Monday, April 13, 2020

You lied....

When I first looked upon your face,  you said you would always ask me about my day.

You lied. 

You said I could always count on you; you'd be a shoulder, a friend,  a support.

You lied.

You said I would never feel alone, like I had no one in this world. 

You lied.

You said I was special. I wanted to feel special.  

You lied.

I wanted to belong, to be part of something special.  

You lied.

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Perspective - a decade in review

A new decade emerges on us tomorrow causing me to sit and pause. Ten years may not seem like many to some; to me, it was a lifetime - a lifetime of change, heartbreak, self learning, self-care, and growth. The thread that held this decade together was a golden thread of strength. 

In 2010, I was still married to and living  with my abusive  husband, putting on a stellar charade and fooling everyone around me that life was beautiful, and doing the Lord's work was right where I wanted to be. I, afterall, was required to be a "gatekeeper" - proving to all that no matter the circumstances or depth of my heartbreak (my oldest daughter moving out) the "Lord Jesus was my healer, saviour, provider and all I would ever need". Bull fucking shit.

In 2011 my relationship with my daughter was growing stronger again and on the way to wonderfully mended. I also began having terrible, gut feelings that my husband was stepping out with other ladies on his many, many weeks away from home and his top-secret, late night meetings at "the church". There was also the fact that he and a (very vocally) unhappily married woman were the only chaperones on each and every youth event that ever happened.  Not much imagination required as to what happened there.

2012 found the hostility and behind-closed-doors violence occurring much more frequently. There was, in this year, no physical violence which led my husband to boast about how he was a "changed and ever so godly" man. Behind the veil of our bedroom door however, the sexual violence was increasing as was the emotional/mental abuse. I was being so broken down and, if my faked charm, charisma and joy were not stellar public performances, the tongue-lashings and beratings were shattering. 

The next year, 2013, was the year I had been hoping for since 1997. It was the year someone saved me from the hell I was living. In a tremendously ironic twist of fate, my abuser saved me from himself.  He text me while I was at work, stating he was leaving....a common punishment tactic to cause me to panic, fear how I could make it without him and step my submissive wife game up exponentially for him. Only this time I didn't play by his rules and my response, with being in the safety of my co-workers,I called his bluff. He emptied our bank account (all but $20 for me to pay rent, utilities and get groceries for the kids and I) and vomited his sob story around town until someone offered him a place to stay. 

I worked hard and saved enough money to get the kids and I out of the ghetto and into a fairly decent area of town with a decent school nearby, and I took myself on a week long trip over Christmas as I didn't have my kids for that week.

My season of change began in 2014, I met my current husband. Our relationship started off as a friendship and no expectations of more which is why I think things worked out the way they did...we were able to get to know each other without pretenses. 

My ex-husband married the woman he had been chaperoning the youth group with...hahaha In hindsight I laugh because I totally called it. They were married before the ink on our divorce papers had even dried and do you know what, I'm totally at peace with that. What I'm not at peace with is the onslaught of information I received as I learned of some of the horrific things he had done.

My world, as I knew it, was shattered with the unexpected death of my nephew just days before Rush's wedding to 4x4. 83's mother and ex-father-in-law were diagnosed with cancer and succumbed to their illnesses within days of each other. In behind the scenes of all this grief, Jellybean was going through her own battles and was beginning to share snippets of her life - nothing that would ever prepare me for the bomb she would drop in the new year.

2015, I moved in with 83 and merged our families and homes. Jellybean released a lot of secrets that she had been bearing the weight of for far too long, and informed me that the abuses I had endured had been transferred to her. This lead to a complete undoing of self  - everything I had ever known, every strength I had vanished like a vapor as I did all I could to support my baby and help her heal. 

In the revelation of secrets she unburdened herself from, she also revealed another affair her father had had (with someone I had suspected) - a young woman the same age as his eldest daughter and her youngest child was very likely his.

Our focus was on getting Jellybean the help, support and resources she needed to rebuild.  We spent many sleepless nights, sitting in her room on suicide watch hoping to help her make it through one day at a time. 

On a positive spin, I got to see Nova Scotia for the first time and fell madly in love with her.

In 2016, we got Jellybean to Nova Scotia for a break from the heaviness of life, just as we were starting her court proceedings against her father. There was a big suicide scare and there was a brief stint in Mental Health inpatient care for her that was far too short and far too long. Too short as I am sure she required more help.  Too long as each minute she was there felt like an eternity. 
In this time, my child opened up to me and told me she thinks she is gay. That revelation changes nothing in how I love her or view her.
She stole my car.  She was hoping that she would be kicked out. She was not. She ran away.  She came back.  She ran away again.  We still spoke every day and she visited often. Her mental health suffered greatly and she had terrible anxiety attacks and on Mother's Day in 2017, she informed me that my gift was that she was a boy. I had a hard time accepting the death of my daughter and the hopes and dreams I had for her and I; I did not stop loving my child. 
In 2018, I married my best friend...with that marriage I inherited all the crazy antics his ex-wife presents to us. It was a beautiful, quiet wedding set in the best place....nature....out in the middle of the forest. We toured a bit in was splendid. 
Life was a bit on autopilot for me...There had been a lot of heavy information and heavy trauma hitting me throughout the years...and autopilot is what I needed to deal and to heal.
Bug began having a hard time and was making choices that were dangerous and frightening to my, 83 and to his teachers. He also lost a friend to suicide.

2019 has been the icing on a cake of bizarre plotlines and plot twists. My middle child, Jellybean, my now son, excommunicated our entire family for a variety of reasons that aren't the truth but are his truth.  My heart is shattered but hopeful that one day he will see his truth was somewhat skewed and that I was not so sure how to handle the situation properly.  There's no manual for this and I know I made mistakes but never because I didn't accept or love him.
The last 6 months of 2019 found me so dreadfully ill and in extreme pain that it was only the last week of the year where I actually enjoyed living. Bug began making way better choices, joined the football team and getting healthier with his state of mind. We all witnessed a lot of dark things that we have needed to process.

All of these lead up to what sounds like a pretty shitty decade but I think it sounds like a decade ramped up with strength, courage and resilience. 

Here's to all 2020 and another decade has to offer....lots of change in the horizon, my friends.  

Friday, December 20, 2019


Grief truly is this unexpressed love that no longer has an outlet. It's this flow of adoring energy that gets stopped up somewhere alongside that lump in your throat; you know, the one that triggers your tears.

But I must be stronger than that. 
Pushes the tears away.

But I can't let them see me cry right now. 
Swallows back the sobs.

It wasn't a choice I was in control over. 
Smiles softly to those at my side.

Stopped up love is grief. Stopped up grief is a killer.

Sunday, December 15, 2019


finally a diagnosis for this 6 months of extreme physical pain my body has been in. Finally an answer that is neither scary or crippling - a tad overwhelming but that is all.

I can do overwhelming.  I can do one day at a time, especially when I have been told it should be completely gone in 2 years.

Finally a medication that helped relieve the pain.  One day in, on a super high dose before tapering off,  and I am already noticing a huge diffrrence. I was able to dress and prepare for the day without debilitating pain. I even sat on the wooden benches to watch my step-son's game and could get up without walking like a 102 year old woman.

Finally,  after 6 months of scattered sleep from all this pain, I slept through the night, waking only momentarily at 1:56 am. I was distraught thinking "here we go again", but a guided meditation video and relaxation breathing exercises lulled me right back into a sweet slumber.

Another "finally" and a bizarre one at that, after a year long silent treatment from my husband's ex, She Who Shant Be Named, communicated with me 2 days in a row. I damn near fell over from the shock of it all. Don't get me wrong, I'm prepared for one of 2 things: 
A. a blow up like last year where she tries to hurt my feelings telling me to go to hell. She clearly has no idea how exciting that would be. I've longed to go to Norway for as long as I could breath.
B. This was an isolated weekend, or she took her medication or the Christmas Spirit moved her and...the Silent Treatment will resume.

Not too sure if she realizes that as much as I wish the two of us could get along and be, at least, friendly with each other for the kids, her silence doesn't bother me. In actuality,  it is a necessity for peace of mind - at least until she learns to control her tongue, her temper, her jealousy and her idiotic notions that she is a victim in a circus she created. 

Saturday, December 7, 2019

so fucking tired

I'm so fucking tired of Princess S.M. and her shit don't stink attitude. She is an abuser and has continued to do so for almost  6 years. 

There's no end in sight to this. None.  I'm lost and hopeless. 

Sunday, November 3, 2019

Deplorable lunacy

The discussion began with her demanding the kids on Halloween.  She was told she could get 1.5 hours. He was told she intended to kidnap the kids from school - regardless of his wishes or desire or instruction for his week of access.

She dropped the children off on their usual schedule and one child came with a costume.  No other discussion had been had or settled  regarding Halloween. We had already bought costumes for our house.

We decided to have them home and ready to go for 6, presuming she was going to come. One had no costume sent over so she was sent with no costume. She did come.

We were accused of being deplorable,  of lunacy and of damaging children. She brought them home late because she does whatever the fuck she wants anyway.

Two faces   One for the people she tries to fool. One for us. It exudes emotional abuses each time it looks our way.  She tries to break us, not only emotionally but relationally.  She tries to ruin moments so the kids only have memories of things not going well, or upset and confusion.

I wish she would move on, find her happiness so she can stop trying to ruin ours. Jealousy is an ugly accessory she has chosen to wear.

Ironically,  her attempts are met with our laughter. Pumpkin, move on, let go and sort through your shit. 

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

Another failure

I'm angry at myself for being afraid... afraid to swim afraid to learn...afraid.
I miss out on so much fun.
My husband, with the kids,  in the deep end and diving  off the board.
There I sit, in a corner, of the shallow end...a loser...inept.
They are in the lake, far beyond my comfort zone, and I turn back, wrap my towel around myself,  bury my toes in the sand and try to forbid that hot tear from escaping.