What’s the point?

Sometimes I feel as though the only way I am able to get things out of my head are to speak them to no one in particular. I spend so much time analyzing, dissecting, and discounting different feelings, that most get tossed away or shoved in a bottle labeled “To Be Dealt with Later.” In any given week, I can go through days of depression, anxiety, gratitude, irritation, annoyance, exhaustion, and just plain uncertainty. Each emotion, among a variety of others, are valid in their own way while also completely insignificant. It always changes. I always change, my feelings change, and life changes. Everything passes; so why hold on to and obsess over one state or another? At least this is my overarching attitude toward any discontent and life’s many dissatisfactions.

I know that not dealing with emotions can be dangerous, and it is a “skill” I am particularly good at. However, I am not sure how to go about retraining myself. Before I open my mouth I am analyzing every word. Am I being to selfish? Am I being too selfless? Is this a legitimate concern or am I overreacting? Am I projecting? Is it really that important? Most of the time I am thinking default to “this too shall pass,” or “I am going to not focus on this and try to focus on being of service to others.” The selfless serving nature of my default is mostly helpful, except in those cases where the feelings keep cropping up. I can only push my feelings aside so many times until I start getting quiet, bitter, and resentful.

What do I do then? I consider letting them out. I should talk about what’s bothering me. But again my inner voice chimes in; “your problems aren’t that bad,” or “you’ve already brought this up and wasted enough time, effort, and energy on it.” Still, I’m grappling with deep seeded emotions on a daily basis. What, then do I do? Inevitably I am forced here, writing my thoughts out for a faceless audience to whom I feel less threatened and judged by than any real person in my life.

So here goes. Lately, I have been feeling all the discomfort and violation I have accrued from all the relationships with men in my past: prompted from watching documentaries, to crappy rom-com shows, to real life objectification. Most recently, being brought back to the one traumatic moment with my partner, opened the bottle on all my other baggage in that category of my life. And there is a lot of it.

Uncomfortably objectified by my un-medicated bipolar, alcoholic father; I sought approval and validation from a very sick individual, in multiple ways, while building this wonderful emotion barrier I have today. The very first boy I ever kissed in any real sense of hormonal awkwardness, was a summer thing. We saw one movie and met for one lunch and that was it. He went on to proclaim that we had had sex, and that I was slut to the entire high school I had just started attending. I was shocked and angry, but as it wasn’t true and he was very insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I let it go. I was pressured into my first “relationship” as a tech intern in high school. The hyper sexual narcissist played to my naïve insecurities, pushing me to do things I was very clear I had no interest in doing. Finally, I put my foot down and told him to back off. This lead to a hostile work environment and me quitting that job and my interest in IT for good. I was raped of my virginity at 16 by a self-sworn good guy. He was only a monster in a mask. After that, I dove into the arms of a 21 year old, metrosexual man-child. He was also hypersexual in every sense of the word and loved to comment on my weight and brand/style of clothing. I didn’t care too much at the time as I had started drinking and he could buy me all the booze I wanted. By the time that was over, I left him for suspecting he was cheating. I’m sure he was, but had no hard proof. I learned to leave before I got too hurt.

Throughout high school I hung out with a group of guys I called my brothers. I never saw them as anything more than that; though each of them, at different times expressed their interest in me as more than a friend. One of them I would be engaged to. One of them I would marry and divorce. The one I was engaged to brought me into a world of drugs and alcohol on an entirely new level. I loved keeping pace with him. I loved getting lost, doing crazy shit, and not thinking about my problems. His lifestyle made that easy, but I was also trying to go to school and start a life for myself. So, eventually, I gave him an ultimatum to either quit the drugs, or I was gone. He quit the hard drugs, and I all but browbeat him into proposing to me. Still I wasn’t happy. I was drinking more than ever and blamed him for all the problems he had gotten me into. After graduating college by the skin of my teeth, I broke it off with him. I wasted no time trying to building a life with my now ex-husband, starting with earing my title as barfly when we were dating. I would get drunk and call my ex-fiancé. On a handful of occasions he picked me up and I would go out drinking and/or drugging with him. Once he had tried to make a move on me as I was passing out, and I asked him to take me home. Then next time was much worse in scale of the fight with my ex-husband. I drank more, drugged more, and woke up out of a blackout sore and without underwear on. I was too ashamed of my drunken behavior and my bad decisions. I never said anything about it. I had, after all, put myself in this situation. But I’ve come to learn that still doesn’t make it okay.

My ex-husband cheated on me. He pressured me into having sex before I was ready after our son was born, and complained to me for not paying enough attention to him. He blamed my inattention for his cheating and constantly asked who I was out screwing if he couldn’t get ahold of me immediately.

Stepping back a moment, my first job after my tech-intern position was at BestBuy, where my asshole of a boss hit on me relentlessly. Eventually I quit. After college I worked at Omega as a second job, where my 60 something Greek manager asked if he could kiss me. The other managers, all related, shrugged it off as him being an old man. So I quit. After being a stay at home mom for two years, I went to work as a hostess/bartender at Carlucci’s. I knew I was going to get drunk idiots flirting with me. I didn’t know two of four managers would be pursuing me like a dog with a bone. One particular bus “boy” liked to kid around that my son was his. He’d ask “How’s my boy doing?” in between invites to hang out, or lunch, or just go out back. His eyes devoured any decency. He was a salivating hyena.

So, no, I have not had a lot of positive experiences with male friends, with male colleges, or with men I placed my trust in. That’s why my most recent trauma from my current relationship was so bitter for me. It was just a drunken mistake. I am not blowing in out of proportion, and how could I given my track record, but it was the fact I and once again, thought I had found something different, something real that was once again shattered in that moment. I’ve recovered from that, but it’s there in the ever growing gallery of unpleasant life experiences with men.

It’s not surprising anymore. I try not to think about these things, because they just steal my peace and serenity. Yet try as I may, I can never really get rid of the trauma. It sickens me to the core, and yet it’s so fucking common-place. Oh well.

See, I feel like I have wasted my time an energy just saying all that. What’s the point anyways?

Worthless

I don’t even know where to begin. Everything has changed, and no, that is not an exaggeration. I have a new home, a new career, and am starting grad school in about a month. I no longer have a car, a mother, nor sufficient income. I am the old person at work. I am the single mother who barely sees her son. I am the partner left wanting. I am  a ball of stress, anxiety, and loneliness bound up tightly in a straight jacket with a bad buckle. I am scared. I am trying my best to make a life that I hope I won’t regret. I am nothing I used to be and everything I always hide.

New beginnings are enticing and exciting at first, however treading the path unknown is quite frankly terrifying. Less so when you have something to hold on to. Something steady to keep you anchored and sure footed. Without it, I feel like I could be swallowed into oblivion by a single wrong step. All the while I’m wondering, what have I done wrong already. Where have I faltered.  Have I been so neglectful in my tireless effort to forge a better life that I should no longer be a preference? Are my actions something so egregious that I am someone to be placed aside for more satisfying company?

I thought love persevered; strengthened through time and overcoming countless trials. I am yet again reminded I must know nothing of love. Perhaps this is all my fault. I am not so big headed to think I am infallible. I make mistakes as I am human. I am a human who feels old, worthless, and unimportant to the one most important to me. Though I am sure this is probably not entirely accurate in reality, it is how I feel, and it fucking sucks. It really fucking sucks.

Making Peace with the Past

I have made many bad decisions in my life and hurt a lot of people I wish I hadn’t. I have had traumatic experiences that I have used as excuses for inexcusable behavior. I have spent money I didn’t have, lied, cheated, stole, wasted time, and jumped from one bad relationship to another. Asking the question, “if you could go back, would you change anything…” is pointless from the get. The past is unchangeable; no matter how much we may wish it to be different or not.

We can try and hide from our past. I certainly don’t like who I used to be; no matter how much I thought I was a “good” person at the time. My past actions make my current self feel sick at times. I used to wake up fearing whatever had happened the previous night, and spent my days running around with anxiety of bumping into someone who knew something I didn’t want someone else to know. The dread of being exposed as a fraud, a fake “good” person only out for my own self interest, was too much to bare, and I self medicated with alcohol to “fix” that feeling. Of course, it only made it worse.

So I don’t hide from my past anymore. I am a flawed, sick, fragile human being making an honest effort to be a better person little by little; day by day. The most, perhaps, obvious use for past mistakes is to learn from them. That seems like a no brainer. However; it is a little more complicated for one plagued with the disease of alcoholism to learn from the past. I am unable to will into my mind with sufficient force the miseries of my past; self knowledge is not enough to enable me to learn from my failures. A complete psychic change is necessary for me to do this and also to continually use my past to help others like me. Though this sounds like a tall order, it really is not. The AA program has it down unarguably, when it comes to helping even the slowest, most defiant learner. The only catch is, I have to want it bad enough.

I can sit and ruminate about all the mistakes I have made, focus on the negative aspects of my life, and wallow in self pity all I want. Nobody cares if I do, and I’m only hurting myself in doing so. But, inevitably, if I do that for too long; I will fall away from my spiritual program. I will stop doing the simple things required of me to maintain my sobriety, and I will wind up drunk. That would hurt people. So I have a duty, not only to myself, but to all the people I care about not to let that happen. I face my past with acceptance and gratitude. I am candid about my horrible decisions with people who may need to hear it or can relate. It was what it was. It is what it is. It is what I do with it now that matters.

Friday, I get to go to my favorite place (in Illinois), and take part in a Japanese lantern ceremony with my two favorite people in the world. I am not focused on the fact my car might get repossessed on Monday. I am not worried how I will pay the mortgage. I have enough money to buy food, gas, pay for insurance, and have lights, water, and AC. I have wonderful people in my life, and with a past like mine, there are very few mistakes I cannot currently avoid. Been there, done that. Let’s do this the right way now. How exciting is that?

Waking Nightmares

I don’t know if dreams have any spiritual significance, or if it is simply the mind processing subconscious information. All that I do know is that when I do dream and remember it, it’s usually nightmares. And, significant or not, when I wake from these aliens worlds and impossible situations, it has a real, literal effect on my mood and even my body. In this sense, there is something real and significant about dreams, but I’m no expert and make no claims.

A common feature of my nightmares is a lack of control. I am sure most can relate to the trying to scream but can’t, or trying to run and feeling like you are stuck in sludge while dreaming. If I choose to fight an enemy in my nightmares, I am never strong enough to swing whatever “weapon” I find in my hands with sufficient force. In the midst of ever changing fluid chaos, often I have an overwhelming sense of impending doom. Anxiety by an unknown force is terrible. I prefer zombie dreams to that. Then, at least, I know what I’m running from.

I have had dreams of different worlds, alternate realities, apocalyptic scenarios, and some almost plausible ones. Last night was a cross between an alternate reality in a town I’ve never been to and relapse dream. Unlike my usual drinking dreams, instead of unwittingly taking a drink or trying to get away with just a few, I was catapulted directly into the misery of the final stages of my alcoholism. The pain and fear of trying to find the next drink and terror of having to start facing withdrawal. It was palpable. I woke up sweating and had the “jitters” all morning long. It was awful.

I have zero intentions on going out and grabbing a drink. So, if this was some sort of cosmic warning or reminder of the pain I’ve experience as the result of my drinking, message received and completely unnecessary!

I need to start working on positive visualization before falling asleep. I think it could help my subconscious not be so fearful and gloomy. Perhaps that will help or perhaps not, but I have to do something as falling asleep exhausted and waking up even more so is getting very, very old.

MSA

I don’t know how to feel right now. I have to be in court in two and a half hours to submit a marital settlement agreement (MSA) to hopefully avoid a full on trial. All I can really say for sure is that I feel tired. All of this legal crap has been very draining, and I’m ready for it to be over. However, even after the divorce is finalized, my legal journey is not over. I must then file for bankruptcy to wipe the slate clean and try for a new beginning.

I have learned from my mistakes, and I know I am a different, stronger person today. I have the support of a loving partner, my mother, my sponsor, etc. Still I feel alone in this at times like these. I am the one who has to walk the path, and there is no denying that it is scary. I worry that I am doing the right thing filing for bankruptcy. I am scared not knowing where I will be living soon. I am sad for my soon to be ex-husband and troubled by the effect it may have on our son. I do not doubt my decision to get divorce in any way. I remember the hell we used to live in, and divorced parents is a million times better than that. Still, he will be different from his friends growing up. He may harbor resentment, hide his sadness, bottle up anger or who knows?

I would think as a child of divorce myself that I would have the tools already equipped to handle this with my son. The situation; however, is very different. My father never put up any fight for custody, and I was glad when my parents got divorced. I was nine and I hated being around the fighting. They were clearly miserable, and the divorce was a necessary relief to everyone. My son is only three and a half. He has two parents who love him and want to be involved in his life. He probably won’t remember the fighting, hopefully, and may not have perspective on why his parents split up. His father will never say it was his decision; therefore, I will be to blame when my son gets upset about it. What do I say to that little boy? I’m not going to say that his father was abusive and we were both miserable and treated each other poorly. The generic “sometimes mommies and daddies want different things” explanation seems like an insult to his intelligence even at his current age…

But this is all worries about the future, and I know I cannot predict or control it. I know I have to stay in this day, but today sucks. I am scared and sad. All I can do is pray, and hope it goes well and is over with quickly.

In the Dark

There are many times in my life when I have felt like I would be swallowed whole by my emotions; fear, rage, loneliness, sadness, etc. Any single one can consume me completely. It’s when they all come at me full force that I become weirdly numb. I can feel the impending self-destruction creeping up my spine. A cloud of black oblivion settles into my mind; an old friend. I know not to struggle. Quietly I tip toe through my day pretending not to notice it; knowing any spark will set it all on fire.

My soon to be ex-husband can now see our son unsupervised, and he is putting on the nice guy act. It pisses me off that he can still affect me. He got my hopes up that just maybe he will be a decent person and help shoulder the work of raising our son. I know it won’t last. I know him. But, fuck if I’m not conflicted that he appears to genuinely want to be a larger part of our son’s life. All I know him as is my former abuser and the shit stain in my life. He was a monster to me. Can monster’s love something/someone besides themselves? I don’t know. It sounds like the shitty plot to a Disney movie.

My Dad is in the hospital, I found out yesterday, and possibly having surgery today. I cannot, however, get ahold of him and am not listed as a contact they can release information to at the hospital. I’m worried he’s pissed at me for giving his cell phone number to his long time friend who he had a falling out with. To say he is one to hold a grudge would be a massive understatement. Just ask 90% of his family who he doesn’t speak to.

So, he could be in surgery as I type, or I’m just blacklisted. According to my Grandma, who just returned home from the hospital for the 4th time this month with congestive heart failure, he’s out with my uncle who he doesn’t talk to buying her new chairs… She’s in her mid nineties, but she has always been strong and sharp. Hearing her say over and over “I’m just so helpless,” and that she “not going to get better,” was hard to hear. She lives 8 hours away in the middle of nowhere Minnesota. I haven’t seen her since my son was one.

My partner is completely unavailable to me right now, and all I want to do is go home and curl up in bed. Instead, I get to go to my FAVORITE Dr. Office after work for a not so painless procedure. I’ll get home late and not have any time to go to a meeting…

…and so I tiptoe around these feelings, moving very cautiously through the black fog, because I know one wrong step means disaster.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pauses in Between

I never know how to feel on the calm days amid the chaos right now. I’m always waiting for the next problem. I enjoy my “good” days. The good ones are days when I get to do things and spend time how and with whom I want to. On an uneventful, cloudy Monday afternoon, however, I don’t know how I feel. The highlight of my day with be getting to curl up in bed with my partner to go to sleep.

Nothing is wrong, and I am grateful for the peace. I’m grateful for many things right now, but today I’m just off. Though there is a definite benefit to having moments where you can just be and enjoy the moment, boredom and inactivity are states I’m both uncomfortable being in and have concluded are dangerous for my personality type.

If I’m not busy putting out fires,  eventually I’ll start one. I don’t know if I do it consciously or not, but I do know that I do it just to have something to fill the void. I’ll start focusing on something that I declare “wrong” in my life or find something that needs fixing and focus on it obsessively. If I don’t go that route, I start imagining problems that aren’t even real. I start worrying over potential future situations that are not even a reality and focus on that. I grab on to anything that I can keep my mind busy. It’s an exhausting way to live.

The chaos doesn’t relent for long these days. I just got an e-mail from my lawyer, and the allocation agreement is finally signed and to be submitted to the judge this Wednesday. My soon to be ex-husband will have unsupervised “parenting” time with my son for the first time in a year and a half. The order of protection will be altered for pick ups and drop offs, and my son will no longer be listed on it. So, I’ve got something new to worry over now.

My son’s father loves him, I’m sure, in his own way. The thing that scares me about him having time alone with our son is that his concept of love is very skewed and never prevented any of the emotional abuse I endured. I fear for my son, who is completely defenseless against the psychological and emotional manipulation that my husband is skilled in. I never had any intention of keeping them apart forever, but I’m lying if I say I’m anything but terrified he can take him on his own now.

After everything that has happened, he has done nothing to get help or grow as a person. I was fighting in the beginning to get him to go to counseling as a condition of having unsupervised time with our son, but he completely refused. There would have been no harm in it. It’s only a beneficial thing for everyone involved. I had to cave, though, in order to get things moving in this divorce. Now I’m scared I made the wrong decision.

Did I give in just to make my life easier? Have I subjected my son to an emotionally dangerous position just, because I couldn’t financially afford to keep fighting for him? I hate all of this.