The Park

Well I’ve finally gotten to a point where I feel settled in enough to write on this here blog of mine. It’s been months.

Sorry!

The divorce is still in the works and life in general has taken on some semblance of bland normalcy. Thank you God!

Currently I’m being investigated by the feds.

Wha? Well not really I’m being processed for a new job at a school. So to say that I’m thrilled is understated because I’m ecstatic. I have very little of my original funds left and I’m running on fumes so-to-speak. But very soon this get-up-and-go-girl is going to be able to take care of business in a whole new and thrilling way. Being able to pay for things and put gas in my tank is going to be refreshing for me.

It’s going to take some time though. They’re quite thorough in this institution and I’m fine with that. There are children involved. There should be precautions.

Life in general is good and soon I’ll be on my quest to thoroughly embarrass myself via the written word and expose more of my journal through the web.

Love to any of you who actually read this thing.

sjb

What do you do when your soon-to-be-ex-husband is not giving you back the rest of your things?  I’m talking about functional things like a heater and a rug.  I don’t have the money to get new things right now.  I’m trying to save to go back home to Knoxville. 

It feels like he’s holding my things hostage for some purpose.  Well, they are just things, and I can get new things.

It also feels like I’m being punished, when I didn’t do anything wrong.

Divorce sucks.

In past conversations with my ex there is this exasperating use of ‘we’.  We failed.  We were both responsible. We. We. We.

Yes, we did fail. 

I’m not talking about us I’m talking about him or me not we. 

Let me explain as best I can what the problem is.  The problem is that there is no accountability.  There isn’t an admission of wrong doing.  “We” is used instead of “I” to cover everyone with blame instead of taking responsibility for one’s personal actions during the relationship.  It’s hiding from the truth.  It’s cowardly behavior and angering to say the least. 

I have apologized for my actions and inactions. I have admitted guilt of naïveté.  I am sorry for what I have done that hurt our marriage.  I admit that I am a growing, moving, fallible human.  I ask what I can do to make myself better.  I. Not ‘we’. 

My ex is co-dependent and so was I. Not anymore.  I can take responsibility for my actions.  I can take care of my son and myself.  I am moving forward.

And, amazingly, I am almost at the point of forgiving this man. 

Reaching this point has been a struggle because there has been such malice and such fury on my part.  How can one forgive someone when I am self involved with my own pity party?  How can I forgive someone who has refused to take responsibility?  How can I do it? 

You remember that firstly, that forgiving someone who has wronged you is not accepting what they did to you was okay.  Secondly, remember that it’s not your job to enact justice for the crimes committed against your body, mind, child, and heart.  God is the only one who will have full say in what happens here.  All that I have lost will be restored to me in one shape or another.  It is simply not in my power and not my job.  Changing what I can and knowing what I can’t change are great steps to take in this journey as well. 

Just writing this takes me closer to that step of forgiveness.  I want to be able to ask for forgiveness and for me to do that I must give forgiveness.

“To be Christian is to forgive the unforgivable, because God has forgiven the unforgivable in us.”      –C. S. Lewis

Well, almost the beginning.  Here is a journal entry from late March this year.  Names will be substituted with initials to avoid slander and protect the in all of these posts.

"T. is trying to cut off all money from me co that I can’t leave.  He thinks I’m going to leave and he’s treating me like a criminal.  I am so tired of this run around.  I do want to leave.  I do not love this craziness in this man.  I wish something would happen to change this in him.  He is absolutely disrespectful.  No honor in him.  Another good for nothing man.  What am I going to do?  He is absolutely paranoid."  — sjb 3/28/08

 

The man I use to call husband constantly had self-fulfilling prophecy.  He created most of the situations he wished would not happen.  He didn’t want me to leave, yet he made it impossible to live with him.  He created all of the circumstances in which I finally felt I not only wanted to leave, but needed to leave for my son’s safety and my safety as well.
He would keep money from me to prevent me from leaving.  Literally had our tax refund direct deposited into his father’s account so I wouldn’t run with it.  He would cut me off from my friends.  I literally was separated from all of my loved ones and rarely saw another person other than my son and my in-laws and this man for months.  Let’s just say, I was being driven toward a break down.  Amazingly though I didn’t.  There was someone to live for.  My son.

This man who promised me to be my help mate drained me dry emotionally.  There was always something.  I couldn’t cook like his mom so nothing I made was right.  It all had to be riddled with salt, butter, and fat to taste just right.  No wonder I gained almost 40lbs during our marriage. 

Always a critic, the way I did laundry was wrong, the way I dressed was below his standards,  my hair not long enough, my glasses not nerdy enough (yes there was a librarian fantasy he had that I apparently was to fulfill), my teeth not bright enough, my not wild enough (though I was the best he said), my driving was to slow, to fast, to wobbly, I was always getting lost because I wasn’t from the area and I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes and I had to learn things his way or no way. 
He always needed something from me.  There were always interruptions from what I was doing because whatever I was doing was not nearly as important as what he was doing and wasn’t I suppose to be his "help-mate"? 

This is the short list of why I want a divorce from him.  Why I’m going to get it.  Why he is going to pay for it.  I’m not talking dirty revenge I’m talking he’s going to foot the bill for the divorce.  I can’t afford it and I’ll wait a year and use legal aid if I have to but I’m getting out of dodge and now.

Problem.  The economy is going to you know where in a hand basket.  I’m looking for a job.  Again.  I actually have a great job working for an amazing company.  But, in this company people of my standing don’t have a chance right now.  I’m very qualified, I took this job as a foot-in-the-door opportunity to work for this place, never expecting in my wildest dreams that I would end up leaving my husband, living in an undisclosed location for protection, and looking at a hiring freeze that keeps me at $8.50/hr with irregular hours.  I’m happy to have a job at this juncture.  So many people have it worse than me.  This I know.  I just need more than the two hours I worked so far this week in order to survive. (Yes this week I’ve earned $17 minus taxes).  Not going to work.

Life is hard.  Life is really really REALLY hard.  But I am free from this bond that I suffered through for so long.  I actually have hope for the future now when for the longest time that hope had dimmed to almost nothing.

I have been a victim of domestic and abuse for the last three years and I want to share my story of how I got out. 

This is for all the women who feel helpless and hopeless. 

You are loved and you can do it.  I’m doing it right now.  There is help.  There is a way.

Update:  Apparently there are some editing bots with this blogging platform that keep me from using words that are about relations between man and wife and about conflict that happens with the body that should never happen from someone you love.  So please excuse the odd blanks.  I will try to work around the bots the best I can.

Here’s a shocker.  A twenty-seven-year-old woman goes to the dentist for her first cleaning ever yesterday. 

 

I have gingivitis.

 

There was a significant amount of pain that I never new existed.  If I enjoyed that kind of thing I would have been in heaven but I am not and was not in heaven yesterday for two hours.

 

My son went for his first cleaning and he was just wonderful.  A charming, sweet little boy who after he was done came over to "help" mom out.  He kissed my forehead, he spoke sweet words, and he made me laugh.  He astonished the hygienist by looking into my gory mouth and asked fascinated questions about what she was doing. 

 

I may have a future dentist/doctor on my hands.  He wasn’t fazed one bit.

 

I was brave for him and honestly I am glad that I had it done.  I noticed a huge difference and only half of my procedure was finished yesterday. 

 

I’m sad that my parents never took me.  I wish they had started earlier.  I would have been better prepared I think for all of what happened.

 

It is amazing how once they start going your whole world shrinks down and becomes your mouth.  There is no escaping the noises, the pokes, the pressures; the suction thing they tell children is "Mr. Thirsty".

 

I am so glad Parker was there because he’s now not afraid of the dentist and he had me laughing so hard that a couple of times the hygienist had to stop and suction me because I was about to choke.

 

Little man has never made me more proud.  I am so blessed beyond words to have this wonder that is my child in my life.

The smile is gone for now.

So is the joy.

The beauty of life unimportant

somehow amazed that it ever was.

The light is dimmed as if a romantic setting is near. Though it’s visit is shallow and of no real appeal.

My life is darkened by a lie not of my own making.

A lie that has its hold on me and has slowly

destroyed me. I don’t like my darkened self.

Not one bit.

 

(c)sjb 7/11/08 

"Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is the regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable."

                                                                            –Sydney J. Harris

Do you want to know the truth?

 

Life is hard.

 

Anyone could tell this is the truth by looking at this blog.  My prolonged absence has probably lost all of my readers.  I know I had a couple. 

 

Truth is life has been horrible.  This is written in the past tense because it’s getting better all the time now.

 

All of my past posts were delusions.  My optimistic spirit shining through but I was not happy. 

 

I have been unhappy for the last three years.

 

Marriage.  My marriage is at an end after only three years. 

 

A failure.  A fraud.  A mistake.

 

These things can be overlooked by the fact that I am making movement toward fixing that mistake now.

 

I have been journaling olde-school for the last year and I will be posting some of the things from the distant past (earlier part of this year as far as this journal goes) things from not so distant past, and things that are happening now. 

 

THERE WILL BE POETRY!  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

 

There will be art.  There will be hope.  There is pain that I wish to purge so if you will bare with me I’ll get it out and over with before you know it. 

 

I guess you could say it’s a kind of re-birth for me. 

 

I’m ready.

 

Are you?

 

this blog is about to take an interesting turn.

Yesterday was a wonderful day.  It was the first day back from a wonderful vacation.  I was feeling happy and light and doing just fine at my new job.  They really appreciate me here and it shows. 

 

I got into my car and headed for the preschool and missed my exit onto the interstate.  Oh well, no biggie I’ll just turn around and get back on headed the other direction.  I picked up Parker with plenty of time to spare and we were headed to the bank with an unexpected paycheck from the week prior to my vacation.  Very nice surprise! 

 

We live about 45 minutes away from work so I have to use a series of interstate systems in order to get home and to work every day.  The drive is at sometimes a little to much for me to handle but I’m getting use to it and it’s growing on me.

 

Well, yesterday, the interstate systems failed me miserably.  Or, maybe it was just the people who are to preoccupied with whatever’s going on in their cell phones and then have accidents.  The on ramp was clogged back to the road and I could see the line of cars on I95 forming a parking lot where the interstate use to be. 

 

I decide to take an alternate rout that would take longer, but not as long as being stuck in traffic on I95. 

 

295 is a beltway that goes around our city and it’s a fairly nice drive as no one really uses it like the main expressways. 

 

Until people start taking it to avoid a traffic back up like I did.  It’s still not as bad as 95 though and I’m talking to Parker in the back seat and he’s playing his Leapster (a device that is truly made by the hand of God–Fun and Learning all wrapped up in a green little package). 

 

Then. . .

 

Then. . .

 

*cringe*

 

Then the unthinkable happened.  I see blood smeared on the road and before I have a chance to react a car that is driving in the middle lane runs over the already mangled (freshly killed) carcass of a deer and promptly dismembers it and chucks the hind leg directly at me, in the far left lane, under the driver side of the car.  Blood actually spattered.  Bones were rolled over.  I. Still. Have. No. Appetite.

 

It took about twenty extra minutes to get to a car wash that was functional, and a direct look at blood with some fleshy mass sticking to the car, before the gore was washed off of the car.

 

Let’s just say that the flavor of the day was tainted after that.

 

I had a very Macbeth moment where I could not get the smell of blood out of my nose.  I then realized when I got home that my hands smelled of blood.  I’m not making this up.  My husband smelled them.  He said they smelled like iron.  He was being kind until he said, "do you think that it came through the air system in the car?"  I don’t know!  But thanks for that appealing thought!

 

Gah.

 

I washed my hands three times before the smell came out.

 

Yes, drinking followed.