Tag Archives: hurt

“Why Do You Have To Be…

…such a fucking bitch?” That’s what hear muttered from the other side of the bathroom door. This after I stated a problem, looking for some acknowledgement, but instead got arguments. So I state the problem again, hoping it will be heard this time. Only to hear that question muttered outside the bathroom door. The stated problem was minor, but the issue of him being checked out and missing the majority of what I say, has been a long time issue. I, of course, confronted him on the question he had just asked, and was met with nothing but denial. Yesterday, I sat on the couch where he usually sits. There were loose staples on the couch and I asked where they all came from (even with a big butt, sitting on staples hurts). His response….I don’t know. More denial. I used the car to go across town (which he usually drives) and found a bunch of loose staples. I know they didn’t come from me, or from our daughter who doesn’t drive, so why were they in the cubby in the handle of the drivers side door? Only he knows, but he’s not saying. I asked him why he didn’t tell me they came from him when I asked about the staples in the conversation the night before. He said “Did you ask me about that yesterday? I don’t remember.” A five minute conversation…erased from memory. And I’m the bitch? 

He’s checked out, and I want out. How can I make ends meet without him? Right now we are nothing more than roommates, attached to each other by a legal document that costs more than I can afford to pay to have it removed. He pays the big bills, and I only make enough to cover my bills, with a little left to put towards the main ones. I don’t make enough. As hard as I’m trying to change that, it doesn’t feel like it will change any time soon. I feel like I will forever be stuck in that catch 22 where I make too much money to get the help I need, and too little money to make it on my own. 

There is a daily struggle to not let my situation consume me. Every work day, I drag myself out of bed and paste on the best smile I can muster and leave my house wishing that I didn’t have to come back to the same shitty situation. It has been a tough 13 (soon to be 14) years. We started out so good. How did we end up here? Marriage isn’t easy, and for the majority of us, we’re lying if we say it is. Things that didn’t use to bother me absolutely annoy the hell out of me now. If anything is to change with this relationship, I am going to have to change it. Whether I choose to work it out, or walk out…something’s got to change!

After days like today…

…I find myself wondering why we do this. Why do we take in other people’s children? I know going into it that there will be struggles along the way, both major and minor ones. I know that there are parents who all get phone calls and video chats and who create unnecessary heartaches. I know that there will be times when no one gets along and others where everyone gets along. 

It doesn’t take me long to remember why we take in other people’s children. We do it because every child deserves a chance; we love them; we want what’s best for them; we want them to be happy and to feel a sense of safety and security that they didn’t feel elsewhere.

One parent decided to call one of the kids and tell them that they will never be living with that parent again. Then he hung up on the child. This was after a week of no phone calls. I promptly called him to find out what’s going on and to let them know that their approach was unacceptable and causing undo stress on the child. I was yelled at and hung up on, and then sent multiple messages that were full of hateful, hurtful, and down right mean things meant to hurt me. In one message the parent said that I was never good looking, it was only my personality that kept people around. Another said that my motivation has always been to keep their child and to make the child my own because I’m unable to have more children of my own. I received a total of 17 messages, and every one of them was written to hurt me and my family and to put the blame on everyone besides the parent. One even said “And don’t think I don’t understand that you’re keeping every single text I sent you so you can use it to get a f****** restraining order…” Here’s the thing. I don’t scare easy, and I have no need for restraining orders. I’m not afraid of him. I have enough self esteem that I don’t really care if someone finds me physically attractive. If you don’t want to be around me, then don’t be around me. If I don’t want to be around you, I will not be around you. It’s not rocket science. My self esteem and self respect do not revolve around what you think of me. The fact is that you placed your child in my care, and while you have convinced yourself that it’s only because you needed a break, the truth is that you had a mental break, you were not physically able to take care of your child (your child was taking care of you), and you even admitted to me when I picked the child up from you that you had relapsed and started using again. I spent the better part of this afternoon picking up the pieces of this broken child because the parent was unable to keep the child out of the mess the parent finds himself in. One of the last messages stated that the parent wanted me to stay up all night with them, talking to them, so they don’t do anything stupid. So after 16 messages of putting me down, and tearing my life apart trying to make me feel as bad as the parent feels, they have the gall to ask me to stay up all night and help them out. Because what, raising their child isn’t helping them out enough? 

Then, during anothe child’s scheduled video call with his mom, the mom realizes that my child is in the room and instead of talking to her son, she spends the next little while telling me that it is in the court order that no other children are allowed in the room during her time with her son (which, by the way, is complete b.s. and evidence of how ,anipulative she is). She demanded that I make all the children leave the room before she would talk to her son. All of the children in our home, except my daughter, have parents outside of the home that they have contact with. All of the children know that when one is talking to a parent, the tv is paused, and no one is to interact with the child on the phone, or try to but into the conversation with the parent. My child is an adult, so the moms point is invalid anyways, but I will not allow anyone to dictate how my home is run. I will not allow the children to see the parents disrespecting anyone in my home. I turned off the video chat service when she made it clear that she was more interested in yelling at me and trying to make demands than she was in talking to her son. She is allowed only 3 hours of contact with him a week, and she would rather yell at me than talk to him. I don’t understand. We will try again when she is supposed to have her next phone call with him. 

We do not say anything negative about the parents of the children, not around them, and certainly not to them. Just as my daughter did with her birth father, the children are allowed the freedom to form their own opinions about their parents without our biases being involved. So far, the children each have one parent they like to talk to, and one parent that they dread talking to. Still, we try to encourage them to communicate with each parent. We have given them a voice and taught them to use it. They know that their thoughts matter here. We do the best we can for these children, for our family. We are an extra blended family, and life is tough. We get by; we manage. We are protectors of the innocent and we are their guardians. We will continue to fight for them. 

So with phones shut down until sense and reason take hold, it is time to say goodnight. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite quotes: “Today was a difficult day. Tomorrow will be better” ― Kevin Henkes, Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse

I can’t bring myself to go…

…to church anymore. We are in a great neighborhood, a great ward. The people there genuinely care about me and my family. I love The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I believe the things that are taught. I know I am a daughter of a loving Heavenly Father and I believe that Jesus suffered and died for me. I believe in our living prophet, and I feel the Holy Spirit confirm to me every time that I hear him speak, that he is a true prophet of God. Sure, I get distracted easily at church, and the lessons and speakers can be so boring. The 3 hour block can be hard to sit through.
I want to be at church…but I don’t want to be forced to look at happy families, with their new born babies (or newly adopted little ones), and their spiritual teenagers who are preparing to go on missions, or the parents who bear their testimony about how amazing it is to watch the changes they see in their missionary children. I want to break down and cry when I see a new baby being blessed, and children being confirmed, and pregnant women glowing. I think horrible things about myself as I watch loving husbands help their wives with the kids, instead of ignoring them or egging them on. Then there’s the loving couples with no children yet who can be overheard talking about how happy they are, and their plans for the future. I think of my marriage to my eternal companion, and I get sad, because if THIS is what my eternity is going to be like; stuck with a childish man who can’t, or won’t, think before he acts; never considers the consequences of his actions; is unable to effectively communicate with me, and who neglects the emotional needs of me and our children; if this unhappy marriage is my eternal gift for doing my best…then I don’t want it! 

I always wanted lots of kids, and while I have lots of kids now, I only have one who loves me and respects me as her mom. Others have never liked me being in their lives, one is always angry with me for choices I made, ones dad likes to put a wedge between us. I wanted a happy marriage where I felt safe, emotionally supported, physically wanted, where kisses and “I love you” were a daily occurrence. It’s not that I don’t want my family; it’s that I don’t want my family to be like this. I love my husband, he is the father of our children; but I don’t love him like I used to. I have grown accustomed to pretending that I’m happy. It’s one of those bad habits that you do without realizing it. We can be in a huge fight, or can I be really mad at him, but as soon as we step out in public, the act starts and nobody suspects that we are anything but happy. 

I think most girls grow up with unrealistic expectations of family life. I know my expectations were far higher than what I have. Maybe that is my problem. I don’t want to lower my expectations partly because deep down I still want to believe they are achievable. I wanted to give birth to at least 5 children, be happily married to a man that always puts the kids and I first, an income we can live comfortably on (even if we were barely scraping by). I wanted to be the stay at home mom who had meals on the table and always had time, and energy, for the kids. We never had children together like I thought we wanted to. He brought children and so did I, but none together. I loved being pregnant. And I loved the way my husband cared for me when I was pregnant, even though he reverted back to his childish ways after every miscarriage. I feel like I always had to cope with the miscarriages on my own because he never shows emotions unless he’s watching something emotional on tv or in a movie. I don’t think he’s ever cried for our family. 
That’s why I struggle every Sunday. I want to be at church, but when I go my emotions take over and I can’t focus. I see all the happiness everywhere. Maybe they’re all faking it too, but I doubt it. The happy women, doting husbands, children everywhere…it’s all so overwhelming. I’ve had to fight for every tiny bit of happiness, and when I go to church and see that everyone else has so much of it, well…I don’t want to fight for it anymore. I’m too tired from fighting for it. I’m worn out and don’t have the strength. I’m tired of pretending to be excited about everyone else’s happiness, when I’m actually jealous of it. It’s just easier to avoid everyone than it is to hold back the jealousy and fake the excitement. I can only imagine how ridiculous and selfish this all sounds. I hope and pray that some day I can come to terms with the shortcomings of my life, and that all these feeling fade away into true happiness. I haven’t given up. I can’t give up. 

Divorce is difficult…

…and affects more than just the divorcing couple. Ending my first marriage affected me, my daughter, and my family. It also affected my ex and his family. My daughter was only 5 months old when I packed what I could carry for her, and very few essentials for me, and got on a bus. It took us almost a week to get across the country and finally arrive at mom’s. I regretted leaving almost immediately, which seems silly to me now when I think back. The relationship was abusive, and he made it clear that he never loved me; I meant nothing to him. I was now a single mother, living with my mother and her new husband, no job, no car. I was a failure. I think I was hoping that taking our daughter and leaving the state would be a reality check for him, it wasn’t. Like I said, he never loved me and he was burdened by being a father. His problems were more solved than not, by us leaving. 

My relationship with my ex was unhealthy. And I had never really been on my own before. I had lived with family and friends, but never really on my own until I married my ex. Even then I had the support of a navy paycheck and benefits, and I knew I was in a good place. Once he was out of the navy though, we had nothing to fall back on except his family. 

How do you know it’s time to file for divorce? I’m going to say that when you constantly and consistently finding you are unhappy for a long time with no sign of happiness in sight, then maybe it’s time to consider divorce. I’m not talking arguments or disagreements, I’m talking about unhealthy explosions of emotions, and zero communication, and no intimacy (not just physical, but emotional as well) for years, and feeling the emotional distance between you getting bigger and bigger until you are no longer acknowledging each other as a form of keeping the peace, and when you have no trust in the other person. And, of course, there is abuse. I stayed in an abusive too long for many reasons, so I get it, but abuse is bad. And infidelity…that’s another reason. 

When is it ok to file for divorce? You don’t need anyone’s permission. You are your own person, with feelings and needs that matter. You don’t need permission from family or friends. Yes, it would be great if you had their support, but you don’t need it. Don’t worry about what others will think. Someone in your life will see you as a stronger person. 

Who should be involved in the decision to divorce? Definitely NOT the kids! A divorce can leave kids feeling like they are to blame. They will wonder if they could’ve saved your marriage if they had behaved better, helped around the house more…the list goes on and on. An amicable divorce is possible if both of you agree and are able to compromise and be reasonable. There is little room for selfishness. Taking too much in order to force the other person to suffer or remain responsible for you is asking for a nasty divorce. Be reasonable and realize it’s hard for everyone.

Get legal advice. 

Divorce is difficult. Don’t let it define you. 

To My Aunt…

…and Mother of My Child,

Just over 20 years ago, I gave you a gift. My daughter. I asked you to adopt her and give her a loving family, and a life far better than I could have offered her. You took time to consider it, and then you gladly accepted my gift. From the day she left my arms at 1 month, 1 week, and 1 day old, she was your daughter. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t selfishly wish I had kept her. My decision to give her to you was probably the only truly selfless choice I made in my life, and yet, from the moment she was gone I regretted it. 

You have done a truly amazing job at raising her, just as you have done with her 3 older brothers. You have taught her the importance of being a lady, family, being yourself, and accepting yourself. You have protected her. I understand the need for a mother to protect her children. This is why I am writing this. 

I have always wanted a strong relationship with her. And J has always wanted a close relationship with her sister, but we kept our distance for fear of disrupting her life and the family dynamics that you and Uncle had worked so hard to create. A trip to visit when she was 8, bringing her out to stay with on 2 separate occasions. Her last trip out here was not the best. I couldn’t understand why she so forcefully pushed J away after the first couple days. She said things that broke my heart as I drove her to the airport to fly her home to you, and I didn’t know why. J could not have been much worse than nieces or nephews who might vie for her attention back home. So why the negativity and harsh words about J? I didn’t understand, but to protect J, I had to leave it alone and create distance between B and us. To this day, J still doesn’t know the hurtful things that were said about her.

A while back you and I spoke on the phone. I felt attacked by you, and again, I didn’t understand where the hurt and anger, that was now coming from you towards me, was coming from. I understand your need to protect your daughter, but I did not understand where you got your information, or why I was the target of your rage. My husband and I have felt a hole in our family since we married, and we considered many options to fill that hole. Fast forward through many years of using donors in an effort to get pregnant, multiple miscarriages, and failed attempts. We considered adoption multiple times, as well as fostering. I talked to you about some of this and you strongly encouraged me to what we needed to do for our family, but to keep our efforts from B until we had a child in our hands. I respected your wishes and said nothing to her, even though I wanted her to be a part of the process, I kept it from her. You told me during this phone call that you “knew” I had told her about this stuff, and chastised me for doing so. I tried to tell you that I didn’t say anything to her, but you wouldn’t listen. I cried for days, and I still get highly emotional when I think about that conversation and how little you must think of me. 

We have a little boy in our custody now, and another boy that is older who we get when we can, and will hopefully be coming to stay with us full time as well. The older one has issues that require us to limit his exposure to violent themed items such as video games and weaponry. The younger one is aware of these issues, and on multiple occasions has taken it upon himself to tell the older one “you can’t play with my nerf guns, because you get violent.” The younger one knows he is not to say things like this, and as soon as he does he knows he’s in big trouble. The last time this happened, I told the younger one that he lost his favorite privilege forever because he does not have self control. He had a full blown come-apart before I could ask him how that made him feel. I was finally able to drive the point home, and let him know he didn’t really lose his privilege but helped him to become more aware of the hurt that words like that can cause. This string of incidents got me thinking and I realized something…

…you were probably told that I was the one who talked to B about trying to increase our family, but in all reality, it was probably J trying to confide in her sister the frustrations she felt during these processes. I thought about it more than I should have. I finally asked J about it recently. I asked her if she ever talked to B about us trying with donors, adoption, and fostering. You know what? She said she had talked to B about it during her last visit. And do you know what else? B pushing J away and all the hurtful things said to me finally made sense. It finally clicked. I don’t know why B would throw me under the bus, and I don’t know why you wouldn’t just ask for my side of the story. I do wish you wouldn’t have attacked me so harshly without hearing both sides. I don’t think you realize that, had I known, I would’ve fought to protect B…after all, she was my child too. 

I’m sad that everything happened the way it did, and that B didn’t come to me. But why should she have come to me when you told her to keep everything to herself and not tell me how she really felt? She was miserable for most of the trip, and you told her to smile through it and not tell anyone. I lost so much respect for you, and I created distance in the relationship between her and J and myself. I gave my child to you almost 20 years, and you have taken her away from me again. I hope that you never have to experience the hurt that comes from someone you love accusing you of hurting your own child. Oh, don’t you see? Everything I have done for her was done to protect her. Why would that stop now? 

Sincerely,

Her Birth Mother

Have you ever…

…thought about the impact you have had in the lives of those who’s paths have crossed yours? I have. As I’m nearing the age of 40, I have thought a lot about where I am, how I got here, what effect I’ve had on those around me, etc. I am not where I had hoped to be by this stage in my life. Call it a midlife crisis, a pity party, an awakening…whatever name you give it, it’s me reflecting on the choices I’ve made and the impact I’ve had on others throughout my life. 

Take B, for example. I placed her in my loving aunt and uncles home. They adopted her. I told them of the circumstances around the pregnancy, I gave them letters and pictures from the relationship in which she was conceived. I have my reasons for placing her for adoption, and they were completely centered in love and selflessness. I regretted my decision so many times, even going as far as trying to get her back, but I knew in my heart that she was where she was supposed to be. She was meant to be a part of their family. I was just the means by which she would come to them. 

Her birth father never knew her, until I located him with the help of a friend, a little over a year ago. Shortly after B made contact with him for the first time, he posted on social media about him finding out that the child he thought was dead, was indeed very much alive and all grown up. I know that I did not tell him she was dead, I can only assume that his controlling mother told him that lie after I cut off all contact when she threatened to take my child from me and told me that I would never see the baby again. I’ve always wanted lots of kids, even considered adopting a child myself. At the request of B’s adopted mom, I never mentioned it to her, even though I so badly wanted to. I knew I could not tell her unless we were successful in adopting. Yet after B came for a visit a few years ago, I received a call from her adopted mom asking how I could tell her about our hopes and plans to adopt. J was the one who told her. Just 2 sisters talking, but B tells her mom it was me. 

I must have done something wrong in a past life to be followed by so much hurt, anger, and blame. I feel like I have ruined people’s lives, or at least part of their chance at happiness by the choices I have made. I have deprived myself of true happiness because I have lived with the secrets, and the guilt associated with my choices. I have thought many times about trying to contact B’s birth father, partly because I still have a love for him (regardless of what he did to me), partly because I knew the amazing young lady who’s life he was missing out on (and a little bit of jealousy, because I knew that I was missing out on her life too, and why should he get to play a part in her life, but I can’t). It’s stupid, I know. But it’s how I felt/feel.

I sang a song in a pageant once (yes, I was in a pageant) called “Leave Out All the Rest” by LinkinPark. The songs speaks of concern for how people will remember me when I’m gone.  “What am I leaving when I’m done here? So if you’re asking me, I want you to know. When my time comes, forget the wrong that I’ve done, help me leave behind some reason to be missed. Don’t resent me, and when you’re feeling empty, keep me in your memory, leave out all the rest.” My hope for my life is that the good I’ve done will outweigh the bad, and people will remember me for the effort I put into making a difference in the lives of others, instead of remembering me for the choices I’ve made that affected them. I don’t ask for forgiveness, because I don’t yet know how to forgive myself, and if I can’t forgive myself, how can I hope for others to? My life revolves around my children, all of my children, even the ones who will never belong to me and will never claim me. 

I hope that through my life experiences, choices, and consequences, that someone, somewhere, will learn from me. 

What I want for myself…

…is to be different than I am. To be smarter. To be healthier. To be skinnier. To be more tone and fit. To be less of a door mat. To be more assertive. To be a better mom. To spend more time with my daughter. To help her see how amazing she is. To have more energy. To be a better wife, or to be better single. To be…more than I think I can (or deserve) to be. 

But reality is…I’m only me. I can only ever be me. I can wish and want and dream to be better, but it will never happen…unless…I can find a way to be happy. Truly happy…with myself being me. Is being me really so bad?

I’m not perfect. I don’t know everything, and I don’t want to. I’d like to honestly say that I can always admit when I’m wrong, but I can’t. So many times I have stumbled, but I have always gotten back up. So many promises were made to me, and then broken. Sure, I’m bitter about some of them, but maybe that’s ok seeing as how I’ve missed out. I pictured my life being so different by now. Maybe it’s just that I’m scared about turning 40. I can’t even say that it snuck up on me because it didn’t. I saw it coming. Part of me wishes that death would come for me, quietly in the night, so I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Ok, suffer is probably a slight overstatement. So I wouldn’t have to deal with life’s many disappointments. Yup, that’s better. My life has been hard for me. I imagine everyone feels that their life has been hard for them though. I’m not that special. 

One thing I’ve learned, that helps me to not be so down about myself and about life, is to tell someone I need to hear something positive about me. Usually it’s one of my brothers or uncles or mom. Sometimes it friends. When I’m really down and I can’t think of anything positive about myself, I have a group of people that I trust who are always able to find the positive in me. These are also the very same people who won’t hesitate to kick my butt when I need it. Trust me…I’ve needed it. 

I struggle to ask for help, and I keep things inside so I don’t become a burden to others; but holding everything in and keeping it all to myself leads me to explode on whoever is in my way when I’ve reached my limit. I don’t mean to lash out, and I try not to, but I fail. I’ve lived a life that has left me weary and scarred. I have people that I trust, but I guess I am unable to trust them completely. I can’t allow others to tear down the walls I’ve built up to protect myself. There seems to be no middle ground. People in my life have either been extremely selfish or extremely selfless. Again, no middle ground. I continue to try. I continue to learn the harsh lessons that come from failing to ask for help. I won’t give up!