Domestic Violence Awareness Month is October. In October of every year, we become more “aware” of a problem that affects millions of people (men and women) across the nation. It may not be October, but a recent post on Facebook really set me off, along with issues in my personal life. This status post was one of those, “post if you’re against domestic violence” ones and a guy commented saying that if women weren’t such “sluts” they wouldn’t get mentally or physically abused. A fire that has been long suppressed raged in my heart and I wanted to set him straight. I wanted him to know the struggle of being in an abusive relationship. I wanted to take him, put him in my mind and make him experience the battle that I dealt with on a daily basis for five years. The battle that so many women have to fight because they’re stuck and they don’t know how to get out.
Since I wasn’t able to respond to him via Facebook, I decided to put my thoughts here. This post is going to be pretty emotional for me to write, it’s my personal experience and thoughts, so please bear with me and understand if it’s a little jumbled.
Growing up, my father made me feel like a constant failure. It wasn’t even “telling” me that I failed, but the way I was treated. I was always called a “freak” by him and he taught my younger sisters to mimic him. At first, it didn’t bother me, but over the years, I couldn’t laugh it off anymore. Especially during my teen years where depression loomed around every corner and my mind kept reminding me how “fat” I was at 100 lbs, the name calling cut me deep. Not to mention the physical spankings and slaps across the face or pushing down stairs. I could handle the physical though, it was the mental and emotional pain that hurt me most. I remember when the physical stopped and I started hurting myself because I thought that just yelling didn’t hurt me enough. I cut, I bruised myself with objects, I did everything I could to physically hurt as much as I hurt inside.
Finally I moved out, and made some really horrible life choices that I don’t regret because they gave me my daughter, but that I wish I had done differently. In the end, I had my beautiful daughter and a man who at first, I was only with because of lust. I can’t explain it, I’ll never be able to put it into words, but it was as though I was under a spell. Every time I tried to leave him, he’d manipulate me into coming back. He had complete control over me. Eventually, I fell in love (whether it was because he fathered my child or because I actually loved him, I still don’t know).
At this time, I still had a brand new baby who was under a year old. I started going through post partum depression and with my history of depression in my teen years, it made it extremely bad. I was crazy, bat shit crazy. So I started seeing a counselor and also got on some anti depressants. That’s when things went downhill. Actually, between us, I think it was always downhill, but this was definitely a sharp turn down the hill. We started fighting more, I felt controlled, alone, manipulated and I didn’t know how to change things. He felt like I was a nag, and that being a dad could be done at his convenience. The first time something happened was Cinco de Mayo. We went out with some ex coworkers of ours and had a few drinks. Things were going great…until another guy showed interest in me. I was pulled away so hard that bruises were left on my arms for weeks.
The bickering continued and I think if I hadn’t been so on edge from my medication, I would’ve handled things differently. But I was young, stupid, and didn’t do things the way I would now. There was a night when he threatened to kill himself because I was “trying to take his daughter away”. Which, yes, back then I tried to use her as a pawn which I would never do now (again, my immaturity). He got his gun, beer, and pipe and headed to the garage. I followed and had the gun pointed at me. A couple of months later, we got in another fight. He said he wanted to go out with some friends, which included a very pretty girl he had shown interest in. I didn’t want him to go since we were still mad at each other and I always had to stay at home with the baby. We got in a huge fight which ended in me getting choked by a broom and being spit on. I ended up leaving that night and going to the hospital due to the bruising and internal injuries. For some reason, I still don’t understand why, I went back.
In the midst of everything, I had resorted back to my childhood ways of coping. When I was being called names and told that I was worthless, I started cutting myself again. I took bottles of pain pills, hurt myself to feel the pain. I needed the physical pain to make me forget about the emotional.
It wasn’t because I was stupid, because I’m pretty smart. It wasn’t because I didn’t know any better, because I did. It was because he told me I wasn’t attractive, that no one would ever want me, especially with a kid or two. I was told that I could never make it on my own, I’d always need a man to help me out. He cut me down to the point where I felt worthless, like a failure. The feeling my father gave me my entire childhood was brought back, stronger. It wasn’t just that he said those things, it’s that I believed him.
Women who are abused are cut down to a sliver of who they once were. Men who abuse women don’t only abuse them physically, they abuse them mentally and emotionally as well. They are excellent manipulators and can tell a woman anything and she’ll believe it. It doesn’t happen overnight, it takes time, but when it happens, it’s over. She feels as though she has no power.
I am sick of people saying that it is the woman’s fault. That she needs to just leave if things are so bad. After every police report, hospital visit, or counseling appointment people close to me would say those types of things. Problem is, I had no one who was able to help me. I couldn’t afford to live on my own. I wasn’t willing to live in a shelter with two babies. I knew they were fine, and I knew I could take it. What made me finally leave was the moment my two year old daughter saw him pouring a bottle of soy sauce over my head, screaming at each other and her saying, “mommy daddy stop fighting”. My heart broke and I realized that I couldn’t allow my daughter to think this was healthy. I couldn’t allow my son to think it was ok to treat a woman that way. I had to set a better example for them. I found my strength in my children. Everyone else faded away. All the other lectures, opinions, thoughts that I’d been hearing for years were out the window. In the end, I didn’t leave for me. I had stayed for them and eventually, I left for them. I didn’t believe that I deserved better, THEY deserved better.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A Perfect Princess
I was looking through some of my old papers from high school and college and found a few that I would like to share. I may vamp them up a bit before sharing just because I've grown older and wiser. But here is one that I wrote as a children's story, based on actual events.
Once upon a time, long ago, before children carried cell phones and even before people realized that Alaskans do not live in igloos, there was a beautiful young girl. This girl had hair of golden brown that hung in artistic waves down a back of perfect posture. Her eyes created a picture of the ocean at sunrise with one look. A graceful, timeless beauty with enough talent to fill ten boy bands. What's her name? Many have asked, but few will ever be so blessed as to find out. This story will disclose such information that will astonish and amaze even the most intelligent of geniuses.
It all started that fateful day, January 9 in Bremerton, Washington. Our beautiful little girl was born as Nicole LeeAnne. She was a miracle and people came from all over the world to visit her. They all knew that this was the chosen one, she would lead them to greatness someday and every single one of them wanted to be the first to witness her perfection. Nicole lived this way for quite a few years, being stared at as she waddled down the street, having her baby food stolen in restaurants so it could be sold on E-Bay. At first she was startled and frightened by the commotion, but after a couple of years, she realized how precious she was to humanity and accepted her role as their leader.
Fast forward a few years and we'll find our sweet Nicole in school. She was intelligent and worked diligently at her schoolwork, knowing that if she were to lead mankind to greater pastures, she would have to be smart. One cloudy day in southern California, Nicole had just come in to class after eating a hearty lunch. As it was reading time, Nicole picked out a challenging book from the shelf and sat quietly in her seat in the front row. Halfway through reading time, the extra carton of juice she had inhaled at lunch caught up with her. Since the teacher would not let anyone go to the bathroom so soon after having recess, Nicole could not do anything, but wiggle in her seat trying to keep reading while her concentration shifted to the sharp pains starting in her bladder. Everybody has a breaking point, even our beloved leader, and hers finally came. She could not take it anymore and decided that if foreign countries can go to the restroom in public without using a toilet, then she could too. Alright, so maybe that wasn't what she was thinking, but it sounded like a rational thought to explain the sudden flood. With a sigh and warmth on her seat, Nicole went back to reading without the disruption of a squirming lower body.
All went well until a smell lifted into the air and caught itself on the nose of the girl directly behind Nicole. This foolish girl made everyone aware that Nicole had "had and accident". Banal children giggled and pointed, but our noble child would not let them belittle her. Instead she thought up a terrific, believable story about how another little boy had come in at lunch and sat in her seat, framing her of this humiliating action. Of course everyone believed Nicole because she was the head honcho, the leader of these infantile creatures. The little boy accused of framing Nicole got fifteen years without parole, and the punishment was well deserved.
Nowadays, Nicole is free of her past and living as a normal teenager would. She is still destined for greatness, but she has hidden herself away in the giant snow banks of Alaska and the world has not uncovered her identity yet. There are those who still seek her and who have gotten close to discovering her whereabouts, yet somehow, something has always mysteriously thrown them off track. One can only suppose that Nicole has magical powers that have kept her secret hidden, but that wouldn't be realistic. So what has kept so many people away from the truth? That is only one of the many questions that have been received after the telling of this story. Others have been: "Will we ever find her?" "Why is Nicole so beautiful?" and finally, "What is the point of this story?" Many have stumped us, but the answer to all of these questions would best be put as "no one really knows".
Once upon a time, long ago, before children carried cell phones and even before people realized that Alaskans do not live in igloos, there was a beautiful young girl. This girl had hair of golden brown that hung in artistic waves down a back of perfect posture. Her eyes created a picture of the ocean at sunrise with one look. A graceful, timeless beauty with enough talent to fill ten boy bands. What's her name? Many have asked, but few will ever be so blessed as to find out. This story will disclose such information that will astonish and amaze even the most intelligent of geniuses.
It all started that fateful day, January 9 in Bremerton, Washington. Our beautiful little girl was born as Nicole LeeAnne. She was a miracle and people came from all over the world to visit her. They all knew that this was the chosen one, she would lead them to greatness someday and every single one of them wanted to be the first to witness her perfection. Nicole lived this way for quite a few years, being stared at as she waddled down the street, having her baby food stolen in restaurants so it could be sold on E-Bay. At first she was startled and frightened by the commotion, but after a couple of years, she realized how precious she was to humanity and accepted her role as their leader.
Fast forward a few years and we'll find our sweet Nicole in school. She was intelligent and worked diligently at her schoolwork, knowing that if she were to lead mankind to greater pastures, she would have to be smart. One cloudy day in southern California, Nicole had just come in to class after eating a hearty lunch. As it was reading time, Nicole picked out a challenging book from the shelf and sat quietly in her seat in the front row. Halfway through reading time, the extra carton of juice she had inhaled at lunch caught up with her. Since the teacher would not let anyone go to the bathroom so soon after having recess, Nicole could not do anything, but wiggle in her seat trying to keep reading while her concentration shifted to the sharp pains starting in her bladder. Everybody has a breaking point, even our beloved leader, and hers finally came. She could not take it anymore and decided that if foreign countries can go to the restroom in public without using a toilet, then she could too. Alright, so maybe that wasn't what she was thinking, but it sounded like a rational thought to explain the sudden flood. With a sigh and warmth on her seat, Nicole went back to reading without the disruption of a squirming lower body.
All went well until a smell lifted into the air and caught itself on the nose of the girl directly behind Nicole. This foolish girl made everyone aware that Nicole had "had and accident". Banal children giggled and pointed, but our noble child would not let them belittle her. Instead she thought up a terrific, believable story about how another little boy had come in at lunch and sat in her seat, framing her of this humiliating action. Of course everyone believed Nicole because she was the head honcho, the leader of these infantile creatures. The little boy accused of framing Nicole got fifteen years without parole, and the punishment was well deserved.
Nowadays, Nicole is free of her past and living as a normal teenager would. She is still destined for greatness, but she has hidden herself away in the giant snow banks of Alaska and the world has not uncovered her identity yet. There are those who still seek her and who have gotten close to discovering her whereabouts, yet somehow, something has always mysteriously thrown them off track. One can only suppose that Nicole has magical powers that have kept her secret hidden, but that wouldn't be realistic. So what has kept so many people away from the truth? That is only one of the many questions that have been received after the telling of this story. Others have been: "Will we ever find her?" "Why is Nicole so beautiful?" and finally, "What is the point of this story?" Many have stumped us, but the answer to all of these questions would best be put as "no one really knows".
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
"Deadbeat Mom"
I woke up this morning to a HORRIBLE dream and even though I had many thoughts yesterday about what my blog post would be about today, I am going to touch on my dream.
When I was a little girl people used to ask me, what do you want to be when you grow up? My answer was always, I want to be a mommy. My baby dolls were so well loved that their hair fell out and their eyes stopped blinking. All I ever wanted to do was give all of my love to someone else, unconditionally. When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, my life changed. Because of my situation, I was scared to death, but deep down I knew I could handle things. When I first held her and looked into her big brown eyes, she stole my heart away. Two years later, when I thought I couldn't ever love anyone as much as I loved her, her brother stole my heart again.
My children's father has always been a thorn in my side, even when we were together. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. I worked all day, came home, took care of the kids, cleaned the house, and still, I felt as though it was never enough. For the first two years of my daughter's life, I was her constant. The only person that she knew she could count on was me. When she went to sleep at night and woke up in the morning, mommy was there. I took her to daycare, I taught her how to swing, enrolled her in soccer. She and I were inseparable.
Then, my son was born and I had to go back to work when he was nine days old because his father was unemployed and I had a job offer. I couldn't depend on him at the time so I had to take what opportunities I could. Ever since the day that I went back to work, I have felt in my heart that I abandoned my son. It's not even a rational, reasonable feeling or thought because I was home every night to take care of him and by working I was trying to provide for both of my children.
Yes, I've made mistakes. I haven't always put them first even though I should have. I've done things that I'm not proud of and when they get older and I have to explain why things happened the way they did, I still won't be proud of my actions. But I've learned, I've grown and I have realized that they come first before anything or anyone. I want what is best for my children. That is why I left their father. I barely had enough money in my pocket to feed myself. I moved close to work, and far from their dad. I didn't have more than a cat piss recliner and an old glider chair in my living room. I thank the lord for the generosity of my coworkers because without them, I wouldn't have had dishes, a tv, or towels. I'm finally at a point where things are starting to fall together.
So of course, something has to shake everything out of place. My daughter starts school in the fall. Her father and I live on opposite sides of town. He has the kids Monday through Thursday and I have them Thursday night through Monday morning. Their daycare is next to his house because I had put them in there when I still lived with him. He insists they go to school near his house and I refuse. I want what is best for my children and I don't believe that only seeing their mother Saturday and Sunday is what is best. I believe that this argument is what led me to dream that everyone thought I was a, and I quote, "deadbeat mom".
I woke up crying from this horrific dream because I've seen deadbeat moms. I'm NOT a deadbeat mom. Ok, so I don't have the money to be able to afford to drive forty five minutes one way to drop them at daycare in the morning and forty five minutes the other way back to work. I have to see them on the weekends and I don't feel included in their lives because I can't get out of work to accompany them on field trips. I don't have the extra cash to enroll them in dance class or sports. I can't buy them new clothes so I rely on hand me downs. We don't go out to fancy dinners and we don't eat ice cream every night.
Yet, I listen when my four year old daughter tells me about her friends being mean to her and work on building her self esteem. I listen to my two year old son trying to stutter out a joke and then I laugh uncontrollably because what he said was the most hilarious thing I've ever heard. I straighten my daughter's hair and put it in THREE ponytails just like she asked, not two and tell her how beautiful she is. I cuddle with my son and watch the Santa Claus movie even though it's April because that's the only thing he wants to see and encourage him to always be himself, like what he likes, no matter how socially unacceptable it seems. I dance with my daughter and listen when she yells at me to "dance like me mommy!" (I even get good dance tips). I help my son learn how to make snowballs, duck when one's thrown at him, and throw one back (we only hit shoulders down). We laugh, we cry, we comfort each other. I wouldn't trade a moment and I feel that these are the qualities that make me a good mother, not the things I buy or the field trips I can attend.
I'll always carry this feeling in my heart that I'm not doing everything I can for my kids. But even writing this blog has helped me realize that I'm far more involved and there for them than I thought. No matter how guilty anyone tries to make me for choosing to be a single working mom, I know it's what was best for them. One day, my daughter will look to me and see the strong woman that I want her to be, not a beaten, defeated shell of a woman that I used to be. And my son will see a woman who refused to be treated like a doormat and punching bag and learn how to treat a woman with respect and love. If that's all I can teach them about life, then I believe I will have succeeded as a mother.
When I was a little girl people used to ask me, what do you want to be when you grow up? My answer was always, I want to be a mommy. My baby dolls were so well loved that their hair fell out and their eyes stopped blinking. All I ever wanted to do was give all of my love to someone else, unconditionally. When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, my life changed. Because of my situation, I was scared to death, but deep down I knew I could handle things. When I first held her and looked into her big brown eyes, she stole my heart away. Two years later, when I thought I couldn't ever love anyone as much as I loved her, her brother stole my heart again.
My children's father has always been a thorn in my side, even when we were together. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. I worked all day, came home, took care of the kids, cleaned the house, and still, I felt as though it was never enough. For the first two years of my daughter's life, I was her constant. The only person that she knew she could count on was me. When she went to sleep at night and woke up in the morning, mommy was there. I took her to daycare, I taught her how to swing, enrolled her in soccer. She and I were inseparable.
Then, my son was born and I had to go back to work when he was nine days old because his father was unemployed and I had a job offer. I couldn't depend on him at the time so I had to take what opportunities I could. Ever since the day that I went back to work, I have felt in my heart that I abandoned my son. It's not even a rational, reasonable feeling or thought because I was home every night to take care of him and by working I was trying to provide for both of my children.
Yes, I've made mistakes. I haven't always put them first even though I should have. I've done things that I'm not proud of and when they get older and I have to explain why things happened the way they did, I still won't be proud of my actions. But I've learned, I've grown and I have realized that they come first before anything or anyone. I want what is best for my children. That is why I left their father. I barely had enough money in my pocket to feed myself. I moved close to work, and far from their dad. I didn't have more than a cat piss recliner and an old glider chair in my living room. I thank the lord for the generosity of my coworkers because without them, I wouldn't have had dishes, a tv, or towels. I'm finally at a point where things are starting to fall together.
So of course, something has to shake everything out of place. My daughter starts school in the fall. Her father and I live on opposite sides of town. He has the kids Monday through Thursday and I have them Thursday night through Monday morning. Their daycare is next to his house because I had put them in there when I still lived with him. He insists they go to school near his house and I refuse. I want what is best for my children and I don't believe that only seeing their mother Saturday and Sunday is what is best. I believe that this argument is what led me to dream that everyone thought I was a, and I quote, "deadbeat mom".
I woke up crying from this horrific dream because I've seen deadbeat moms. I'm NOT a deadbeat mom. Ok, so I don't have the money to be able to afford to drive forty five minutes one way to drop them at daycare in the morning and forty five minutes the other way back to work. I have to see them on the weekends and I don't feel included in their lives because I can't get out of work to accompany them on field trips. I don't have the extra cash to enroll them in dance class or sports. I can't buy them new clothes so I rely on hand me downs. We don't go out to fancy dinners and we don't eat ice cream every night.
Yet, I listen when my four year old daughter tells me about her friends being mean to her and work on building her self esteem. I listen to my two year old son trying to stutter out a joke and then I laugh uncontrollably because what he said was the most hilarious thing I've ever heard. I straighten my daughter's hair and put it in THREE ponytails just like she asked, not two and tell her how beautiful she is. I cuddle with my son and watch the Santa Claus movie even though it's April because that's the only thing he wants to see and encourage him to always be himself, like what he likes, no matter how socially unacceptable it seems. I dance with my daughter and listen when she yells at me to "dance like me mommy!" (I even get good dance tips). I help my son learn how to make snowballs, duck when one's thrown at him, and throw one back (we only hit shoulders down). We laugh, we cry, we comfort each other. I wouldn't trade a moment and I feel that these are the qualities that make me a good mother, not the things I buy or the field trips I can attend.
I'll always carry this feeling in my heart that I'm not doing everything I can for my kids. But even writing this blog has helped me realize that I'm far more involved and there for them than I thought. No matter how guilty anyone tries to make me for choosing to be a single working mom, I know it's what was best for them. One day, my daughter will look to me and see the strong woman that I want her to be, not a beaten, defeated shell of a woman that I used to be. And my son will see a woman who refused to be treated like a doormat and punching bag and learn how to treat a woman with respect and love. If that's all I can teach them about life, then I believe I will have succeeded as a mother.
Monday, April 11, 2011
My Prince Charming
When I was a little girl, I used to dream about Prince Charming (who back then looked like Jonathan Taylor Thomas) coming along, sweeping me off my feet and living happily ever after. I'm now 26 years old and JTT (which is my pet nickname for him, no one else could have ever come up with something so clever) still hasn't come along. I even wrote him a letter when I was 12 and I'm STILL waiting for a response to my marriage proposal. Anyway, back to the point and enough daydreaming of what could have been, I've realized thru failed relationship after failed relationship that Prince Charming doesn't exist. I think all those damn Disney princesses snatched all the princes up. Plus, Prince William is finally married, or getting married, I honestly haven't kept up with that whole storyline.
I have realized that as much as you want to find the perfect person who will complement you and make you the best you that you can be, you never will. Everyone has flaws. It's the choice you make of which flaws you are willing to overlook and which ones will be relationship enders. Let's look at my past to see what I'm talking about.
I dated a guy who I thought was fantastic, he had a job and he made me laugh, which are the two requirements for dating me. Now, one thing you have to know about me, if you don't already know, I am a crazy outgoing person. If there's music, I dance. If there's jokes, I laugh. If there's people, I make new friends. That's me. Well, when we'd go places together, he'd get embarrassed of me. I'd dance (like I was having a seizure) and he would walk away or yell at me. Or I'd talk it up with new people and he'd tell me I was being inappropriate. It eventually made me think that something was wrong with ME. I started to curb my behavior until I realized that it wasn't me. He just couldn't appreciate who I was and all the flaws that come with me.
Another guy would make me feel guilty for going out with my friends. Wait, rephrase that, EVERY guy I've dated has made me feel guilty for going out with my friends. If I'm going out with my girlfriends, obviously I'm going to end up sleeping with some other guy. Doesn't matter, we could be going to the movies, taking the kids to the park, having a drink and dancing. No matter what, I am a whore who will pick up a man wherever I go and cheat on my boyfriends. At least, that's what they all tried to say. I never realized that this wasn't normal. I thought they were just jealous and it was cute at first and got really irritating after a few years. It was their way of trying to control me. The controlling flaw, that is one flaw I am not able to overlook.
I am now in a very healthy relationship with a man who encourages me to be who I am. He supports me in what I choose to do and even praises me. I can dance, sing, talk to anyone I want and I still get a hug at the end of the day and a "you did great". This is the first time in my life where I've ever felt completely comfortable and happy with who I am. It's a weird feeling that is taking me time to get used to. I keep waiting for the accusations when I tell him I'm hanging out with my girlfriends. Or for the insults when I do something crazy and stupid. They haven't come. Trust me, I've done some pretty stupid things in front of him, said some really stupid things, and even blamed his dog for things I've done and called her a liar if she told him anything different (I had been drinking alcohol if that explains anything). He's never made me feel stupid, guilty, bad crazy, or vulnerable. He overlooks my flaws and makes me feel worthy. THIS is how you should feel when someone cares about you.
Believe me when I say, it's not all sunshine and roses. He gets upset with me, and I get upset with him. That's natural. But even then, he doesn't use the opportunity to cut me down. We have the best and most honest communication that I've ever had with anyone in my life. I've never been able to be as open and honest with anyone as I am with him. I can tell him anything and I know it won't be held against me later.
This is who Prince Charming is. He's not some hot actor from Home Improvement who is going to ride up on a white horse and be perfect. My Prince Charming doesn't even have a horse. He rides a motorcycle and definitely isn't perfect. The most important thing is that he makes me feel like a princess, which is all that matters.
I have realized that as much as you want to find the perfect person who will complement you and make you the best you that you can be, you never will. Everyone has flaws. It's the choice you make of which flaws you are willing to overlook and which ones will be relationship enders. Let's look at my past to see what I'm talking about.
I dated a guy who I thought was fantastic, he had a job and he made me laugh, which are the two requirements for dating me. Now, one thing you have to know about me, if you don't already know, I am a crazy outgoing person. If there's music, I dance. If there's jokes, I laugh. If there's people, I make new friends. That's me. Well, when we'd go places together, he'd get embarrassed of me. I'd dance (like I was having a seizure) and he would walk away or yell at me. Or I'd talk it up with new people and he'd tell me I was being inappropriate. It eventually made me think that something was wrong with ME. I started to curb my behavior until I realized that it wasn't me. He just couldn't appreciate who I was and all the flaws that come with me.
Another guy would make me feel guilty for going out with my friends. Wait, rephrase that, EVERY guy I've dated has made me feel guilty for going out with my friends. If I'm going out with my girlfriends, obviously I'm going to end up sleeping with some other guy. Doesn't matter, we could be going to the movies, taking the kids to the park, having a drink and dancing. No matter what, I am a whore who will pick up a man wherever I go and cheat on my boyfriends. At least, that's what they all tried to say. I never realized that this wasn't normal. I thought they were just jealous and it was cute at first and got really irritating after a few years. It was their way of trying to control me. The controlling flaw, that is one flaw I am not able to overlook.
I am now in a very healthy relationship with a man who encourages me to be who I am. He supports me in what I choose to do and even praises me. I can dance, sing, talk to anyone I want and I still get a hug at the end of the day and a "you did great". This is the first time in my life where I've ever felt completely comfortable and happy with who I am. It's a weird feeling that is taking me time to get used to. I keep waiting for the accusations when I tell him I'm hanging out with my girlfriends. Or for the insults when I do something crazy and stupid. They haven't come. Trust me, I've done some pretty stupid things in front of him, said some really stupid things, and even blamed his dog for things I've done and called her a liar if she told him anything different (I had been drinking alcohol if that explains anything). He's never made me feel stupid, guilty, bad crazy, or vulnerable. He overlooks my flaws and makes me feel worthy. THIS is how you should feel when someone cares about you.
Believe me when I say, it's not all sunshine and roses. He gets upset with me, and I get upset with him. That's natural. But even then, he doesn't use the opportunity to cut me down. We have the best and most honest communication that I've ever had with anyone in my life. I've never been able to be as open and honest with anyone as I am with him. I can tell him anything and I know it won't be held against me later.
This is who Prince Charming is. He's not some hot actor from Home Improvement who is going to ride up on a white horse and be perfect. My Prince Charming doesn't even have a horse. He rides a motorcycle and definitely isn't perfect. The most important thing is that he makes me feel like a princess, which is all that matters.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Nail polish, Lady Gaga and my son
I have two little children, a four year old girl and a two year old boy. Their father and I split awhile ago due to various reasons and we still have a fairly decent relationship as far as split parents go. I am still a single mom, so when I have my kids, it’s just me. No man around to show my son how to throw a baseball or hammer a nail. I do all that stuff. At the same time, I’m a girl. I love makeup, painting nails, doing hair, dressing up and dancing to Lady Gaga. Which, is fine for my daughter (who has even told her father that he needs to buy a straightener, curling iron, and blow dryer for her hair, I’m so proud) but I guess not for my son.
I’ll start at the beginning. About a year ago, when my son was about 18 months old, he liked dressing in his sister’s clothes, i.e. wearing her panties, her dressy butterfly shoes, and dresses. Then he would watch me get ready in the morning and ask that I blow dry his hair too, which was beautiful curls at that time. I couldn’t say no, it was harmless. Well now, he steals my lip gloss, eyeliner, and mascara. I am constantly having to wipe makeup off his face and explain that it’s for big girls. I think he’s starting to get it.
I still have another issue which really bothers me. My kids both like their nails painted (God only knows why because I definitely don’t keep up with my nails at all). As little as two weeks ago, I would be painting my daughter’s nails and my son would come up and say, “me too!” I would paint his nails a MANLY color such as blue or green and everyone was happy. Well, just yesterday we were driving home and my daughter asked me to paint her nails when we got there. I of course said yes. Then my son piped up and said “Can’t paint my nails mommy, daddy get REAL mad.” It broke my heart.
Why do we do this to our kids? I honestly don’t care if my son wants to dance around in a dress at home with his nails painted, his hair done in barrettes with my lip gloss on his lips. If he’s happy, that’s all that matters to me. But we wonder why our children are bullied. Well, look at how we treat them. I’m trying to instill open mindedness, love, and happiness in my children but I can’t do that when their father is making them feel bad for who they are. I just pray that when he’s 16, he’ll come to me when he needs comfort and I’ll have the nail polish ready.
I’ll start at the beginning. About a year ago, when my son was about 18 months old, he liked dressing in his sister’s clothes, i.e. wearing her panties, her dressy butterfly shoes, and dresses. Then he would watch me get ready in the morning and ask that I blow dry his hair too, which was beautiful curls at that time. I couldn’t say no, it was harmless. Well now, he steals my lip gloss, eyeliner, and mascara. I am constantly having to wipe makeup off his face and explain that it’s for big girls. I think he’s starting to get it.
I still have another issue which really bothers me. My kids both like their nails painted (God only knows why because I definitely don’t keep up with my nails at all). As little as two weeks ago, I would be painting my daughter’s nails and my son would come up and say, “me too!” I would paint his nails a MANLY color such as blue or green and everyone was happy. Well, just yesterday we were driving home and my daughter asked me to paint her nails when we got there. I of course said yes. Then my son piped up and said “Can’t paint my nails mommy, daddy get REAL mad.” It broke my heart.
Why do we do this to our kids? I honestly don’t care if my son wants to dance around in a dress at home with his nails painted, his hair done in barrettes with my lip gloss on his lips. If he’s happy, that’s all that matters to me. But we wonder why our children are bullied. Well, look at how we treat them. I’m trying to instill open mindedness, love, and happiness in my children but I can’t do that when their father is making them feel bad for who they are. I just pray that when he’s 16, he’ll come to me when he needs comfort and I’ll have the nail polish ready.
I'm here, I'm not queer, and I'm starting a blog!
HERE I AM!
I've been debating starting a blog for awhile now. I have so many thoughts bouncing around in my head about so many topics that I figured writing them down for people to see would be a good way to go. So here it is, the place where my crazy, passionate, political, perverted thoughts will all go. Get ready people, it's gonna be a wild ride :)
I've been debating starting a blog for awhile now. I have so many thoughts bouncing around in my head about so many topics that I figured writing them down for people to see would be a good way to go. So here it is, the place where my crazy, passionate, political, perverted thoughts will all go. Get ready people, it's gonna be a wild ride :)
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