Month: May 2016

Waiting For the Storm to Pass…Emotional Cutting V1

.Reading time 10 minutes.
“You’ll end up really disappointed if you think people will do for you as you do for them. Not everyone has the same heart as you.”

I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different. It never fails, every single time I write about a new relationship in my journal, and now I guess here…

Something falls apart. Sir came to town on Saturday, stayed for an hour and left. I haven’t heard from him since.

The 2016 version of me believes that everything should be okay since we’re still friends on Facebook, but the 2000 version of me says – if we’re okay, why haven’t I heard from him in 3 days?

My gut reaction is that he has someone at home that he has guaranteed his time to. Every weekend since we met, he checks out from Friday evening to Monday. However; this time is different. He spent the day posting stuff on Facebook Sunday with no response to my two text messages. I’ve been diligent about keeping my attempts to a minimum because I don’t want to deal with the whole ‘you’re smothering me’ aspect.

My question here is-if you love someone how could you leave them hanging like this when clearly, they just want some resolution? I told him yesterday, even if you don’t want this anymore, just tell me so I know what’s going on instead of sitting here wondering.

Some of you have asked what happened to Ginger, the soft guy. He’s still around. In fact yesterday he sent me the sweetest message about how he has a big heart and he wants me to get to know him and learn about his life, as much as he wants to learn about mine. I posed this question on Facebook last night-do you go for the super unobtainable, or do you take the easy road?

Ginger is the easy road. I’m pretty sure if I told him right now that I wanted to exclusively date, and that I wanted to be with him for good, it’d be in the bag. The super unobtainable would be Sir of course. He drives me crazy, and I hate that I can’t settle him down enough to where he can even tell me that he has someone at home.

Then there’s my next question…When you love someone, how much do you take before enough is enough? I’ve done this so many times, and wondered the answer. Hell, when I was married to my second husband, he cheated EIGHTY times…Yes, you read that right. Eighty. As in eight-zero. He was in a car accident when he was 16 that damaged his right frontal lobe. Aka, the part of your brain that affects reasoning, spacial awareness, and the ability to know right from wrong. So I went to the Dr. with him. I listened to what the Dr. had to say….after time 25 or so. And because it was something that was directly affected by his accident, I let it go. He put my sexual health at risk, he put me in the crazy place. I was reading his text messages, monitoring when he went places…anything I could do to make myself feel better. But at what point was enough, enough? Time eighty fixed that for me. At this point he had hit on every single one of my friends, he’d cheated with mothers of his friends, he cheated with the wives of motorcycle gang members…He ran the full out gamete.

In my previous entry, She Gets What I Deserve, I openly discussed the fact that I am a mistress. I’ve fought the good fight, but have ended up standing at the finish line while some other girl (or woman) has crossed that line to get the prize. Granted, those guys aren’t really a “prize” if they’re a lying, cheating scum bag. But somewhere in my head, I feel like I deserve to end up with the prize.

Back to my question, when you love someone, how much do you take before enough is enough? Say Sir has someone at home…Do I really just lay there and take it? I would…because the ridiculously unobtainable is what intrigues me. It makes me want more and it makes me want to fight harder, where as I could just sit there and take

Ginger’s affections and be ok with the fact that he will never challenge me. He will essentially do what I want, when I want it without even a protest. I don’t want that anymore. I’ve had it too many times. I feel like I need to be challenged so that I can feel things. So that I know I’m still moving in some direction other than being stagnant controlling a situation that I don’t want to control.

Would I leave if I found out that Sir has someone? I’d like to say yes. But then my gut says no. Why do I do that to myself? “Some people create their own storms, then get upset when it rains.” Yikes. I’m afraid I can now consider myself the storm creator. I stay, knowing that things aren’t right. I stay, knowing that my intuition has never been wrong, and that I know what’s really going on. I stay, knowing that at the end of the day, I’m probably not going to get to cross the finish line, but instead I’ll just sit sedatary at the actual line itself waiting for the opportunity to run and grab that damn trophy.

I don’t believe that I need to feel things in order to be someone. But at the same time, I know the bi-polar part of me is destructive to my soul. My friends and I call it emotional cutting. I find something to focus on that I know isn’t healthy, and just forge forward to it knowing that at some point, my heart and soul will get broken. I intentionally put myself in places where I have to make ridiculous decisions, or where the decisions are made for me and I’m left sitting there in the ruble and aftermath.

Ginger wouldn’t do that to me. In fact, I know that Ginger would never intentionally hurt me even in the slightest way possible. I wish I knew what to do next. It’d be nice if a path was laid out before me so that I knew when to take a turn, when to go back to the beginning or when I’m going to make the end, but realistically, that’s never going to happen. I’m just going to hang back, try to stop emotionally cutting and set a deadline to make a decision. When do I walk back in on faith and know that God has bigger plans for me? He doesn’t want me to sit here and hurt, He wants me to flourish and have successful, healthy relationships.

The last question is this…What if he responds, or calls, or texts? What do I do? Do I respond? Or do I just straight up recognize that this isn’t how I want to be treated and leave it alone, no matter the feels that I have for him?

Emotional cutting at it’s finest folks, emotional cutting.

The “L” word

.Reading time 2 minutes.

“I fell in love like I fall asleep; slow and then all at once.”

8 letters, three words. Kind of crazy how it can change the course of everything you have planned isn’t it?

When I started dating Sir about 3 months ago, I never once thought that there would be any remote possibility of a future. He lives about an hour away, and he works completely different hours than I do.

I guess that’s a dumb statement – of course the thought crossed my mind. When you’re 33 and dating, you have to look at the person you’re dating and wonder if you can see a future with them…because if you don’t, it’s a waste of time. Gone are the days of just dating for fun, the days where you don’t really care about the outcome, you just want to have fun. When you’re 33, or in his case 37, it’s a little more serious than that.

Then, one random Thursday night several days and weeks after we started dating he came out with it. “I love you.”

That all familiar ache popped into my chest. You know what I’m talking about. That first time someone says that to you, your chest constricts, your stomach gets the zoo and then you’re faced with the question…do I feel the same way? What are the repercussions of saying it back? How vulnerable will you become and is it really worth it?

Here I sit four days later. I took the plunge and I said it back.

I’m crazy right? Yes. I think so.

Delicious Ambiguity

.Reading time 11 minutes.

“I wanted the perfect ending. Now I’ve learned that there are some poems that don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.”

I met him.

You know, THE guy that I’ve been writing about.

The guy who is completely crazy about me, wouldn’t be ashamed to show it in public, wants to marry me after the second date…THE guy.

I guess with everything comes a price, nothing can be as simple as you’d like it to be. Meet a nice guy (check), fall for him (check), live happily ever after (check)… Just kidding. There are no checks at all here. I can’t even bring myself to be attracted to Ginger whatsoever.

We went to dinner last night and he grabbed my hand when I told him how tired I was and that I wanted to go home.

He wanted to tell me how sincerely sorry he was that I was tired. He calls me babe, and sweetheart and thinks “I’m a keeper”. We’ve been on TWO dates. Not TWENTY TWO dates…Two.

Now, I know I probably sound like a hypocrite.

I’ve wanted all the things this guy can offer me for as long as I can remember.

I’ve prayed about it.

I’ve dreamt about it.

I’ve written about it more times that I can even count.

But when it shows up on my doorstep, it’s not anything that I really want.

Maybe this is God’s way of showing me that I truly do need to figure out what I want. I need to decide whether I’d have a guy who is nice all around, or someone who challenges me emotionally…

Someone that I know I won’t have to care for, but that will care for me.

Let me explain.

There are two types of men to me-the soft man, and the rigid man.

The soft man is the man that is over attentive. They want to consistently tell you how much they love you, they want to talk to you and about you all the time.

They think you’re wonderful when they’ve only known you for two minutes. The think that everything you say is the most amazing thing that’s ever been said in all of creation. They’ll take you wherever you want to go, do whatever you want to do, no matter how extravagant or ridiculous it is-they’ll do it. They’ll plan romantic get aways, when again, they’ve only known you for two minutes.

They-are a stage 5 clinger.

The soft man can also be chewed up and spit out…Meaning, his softness can overwhelm me, and all it takes is a good tongue lashing and he’s cowered in the corner apologizing, even if he technically didn’t do anything wrong.

The soft man lets the woman be the leader of the home.

The rigid guy is the man who is attentive, but in different ways, and he hardly ever comes out and says all of the things the soft man says. He shows he cares in his actions. He shows he cares by remembering the little things you’ve told him in the past and acting on them, or somehow showing that he remembered.

He doesn’t apologize for things-and most importantly he doesn’t apologize for things that aren’t his fault. If he has something happening in his life, he doesn’t try to MAKE you help him, he LETS you help him. The rigid guy has a life outside of you and makes a place for you to fit, he doesn’t make you the center of his universe.

The rigid man, is the leader of the home.

So the hypocrite in me lies here… I’ve written so many times how I want the whimsical-ness of a soft man, but now that I have one, I realize there’s no way in hell I can handle another soft man.

My first husband, Rainbows and Butterflies was a soft man. I wore the pants in our marriage, I made the decisions, the rules, the plans, and the…everything.

I’m sure I’ll get chewed up and spit out for this, but honestly in my head since I’m scarred by the marriage of a woman who was left by her husband for another man-the soft man, in my head associates “softness” with a gay man. I know this isn’t politically correct, and I know being soft doesn’t make you gay, but in MY experience, unfortunately, that’s what happens in my brain. It’s just like I will never date another man who works in an office, Rainbows and Butterflies has and always will be an office worker, whereas all of the other men I’ve been married to or dated since have been physical workers. One – where they get their hands dirty and when they come home for the day you can tell they’ve worked their asses off.

My head is confused and my heart is muddy.

Why does it have to be so difficult? If I could combine Sir, Mark, and Ginger, I’d have the perfect man.

Wouldn’t it be easier if we could just go to a machine and push the buttons of what we want and have someone appear that way?

The other issue with Ginger is his mental health. Like me, he is
bi-polar, and to my knowledge
bi-polar depressive.

My greatest issue with people who have this disability, is when they allow it to debilitate them so badly instead of attempting therapies that can help them.

Yes, most of them have generalized anxiety disorder, yes most of them have manic depressive episodes, but honestly…You can be a functioning bi-polar person.

What I see across the board in all mental health issues is that people receive a treatment plan, and when it doesn’t work they think that’s all that can be offered to them. They don’t try alternative therapies, they just somehow accept a life of mediocrity at best.

Back to Ginger, he leans on his
bi-polar disorder. Meaning, he takes the disability and makes it the answer as to why he does this, and that. He doesn’t accept ownership or responsibility for his issues, when in all actuality, they are more addictive personality issues than bi-polar issues. /off of my psychological ranting soap box.

Just a recap: Ginger is a soft man, too nice (and YES there is such a thing) and isn’t all together in his mental health. It appears that he has a drinking problem and he’s a stage 5 clinger.

My question is this: Do you accept a life of mediocrity with someone who looks good on paper and fulfills all the things you think you want? Or do you forge forward looking for someone who looks good in person and only fills up half of the boxes on the paper?

Mark has decided to choose his girlfriend as his partner, maybe even his wife. December never came, and I was never really an option. I professed my love to him in between a date with Ginger, a falling out with Sir and a confirmation from Mark that he had chosen her.

I told him that I was glad I had a boyfriend so I could stop pining away for him. His answer was concise and pointed: “I’m glad you found someone.”

Mark, is accepting a life of mediocrity with a person who looks good on paper instead of taking a chance on someone who may only fill half the page.

I’m ok with that chapter ending, it appears I’ve got a few new ones waiting in the wings.

Delicious Ambiguity.

That has been my favorite phrase for years, ambiguity is my favorite word…Unknown.

Maybe I need to saddle up and accept that the person who is right on paper AND perfect for me in the regular world will show up on my doorstep. So far, the contenders don’t seem to be right.

Delicious Ambiguity. Always remember that things will never turn out the way that you expect it, and no matter how hard you try-there will always be an unknown.

Caution Tape and Over worn Clothes

.Reading time 6 minutes.

“You need to learn how to select your thoughts just the same way you select your clothes every day. This is a power you can cultivate.”

Isn’t this the truth?

I’ll be the first to admit that I have a horrible habit of waking up with yesterday’s garbage. I wake up with anxiety like nothing happened the day before-that collectively, my life is a complete disaster-all because of what happened yesterday.

I don’t wear new clothes…In fact some weeks, I wear the same exact outfit everyday.

I’m bi-polar. And part of my bi-polarism is that some days, anxiety overruns me like a rabid dog chasing me, not giving me any time to stop and take a break. On a regular basis, I feel like the world is crumbling in around me and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Even when I take my anxiety meds, I still feel the walls closing in.

This leads me to my point of this post.  I know it’s silly but…

When I start a relationship with someone, it’s easy for me to fall. But at the same time, I rely on my incredible gut instincts to figure out of a guy is legitimate. For example, the guy I started dating that I thought was ghosting me, (we’ll call him sir) he disappears every weekend. I don’t hear from him for DAYS for example, this weekend, he checked out at 2:30 on Friday and I haven’t heard from him since, even though he’s been on Facebook messenger, he’s not responding at all. My gut instinct says…He has a girlfriend/wife at home and he is keeping me as a secret. I’ve been the other woman before, and it sucks. Especially when you really care about the guy. Sir is a different kind of guy for me, he’s flighty, not regimented, no solid plans, fly by the seat of your pants kind of guy. But at the same time, he’s different in his habits, and different in all the good ways that I’ve never had different before. So…What do I do? Follow my gut instincts, that you know are partial to negativity, self doubt and doubt of the person I’m with?

This may sound hypocritical, but…

Because I haven’t heard from Sir, I went on a date with…(We’ll call him Ginger). He’s crazy about me. I’m the first person he’s gone on a date with in almost two years, and he already texted back for another date. This is how it’s supposed to be. The guy who likes you, pursues you. He makes an effort and shows you he’s interested. He compliments you and tells you you’re beautiful. So my question is this. Why am I more attracted to Sir than I am Ginger? I agreed to a second date with Ginger, because I feel like I owe it to myself to give him a real legit shot. That I need to pump the breaks on Sir, wait for a bit and try this out.

But…I feel more attracted to the wild, ever changing ways of Sir. I am attracted to the dangerous possibility that I’m going to get hurt, because the hurt leaves a wound, and the wound means I FEEL. Isn’t that ridiculous? I have to take a path filled with poison ivy, wild animals and 1,000 feet drop offs just to make me feel something? Of course Ginger is the easy route. I could choose him, have a guy that is crazy about me and probably live happily ever after. But my glass won’t be full.

If you’re new reading this, let me explain my glass theory. Everyone is sitting at a restaurant with a glass of water. The waiters are men or women that are trying to win your affections. Each person fills it up partially, until you get to the person you’re supposed to be with and they fill it up all the way. In my case however; I haven’t been able to find someone who can fill my whole glass on their own since my first marriage. I’ve always had several glass fillers waiting in the wings to fill me up when I need it because I can’t make a solid decision.

I have 4 men currently who are attempting to fill my glass, and I only want Sir.

Caution, danger up ahead… I’m going in full force, even if it means I come out with a million scars, I think it’ll be worth it. And if that means I have to keep wearing the same clothes…that sucks, but I’ll make it.

Letting go and letting God…or maybe just relaxing a bit

.Reading time 4 minutes.

“You can’t control everything. Sometimes you just need to relax and have faith that things will work out. Let go a little and just let life happen.”

Ok. I screwed up.

Turns out the guy that I went out with this weekend isn’t ghosting me, but is instead in New Mexico at his grandmothers funeral.

I feel like a TOTAL asshole.

Wait, no I don’t feel like an asshole, but more that I’m embarassed that I’ve allowed so many other situations come into this one. I’ve been ghosted before, and it leaves you feeling less than inadequate.

So my question is…When do we shake the bad juju from the past and replace it with good juju in hopes for a better future with someone? When do we stop letting the mistakes of the past dictate how we react to things that are happening in the present?

It’s no secret that I’m 33 and have been married 3 times. The first husband came out shortly after our 4 year anniversary, the second was a serial cheater who cheated over 80 times (that is a WHOLE other story), and the 3rd beat the crap out of me on a regular basis. I finally got the courage to leave him after he tried to kill me.

Somehow though, through all of those circumstances, the only thing that has stuck with me is the cheating. I’m immediately suspicious that the man I’m with is cheating if things don’t add up to me..I don’t think ‘hey, maybe so and so just has something going on’ I think ‘hey, this doesn’t make sense so he must have someone else.’ So the question still remains, when do we shake off the bad juju and bring in the new, good juju giving someone a chance with a clean slate instead of them having to dodge every piece of baggage that you chose to throw at them at any given time?

I am notorious for automatically assuming the negative prior to even considering the positive. This guy is a perfect example. I don’t hear from him for a couple of days and then WHAM! he’s ‘ghosting’ me, instead of having life altering issues that he can’t control.

This also falls into letting go and letting God-hoping that He’ll steer me in the right direction instead of taking me in a direction where I would deliberately get hurt.

But honestly, how often do we as Christians, or people in general take into account that there is a reason that person has come into your life; they’re either a blessing, or a lesson-nothing more, nothing less.

I’ve tried to make pacts with myself that I’m going to start thinking more positively when it comes to relationships. That I won’t assume the worst, but instead think that that person is a blessing instead of instantly assuming that they are a lesson.

So.

This guy is a great guy and I’m hoping for the best this time. I think that he could really work, if only I’d let my own brain just settle for a minute and think that all things aren’t bad. There may be clouds, but somewhere out there the sun is still shining and I’ll get there eventually.

Train Stations & Ghosting – Dating in 2016

.Reading time 6 minutes.

“Then the feeling moves on. It does not collapse; it is not whisked away. It simply moves on, like a train that stops at a small country station, stands for a while, and then continues out of sight.”

I’m waiting for this to happen.

I feel like there is a constant need for me to have a man in my life, to entertain me, to give me affirmations, to have sex, to talk to…But they never stay.

Remember how I talked to God and asked him to clear my path of men that weren’t right for me? Remember how I said that I needed to walk back in on faith instead of just leaving it to when I want it? I’m still not letting it happen.

I am trying to take the reins and get disappointed when I don’t get what I want. The signs are all there, back off, this one isn’t right, he is the one losing out, he’s not what you need/want. Let go. Instead I try to keep making it work just for the sake of having a man in my life.

I want to go back to dating pre-2002, where if a guy didn’t like you, he told you and dumped you…not 2016 where they ghost their way out of your life.

Ghosting
The act of suddenly ceasing all communication with someone the subject is dating, but no longer wishes to date. This is done in hopes that the ghostee will just “get the hint” and leave the subject alone, as opposed to the subject simply telling them he/she is no longer interested. Ghosting is not specific to a certain gender and is closely related to the subject’s maturity and communication skills. Many attempt to justify ghosting as a way to cease dating the ghostee without hurting their feelings, but it in fact proves the subject is thinking more of themselves, as ghosting often creates more confusion for the ghostee than if the subject kindly stated how he/she feels.

I straight up hate every variation of this word and would like to stab the person who created this trend in the eye with a dull nail. Ok, maybe not that violent but seriously-it’s the worst feeling in the entire world. Especially when you go from “I had a great time tonight” to ….. Crickets.

Dating today is like fishing. You put your lure in the water and leave it out there for a bit until you’ve got a fish, you go to reel it in and right when you pull it out of the water, the fish jumps off and swims away-leaving you to never see the fish again.

So…I had a date on Saturday. He was great. He was everything I’ve been looking for and everything I thought I wanted, but I haven’t heard from him since. Oddly, he had friended me on facebook when we first started talking, and he’s stayed my friend even though he refuses to talk to me. Of course, I probably screwed up by sleeping with him, and I know that now. I need to focus more on what seems right at the time, to what can happen down the road.

This of course goes to my decision of men too. I pick these guys who seem to be what I want, but they turn out to be a giant douche. I guess that means that I think i want a giant douche instead of a decent man. The decent men don’t strike my interest. I get bored talking to them and often I find myself trying to figure out how to ghost them myself. I can sincerely say that I won’t be ghosting anyone else ever again.

The last thing this leaves me with is this; if I prayed for my path to be cleared for the person that is right for me…What if the only person that stays on that path is Levi? I’m trying to move on, but really what does moving on mean? I know the quote above says that it just happens one day-you just stop at a station, wait for a bit and then the station slowly rolls out of sight and you’ve let go…That’s never happened for me and maybe that’s why I chose the quote that I did. I want for the train to leave the station if it’s supposed to, I’m trying to not keep control over that situation anymore.

I guess my point in all of this, is no matter how hard you try…No matter how many horoscopes you read, lessons you learn, boys you meet, men you don’t meet, you just can’t take the reigns and determine who you’re supposed to be with, even if it seems like they fit like a glove-or in this case, even if they stay on the train longer than you want them to.

Good-byes

.Reading time 14 minutes.

One of my favorite Carrie Underwood songs is called “Good in Good-bye.” My favorite part, “As bad as it was, as bad as it hurt, I thank God for I didn’t get what I thought that I deserved. Sometimes life leads you down a different road…When you’re holding on to someone that you gotta let go, someday you’ll see the reason why there’s good in good-bye.”

If there were ever a time that that song meant something to me, it’d be now. The song wasn’t on the radio, it’s not a smash hit, and it’s on an album that I never listen to, but it popped up on my Spotify today.

There are so many feels that I have about this week, putting together a blog entry about it seems impossible. I know that I wish I could just sit down and have one of those amazing, soul cleansing cries. The ugly face, I can’t believe I’m sobbing this much cry.

My time with Levi, or my time of wanting to be with Levi is coming to a close and it’s a bittersweet feeling. This week he’s said and done things that go beyond the scope of a guy just looking for a side piece, it went to the place of a guy treating his side piece like a piece of trash that belonged in the gutter. He flat out told me that he was keeping me, and his girlfriend around until the girl he’s really in love with comes out to see him in June. He flat out told me that he doesn’t program my number in his phone, but he keeps it on a sticky note and he lost it. What if I had never text messaged him? What if I actually did what I planned, and waited for him to text me for once? All of these questions came running through my head in a flash flood and I just simply thought to myself, this isn’t enough anymore. I need to be in a real relationship where my phone number is in the phone and I get texts in the morning and phone calls at night. I need a relationship that is just that-a relationship. I call our situation a relationship because it makes me feel better somehow. It makes me feel like I’m not just doing a dance to do the dance because I have nothing better waiting in the wings.

But I do actually have something better in the wings…me. It’s taken me 33 long, hard years to figure out that I’m terrible at knowing and accepting when *I* am enough for MYSELF. Meaning, I don’t need a guy to screw on the side, I don’t need a guy texting me every minute of the day…I just need to be ok with me.

I’d be a liar if I said that if Levi came to me in the next day, week, month, or year I wouldn’t jump-but only for a minute. Then I’d wonder, would he be doing to me what he’s doing to her? I try not to focus on that once a cheater, always a cheater statement because if that were true, I’d be a cheater for life-when in all actuality I’ll never, ever do that again to anyone. The feeling is too heavy and having your heart stomped on like that isn’t worth it for a night of satisfaction.

In addition to this happening, I found out that my Pismo Beach went back to prison yesterday. In the time I’ve known him, he’s been sent back there a total of 5 times, and I’m afraid this time, he’ll have to serve the rest of his time there. It’s a strange feeling when he goes in there…I have access to him again, and only him. I can send him letters and know that he will be the only one reading them, unlike the text messages where his “wife” can read them and respond for him. I thanked God yesterday. He literally saved Pismo’s life, because had he been out much longer he would have overdosed on drugs or gotten himself killed for some lousy reason. Not that his time in prison will be any better, he’s made a lot of enemies where he’ll probably go.

This also led me to a place where I thanked God that I didn’t get what I thought I deserved.

I would go to the ends of the earth for that man, I’d walk through fire and not even bat an eye. But really, why would I do that for someone who would NEVER do that for me? I thought I deserved a love like that, I wanted to be loved the way he loved me when he was out. But now, he’s shadowed by ugliness and bitterness and I know that I can’t bring that chaos back into my life.

I wrote him a letter knowing he’d get it today. I promised to add a phone call to my phone so he could call if he needed to talk, or if he needed something, knowing that he could very easily give it to his “wife”.

I have this unbelievable connection to Pismo that I’ve never had with any other man in my life. I can FEEL when things are happening to him. I can feel when he’s in danger, in trouble, sad, sick…all of it. I hate having that connection. It means that for the rest of my days I’ll always know that there is something wrong and there will never be anything that I can do about it, because he and I will never be a ‘Pismo and Jen’ again.

While these two men have been instrumental in my growth in the past 5 years, they have both been instrumental in such different ways. At the end of the day though, the message they taught me is exactly the same. Dependence is my weakness and as long as they allowed me to depend on them, the longer I laid in self-torture and waited for them to depend on me for once.

I want a man to look at me and be unable to breathe if I leave the room. I want a love where he sniffs the pillow when I get up from bed because he misses me that much. I want a love where…when they’re in trouble and I try to help them…instead it’s met with appreciation and love, not a demand for more help.

There’s no great lesson in this entry, no profound words to make me think I’ve actually written something worthwhile… It’s just a reminder to me that I’m worth it, and I’m not supposed to be where I’m at any longer. God is nudging me to move on by showing me the true colors of Levi, and Pismo going back to prison. I can’t even imagine what my life would be like had I married Pismo and he just kept going in and out of prison. I’m not made for that lifestyle, and I never will be.

Sometimes, there is good in good-byes.

Brady,
I saw yesterday that you were sent back and really prayed on it last night on whether or not I should reach out to you.
I don’t know if I’m making the right decision, because I know that you’re married now…But the truth is Brady, no matter if we’re married and have separate families I will ALWAYS care about you and wish you nothing but the best. I don’t know if you’ll even respond, which is fine. I just want you to know that I’m thinking about you and praying for you. The only reason I knew you went back was because I had a dream about it, and sure enough I looked you up. It still amazes me to this day how I have that connection with you where I can know that something is wrong with you…Even without us talking for as long as it’s been.
I wish I had some words of wisdom or that I could say something that would matter at this point, but if you don’t want to hear from me, you’re probably not even going to give a shit about anything I have to say anyway.
I’m going to put a phone call on my phone. If you need to talk, or if there’s something I can do for you, you’re welcome to call me.
I don’t want any drama, I’m not trying to get back together with you or whatever…I am just reaching out to you as a friend, or someone who just cares. I’m sorry for everything that happened between us, and all of the parts that I played in that.
I’m also so very sorry for what happened with Brent, and I hope that at some point you can be at peace with yourself and what happened.
Just in case you’re wondering I know little to no information about how you’ve been since you’ve been out. I only know that you got married and that things were hard for you.
When I look back at our time together I think about the man that you were while you were out, and I’m proud to say that since I’ve known you, that was when you were at your best. I only wish I had done more to keep you out instead of you going back in.
I will always think of you fondly, and like I said wish nothing but the best for you. You were my first true true love and that doesn’t just disappear no matter how many horrible things are said or done.
I have started a blog and have actually started to get quite a few followers… not that you care really… but, my first blog was about you. I’m enclosing it, mostly because I think it’ll be a form of closure for me so that you know what an impact you made on my life.
I will always love you Brady, no matter what has happened in the past or what may happen in the future.
The only thing I ask of you is for you to not have your wife contact me, I’m just reaching out to you because I’m concerned, and want nothing more.
Take care of yourself in there, and as always, I’m praying for you.
Jen

Survivor

.Reading time 16 minutes.

I’m 9 years old.

My mom is at work for the afternoon and I just got home off the bus from school. He was sitting in the house when I got home and we started joking around and wrestling. Soon, he had his hand on me, in places that shouldn’t be touched by any man when you are 9 years old. I froze. I should have run to my mom the minute the door opened, but I didn’t really know what was wrong and what was right at the time, for Christ’s sake, I was only 9 years old.

When he heard my mom pulling up to the house he grabbed me and yanked me into a closet in my bedroom. He wrapped his hands tightly around my neck and told me that if I ever told anyone about what just happened, he’d kill me.

Imagine that, 9 years old being threatened with your life.

I turn 10.

We move to a different apartment, and this time we’re wrestling-alone. My mom is at work again and we often played around, I honestly thought he was trying to build a relationship with me because he was my step dad after all. His hand grazes my vagina. I should say it doesn’t graze it, more like he pushes his hand ON it, but doesn’t do anything else. He plays even more grabbing my breasts. Again, when my mom walked in the door he gave me the same look he gave me in the closet that day. If I told her, I’d be dead.

I turn 11

We moved to a house in the country where life resumed to normal. He taught me how to drive, how to farm and how to raise calves. I lived a normal life then. I was able to shave my legs the first day of 6th grade and it seemed like everything that had happened in the past slowly began to fade.

Everything that happened with him, I reference to a specific house. In house number one he did this, in house two, he did this, in house three-nothing happened, but in house four, five and six things amped up beyond anything I ever thought would happen in my life.

Then I turned 12.

We moved to a farm house on a horse farm that I absolutely loved. My friends and I would play in the barns, pet the horses and play like a 12 year old does. And then, it started again.

I had become accustomed to sleeping with the TV on in my room bedroom because of the coyotes and mice that I could constantly hear. He would tell my mom that he needed to come into my room and tell me to “turn my TV down”. Turning my TV down meant him pinning my legs down and putting his fingers where no child is supposed to be touched. I’d pretend I was asleep and often, I’d roll over hoping that he’d stop and that he’d somehow get it in his head that he needed to just stop. He’d do everything he could to me aside from having sex with me.

I turned 13

Not a single thing changed, he continued to do whatever he wanted, and my mom would never find out because she had now taken a job where she traveled out of town.

By the time I was in 9th grade I had had enough. My mom was laid up due to a surgery and she pushed me too far about disrespecting him. She said that by now I should have more respect for him than I should my own dad because he had stepped out on me when I was so young. How could I have respect for a man who molested me more times than I can count, without her even having a clue?

So, I blurted it out.

As an adult, I can now recognize that the responses that she gave me were responses of pure victim shaming. If you didn’t wear such short shorts around the house, if you didn’t play wrestle with him, if you just left him alone, none of “this” would have happened. How do you know that what he really was doing is that? Are you just making this up for attention?

The pain I felt at that very moment of my life is something I still to this day have never experienced again. I have lost husbands, my mom, animals, family members and friends. I’ve come close to taking my own life…But still, nothing comes close to those words.

My mom gained some momentary sanity and decided to move away from him-for less than a year. She wanted to show me that she really did care and that she “believed” me. Six months later we were back in the same house so they could try to work things out. I had hoped-prayed rather that this would have been enough to get him to keep his hands off of me. That the thought of losing her would be enough for him to stop, but I was so wrong.

He taught me how to drive my first car, a stick shift. Every time I’d go to switch gears he’d ‘tickle’ me between my legs to try to distract me. Each time a tickle came, the closer he got to putting his fingers inside of my underwear.

The very last time I remember him touching me was at the last house we lived at together. He came into my room for the typical ‘turn your TV down’ talk and as he slid his fingers inside me, I began to feel things I hadn’t felt before. From that moment forward I vowed to never let him do that again. I’d stay up trying to make sure that he knew I was awake and was acutely aware of what he was doing. When that didn’t work, I’d roll over on my stomach so he couldn’t do anything.

Years and years went by, I would casually mention something here or there to a friend, or someone in my family, but my way of sharing was making a joke of things because the reality of saying my step-dad molested me was just too much. It wasn’t until I was 19 that I finally broke down and REALLY told my friends. Of course, I never told anyone the full extent of what happened, but I did tell them. Shortly after that, when I was 20, I told my uncle.

When I think back now, I think about telling people you were molested is like telling people that you are suicidal. No one knows what to do with it. They don’t know what to say, they don’t know who to tell, most of the time they don’t believe you and think you’re doing it just for attention…and that-breaks your heart. The only difference between molestation and suicide is that you don’t die on the outside, you only die on the inside.

As the years passed on his presence in my life dissipated. He moved on and married someone else…Who too was expecting a daughter. It was go time for me. I couldn’t just sit by the wayside and let him do this to someone else. I made the brave move to go to his house and tell him that if I ever found out that he did this to someone else, if he violated another young girl, he’d go to prison. I stayed friends with him on Facebook so I could get an eye out on him. No one will ever know the feeling of seeing a man who has brutalized you and taken away your youth with another little girl. As time went by though, the fear that he would do something to her subsided. She was his own flesh and blood, he wouldn’t hurt her. Shortly after he divorced his second wife, he married a woman who had a daughter around the same age as I was when he married my mom. Every single gut wrenching feeling that I could have struck my body to the core. She wasn’t safe, and it was my turn to make sure that he paid for what he had done to me and to save her.

I was 26 years old when I reported him to the authorities for the first time. I reported everything, and the main question was ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone sooner?’ Why would I? No one listened in the first place. I had told at least 7 people at this point and not one single person cared to do a single thing about it. After 14 years of violation, I was going to get something done so that he would pay for what he did and never hurt another child.

As many know, the legal system is as slow as molasses in the winter time. It took almost 5 years for them to finally pin him down and start his trial.

Again, victim shaming ensued. His attorney pushed me to say that I was lying, that he had never violated me and that I was just making the “accusations” for attention. She wanted me to say that it was not his fingers that penetrated me but it was my imagination that imagined him penetrating me. She wanted me to say that I didn’t remember the layout of any room that I had in any of the houses I lived in and that he never reached down between my legs while I was driving and fingered me.

I couldn’t say it, because it wasn’t true.

That day, I turned from a victim to a survivor. Survivor is a funny word, isn’t it? The definition of it is someone who survives particularly after someone has died. Part of me did die with that man, and I’ll never get another do over.

I guess I decided to write about this today because one of the men that I love says that I have ‘daddy issues’. Damn right I have daddy issues.

I use sex as a tool to satisfy me and gain approval of men, because I thought that’s how I got him to love me, by letting him do whatever he wanted to do to me.

He was sentenced to 10 years in prison.

10 years…a little more than one year for every year that he touched me.

I’ve been married since (obviously) and have been grateful enough to find husbands who understand that my legs can’t be pinned down. That there are times where my PTSD flares up and I. Just. Can’t.

The emotional part is the hardest. Like I said, I use sex as a tool to protect myself from rejection. I use sex as a tool to protect myself from the rejection of Levi.

He is the first and only man who has ever called me on my daddy issues, and he’s the first and only man who has honestly made me think that I really do have them. But, at the very least, I am a survivor. I prevented another child from being molested. I prevented another child from losing her childhood. I stand on the mountain top and show him that he is a piece of shit, while he rots in prison. I…survived. Daddy issues and all.

Unturned pages and slowly drowning

.Reading time 8 minutes.

“Sometimes you just have to turn the page to realize there’s much more to life than the page you’ve been stuck on. You can’t let the fear of moving on keep you in a chapter that’s destructive for your life. We spend so much time trying to fix what’s broken, that we don’t even realize our future holds what’s best for our hearts. It’s time to get what your life deserves and move on from the things that don’t deserve you.”

What a simple statement, right?

The truth is though, that the majority of the people who read this won’t even take a second in thinking that it’s the right thing to do. I’m one of them. I’d rather live in a life of turmoil than turn the page. Why is that? When it comes to certain situations we allow ourselves to be more miserable than necessary…and for what? There’s a beautiful quote that says; “The worst thing is watching someone drown and not being able to convince them that they can save themselves by just standing up.”

What if everything were that easy? All you need to do is stand up. Instead we live in a culture where we stay drowning because that’s when we get the attention-that’s when we get the advice. People don’t look at you standing up in the water and think ‘Man, I bet she’s going through a rough patch, I think I’ll see what’s wrong.’ Since we are so often conditioned to not ask for help anymore-drowning is the best way to get the advice, or in some cases-get what you want.

Of course there are some people who don’t look for the approval of others-they don’t look for advice they just run through life haphazardly hoping that they don’t run smack dab into something that will honestly ruin their life.

I-am not one of those people. I want advice. I want to be coddled. I want to be told that everything is going to be ok and that I’m making the best decisions I can. The quote “Be patient with yourself, you’re doing the best that you can…” to me is a load of BS. I can’t be patient with myself because the truth is, I’m NOT doing the best I can.

If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting here on week 4 waiting patiently for tomorrow to come so that I could go screw Levi and start my lonely hour process all over again. I wouldn’t even be going over there because he decided to go to dinner with her and all of her friends on Friday night, knowing that he wants to end it with her. Maybe he doesn’t want to end it…Maybe he’s in fact telling me that he wants to so that I keep coming over and hoping for the best, which would be both an end and a chance. An end for her and a chance for me.

The end won’t come, and the chance won’t be there, except to lay in his bed every Tuesday night. That realization just hit me-right now as I type this entry out. Nothing is going to change. As long as I lay there with him every Tuesday, he’ll stay with her because he gets his glass filled by both of us. Although, I’m not sure what she fills his glass with because she sounds so much like the opposite of me…She somehow fills it…And I’m not sure how much. Guessing from the conversations that he and I have, and the things we do together-not very much.

I am drowning, and people are trying to get me to stand up and I just can’t bring myself to do it. I want confirmation that my waiting for him is not a terrible idea. I want confirmation that he is my lobster and that someone, somewhere can see outside of the box that I’m currently sitting in. That someday, we will actually have a chance…a go at something amazing.

Today, my one and a half legged love interest packed up his bags and moved to Jay, Oklahoma. I’ve been chasing this boy for years, and he finally eliminated himself from the equation. For a brief moment, I drowned myself with him too.

So why drown? Besides the obvious that I’ve already listed…What makes a person worthy of you drowning for them? When will you turn the page, or unstick the pages that are stuck together by the piece of chocolate that sticks them together while you’re diligently reading each page over and over again? Why is it so hard to finish the chapter when the chapter is filled with such sadness and heartbreak?

The answer is simple. At least to me.

Turning the page means you’ve given up. Standing up when you’re drowning in a shallow pool means you’ve given up. In order for me to give up on something that has torn my heart to shreds and brought it back together again would mean that I’ve wasted two years of my life and I’m giving up on someone I could see myself spending the rest of my life with.

Standing up and turning the page means that I’ve been wrong the whole time about how I feel about Levi and that he was just another temporary just like everyone else.

I’ve been married and divorced 3 times. Each time I was, I felt like I’d end up divorced and that the person I was with would either end up breaking my heart, or I was making the biggest mistake of my life. And boy was I right. I’m sitting here 3 years after the last day I was actually married to my last husband, and I couldn’t be happier (about the divorces that is). But now…I have Levi, and I have a friend asking me if he picked me, if he’d make me truly happy. The answer is yes. I would marry and stick it out with him for the rest of my life. So the point is this….I’d rather drown in waiting, and I’d rather stay on the worst page of the book waiting for him to make up his mind. I know that by doing this, I’m allowing myself to stay on the page or in the chapters where a December and a California exist…But…What if I’m supposed to be on that page?