reduced for the past two months to a mess. When you see that break, you don't doubt the pain and agony they feel. If he didn't look like this, I wouldn't believe his words. But I am seeing a man who is unraveled and broken. And that does something to me. I feel pain for his pain.

How selfish would I be, to sit and feel sorry for myself? What a waste of time. It would be disgusting. My prayers aren't even enough for God to waste his time answering, when there is so much more going on in the world.

So I will be grateful for what I have. All that I have.

Next week, I will be going back to my old Not this emotional melodrama. So thanks for sticking with me until I could get out of this headtrip, and get back to the land of the living.

Have a great weekend! I know I will.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Did that really just come out of my mouth???

Perhaps the biggest horror in all this mess, is that I have been so fucked in my head, that I have found myself referencing movies.

I could die of the humiliation from that alone.

Week 1:
I compared my rebirth from this to when Gandalf died in Lord of the Rings and came back as the White Wizard. Yes. I actually said that out loud. My shame is so great. I almost want to cheat on myself for saying that.

Week 3:
I told my husband that we would be like Forrest Gump and Bubba, and lean on each other to keep our heads out of the mud when we sleep. (I have to laugh at this one…it’s too damn funny.)

Week 5:
I watched “Under the Tuscan Sun” about 5 times…each time, growing more sure I was going to somehow write a book, sell it, find Sandra Oh and make her my best friend, and then we were going to buy and refurbish a villa in Italy. I even looked up information on moving to Italy. Also, Costa Rica and Brazil. How do these women on movies manage to not have financial problems when getting divorced??? It really pisses me off, although, had I had funds at my disposal, I very well may have run off to Italy. My poorness is sometimes the only thing that keeps me from acting spontaneously. (okay, okay, I am not poor. Just not as rich as I think I should be.)

On the advice of one of my BFFs, I am taping a new series on the Oprah Winfrey Network (yeah, I just threw up a little in my mouth) called Stories of Infidelity and Betrayal. It’s on Monday nights at 9pm. We watched the first one last night. (I find it absolutely amusing that I can get Andy to watch something on the Oprah Network out of sheer guilt, and I intend to use it to my advantage. Today it’s Oprah, tomorrow it’s Dr Phil, next week, it’s Lifetime Movies)

Anyway, it was actually interesting and helpful. It was also encouraging to see that the couples on there took 6 months or more to come to the place we are at 6 weeks after the event. And we have answered a lot of the same questions without the help of a licensed professional…although we are going to seek that for other reasons.

My friends have been great through this…so great. No one knows what the hell to say to me. I was actually really hoping people would start showing up with casseroles, so I wouldn’t have to cook for my kids, because I don’t feel like doing a damn thing around the house. It was hard to even tell anyone…to have the words leave my lips because then it was real. I hate feeling like they think I am making a mistake because I want to be sure of my decision. But I am not sure about anything. I have no idea if I am really making the smartest choice here…In fact, I am probably NOT making the smartest choice. The only way to guarantee never feeling this kind of pain again is to never get in a relationship again. But it’s not realistic.

Could I make an easier choice, sure…if you call it easy. I don’t think any of my options were easy. So I am going with what I feel. If I change my mind down the road, it’s not like I am any worse off. It’s important to have support, even if you are making a dumb choice. No one really knows what is going to happen in the end…Did you know only 30% of marriages survive infidelity?

That ain’t good.

There is a lot that is “not good” when it comes to my future. But I am not really trapped either, so I can always get out if the going gets too tough. But I think I am doing the right thing, so I am gonna keep at it. I panic at least 3 times a day…”What the hell am I doing?” I let details of the events take me under, over and over again. I have to wage war on my own brain constantly. I’m terrified. I am so scared, like I have never been scared before. It’s like learning to swim again after you almost drowned. I don’t want to let go of the wall yet. I need floaties, a damn noodle…SOMETHING. I need my husband standing there, telling me he won’t let me fall again, but I don’t believe him…I can’t let myself believe any words yet. And so there is nothing to make me feel better but brief moments of distraction. Ironically, he was looking for a distraction from his stress and that’s what caused all this in the first place. Now I need the distraction. I wish it were just as simple as that.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Check yo self, before you wreck yo self

This has been odd. Strange. Weird. Surreal. Poignant. Thought-provoking. Life-changing. Awe-inpiring.

It’s been insane.

I’ve struggled to find something solid to cling to.

I wake up every day with the same feeling. Like I am treading water in the middle of an ocean, searching for something to keep me afloat. It’s not a good way to wake up. It’s like, “Oh, yeah…I remember.” And then I struggle to remind myself of the few things I know for sure.

I know for sure he loves me.

I know for sure I love him.

I know he believes he will never do it again.

I know that in order to be whole, I have to do this.

I know that I will survive and one day, be happy again.

Right now, Happiness comes in small increments. Maybe a minute, or two, or ten. Maybe twenty, if I am properly distracted. Those brief glimpses give me something to keep fighting for more of. Makes me know it’s possible.

I find it interesting that I have never looked better in my life, at the same time my life was leveled. I have lost over 40 lbs. My hair is super long, and I look smokin hot. My abs look almost cut. I liked myself in a dress for the first time in 12 years. When I lay down, my pants gap out from my stomach. And I feel my hip bones pretty clearly. I’ve also lost 3 cup sizes from my chest….which has made my back hurt less. And I had it to spare. It’s justice, in a way…he can look at me and think, “wow, I almost lost THAT. I am a fucking fool.” Shit….I look at myself and think, “Wow, he almost lost this…He’s a fucking fool.”

I know he can’t do better.

And so, I am going to get boudoir photos done. I have always wanted to, and I guess a mid-life crisis is as good a time as any, and I better do it before things start to go further south. I’ve been asking myself, “Why not” instead of “why” lately. Instead of “should I?” it’s been “why don’t I?” Plus, they airbrush the shit out of them and make me look tan instead of a pasty death-white. They even do your hair and makeup. I may take out a billboard if they are good enough so that an appropriate amount of people see them for the money I am about to pay. Screw the “should”….if it’s not destructive. Instead of what I am supposed to do, I am doing what I want to do.

And that includes renewing my wedding vows.

I am superstitious about some things.

When we got engaged, I hated the ring. It’s not me at all. But I’ve tolerated it. Not anymore…I traded that bad boy in for the ring set I wanted last weekend. Woot Woot!

When we got married, I let my mom handle most of the details. I was 19 for fucks sake. I didn’t know anything. This time, I am getting married outside, in a park, by water, with the wind blowing around me. My dress is black and white. My veil is also black and white. Because it is symbolic of the yin and the yang of things. There is bad in all good, and good in all bad. And because I am something of a badass and don’t want to be traditional. Yes folks, I am a rebel. That drives a sport utility wagon. (Don’t you ever call it a minivan!)

We originally were going to get married in June, so I need to do this in June. Right the wrongs. His father and step-mother weren’t there, so this time, they will be.

This time, we will do it the right way. The way it should have been done.
Do I feel like a bit of an ass, renewing my vows NOW???

Yes. I most certainly do. It’s not an optimal situation. But it also requires a symbolic display, in front of our friends and family, of our commitment to each other. And so I need to do it. And I realize hardly anyone will come, and that sucks. But even if it’s just him, me and God, then that’s good enough for me.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Am I Nucking Futs????

This is the question I have pondered over and over again the past few days. And I have decided to answer it in writing.

I am a person who spends WAAAAAAYYYYYYY too much time in her own head. I obsess over things, needlessly, so that I can have all the bases covered, every angle dissected and a plan formulated. I picked up this horrible habit a few years back, when a series of misfortunate events caused me to be unemployed, stressed out to the max and scared. Ever since then, I feel like I have to be prepared for everything that life decides to chuck at my head.

And then the bottom fell out 6 weeks ago, in a way I didn’t see coming. I was obsessing over moving and finding a house and a job, and now I could laugh at that. None of it mattered anyway.

When this happened with my husband, I discussed the living hell out of it because that is the “healthy” way to cope. I wanted to rush through all the stages of grief and get to the acceptance part, because I wanted to get out of this mental hell. I obsessed. I needed an answer and couldn’t come to one logically.

I could choose to leave him, therefore losing the relationship but also the further risk of this ever happening to me again at his hands. I could date, but never open up my heart to be whole again. I could be happy and find fulfillment in every other aspect of my life, of which I don’t have now…and forego the love and be protected.

I could choose to leave him and try to have relationships again. But did you know that you have more of a risk of being cheated on by someone new than someone who did cheat on you once? My odds are better staying with him in this scenario. Besides, I know he is “the one”, and no one could ever be more right for me, so I would be settling, should I choose to seek love elsewhere.

Or I could stay with him. I see this has shredded him up and spit him out. This is a man who I have seen cry so few times I could count on one hand in 14 years, and he has been leveled to the ground. He has broken down and sobbed several times a week. I have dissected the hell out of what happened, in order to make sure we know the reasons and causes, to make changes so it doesn’t happen again. The army trains soldiers to push emotion out of their head and deal with it later. Later hits sooner than expected sometimes, when compounded by the rest of life. Men are told to just get over things and not feel anything. To “just be strong”, yet this false sense of bravado is actually displaying weakness. It’s a failure to recognize that you can’t do it alone. Does he have PTSD? I don’t know. But has he mentally been affected by a near-death experience(s) while being deployed? Yes. And a failure to reconnect with his wife, due to the fact we have had one thing after another since before he even got back from Iraq. My husband is a far more sensitive person than I am. He is a good person. He is an excellent soldier. But he has broken. I don’t agree to submit myself to anymore pain from him. If he hurts me again, I am done. That much I know. But I also promised to love him through “better or worse”. This is his worst.

I am 32 years old. In those 32 years, I have been subjected to losing friends and family through deaths, rape, molestation, teen pregnancy, being broke, two deployments and raising two children largely alone, and now infidelity and betrayal. It’s the same stories that many people go through, and my life could still be worse. I still have it better than so many others. I may not even be halfway to my death yet, and experienced all those things. So, because I love my husband, I will give him a chance to be my bright spot in life, and not another pain to suffer through. I think we have more than most people do, and I think we can get through this mess and be stronger because of it.

In the meantime, I feel inspired to “stop and smell the roses”. To stop feeling comfortable in my relationship and my life, and get off my ass and do the rest of the things I wanted to accomplish. I sacrificed all my other dreams in order to be with my husband. And he became the only fulfillment I have in life. This has shook me to the core, and I realize how I need to take advantage of my time and start living in the moment, rather than always making a plan of how it will be better down the road.
Being able to laugh is a gift. It beats depression and stress and anxiety. It relieves your soul. I’ll never lose that, and so I know I will be okay. And because I am strong.

Something like this should kill you…it really should. But it doesn’t.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Up Shit Creek Without a Paddle

So I know...I vanished for the past two weeks. I'm sorry to scare you with my abrupt absence.

I had a little bit of a breakdown. I lost my bananas, stayed in bed for two days, screamed at my husband and mildly attacked him physically (no visable wounds) and cried a whole bunch.

And then I left him on my birthday. Got in the car Wednesday, told him I'd be home Monday, but that I was done with him. Left him with the kids so I could do whatever I wanted to do.

I went to my sister's for a night and then to one of my best friend's for a night. And thought a lot. And felt a lot.

And then I went home on Friday.

I didn't tell him I was coming. I actually messed with him a little, via text, and insinuated I was going to see "an old friend", which I knew would translate in to "a man I used to date", and it worked and freaked him out. I walked in to my house and found him shaking, clutching his phone, frantically trying to get me to answer mine.

I know...that was mean.

I figured out I want to be with him because I love him. And if I found out I was dying tomorrow, that none of this would matter. If, like Japan, we were hit with some crazy natural disasters, all I would want is him. We all do dumb things. I get that. It's how you handle it after the fact, and honestly, this whole thing has been so traumatic, if he ever did it again, he would be so stupid that he wouldn't even be worthy of another tear from me.

So we are renewing our vows sometime this month, and taking the kids camping for 4th of July weekend. Because you need things to look forward to in life. I can't bear to sit around and mope anymore. I have crappy days...actually yesterday and today really sucked. But the majority of last week, the sick, stomach-twisting feeling I was plagued with for 5 weeks, finally subsided and I felt (gasp) normal again.

And then I felt weird being normal.

I don't know how long it will take to actually be able to exist without this situation hanging over me. A few years....but my situation is a bit complex. Then again, aren't they all? So in the meantime, I am going to do what I want to do and just live my life. What else can I do? There are no more tears left in me. I found out last week my grandmother has cancer. This is a woman who is like my own mother, but better because she spoiled me rotten!!! I couldn't even cry. I have no more left in me. I would love to lay in bed...but I know that's depression talking. My exhaustion is better than it was because I finally got some sleep last week. But I am still tired and drained.

On the plus side, Pirates was excellent and I actually prefer Penelope Cruz as the leading lady over Keira Knightly with Johnny Depp. Thor was not exactly anything to write home over, but the kids liked it and it gave me some eye candy. It was thrilling to sit in the car for two hours with my sons, BEFORE THE MOVIE EVEN STARTED!!! (Eye roll.)After 6 arguments, 2 minor slap-fests and a choreographed dance routine by the boys, the show got on the road and then afterwards, at 3am, while we were 40 minutes from home, my car wouldn't turn on because my battery was dead.

And what did I do? Swear, sigh and laugh.

It pretty much sums me up lately.

Thursday, June 2, 2011


I will be back next week. Needed some R&R.