Life = Drama

I shouldn’t feel like this. I don’t want to feel like this and yet I do.

My life is a soap opera. It’s drama-filled and it’s never boring. I hate it. It’s never a happy drama; something bad is always happening. I could name around ten (10) things right now that aren’t even close to good, but I don’t want to rant about everything.

I only want to get one thing out of my system. I’m so stressed about it, it’s not even funny. It’s scary. I’m anxious and freaking out and crying.

I’m honestly afraid that I’m going to lose my fiance. I honestly fear that I’m going to lose the man that I love.

Why? Because I made some bad choices in my past and they keep being dredged up when he’s just managing to stop thinking about them. And it isn’t as if I like to think about what I did in my past either – I hate it and I would rather not think on it either – but it’s harder for him. We got together right afterward. As in, less than a month afterward.

And I didn’t realize it at the time, in fact I didn’t realize it until my fiance pointed it out earlier this evening to me, but I had inadvertently lied to him.

At the time my fiance and I started our relationship I was just coming out of my bar-hopping/partying/drinking/sleeping around phase that lasted a whole three months. (Not very long, right?) Well, I don’t remember exactly when I said it or in what context, but I said that I wasn’t “that kind of girl” – the kind to sleep around or lie or betray him. And to be quite honest, I’m not. I just fell for him and I fell hard. When I told him that, and I can guarantee this, I didn’t think of myself as any sort of bar slut or some sort of floozy.

But he thinks I lied to him just to get with him. I didn’t and I’m scared that he’s going to leave me. He was angry about it earlier. He made a point of telling me earlier that when he was growing up it was said that the type of woman I was weren’t the kind for relationships and the men who tried to get in relationships with them were the stupid ones because they eventually ended badly – i.e: with some sort of betrayal.

I cried so hard. I told him straight-out that at the time I didn’t think of myself that way at the time and that I really am not like that. I told him that I was sorry for inadvertantly lying to him. He didn’t say anything. He pretty much stayed quiet until he had to get ready for work.

I didn’t want him to go to work. I was… am… afraid that he’s not going to come back.

I miss him.

I love him.

I wish someone could explain to me something. Help me.

Advertisements

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!!

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.

Ramble. Rant. Confusion. WTF?!

Have you ever felt like something was happening around you and you could feel it, but you weren’t sure what it was? I have; I do right now.

It’s odd. It’s like I can almost tell what it is, but when I get close to what it is, something throws me off and then I feel like I’m just standing there, confused. It’s horrible. At times I feel like it has something to do with my ex-husband and the pending court case. I think that he’s planning something and that everything I see or hear about him is just some small piece of a bigger puzzle that he’s putting together; almost like he’s trying to get me to believe certain things with lies and manipulation through other people, by making me too comfortable with how things are going in my life now and then everything will just… explode…. around me.

I know I sound paranoid, but I like I said before, after I start thinking like that and “putting my ideas together” so to speak, something throws me off.

Then I start thinking about moving and renting places. About how my fiance said the other night that he’s getting fed up with people not believing that we have the money or judging us on the fact that he’s a full-time student and not taking his student-loan money as if they’ve never dealt with college students before even though we live in a college area. He said that if we didn’t get this place, or a place in general soon, then he was just going to move to a different place that was cheaper (different from the one he has) that allows his dog and is a one-bedroom.

I hate it because I feel like the world is turning against me. Against me and my children. Against me and my fiance.

And then I feel even worse because I feel like my family just hates me because they never talk to me even though I try to make efforts with them. My mother and my uncle try the best that they can, though they have even better excuses for not being able to than the rest.

The family I’m talking about lives excruciatingly close and only talks to people they feel like, it seems, and favor certain people (aka: certain family members), are major hypocrites and like to talk behind peoples back, exaggerate, and/or lie. I know this, but then again, I don’t. I hate it because I love my family and I don’t want to dislike my family, but it seems like they don’t care about me anyway.

I told one of my family members today that there’s a probability of me moving a decent amount away. She looked at me like I was crazy, like she didn’t expect me to ever do something like that. Seriously? What’s keeping me where I am? Family? I can come visit. Friends? What friends? I have no life. I would have more of a life where I’m hoping to move (though I will say that I’m not too hopeful, unfortunately, so yeah).

My life is just crazy, hectic and out of control. I don’t know what’s happening and yet I know exactly what’s going on. It’s a chaotic mess that, ironically, I know where everything’s at.

I’m too young for a mid-life crisis. Gah.¬†:-/

More Than Just Blogging

Hey, all who read this! What’s up?

This is a friendly update to let you know:

Oh yeah, I write more things than what I write on this blog. Did I forget to mention that?

Of course, everybody who’s read the “About” section of my blog probably knows that already. Along with this blog I write poems, short stories, and am working on various novels and novellas.¬†I do have two poems in print, and they won first and second prizes in widespread contests, but that was at least five years ago. It’s harder now, at least it seems like it.

I’m not big on posting my writings on the Internet, but I found a site that I’m willing to do so. Earlier in the month I posted the link in the upper right corner: deviantART¬†is the name of the site.

But that’s not necessarily what I meant either.

Sure, that’s the majority of what I meant, but not the full story so to speak.

I thnk I’ve mentioned this before, but I when I write, I write with meaning. Sure, it doesn’t always seem so and I know for a fact that sometimes I rant, but can you honestly say that at some point in time you haven’t learned from someone else’s mistake? Or that you’ve never read something someone wrote and it just clicked with you, even though it was one of the most random things you’ve ever read?

That’s what I do.

I try to write about things I know; I will never write otherwise. To me, that’s like lying. Why would you write about something if it wasn’t dear to your heart or affected you in some way?

I’ve written about the measles; it was an informative article, sort of, but it also told you why I was writing it. I wrote that article because my son had contracted it because even though he’d been vaccinated. Did you know that now there’s articles going up about “anti-vaccination protests” and “parents for vaccines not speaking up”? It’s a contradiction, but a story for another post.

I’ve written about government programs and income problems; I’ve written about moving and renting houses. I’ve done before and after articles as I try to work out where I went wrong.

Can you tell me that if you were going through the same problems and saw the articles that it wouldn’t have helped you in some way?

It’s all in the way that you look at it.

Write. Read. Help. Inspire. Realize. Hope.

There’s more to writing than just words.

deviantART – KCmoonchild’s page

House-Hunting FAIL

So, I need a little bit of advice.

Well, erm, that is to say… my fiance and I do. :-/

As I previously posted, my fiance and I finally have the money to rent a house. We’re planning on paying deposit, first month’s rent and 3-5 more months of rent. We have a decent amount of money, especially since my fiance just got his financial aid from his university.

Buuuuut~ apparently that’s not good enough. I’m a stay-at-home mom with minimal money living off of the government; I’ve said a few times that I am and I didn’t think it was such a big deal. I mean, almost everybody in the county I’m living in seems to be on some sort of government program. Of course, there are those people who aren’t that overreact, or those people from out of state or a different county that look down upon me. It’s kind of blah, but that’s different.

Well, actually, even the people on certain governmant programs look down upon it, but I’m getting off topic.

Point is, I didn’t think it too unusual, too big of a deal, until today.

My fiance and I went to see a house we were thinking about renting today. The ad sounded good and we were hopeful. Well, things aren’t always as they seem. We got to the house (it was in a different county) and he went in to announce that we had arrived and to make sure that we could bring in the children; they said we could, so he came back and he helped me round up the little ones and we all went in.

It was a woman landlord, first off. No, I’m not sexist (obviously – I’m a female too, lol), but I will admit to expecting a man to be the landlord. I’ve never really met a female one in my experience. First time for everything, I guess. Anyway, she seemed very friendly and talkative, cooing on about the kids. Then she started asking questions, though it was expected as we were there about the house she was still fixing up.

She asked about our income, how we expected to pay. My fiance told her point-blank that we’d pay her up-front through February and when February came around he’d pay her the other half up-front. I had already replied about my income. What we didn’t expect, and was kind of rude of her actually, was her to turn to me after my fiance spoke to her and say “Well you don’t get enough per month to pay for rent and utilities.”

Honestly. My jaw dropped. I was soooo offended. It was like she just blew off what my fiance said, like she didn’t believe him.

I replied to her though. I told her, once again, how much I got per month. She just seemed to look at me with this false innocent look and then say, almost like she knew that I was offended and didn’t care – false sense of innocence again – “Oh, so you’re on foodstamps?”

I nodded my head at her and told her that “Yes, I am” and told her of the other various government programs I’m on.

She didn’t seem to look too highly upon me or act as friendly with either me or my fiance after that brief interlude. I just can’t figure it out.

The thing is, though, while the house in general is nice, there are sooooo many things that she so obviously has no idea about.

I’m not a judgmental person by any means. That’s not me bragging, that’s me repeating what other people have told me about myself and finally admitting it outloud (figuratively speaking). I try to think the best of people, give second chances and all that jazz that most people take for granted and think is lacking in the world. Well, let’s face it, I grew up with my grandparents so I’m a little old school, so to speak.

Anyways.

This lady-landlord – Donnie, I think her name was – was REpainting every room, along with painting the stairs. As my fiance and I were coming into the house she had just finished painting the stairs: black. She painted the stairs black. That’s¬†HUGE hazard! You can’t see stairs in the dark if they’re painted black! I mean, seriously?

And she was painting every room a different color. A different BOLD color. The living room had a deep burgundy ceiling and the room off of it, I think it was supposed to be some sort of office, had a Harley Davidson theme: it was bright orange with a stretch of “Harley Davidson” paneling running across the midline. The bathroom was a deep, bright blue, themed ocean. The kitchen was basically connected to the living room, seperated by a bar only, and had black and white tile and yellow paint.

I really don’t think she knew what she was doing.

My fiance and I have discussed it and though we figure she’s not going to choose us because she doesn’t “like us”, it’s probably better that way. She was very unprofessional and she had no idea what she was doing. She had us write our information on INDEX CARDS for crying out loud! I don’t think we would have even signed contracts if we’d gotten it. Either way, we won’t know until sometime next week, though we’re already looking in to other places.

But back to my ORIGINAL dilemma that I never really addressed. Is it really that big of a deal for him to not have a job even though he has proof of his income as do I to mine? According to the fair housing act, it’s discrimination and illegal, but I guess if we really don’t have proof (even though we technically do). It’s just kind of blah. One place we looked at wouldn’t even LOOK at us because my fiance was a full-time student and required a co-signer and was going to up our rent if we “met their standards”. How messed up is that?

I don’t know. Things are going a bit downhill now. I wish things would look up for once.