Update? ;) Lol

So it’s totally been awhile but things have been uber hectic around here. I thought everyone (if anyone is still reading this, lol) deserved a brief update, at least, to know that I’m still alive! ūüėČ

Basically, since Thanksgiving, hell’s been let loose in the general area. I have a basic civil war going on in my family and I’m stuck in the middle. Gotta love it. Right now I’m housing one of my aunt’s because she was kicked out of another family member’s house because they were just “sick and tired of her shit” and I’m the only one who is willing to listen to my aunt and let her live with me. Can you see just how nice my family is?

Plus, y’know, my house is being worked on, foundation and electricity-wise, and so my electricity bill jump sky-high from last month. Which I can’t afford at all. My food stamps are dropping by over $50 and I can’t afford that either. I’ve had to cancel 2 doctor’s appointments for my children because I can’t afford the gas mileage to take them because money is so tight this month. I hate this. I hate it all. I’m trying so hard, and so is my fiance, but nothing we’re doing is helping.

The only good news that I have is from my oldest child’s teacher who called this morning around noon and said that one of the upper grades does a project every year and chooses a family to get presents for and my child’s teacher thought of us. And she is giving us pull-ups from another mom in my child’s class. I’m so, so grateful. I don’t know what I’d do without little things like that.

Things are slowly looking up. Just hope for more good news in the future. ūüôā

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My Past. My Ex. My Anxiety.

I have to get this out of my system. I don’t know why, all of sudden, it’s bothering me so much. I don’t know why I’m thinking about all of this, forward and backward. I can’t get it out of my mind.

And so I going to write about it. I’m going to post it here.

I will forewarn you: I don’t know how long this post is going to be. Mind, I’m not going to try and make it a long post, but with what I am going to be writing, it might end up longer than anticipated. Please… if you start reading this, don’t be deterred by the long-windedness of my writing. It just kind of happens.

* * *

I was younger then. It was the beginning of a new school year and all of my friends were off to college; I never graduated high school. I was depressed. I had no idea where my life was going. Everyone was gone. I had no one.

And then He shows up.

Day by day, week by week, month by month – they all went by and I lost count. I can’t tell you exactly when everything happened or in what order. I just know that in the end, everything turned to shit. My family hated me; I was ostracized from the people who raised me and the only people I had to turn to were ones I barely even knew.

I was pregnant. I was engaged. I didn’t love the person I was marrying, but I was denying it to myself. Even looking back I can say that honestly. I just stayed with him so the child in my womb wouldn’t have a broken family like I grew up in.

I was an idiot.

He was abusive.

I eventually left him. It took me a while and several attempts; the cops were called several times to settle disputes between us in the process. What finally pushed me to the edge wasn’t a fight, wasn’t really any sort of abuse. It was a lie. I had finally convinced him to try marriage counseling and we decided on a local pastor/Christian couselor, which honestly surprised me because he’s some sort of atheist.

During the session – the one and only session that we went to – we talked things out, I got things off of my chest and told him what was bothering me. Of course, he nagged at me a bit, but in the end we compromised. My biggest “blah” was that he wasn’t helping out enough with our child and was demanding too much of me; he literally did nothing in the house while I was supposed to do everything and make time to shower myself, feed myself… and him. I had enough to deal with when I was taking care of our child and the household. He could cook for himself. Until I found out that he was only an expert at burning water. :-/

But yes, the session went great. I was happy. Suspicious, but happy. I was rightfully suspicious, I came later to find out. Almost every promise, almost every thing that he said he would change and start doing to help out, was broken not three hours later. He had planned on doing something “with the guys” for the whole weekend. I wouldn’t be seeing him for the whole weekend and I had no prior knowledge about it.

We argued again. I yelled, I cried. I gave up. I knew nothing could be done and I left. I packed a bag that night for me and then one for the baby and, on my way out, left him a note on the bed. I called one of my friends and had her pick me up. We were done. I filed for divorce a month later. He was dating another woman two weeks later.

The faux pas then, though, was that I was pregnant. We ended up having to wait over a year for the divorce to be finalized. Within the first six months, he did not contact me to see our already born child, he made no attempt to try and see our child. When we did make it to court, he said that I¬†had denied¬†him his parental rights to see his child and that’s why he never visited the baby.

Two years later and three children together, we’re going through the same thing.

I don’t know what he’s doing. I have absolutely no idea. I know he’s unstable. He’s the type of person that can’t go without a relationship. Literally CAN NOT. He split with his last girlfriend, at most, two months ago and he’s already dating someone else. Before her, it was a couple weeks. Before that relationship, it was around two months.

And I only know that through, y’know, Facebook. ^^;;

It’s been over six months since he’s seen his children face-to-face and he’s made little effort to see them. I don’t know if he’s trying something underhanded, if he’s going for what he did last time, or if he honestly thinks that I just gave up on fighting in court. (He doesn’t think that I’m actually paying my lawyer.) I can’t get into his mindset because I care too much about my children. The three weeks he took them and didn’t allow me contact with them I flipped out. My anxiety level was at an all-time high. I had panic-attacks and I seriously flipped the FUCK out. I’ve never been that way. Ever. My children are my life and not knowing exactly where they were, not having contact with them, threw me in a way I never thought possible.

And because of him I’m paranoid. Proof: my children stayed with my mother this past weekend. I had to call her on Saturday because I was flipping out because my children weren’t with me; I didn’t know how they were exactly. I knew they were alright, but I was flipping out. It was anxiety, near to a panic attack. Relate it to PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), if you must – I know that’s the only thing I can relate it to similarly, though I know it’s not the same thing. What happened to me all those months ago has affected me for life. And it sucks.

But now he’s (my ex) not answering texts. He asked me to text him when it was a good time that him and the children could talk. I did. He never responded. That was weeks ago.

And now he’s not paying child support.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if it’s accidental or not. I mean, I moved; what if because I moved the child support stuff is all blah. Oh, but wait… then¬†I wouldn’t have gotten last month. Or the month before. Right?

So what’s going on?

I’m so confused. And scared. And anxious. Slightly paranoid.

I just want all of this to be over. All of the problems and issues. I want all of it gone. I know it never will be; I’m stuck with that man for life until the children are grown up, and even then, probably not even.

Hopes, wishes, and dreams abound. I just want everything to be well and good again.

Stable is good. ūüôā

Day 7, Week 1

Like the title says, today is Day 7.

Day 7 of what, you say? Why, today is Day 7 of my new diet & exercise regimen and I’m oh-so excited!

It’s sad, really. I’ve never made it this far into a diet or exercise regime before; I’m doubly proud for making it this far, which isn’t saying much. Buuuu~ut… before I say too much, I’m going to go through the week. ūüėČ

A lot has happened this week. More than progressing on the diet and such. My fiance helped me finish moving out of my [old] apartment and I turned in my keys this past week! I think that’s an achievement, for sure. Before I turned in my keys we made sure everything was out of the apartment and cleaned it up a bit – ¬†mopping, sweeping, and such. I told my previous landlady so, and also that there were a few nicks in the walls from my children and the blinds needed fixing, but that was all. She took it in stride and said whatever needed fixing she would take out of my deposit. Which is fine with me as long as I was able to get out of that hell-hole.

And I did! Yay!

I also had a meeting with the preschool teacher for my eldest child on… wait for it…. Halloween. It’s true! Anyway, though, I went to the school nearby to meet with her about my child transferring there and to fill out all the forms required. I was very impressed! The classroom is twice as big with less than half the amount of students at his last preschool; my child will be getting more individual and hands-on attention. I’m so very, very excited. He starts on Monday (tomorrow) and will be going to school every weekday in the mornings – a halfday, if you will. Hopefully he’ll be able to catch up from where he was behind.

And then, it brings us to today.

All week my fiance and I have been struggling through the first week of our diet and exercise. To be quite honest, we barely did any exercise, which probably isn’t very good, but it’s just the first week and the fact that we did any at all is good, right? We exercised about every other day. It was an honest effort. I have a lot to work on because I never worked any of my stomach muscles after my emergency c-section with my last child. (I do NOT reccommend a c-section to anyone unless absolutely neccessary.) Now my tummy muscle is beyond loose and I hate it; plus I have gained weight since I had my last child – about forty to fifty pounds more!

Anyway, after being sore the first couple of days from exercising, I started stretching every morning and I haven’t been sore since and that is fantastic. Overall, this week I’ve lost three (3) pounds and I’m closer to achieving my goal of being at a healthy weight! I really am very excited.

Today, though, is “cheat day” and so I’m pretty much eating my weight in whatever I want. I’ve had McDonald’s and Chinese food. I’ve had coffee with lots of creamer and sugar; two peanut butter and nutella sandwiches ; pumpkin ice cream with caramel and whipped cream. My personal goal for today? Eat what I’ve wanted to eat for the last week. Overall goal? Up my calorie intake so my body doesn’t adjust to the lower calorie count and I’m still able to lose weight.

I guess we’ll see after today how it goes!!

Recollection of a Dream

It was a time of war. Everywhere I looked there was sadness. Buildings were crumbling to the ground, everything in various shades of black, brown and red. I was searching for something. I could feel it inside of me. I had been looking for days, weeks, months; you could see it in my eyes and on my body. I was worn down and hadn’t had a shower in a long time.

It was like I was in tunnel vision. All I could think was “where is he? why can’t I find him?”

Then a little boy ran past followed by more children. And then I knew. Somehow, I knew. I had found him.

Quietly I followed the children; they were playing some sort of game – chasing each other with not a care in the world. They had no idea what kind of world we were living in. That made me smile a bit, before I remembered what I was searching for.

I came to the entrance of one of the many refuge sites. They were hard to come by and very well hidden to the rest of the world. Those who wanted to stay away from the war – the young, the elderly, the disabled – hid there.

I was a prisoner of war who escaped to find my child. The enemy had captured me early on; I knew they were coming for me and I gave my only child to someone I trusted, a semi-elderly woman past her prime, to watch over him until I, hopefully, came back to get him.

She was here. He was here. I could feel it in my heart.

As I walked through the dark tunnel – there was no electricity – women, men, and children of all ages looked at me in fear and awe. I can only imagine how I looked to them. Occasionally I would stop and ask someone who looked especially kind, normally a woman, if she knew where the woman I was looking for was. I was always asked many questions and then pointed forward with a smile. My hope was growing.

Finally I stumbled upon her. I found her with her back to me and so I observed her. She had cut her now-gray hair short; it used to be long and wavy, mid-back. I didn’t think I was gone for that long. Had I been?

She must have sensed me behind her because right before I called her name she began turning around to face me. She didn’t look surprised, just… determined. There were children behind her, some sleeping, some looking up curiously at me. She motioned for them to go and play. I looked at all of the boys; which one was mine?

I spoke to her: “You know why I’m here. I told you I’d be back.”

Her eyes got harder, fiercer, more determined. “I didn’t think you’d make it back alive. You can’t have him.”

I choked back a sob, bringing a hand up to my chest to steady myself. “He’s my flesh and blood. I trusted that you.”

“He’s mine.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks now. There were people staring from their seats in the hallway. I didn’t care.

“You have eight children of your own! He’s my child! Give him back!” I yelled it to her. I was crying, scared.

She snarled at me. “You abandoned your own child to go with the enemy. He’s no child of yours!”

I cried even more. And then a child came running up to me, wrapping his arms around my legs, hugging me. I looked down in surprise. Was he…?

He looked up at me. “Are you my Mama?”

I leaned down and hugged him tightly as I cried. I could see the tiny features that grew with him in the baby I gave birth to long ago. This was my baby boy.

* * *

I woke with tears streaming down my face. This truly is the recollection of a dream I had last night. It was one of the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had and I can’t get it out of my mind. It scared me out of my mind. I could feel everything. I knew everything that was going on. I could see myself as it was happening. I hope something like what happened in my dream never happens in real life.

My Mother and I

I have a complicated relationship with my mother. That’s putting it lightly.

At this point I’ve put the past in the past, where it belongs. There are times when I have start dwelling on what has happened and who to believe: the rest of my family or her? Then I realize that it doesn’t matter because it’s over and done with. What matters is what she and every other person in my life chooses to do now – how to handle their own life and how much they want to be involved in mine, whether they truly want to help me or they don’t. I can’t make those decisions for them.

But it all comes back to my mother.

From the time I moved out with my [now] ex-husband, she was one of the few people to support me even if she wasn’t fond of him. I was happy about that. She told me how she felt and she was honest; she didn’t hide from me the fact that she didn’t like him. It’s the fact that she still helped me when I was pregnant and inbetween homes, when everyone else was proven right that he was an a**hole and they wanted to shove it in my face.

She helped me. Then.

Two years later I’m living on my own an hour away from her and she’s still the one that I talk to the most out of my family and still the one that I see the most out of my family. She’s still the one that is most willing to help me when times get tough and something comes up suddenly. She’s my mother; mother’s do that kind of thing.

But she didn’t when I was growing up. She was never there. Ever.

She’s told me that she’s trying to make up for it. It honestly seems like she is. There’s just one problem.

My mother’s letting me stepfather influence her too much. I’m not sure if it’s consciously or subconsciously or if it’s because she’s been with him for so many years, but it’s happening. I have proof. It’s this proof that hurt me the most.

Those months ago, earlier this year, when my ex took my children for three weeks and I panicked because I had no idea where they were, just a vague idea,¬†and he wasn’t allowing contact? That’s when it happened. On the second day after he finally fessed up that he wasn’t bringing them back like he said he would I finally told my mother. She told me to calm down and basically go through every thing that I already had. She said she would wait a day or two to tell my stepfather. My mom was on my side. She thought that what I was doing was right, especially since I had already spoken to my lawyer and was calling him everyday to try and get something done. She was proud of me, though not half as anxious.

Those two days went by fast. I kept my mother up-to-date with what was going on. One day, mid-afternoon, my cell phone rang. It was my mother. She told me that she’d told my stepfather the night before and then she started in on me about how I needed to “get something done to get your kids back”.

Because I wasn’t trying to do that?! Seriously?!

She kept yelling and ranting at me through the phone. She had switched sides, from being completely on my side to completely agreeing with whatever my stepfather said. What’s sad is that within the past night and earlier in the day I had just been discussing that I thought my mother would do that.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

It was bad enough that I was so anxious that I couldn’t be in the house by myself, I was restless so I was constantly walking, I’d had multiple panic/anxiety attacks and I wasn’t able to¬†even GLANCE¬†at children without bursting into tears.

And she had the nerve to tell me, as a message from my stepfather, that what I was doing wasn’t enough, was wrong, and I needed to do more and not to listen to my lawyer?!

I love my mother, but F*CK THAT!

It was the first and only time it had happened in my life, but I just lost it. I started yelling and screaming at the top of my lungs into my phone at my mother. I don’t remember everything I said. I couldn’t control what I said. Every word that came out of my mouth was exactly what was on my mind and how I was feeling. I had snapped.

That had never happened to me before. Nobody previously and nobody since then has gotten me that worked up.

I know this: I told her that my stepfather was just that – my stepfather, and that he had no right to tell me what to do. That I was an adult and I didn’t care if she was my mother she couldn’t make my decisions for me. He wasn’t my father, he’s never been my father, and he’s never tried to act like my father so he needed to just shut the f*ck up.

And that was just the part that I can remember. I ranted at my mother for a good five minutes. And then I hung up on her without letting her say anything. And didn’t answer any calls from her house for a week. The only communication would be if something came up having to do with my children, and even then I was emotionless and stayed on the phone for as short a period as possible.

And I don’t think she realizes what she’s doing. What she did. I don’t think she realized how much she hurt me.

Unfortunately, nothing about this changes the fact that I love my mother. No matter how shitty she may treat me. It’s like I’m in an abusive relationship and I just keep coming back for more. I don’t understand why I do even though I know how I’m going to be treated and that I’ll never reach any sort of approval in her eyes.

I’m the child she didn’t want. At least, that’s my assumption.

When I was pregnant, right after I left my ex-husband, my mother and stepfather asked me two questions: “Is it yours?” and “Are you going to keep it?”

My mother was in almost the exact situation with me and she kept me.

That hurt too.

I don’t think she realizes that, unlike the rest of my family, I don’t hold grudges. I just keep memories. I will remember. I will never forget. Ever.

But I won’t hold it against her. I love my mother.

A Sad Realization

I was in town doing some grocery shopping today with my fiance and children and we passed one of the funeral homes in my town. I told my fiance as we passed it that I wonder who important died and because there was so many people in attendance. Literally. The funeral home itself is very large and has a large parking lot and has a large parking lot. What shocked me about it was that the two stores on either side of it, Walgreens and CVS, and the learning center behind it parking lots were all full, plus there were several cars parked alongside the road. There was a line several people long, fifty or more, to get into the funeral home. I was amazed at the amount of people who had shown up. The last time I had seen a funeral procession that large was when one of my friends died in a car crash in high school several years ago.

After we got home from our two-hour shopping trip and putting away groceries (my fiance volunteered to cook dinner tonight), I got online and did a search on the local newspaper in the obituaries; there were no visitations or funerals scheduled for today in the paper.¬†It took some time, but I eventually remembered the name of the funeral home and searched it on google, finding the web address.¬†I went to the site and went through the “current services” and when I found the service for today I wanted to throw up. I just started crying.

Today’s service was a visitation for a little boy only two and a half years old, six months older than my youngest child.

I cried for several minutes. It could have been five; it could have been ten. All I know is that I sat at the computer screen staring at the little boy, the image of his innocent face staring back with eyes that will never see again.

Thoughts kept running through my head: “It could have been my child” “What if it had been my child?”

And then I felt callous for the way I originally reacted; I thought that it was an important person in the community that had died – someone older, wiser, more known in the area. I felt like a horrible person and more tears flowed.

My realization is this: you don’t have to be old and wise to be well-known and loved in a community. I realize that the majority of the people at the visitation were more than likely there to comfort the child’s parents and family, but it’s not that. The child died. He died before his parents. He was only two years old.

No parent should have to feel the pain of their child dying before them.

As I read the obituary for the little boy, it sounded as if he was well-loved and very smart. He was and had been attending an early learning preschool and was a very active child, both with other children and his parents and family.

Just because a child is young doesn’t mean that he’s not well-known and it most definitely does not mean that he’s not well-loved. In fact, it probably means the very opposite. Children are a community’s backbone; it’s who we become in the future. Every child lost is something to mourn.

I cry for the loss of the child. I cry for everyone, including myself, who didn’t have the chance to know this little life before it was taken from him. I cry for the life that he could’ve lived.

Tonight, when I go to bed, I will light a candle for this little life in honor of his soul’s passing. May he be blessed wherever he may be.