Tuesday Talks

There are lots of people on the road.

Yes there are.

Hey, I'm a people....

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Now I can get out of my bed all on my own. Just like Hanah.....

(What have I done??)

My "tattoo"

Thank you all for the feedback on the tattoo situation. That decision has officially been tabled for a month or two whilst I mull it over some more. For right now I want to talk about a tattoo of a little different nature.

A tattoo, by design, is a permanent mark on one's self, a marking made by inserting ink into the layers of skin to change the pigment for decorative or other reasons.

I have tattoos. SEVERAL tattoos. But, my tattoos are not on my skin, they are in various places in my house. Something that has changed the makeup of my house, not for decorative but for other reasons. And I want them removed.

Let me explain. When you enter my house you will see my washer and dryer. A design flaw really, or more like a lack of design since my house was built in 1892. So there they sit. If you look at my dryer you will immediately notice that there is a large dent in the front of the dryer door. That is a "tattoo." A permanent marking made my Jake's head connecting with it in a fit of rage that I would like nothing more than to remove.

Those markings are in various places in my house. They are visible and not so visible. Take for instance my couch. When you look at my couch you probably just see a couch. Unless you try to sit on it, then you will see the world's most uncomfortable couch and if you don't sit carefully you will also see a wood beam connecting with your.... well you get the point....

Anyhow, when I look at that couch I see the "tattoos." There is a hole in the fabric from when he burned it. The bottom is torn out from where he stashed his pipes and beer bottles. The back fabric is ripped for the same purpose. I can still see him passed out on that couch. That couch and I we are not friends.

Today, I went to the furniture store and I ordered a new couch. I'm not really quite sure I should have spent the money but I'm also pretty sure I don't care. I am paying for tattoo removal and it is worth every single penny.

So is the new bed that I ordered on Saturday. You see Jake took the waterbed in the divorce. It used to be his parents waterbed so in the spirit of all things nice I offered it to him and he took it. At first I was a bit pissed about this. Not really because I wanted it but because I am sleeping in it and he is just going to put it into storage.

I considered going into the attic and trying to rescue my old waterbed, or asking my parents to take the one out of my old room. (I have slept on a waterbed every night since I was about 10 years old) Instead I decided perhaps it was time to make new memories. So off Zack and I went to the furniture store to look for a new bed.

At first after I bought it I was a little nervous. Then today when I bought the bedding and the couch I was a little more so. Should I really be spending the money. Do I need it. Then something hit me.

In seven years I have never, ever had anything new that is all mine. For seven years I have been so busy making sure he had his new bow and arrow, new shot gun, second new shot gun when he lost the first one, fixed the jeep, fixed it again, another new jeep (did I mention at one point we went through three jeeps in 4 months), etc. etc. that I have never taken the time to buy anything big for just me.

And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to cry and now, I am so excited you might find me dancing around my house. I couldn't be more excited if I was 10 years old and I just found out I was getting a pony for Christmas.

A new bed, new bedding, a new dresser delivered on Friday and a new couch delivered sometime in the next month. All steps towards making the horrible memories go away. All steps towards permanently removing those "tattoos."

Friday Confessionals

I have been more happy in the last 6 months than I have been in the last 6 years.

I have been more happy with myself and who I am and how my life is in the last two months than I can ever remember being since I was a kid.

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When someone survives something like I did, sometimes there is a tattoo to commemorate the event.

I always wanted one but got a bad taste in my mouth for them during my relationship with Jake. Now that it is over, the idea of a tattoo is intriguing to me. However, the thought of getting one absolutely terrifies me.

So dear readers.... thoughts on tattoos......

For them, against them and what the hell would I get if I was getting one?

Discuss amongst yourselves......

Thursday Thoughts

When your friend tells you she has something planned that you can't back out of and you can't bring your camera to don't rack your brain for a million years because never in a million years would I have guessed she was going to put me on a motorcycle.

2 hours of riding, wind blown hair, not a drop of alcohol added up to the best celebration of my freedom a girl could ask for.

Since I couldn't have a camera, Katie took these pictures for me of the big event. Perhaps I should just clarify for those of you who don't know me in real life. I lived in a box. A little tiny ring box. I was the least adventrous person you could EVER imagine!! My entire life was about avoiding things that could possibly kill me... like motorcycles!!

HOWEVER, I showed up and shut up just as I was instructed and the poor, poor man who had to drive me around will only be deaf in that one ear for a little while!! :-)
Dave and I on the motorcycle (sorry ladies... he's taken....)

Me, pretending to drive... NO I did not actually drive. Are you crazy??

You Are Only As Sick As the Secrets You Keep

This post is going to require a disclaimer. First of all, I apologize in advance for the length. There are a lot of things I have to get off of my chest. Also, this post, by it's very nature is ugly. There are no butterflies, roses or pink poodles. It's raw, it's real and it hurts. 99.9% of this raw emotion has been placed "Through the Looking Glass." .01% of it is now spilling over here.

This is deep. Read it when you have the time to feel it. If you are my mother, my father or another member of my family, you might want to skip it.

Finally, please do not leave me sunshine and roses comments about this. What I'm putting up here is raw and ugly. I'm aware of that and I'm reserving the right to spend one post raw and ugly. I can go back to being the pinnacle of positivity tomorrow.

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Today my divorce was final. Today I close a chapter of my life that I wish I had closed years ago. Today I was set free in one way but have never really been freed in another. For those of you who have been following me elsewhere you know what I am referring to. For those of you here, let me fill you in on a few things.

When someone writes a blog, they tell a story. Whatever they want that story to be, is just what it is. If I want to tell you part of the story you will never know one way or another. All you know is what you see.

This blog is, for the most part, a happy place. Bright colors, fun stories, happy family.
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My life, for the most part, was not this blog.

My life was dark and ugly and filled with negativity and fear. I was that woman you see on the lifetime movies who puts on the act for her family but lives her life in fear of her husband.

I was the woman who would do anything not to be alone. Put up with anything to be with this person I was "in love" with.

Until one day, several months ago, I just couldn't do it any more.

We have a slogan in Al-anon: You are only as sick as the secrets you keep and I can't keep these any more.

I found this video a couple weeks ago and I wanted to put it up here but I couldn't. It felt too dark, it felt like it needed explaining and I didn't think I could do that then. This singer is not well known in the US but this song speaks to me. This song is my life and I want to share it with you.



When I first heard this my heart stopped. My breath caught in my chest and all I could do was stare at the video as I watched it play. I was angry for the woman in the video and I was angry for myself.

You see that woman........ she was me.

The part of my world that I left out here is the part about me being a battered woman.

The part about me being so sick inside myself that three years ago I would have done just about anything so Jake would not leave. The part that I left off here was that I was just as sick as him. That despite what I wrote here my life was one never ending nightmare.

I remember the arguments. I remember being thrown down. I vividly remember being picked up and thrown across his parents kitchen. Being picked up and thrown across our front lawn. Being shoved down in an struggle over car keys and drug paraphernalia. Being attacked while I slept in order to get access to those same car keys.

I haven't slept in a month because I am haunted by visions of what happened. I remember being tackled to the ground while he told me that he would kill me before he would let me leave. I also remember staring down the barrel of a loaded shot gun and watching him pump it thinking he was going to make good on that threat.

I remember the phone call from the bank telling me that he had cashed a $700 check. I remember checking my bank balance on-line and seeing two more just like it and wondering what the hell I was going to do. (Not once, not twice, but I believe on three seperate occasions)

I remember covering for him. I remember borrowing from one credit card to pay the negative balance in the bank and the stolen checks from his dad so he wouldn't press charges. I remember borrowing money to pay off drug dealers. Meeting one guy in the parking lot of a gas station so he would stop calling and threatening to kill him.

I remember the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach every time he would peel out of the driveway and I remember even more the panic attack I had every time I would race down the stairs, out to my car and try to follow him. Chase him down. Make him stay where he clearly didn't want to be.

I remember screaming into the phone at his father the night he ripped me from my car and tried to run me over. I can vividly remember the look in his eyes when he ripped the keys from the ignition and I can see him hitting my car, pushing the unlock button while I sat in the drivers seat frantically pushing the lock button until he stuck the key in the door and then ripped me from the car.

I remember his dad trying to hug me and my legs giving out, standing there in the parking lot trying to figure out what the hell had happened to my life.

I remember trying to make it less than it was. Lying to the police, lying to my parents, lying to everyone. Just wanting it all to go away so he wouldn't leave. So I wouldn't be alone so my life could continue in this perfect little show I was putting on for everyone.

I remember being on my honey moon and going flying down a hill because he didn't get his way. I remember what it felt like to be on the other side of that door when he was pounding to ask me if I was ok. If I would just open up, if we could fix this... it was our honey moon after all.

I also remember being on the other side of that door when it was broken down. I am on my second bedroom door. The first one was kicked in. I am on my third bathroom door. In my head I can still see his fist coming through the bathroom door. It was like a scene from a horror movie only it wasn't a movie, it was my life.

I remember spending my entire pregnancy alone. Every belly picture, taken with a timer, every doctors appointment except two attended alone. All the planning, all the happiness I was supposed to have, gone.

I remember being 7 months pregnant on Thanksgiving day trudging through a field in the snow, climbing barbed wire fences all in an effort to find him and make him come just so no one would know what was going on.

I remember being alone in a hospital room with my son, only four hours old, not having any idea where my husband was and being angry that I had to stay there instead of being able to leave and chase him down. I remember lying to everyone, telling them he was out pushing snow, running errands, anything to never let them know the truth.

That I was alone.
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Alone and scared.

I remember him being pulled from a hotel room with a prostitute on the night he was committed and me spending all of my time trying to justify to everyone that they were just doing drugs in the room. They didn't sleep together......... except for the part where they did.

I remember being head butted and back handed. I remember him spitting in my face, calling me names, and the pure hatred that spewed from his mouth during every argument we got into. He may not have been violent sober but his mouth did all of the hurting during the last two years.

I remember there were moments when I just wished he would lash out because I thought that it might hurt less to have him hit me than it did to hear him call me names and tell me how much he hated me.

I remember every little bit of this and so much more and as much as he or his family would like to pretend it didn't happen, it did. And it makes me angry. So angry that I want to kick and scream and yell. So angry that for so many years I was told to just act like it didn't happen. Everyone goes through this. He was just mad. He didn't mean to hurt you.

And I'm not just angry at him. I'm angry at myself. I'm SOO mad that I could have had a better life. That I didn't leave. That I let it happen, that I fed into it. I begged him to stay, I lied for him, I covered for him I kept myself in that hell for so many years and it makes me angry beyond all comprehension.

But you know what makes it worse?

Worse than all of it combined is the fact that he doesn't get it. That in his mind because he is sober now everything should be fine.

I should be over it.

And it took me until just last week to realize that's part of the reason why I was so angry. That's why I was furious with the world. Why I wasn't eating and wasn't sleeping. I was waiting on something I may never get. An acknowledgement from him that it was awful and that he did damage that doesn't repair it's self over night.

And if I was holding my breath for that I would be dead by now because I am NEVER going to get it. That's the place I finally got to.

A little late for all the things you didn't say
I'm not sad for you
But I'm sad for all the time I had to waste
'Cause I learned the truth
Your heart is in a place I no longer wanna be
I knew there'd come a day I'd set you free
'Cause I'm sick and tired
Of always being sick and tired

I have to forgive myself for what I did. Understand that I was just as sick as he was and move on with my life. That's the part that the backlash from Monday didn't fully grasp. You could never say anything to me that is worse than what I have already said to myself. I have been my own worst critic through all of this. Given myself the most anger and disgust. I went back during all of this and read this post from right after I had Jake committed and all I could think was why didn't you run then?

No amount of anonymous commenters coming here and yelling at me for blaming him or not leaving or being an idiot or "pathetic" will ever be more than the chatter that has been inside my head since the day this all started.

I can not put my life on hold waiting for an apology from a man who may never understand that I lived in a nightmare for 7 years.

Your love isn't fair
You live in a world where you didn't listen
And you didn't care

I can not put my life on hold waiting for my brain to stop processing what happened to me. I have to move forward, try to live my life one day at a time and hope that eventually all of this is just a distant memory.

To any of you who have been collateral damage in the last seven years I am exceedingly sorry. To Amy and Beth and Lindsay and Jess and my family and friends and all the anonymous people whom I have snapped at, or deleted, or who have felt unjust backlash I'm sorry.

There was a point in my life where my head was buried so far in the sand that I couldn't see what was going on around me. Didn't want to see it and I may have said some things that I now hugely regret.

I hope that now that all of this is out there it may help some of you to understand who I am and where I am coming from. Obviously there is a lot more that I haven't posted here. A lot more that I save for another place. But for now, this is it....

All the anger and the frustration rolled up into one giant blog post. My life, in all it's imperfect glory splayed out here for you to read.

I'm sick and tired
Of always being sick and tired

WW: The Class Clown

Panic

I'm sitting at my desk working away when it hits me. My breath catches in my chest and suddenly I am very warm. My chest hurts. So bad that for a moment I wonder if I'm having a heart attack.

I get up, go to the elevators, outside for air. I sit on the bench, it is warm outside, almost too warm to make me feel better.

I stare at the ants scurrying around on the ground. My eyesight goes fuzzy. Suddenly I realize I'm not breathing....

I get up. Walking, walking will make it feel better. We are now a good 10 minutes in and I still feel like my chest is about to explode. One walk around the block and I'm starting to feel a little better. I head back to my desk.

I begin to work again but the dull ache is still there. I take my pulse... 107... is that high? Low? I don't know. All I know is it hurts. It hurts to breathe and I can feel every beat my heart makes. 45 minutes and counting....

No rhyme...

No reason...

Welcome to my world....

Are you really sure you want in??

Tuesday Talks

I want to mow with my little mower mommy.

Ok.

But I can't wear my flip flops.

You can't?

No, I have to wear my tennis shoes.

How come?

Because the mower is dangerous.

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Mommy I need to go get my razor.

Your razor?

Yes, I need my new razor from Grandma's.

Which Grandma's?

Grandma Carol's house.

You have a razor at Grandma Carol's house?

Yes, I do.

(He is looking at his leg)

I need to shave. I have bumps....

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Incidentally I called my mom and she has no idea what he was talking about but apparently somehow my son got it in his head that he needs to shave his legs.......

Thicker Skin

Here is what I find interesting, I come here every day and I post something and I get one or two comments. Most of you reading never say a thing. Which is cool, I read several blogs I don't comment on.

However, when one person gets nasty in the comments suddenly there are 5 or 6 people who jump in to say how awful I am. Seriously.... why do you read here if you hate me and what I write? No one forces you to come. If I read a blog and I continue to disagree with the author I don't read any more.

And if I do regularly enjoy the blog but just happen to find one thing that I don't like one day I don't get on and leave them an awful comment and tell them how "pathetic" they are. I just assume that maybe I read it wrong or maybe I just don't agree with them on something. I don't feel the need to attack them on a public forum. So, oh great hateful ones, do you feel better about yourselves because you said bad things about me?

Look, I realize that these things shouldn't bother me. I realize that writing here opens me up to people who do not understand who I am. People who only know me as a person inside the computer and not a real person. Well, rest assured, I am a real person and this blog is a part of me. Something that I don't just leave here. It is something that I think about and write in my head all day long.

I suppose if I have learned anything from Dooce it should be that everyone who has any sort of a following is going to have blog trolls. People whose sole purpose is to try to drag down the blogger. And in the end, perhaps I should just do what I wanted to do in the first place, delete the comments and move on. After all, that's what she does. Get thicker skin, don't let them bother me, move on.

But that's not me. I don't have 50,000 readers, I am lucky if on any given day I have 50. And I have this horrible desire to have each and every one of you like me. Which, at the end of the day, is a very unrealistic goal. So rather than just delete hateful people I try to figure out what I did, what I said, what I can do to make it better but what I have finally realized is that the answer to that is nothing.

When you come here and you read what I write you form your own opinion of me. Good, bad or otherwise. But the fact of the matter is that when I close the lid to my laptop I take this blog with me in my head but you all do not go with me in real life. I could stop writing tomorrow and my life would not end and you all would just find something else to do with the 2 minutes a day you spend here.

That is the reality I have to face. That is the part of the equation that I need to come to grips with. However, be that as it may one anonymous person did make one very valid point and that is that I am hiding. I took that comment down because it hurt me and I'm not in the mood right now to feel hurt. I reserve that right. But the point at the end about me hiding, that point was a valid and one I want to address here.

While it sucks, you're in the position of a double edged sword. One side cuts because you think have to hide yourself here so that nothing is used against you, the other side cuts because that means you're lying to everyone here... The friends and family you don't let see the other side.

I started the other blog because there were things that I thought would hurt my family and Jake's family to be posted here. I needed a place to process all that was going on and come to terms with my life as it was. I restricted who I gave access to in an effort to make that place safe for me but apparently one person (who does not like me very much or think very much of my writing) slipped through the cracks.

To that person, I'm sorry that you feel that way. Please loose the address to both of my blogs... problem solved.

For the rest of you, there are a lot of things that have happened in my life in the last four years that I have been posting here that I have not blogged about here. By their very nature they were ugly and angry and hurtful.

From today until Wednesday this blog will be a happy place. Butterflies and ponies damn it!! :-)~
On Thursday I will tell you all the truth. Just as with this blog, you can choose whether you read that post or not but it will be up here. I'm sure it will garner it's fair share of hate mail as well and I'm prepared for that.

The post that I am writing will not be everything that is on the other blog. That one will remain as my safe space and my place to process. It will, instead be one, LONG post about a lot of things that may, or may not give you a little bit of insight into who I am.

But for now, would it kill you all to just do a little happy dance for me? A horrible part of my life is ending. A relationship that made both people in it miserable is finishing and we will both be able to live separate, hopefully happy lives.

So yes, I do feel a party is in order for that and I wouldn't begrudge him the happiness of having one of his own, believe me when I tell you I wasn't always a peach to live with myself. :-)

The Party

The party has been planned. It is Wednesday night.

It is
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well actually
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that's all I know.

Miss Jessica has planned something that she assures me will be fantastically fun but refuses to tell me about it. So what I know right now is it is somewhere in the greater Des Moines metro. If you want more details you will have to e-mail her at shaneandjess@gmail.com

Hope to see you all there!!

Tractors

Grandma can't ride the tractor.

She can't?

No... only me and Grandpa.

Why can't Grandma ride?

Because she can't!! (As in DUH mom...)

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I ride tractors all the time.

You do?

Yeah. They are my favorite....

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I ride a tractor with Grandpa tonight.

What if he's busy?

He's not.

What if he's not home?

He's NOT. busy. Mommy!!

Unwritten

I am unwritten
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined
I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

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The story of the rest of my life starts today......

Friday Confessionals

He Signed.....

On the dotted line.....

He didn't decline.....

He just signed.....

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I sign today.

The court signs on Wednesday.
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The party is Wednesday night.

WW: Well... I tried....

Law of Two Year Olds

A certain two year old, will, every day of the week sleep until 7:00 or 7:30 requiring you to wake him up for daycare.

ACCEPT.....

The night you stay up until 1:00 am working in your office.

That morning he will wake you up at 5:30 with a rousing rendition of "I waked up Mommy!!"

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It's gonna be a long day....

Tuesday Talks

"Mommy do we have money at home."

"Why do you need money at home?"

"I need my quarter."

"Why do you need a quarter?"

"I just do?"

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Don't say why Mommy."

"Oh really......"

"Just say yes."

Don't I have a few more years before we are supposed to be having this conversation??

All Before 7:30 In the Morning....

"Mommy my eye hurts."

"Well let me look at it... did you get something in it?"

"Yeah... my eyeball is in it!!"

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We are working on potty training. He is walking around our kitchen this morning sans diaper after successfully completing one trip and running back and forth about 3 more times just in case.

"Now don't you go potty on my floor."

"I won't."

"Are you sure??"

"I won't Mommy. I'm holding on to it."

I look down...

he is in fact... holding on to it.....

Anger, Fear & Frustration

Early this morning I received a message from a friend. A friend who was expecting a baby any day now. The message was telling me that her daughter had passed away. And all I could do was stare at the screen and wonder if I was reading it wrong.

I'm not as close to this friend as I once was yet I can not get this out of my head. There are several blogs that I read of people who have had babies who were born still but this is someone I know, not someone in the computer and somehow it seems so much more real this way.

I don't know any details at this point and really they are probably just details because the most important thing is that tonight she should be holding her new daughter and instead her arms are empty. And that makes me angry. It makes me angry for so many reasons.

Angry that some people get to screw up with their children and get chance after chance and she is a good person, a wonderful mother and yet she will never get a chance to know her second born child here on earth. And that seems horribly unfair to me.

It is late, yet my mind won't rest. This piece of information has dragged up all sorts of demons I thought I had laid to rest.

Please keep my friend in your thoughts and prayers tonight. I know I will.....

Lindsay's Fight

Well, not the news I wanted to report but I am back posting over at my sister's site again. Lindsay had to be admitted to the hospital again for infection and pancreas troubles.

Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers. I know she needs it!!

Thursday Thoughts

Maya Angelou said this:

I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.

I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none

There were sounds in my head
LIttle voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening

Cuz I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
Cuz she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

- Missy Higgins (Where I Stood)

I'm back over on the other side (Maybe I should start calling it through the looking glass) trying desperately to keep my head above water again. E-mail me if you need the directions.

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

- Maya Angelou