Time

I've always had the uncanny ability to single handedly dissect and over think any situation that I'm faced with. If you ask me where I get it from, I'll say it's a defense mechanism that "protects" my heart against the forces of evil. The forces of evil being anyone who has the unfortunate luck of knowing me. Yes, I said, unfortunate luck. I seem to wreak mental havoc on unsuspecting victims. Lord only knows how I can look sweet and innocent but pounce like I'm the FBI, CIA and Secret Service all in one seemingly tidy package.  My outlook is that everyone has a motive and it's to hurt me. I guess when I look back at my life I can't blame myself for concocting the notion. My track record speaks for itself. However, I don't want to talk about the past. I'm so tired of talking about all the stupid things that have made me a mental train wreck. Let's talk about now...

I'm sad. Just sad. I cry everyday. I sleep. I sleep because it's an escape from my reality. My reality is these four walls. They trap me in my thoughts. They torture me with what I should have done or could have done but didn't. They make me think. God, I'm so tired of thinking. Just for one day I'd like to take everything at face value. I want to believe that there is good in people. Just when I think I have a handle on things, my mind interferes and beats whatever it is I'm facing into the ground until it looks like hamburger meat. Do you know how hard it is to hear the words, I love you when you feel in your heart you don't deserve it? What does he see that I don't? Why can't I see it?  I feel so abnormal and twisted . I sometimes feel like I'd be better off alone. That way I won't hurt him. Maybe my kids ARE better off where they are. Maybe everyone knows something that I don't. I'm just not seeing it. I'm so tired of being broken hearted. Just one day I don't want to cry. One day, I'd like to wake up and NOT put on my game face. I don't want to have a plan. I want to just...be. I'd never let anyone walk my path. It's a scary place.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. "They" say time heals all wounds. What the hell do "they" know? "They" don't live my life. "They" don't see through my eyes. "They" don't love with my heart. "They" don't know me. "They" have no idea what time does for me. Time gives me more time to think. Thinking is what I try to escape. Time is not my friend.

I've learned that the world doesn't stop spinning and time doesn't stop ticking. My greatest fear is that I'm going to wake up one day and realize that I missed out on my life. I'm afraid that I'm going to lose my one amazing love because I couldn't truly see him for the wonderful, sweet and absolutely beautiful person that he is. My love. My protector. My provider. My strength. My best friend. My God given solace. The man who keeps my feet on the ground when I want to float away. I'm afraid the longer my kids are gone, they're going to forget me. They're not going to remember. Their innocent little minds will be clouded by what's going on and they'll be happy some place else. Time is not my friend.

I'm being held captive by my thoughts. I'm drowning and no one knows it.



“You never know beforehand what people are capable of, you have to wait, give it time, it's time that rules, time is our gambling partner on the other side of the table and it holds all the cards of the deck in its hand, we have to guess the winning cards of life, our lives.”  
~~José Saramago

Time Has A Way Of Changing Everything

When I was younger, I wasn't necessarily the prettiest, cutest, most fashionable, skinniest or even somewhat popular girl. I remember growing up and listening to my brothers and sister call me names like, "Tons of Fun or Miss Piggy", obviously making reference to my weight. To make matters worse, growing up "poor", Mom and Dad didn't have enough money to buy us new clothes for school. So, in essence, I was the poorly dressed, fat girl in school. I never wore make up or did my hair. Not a great combination. I was only given reference in school because I was my brother's sister. I had one friend and for the majority, spent my "free time" in school, talking to my favorite Criminology teacher. I was never one to get in trouble because in order to get into trouble, one needed to have some type of social life, which I didn't. I always remember thinking I was invisible. I even, at one point, resigned myself to never being married or having kids. Boys never paid me any attention. Back then, fat white girls were NOT the thing. I'm not saying it to diss anyone, just speaking MY truth. I hated myself. I hated the way I looked. I hated the way I dressed. I hated everything about my life. I remember day dreaming about the day I'd find my Prince Charming and he wouldn't call me names and he wouldn't care that I was fat. However, reality always had a way of creeping in. The loneliness and solitude were always so unbearable. Who would ever want a girl like me?

Fast forward thirty years later...

It's funny how things change. That lonely fat girl with no hope of ever being noticed, turned into a woman who can't escape the eyes of admirers. I'm not one to pat myself on the back... I don't think I'm better or worse than anyone else. The one thing that kept me enclosed in my own misery is the thing that has made me desirable. Gone are the days of being called "Tons of Fun". The term "Miss Piggy" has been replaced with "Curvy, Thick, Gorgeous, Beautiful, and Stunning".  I have absolutely no problem getting attention. I can walk out of my house wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a tank top and have some random person either asking for my number or wanting to give me theirs. However, Lord only knows, I will probably never see what others see when they look at me. I always knew it was going to take a very special man to chip away at my flaws to reveal the woman I really am.

Fast forward to my reality...

All the attention in the world doesn't mean a thing unless it's from the one person who means it. Being pretty is ok but being loved is what I want. I don't need a contact list a mile long because most men see just a pretty face or curves. No one wanted to delve deeper to see who I was on the inside. That once fat girl has turned into a woman who tries to see the glass as half full. She sees the good in everyone, although her eyes may be clouded. She gives her heart to those who appreciate it, loves without boundaries, and wants nothing but someone to understand her in return.

Time has a way of changing everything....

New Chapters

Wow, it's been a while since I've sat down at this laptop and blogged. I'm not exactly sure what's brought me here today but something was nagging at me. Maybe subconsciously I have something to say and this is the place to put the words out in the open. I've always found writing to be quite therapeutic.
It's been almost 6 years since my ex-husband and I split. I've faced more than my fair share of challenges in the adventure I call my life. I've struggled with relationships and being a single parent. I've struggled financially, emotionally, physically and mentally. For the majority, I've faced my struggles alone. I think deep down inside, I chose to face them alone. In doing so, there's no chance to be let down or disappointed by the actions of another person. Sometimes it's just better that way, right? As my "therapist" says, I have a tendency to self sabotage my life and my relationships. I have this, "I'll hurt you before you hurt me mentality." I guess that's just the defense mechanism I've managed to conjure up in my head within the last half a decade. It did it's job. I successfully remained completely single for 6 years. Sense my sarcasm?? I spent so much time being skeptical and cynical, that I forgot to slow down and smell the roses. I kind of feel sorry for those who have legitimately tried to get to know me. I had this wall up the size of a small country... without the perfect set of keys, no one was allowed to break the barrier. Which leads me to this....
Somewhere in this so called tragic roller coaster ride I call my life, God gave me a fairytale. Yup. Out of nowhere came this guy with the perfect set of keys that fit my safety net. He came in quickly...he became my rock. He soothed my fears, dissected my problems...he became my protector and provider. I sit back and giggle a little bit because he knows me. He knows my quirks, my thoughts and even my emotions just by reading my text messages. He's the one person that I know in my heart of hearts will never leave me... He's no quitter. He's strong, amazing and willing to go to bat for little ole me...the one person who I thought wasn't worth any man's time. I say all this with 100 percent certainty. There's no nagging voice in my head that says he's going to hurt me. There's no hesitations or second guessing when it comes to him... There's nothing but trust. Trust that he's the man I've always prayed for. Trust that he'll move a mountain to make sure I'm OK. Trust that he's my...everything. "They" say time heals all wounds... I say the right person willing to be patient does.
So, where am I now? Hmmm... I'd say, for the majority, I'm in a good space. I'm a work in progress. I can't say I'm "better" or "well"... however, I can say I'm better than yesterday but not as good as I can be tomorrow. I can go back and reread the chapters of my life but I'll never be able to rewrite them. The things I've experienced, happened. As brutal and sad as the reality is, they occurred. They'll forever be tattooed in my mind. However, I've decided to erase them from my heart. I'm turning new chapters. New chapters filled with positive adventures and energy. Trust me, I struggle every day. I try my best to put the negativity from my mind. I'm just very blessed to have someone in my life willing to be patient and realize that underneath this exterior, there's a woman who just wants to be happy. There's a woman inside me that's trying her damndest to break out of this untrusting exterior. I'm so very thankful for the chance he gave to me. I'm thankful that through all my "thinking" and "over thinking" that he's willing to fight for me. I'm thankful that he sees what others in the past haven't seen... for that, I can't do anything but smile :-)

A Father's Worth

This blog probably has nothing to do with the physical pain I went through when I was with my children's father, but, I think it fits nicely into the topic of domestic violence.

For the past week or so I've been feeling really bad because I'm unable to provide financially for my children. We struggle daily for basic necessities like toilet paper, sneakers and clothes.  Now that school is upon us, so are the stresses of September birthdays, school shopping...and eventually the holidays. I get down on myself quite frequently because as a mother, I should be able to provide these things.  Ask me how I've managed to keep my lights on and I'll tell you by the grace of God. I've become quite good at surviving by bare minimals...after my calculations, I'm not ashamed to say that my bills equal approximately $200 a month...and that's on a bad month. However, what kind of parent am I where I can't come up with $200 dollars? More times than not, I feel like the scum of the earth...inadequate...useless...pathetic..and shameful.  

I know if I were healthy, I wouldn't be in this position. I'd be able to work and give my babies everything that they need. BUT...circumstances have dictated that it's not possible. I'd trade my illness for the opportunity to walk out my door on any given day to work. Alas, my colon less body forbids it. It would rather have me vomit in the morning because my stomach refuses to digest my meal from the night before, and have me in the bathroom all day because my body can't or just won't digest any form of healthy food...than to lead any kind of functioning life. Just in case the thought popped in your head that I'm just lazy...please dismiss it because lazy, I am not.

Fast forward through my disability denials and the denials of any state aid because bureaucracy is the wart on the ass of society...Apparently a doctor saying that I'm unable to work just isn't good enough for the Gods of social services. According to them, I'm not disabled because Social Security has yet to deem me disabled. While I'm being denied help..A) my kids go without, and B) I can't afford the $15 dollars I need to pick up my 5 prescriptions that I desperately need to function on a 10% level...which I've been without for the past 2 months. However, my needs are a mute point at this time.

Fast forward again, to the actual purpose of this post... My children's father's inability to act and do as a father should. If he would put on his big boy undies and act like a 49 year old man, instead of 20 year old child, maybe...just maybe...my kids would have the things that they need.  Since when is it only one parent's responsibility to provide for any child? If that was the case, I would have gotten myself pregnant. So, because said "loser" would rather smoke crack, beat his girlfriend and drink himself to death, MY kids go without. He'd rather go to prison at the age of 49 than act like a grown man and take care of his responsibilities. If people would stop enabling his sorry ass, maybe he'd have to stand on his two feet. Please save the, "OMG, I can't believe she just said that" speech because ya'll know it happens. He deserves to be humiliated. He deserves to have people look at him like HE'S the scum of the earth...inadequate...useless...pathetic...and shameful. He's lucky I don't plaster his name and social security number all over my blog and say, have at it...BUT I'm not like that. I have a good heart. I do the things I have to do as a parent. I provide EVERYTHING within my means for my children. I DO IT!! I may feel bad because I wish I could do more...I may feel worthless and shameful..but I know in my heart of hearts...I'd do anything for my kids. I may not be able to sleep at night because I worry constantly about them; but, as long as I know I did what I could for that day, my guilt is forgiven. I wonder how many men can say the same.

In the words of Albany County Family Court Judge Margaret T. Walsh, "You can't make a man be a father."

No, you can't, but you can make him pay for his children.  

So I ask the question, "What is my children's father's worth?" Please don't have me answer. He's right up there next to my biological father...

Fooled Yet Again...

As much as we'd like to believe that our past experiences help us make better decisions in the future, I'm here to officially say that's not always the case.  Unbeknownst to most of my friends, up until a few short weeks ago, I was seeing this guy for a while.  After I left my ex husband, I promised myself that I'd never let another man abuse me; whether it be physical, emotional or sexual abuse, it was never going to happen to me again. Well, in theory that sounds like a splendid plan. Can't you just see the headlines? "Woman leaves abusive ex-husband a stronger and better person," Yeah, not so much. I found myself in a "relationship" with someone who never physically harmed me; but, would mentally torment me.  I wasn't skinny enough, smart enough, wealthy enough or beautiful enough. I wasn't all the things that he hoped I'd be. I wasn't perfect. I somehow mustered up the strength to end it before it turned physical...but I sit here with even more emotional scars and mental wounds.

I applaud women who are strong enough to realize that they're worth so much more. I wish with everything in my soul that I was one of them. My life is filled with so many broken dreams, broken promises and empty words. Do I have a sign on my heart that says, use and abuse me?

I don't know what hurts worse. Is it the fact that I actually believe all those things or is it the fact that I learned absolutely nothing from my ex? Do I want to be loved so much that I'd sacrifice myself for it? Am I destined to be this pathetic weak woman that others see me as? I can't seem to see past the nose on my face tonight...I feel so alone surrounded by so many good people.

What scares me the most is, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to figure this out.

Unworthy

I had no intention of blogging today but something has been bothering me for a while and I really needed to express myself.

When I met my ex husband all those years ago, he promised to love, honor and cherish me.  He promised to never hurt me.  He was my protector...my knight in shining armor.  The day I realized those were merely just words was the day I lost trust in men.  Of course, years after the fact, I've come to the realization that not all men are the devils spawn and one day God would bless me with someone that is true to his word; someone who would know a beautiful, honest and loving woman when he saw her.  He would, by my imagination, be my knight in shining armor.  He'd say all the right things and do all the right things. He'd love me unconditionally because he would know that I'm sincere and good.  Of course we all know that fantasies like that don't happen in real life. My life story is nothing compared to The Notebook or PS. I Love You.  It closely resembles that of Tina Turner (of course, I can't sing, don't have fantastic legs or am wealthy enough to buy myself happiness).  It's a train wreck with speed bumps and flat tires.  Anyways, I'm veering from the purpose of this blog...

Although I've yet to find my prince charming, I fear that when he finally shows up, I'll feel unworthy of all his goodness.  I fear that all those feelings of worthlessness will be there waiting to sabotage the beautiful future that I've been dreaming of.  I hesitate to reach out for fear of failure.  I fear that good things are always a mirage and as soon as I reach out to take a drink, I'll be drinking sand.  Why? If you're told long enough that you don't deserve it, chances are you start to believe that you don't.  The mind can be a terrible thing. It can twist your words and harden your heart.  It can make you believe things that aren't there.  You can tell me a million times that God wants me to be happy.  You can tell me that I'm a beautiful person and I deserve all the happiness in the world, BUT his words resonate in my mind as if they're a tattoo on my skin; there and unable to be removed.  You're not worthy. No one will ever love you. What man will want you? No man in his right mind would ever be with a woman with 5 kids. You're updateable. You're not the girl a man takes home to mom. Oh, I've heard them all.  What are the chances they'd all be wrong? There has to be some truth in there right? They can't all be wrong.  Even if I could remove the feelings of unworthiness, who's to say my feelings of inadequacies don't shine like a beacon on a dark night? 

I refrain from looking at myself in the mirror because I hate to see the person looking back at me. I don't see a spark of life. I don't see a future of beautiful days. I see sorrow and pain. I see wishful thinking and days that never come.  I see a broken and empty soul. A heart shattered into unfixable pieces. It's days like today that I feel so helpless and alone...unappreciated and desperate to be fixed. Oh how I wish all of this would disappear.  I'd give all of my worldly possessions, as few as they are, to be just like you. I'd love to enjoy the sunshine with my whole being and not just the exterior. It's very easy to mask your true feelings behind the facade of "happiness".  It's easy to smile, but inside feel like you're suffocating. Debbie, just smile and pretend that it doesn't hurt. Pretend like you're as happy as other people want you to be.

I've spent so much time rolling with the punches that I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.  I'd give anything to feel content and free.  Free to love the way I want; content to exhale.  Being a domestic violence survivor is a heavy burden to carry.  The emotional wounds bury themselves deep into the soul of a woman.  Survival is an ongoing process.  You don't wake up one morning and say, I'm better and this doesn't bother me any longer. It takes time and patience.

The Hardest Part...

If I had to sit here and contemplate what the hardest part of this whole ordeal is, I'd have to say looking my kids in the face and feeling so much guilt and shame inside.  Guilt for staying so long. Shame for not being strong enough to leave. Guilt for seeing all the trials and tribulations they go through. Shame for not speaking up for myself. Guilt for not...picking the right father for them.  It's true what "they" say. Guilt and regret will break you down until you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.  It's so easy to say, it's not my fault or he did this to me. However, the reality of the situation is, you can say it until you're blue in the face but it won't make you believe it.  You have to feel it.  As of yet, I don't feel anything but negative.  Sometimes I just sit here and wish I didn't feel at all. It would be so much easier if it all just went away.  I want it to disappear like the stars when the sun peaks over the horizon to say good morning.

The warning signs were always there.  Maybe I wanted to love so badly that I was willing to overlook them.  Maybe I wanted the fairy tale ending that you see in the movies.  My favorite by far is Pretty Woman. Who wouldn't want Richard Gere showing up on their fire escape, in all his glory, telling you he's your knight in shining armor?  Eh, maybe not Richard Gere...I'll take Shemar Moore instead :o) Anyways...

Did I want to love so badly that I overlooked the needs of my children?  I was so busy worrying about my own hopes and dreams that I forgot about theirs.  I robbed my daughter of her precious childhood.  She lost her faith, hope and trust because I wanted to love... because I wanted my fairy tale. Instead of worrying about what she was going to wear to school, she was worried about protecting me and her brothers and sister.  Instead of wishing for the latest toy or book, she was wishing for a "normal" family.  How do I, as a mother, get over that guilt?  How do I move to space where I can look at myself in the mirror and say, I did the best I could?  Deep down inside I feel like a failure. I feel like the lowest of the low. My son struggles everyday with PTSD/ADHD. He struggles in school. He struggles at home. He struggles to control his emotions. My beautiful boy feels like the world is on his shoulders...and it's my fault. How do I talk to him and say, it's going to be ok, when I don't know if it will?  How do I look at him and not feel ashamed?  I did this to him. I could have prevented all of this...if I were stronger. I teach my kids that they should always take responsibility for their actions.  Well, it was my responsibility to protect them. It was my responsibility to let them be little. Let them be happy and carefree.  I'm taking responsibility and it's a hard dose of medicine to swallow.

This is no pity party.  I don't feel sorry for myself. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm saying this so you won't have to.  I hope my words can save you from a lifetime of guilt and shame. I'm saying this so you can look at your child and see the sparkle of innocence in their eyes; not the dull ember of a lost childhood.

Don't stay because you love him. Leave him because you love your children more.  Maybe if I took my own advice, my heart wouldn't be so heavy. 

“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven."   Matthew 18:10