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Archive for the ‘Fear’ Category

A lot of great literature has a hero as the central focus (as it should). A lot has been written about the hero’s courage in daunting and inexplicable situation. When you picture a hero, who has made a major accomplishment, there is armor. A bullet proof vest, fireman gear, an actual suit pf armor, weapons, and so forth.

There is a lot of buzz in the social world currently about the lack of social skills these days with the use of the internet. People don’t have to be anything that they don’t want to be. They can hide behind a facade. An armor. Good or bad, it hides things.

As I start a new life for me and my kids and begin dating, I realized that in order to NOT repeat old mistakes, I was going to have to do something that I have never done before. I had to leave the armor.

It will take every bit of courage that I have to leave old habits and masks behind. If I want true love, I have to expose myself to being hurt( which is terrifying). 

Its also not very pretty. I cant cover up my flaws. Because they are a part of me. I have to accept that i am not perfect. (Its harder than you would think). 

Because at the end of the day, even though I have faults and ugly scars, I have a lot of love to give. 

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The hardest part of a divorce from a long term spouse is the little things. The balance of your own quirks. 

I think it would have been easier to have hated each other when we separated. But we didn’t. We still know each other’s weak points. 

The hardest thing is hearing that it is exhausting to talk to me sometimes because  it is impossible to know just what I mean without a lot of questions. (What did I expect, he is an attorney). I already know how difficult it is for me to express how I feel or what I mean 98% of time. And to be told that it just isn’t worth figuring out what I mean, just kind of hurts. I took it for granted that I didn’t have to work too hard at expressing myself because my spouse really didn’t give a shit.

I apologized without even thinking about it. Without even considering that maybe he was just having an off evening and just snapped. Or was tired. Anxiety makes me over analyze EVERYTHING. Which I apologize for too. 

It IS hard to know what I mean all the time because I don’t even know what I mean half the time. It’s hard to realize that I need a thicker skin. And it’s hard to admit that I miss anything of my old life. 

Because really, I am just frustrated and exhausted. And I apologize when I don’t need to. And I don’t make sense all the time. And I realize that that is irritating. And that’s ok.

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Nothing says ‘train wreck’ more than a single female about to go on a date.

The wardrobe changes. Make-up changes. Crying. Why? Because those are physical representations of the war going on in my head. I love the comedies that have a good Angel and a bad angel on a person’s shoulders. It’s a fairly decent representation. When you have anxiety, you have 10x the ‘angels’ on your shoulder. Really it is all the criticisms that you have received in your life that stay on repeat. 

“You look like a hooker” “You will never be happy” “You deserve what you get” “You are too fat” “You are too old to be dating again, what are you thinking?!” “You are the parent, how can you give your daughter relationship advice when you don’t even know what the hell you are doing?” “You deserve to be alone” “You are way too weird to be dating” “You only get one soulmate in your life” “You suck at love” 

Yay Anxiety!!

So, I have changed clothes 4x. I have redone my makeup 4x. Cried 2x. Taken a nap to avoid being too tired.

Made mental notes about what not to talk about: 

1) Don’t talk about your ex.

2) Don’t talk about your love of office supplies i.e. Colored pens, post its, file folders, and fancy paper clips.

3) He hasn’t been married or had kids so that’s out. 

4) Don’t talk about the hell that has been this last year.

Great. So that leaves laundry, the weather, and sports. 

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s gonna be fine!

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I may have mentioned a few times how much I hate the old “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle,” saying. Today, it popped up in my mind on the way to greet a mental intervention team from the county, dispatched to my youngest daughter’s middle school because she sent a suicide note to one of her friends. She’s 12.

As the gentlemen spoke to me in annoyingly hushed tones, I felt the hot tears  roll down my face. Yes, I knew she was having a hard time. That was why we tried an anxiety medication. 

I answered the man’s family history questions in dumb fashion as I listened to my daughter’s plan to kill herself. A .22 rifle. Or cutting herself. My stomach lurched as she showed me a long scar on her hip where she had tried cutting. 

Mom of the year. How do you not know what to do when your kid is so desperate to end the holes in their heart?

My ex barely said anything. Shocker.

God, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be strong for my kids anymore. I don’t ever know what the fuck I am doing half the time. Why am I being assaulted on every aspect of my life this year?!?!? When is it my turn to be comforted? When will someone be there to hold me when I fall apart? I have nothing left God. You have allowed levels of hell that I can’t comprehend in my life and I don’t fucking understand. You allowed my little girl to be bullied to the point of feeling like the world was better off without her…….

Please God, please, no more…….

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We all wear masks. We wear our armor of goodness and virtue with pride. We take on the battles of life, receiving bumps and bruises along the way. But occasionally, life throws something out that is so left field, we are stripped of our masks and armor. We are left exposed to see who we really are. And that is a seldomly enjoyed experience.

I have worked really hard on accepting people, forgiveness, and extending grace at all times. I had the opportunity to organize a couple of rooms for a disabled man. 

Horrifying truth be told, I was sickened to be around him. He is a nice enough man, however the overwhelming health issues left him confined to a wheelchair, 100% disabled, widowed, and an odd obsession of hoarding medical supplies.

(Houston couldn’t possibly produce enough chiggers after Hurricane Harvey to require his copious amounts of big bite treatments.)

I was overwhelmed by the smell that greeted me at the door. It was a wall of sterile medical supplies, cat urine, and stagnate air. I was blissfully unaware of the medical care situation for disabled people. I never wanted to think about fully disabled people. Because their families should take care of them. Right?!? 

I was pushed into a situation far beyond my comfort zone. I was stripped of any facade to protect myself. I had to look at myself in the mirror. And I didn’t like what I saw. I was repulsed at the level of medical care, I was repulsed by the clients’ obsessions, and I am pretty sure the smell helped.

I am still disgusted with my lack of compassion and trying to distance myself from the situation. I don’t understand why I feel the need to withdraw and it scares me too.

“All that is necessary to perpetuate evil is that good men do nothing”

It’s easier to do nothing and feel nothing, if you look the other way. Welcome to the Masquerade.

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Divorce. The big D-word.

It takes a lot for some marriages to get to that point. Some marriages it seems to take very little.

For me, 17 years of a relationship is no little thing. I had a notion that women who didn’t get physically assaulted or got cheated on,  had no business getting a divorce. 

Yet here I am. Filing for a divorce.

After two years of trying everything to find my husbands heart and personality, I realized that the cost to my own personality and the cost to my children, was too great.

No, I don’t make a lot of money. I don’t have a big support system. But I do know, that I can do this. I have to. So as bills mount, responsibilities increase, and my own fears take on a life of their own; I remember the Bible verse Psalm 121 “I lift my eyes to the hills from wence my help comes”

I don’t have the answers. I don’t know what the future holds. But I do know that God is with me.

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