Some of the best lyrics I’ve heard lately are Ingrid Michaelson’s Locked Up. She says, “Buy I’m not 16 and I’ve lost it between birthday cakes and past mistakes that roll by.” Of course she’s singing about the lack of love in her life and how time is speeding by giving her panic if she’ll have time to find what she needs.
Today the universe is pushing hard against my brain and I feel completely wiped out. Everything I come in contact with seems to be taking energy from my soul.
Weekends that should te-energize me simply leave me limp. The kids are with me longer because of Mother’s Day, but still leave before the day ends. The beauty of shared custody. Having to come up with how I want to celebrate the day instead of sitting back and enjoying the day. I don’t have the luxury of someone else thinking about me and what I might want. Probably the complaint of thousands of moms. It’s not a day for me if I’m still financially responsible and have to make all the arrangements. So instead of feeling loved I feel exposed to the elements of the circumstances. I love spending time with the kids, but wonder when they’ll pick up the baton and plan for me.
My work is at a critical time which means I’ve got to be 100% on task to stay on top of the various projects. The normal demands of deadlines takes away any optimistic outlook. I leave part of myself at work each day to the point I feel there’s nothing left of me.
I go to dinner with friend who is so self absorbed I am more therapist than comrade. She dismisses my need to vent and spends the time bragging about herself, digging for compliments, and complaining. There’s no need trying to get her to listen to my needs, so I give her what she needs.
Community obligations suck up my time. I made a commitment and therefore I have to see it through. It’s less rewarding and more acting out of obligation.
All week I’ve tried to get to the gym, but because if the kids needs I can’t make it as often as I want, so now what should be my time is out to the back burner.
I am struggling to find what it need to put joy back into my psyche. I should meditate, but can’t seem to find the time for that either.
It’s all causing stress and anxiety because I feel so off kilter. Now I become that negative nelly who no one wants to be around which means I’m forced into that lonely solitude that I resent so much. And the loop begins again. Maybe it’s time for therapy again or a way to turn off my brain.
Randomly I recently found out I’m STD free. Not that I was worried. I am told that part of getting an IUD is to do STD testing. No big deal. But now I wonder if there’s something more.
My state has seen skyrocketing STD rates in the last few months. Now I wonder if the fact that I’m a single woman who keeps her options open for sex played a part in the testing. The experts are saying women’s rates for contracting the diseases are especially out of control.
The articles I’ve read are blaming dating apps and affairs. Im finding myself amused by the theories of extra marital affairs being on the increase because of mobile apps. If any of our uptight community took a glance at craigslist or Ashley Madson, they would know this shit has been happening since the internet was invented. But instead we pride ourselves with having the lowest divorce rates and pay ourselves on the back for being so family focused that we don’t need sex education or even talk about sex outside of marriage.
They say we are now more apt to act on impulse since we don’t hav to go to bars to pick up one night stands. Please! Stop the ignorance. The religious leader who goes to church every Sunday and gives the tithing as expected was still finding his/her sexual adventures beote the smartphone joined the fun. The apps are as much to blame for this a is whiskey, wine, or marijuana. Those things might make it easier, but there’s a systemic problem that is driving certain people to this lifestyle. Take a look at why people are having anonymous sex and then you’ll have a better chance of solving this health epidemic.
All this makes me feel better about my decision to honor mysel an search out deeper relationship than a simple sex romp. Honestly, it’s been such a long and difficult road, but it’s the right one. Ok, enough arrogance.
I breathe in deep and fill my lungs hoping to end the stress. Tension builds. My pulse races. The blood fills my ears as anger overcomes me again.
I have power. I have control. Word mean nothing unless I put value to them.
But they’re still words. Inaccurate accusations. Unfounded lies. Vicious spewed on an electronic screen. Just because it’s written doesn’t make it real.
I am defense. My reputation being attacked. Not publicly (thank god). My integrity and intelligence out unfairly on trial and judged by corruption.
I know it all insanity. Word shouted from the tower of Bable. I’ve taken the high road, I’ve taken the low road. It gets me no where other than a pit of dispair. Choose your favorite cliche – damned if I do, damned if I don’t, between a rock and hard place, there’s no arguing with idiots….whatever your pleasure it’s where I am.
Stuck. Being pounded away upon. If I fight back the absurdity becomes outrageous. If I ignore, the pounding becomes unstoppable. Invisible to everyone.
Helpless to make it stop. Hopeless it will. Angry this is the path God wants. Exhausted from fighting for change.
My words are but masks to hide the cracks. A thin vanier to deflect the brokenness. I fight to save myself. Creating positive mantras and exercising my demons out. All such futile attempts to change the rules of the game I cannot play.
I need change, but how? I want different, is it possible? This isn’t the end, but a middle that’s gone on far too long.
Spring is in full swing on my side of town. Shorts, flip flops and strapless tops abound in the streets. Peeling away our winter wear to expose as much skin to the sun as possible.
The seasons are changing and so it goes with life. Everywhere I turn people are moving on with the I lives. New homes, new babies, new marriages, new loves. My life seems stuck in the mud and I watch with envy as the world moves around me. Trappe partly by circumstance and partly by fear. The groun isn’t sinking, but the grip feels tight.
Patience. The worst 4 letter word!
I am locked in my head. Wondering about the sputtering the dating world provides. I have trust issues. Red flags seem to block my view from seeing possibilities. I yell at myself to let my guard down, but my past refuses. Rightly so. As much as I want to move that part of my life forward, I have too much at risk to make ridiculous mistakes. This isn’t the time for me to just settle. I believe too much in what I have to give a new relationship to him into a why not relationship.
So I watch the blooming season. Observer of the beauty about to unfold. Aware of the anxiousness deep within me – the competing desire for change and stability. I open my mind to what success will look like and dream of how it may be achieved.
Spring. Hope. Change. And one more cance to learn patience. That horrible lesson I’ve stubbornly fought for so long!
It seems this time every year studies come out on divorce statistics across the U.S. My state ranks fairly low in divorce rates which causes my social sites to blow up with everyone self congratulating themselves on putting in the hard work it takes to stay married. I feel judged and a failure.
This is when I want to point out that out state also ranks highest in domestic abuse. When I want to take my “expertise” on the married population and shine a light on the ignored under belly of our culture. A culture which is so insistent on staying married, everyone is willing to turn a blind eye to whay really happens behind closed doors.
But really it’s only my guilt of not being able to keep my marriage that drivese to those thoughts. I only see a microcosm of reality and there are an abundance of happily married couples. I wonder if women who leave husbands who beat them or are drug abusers feel this kind of guilt.
I can tell you all the abuse I suffered, but my wounds are internal. Scars upon my soul that don’t show when I take my clothes off. I have no X-rays of the damage that’s been done to my psyche or medical records to document the trauma.
Each time I meet someone knew I have to build my case of non-insanity. I’m not full if dramam or prone to exaggeration. Yet, when I begin my explanation I come across as certifiable because my abuse is open to other’a interpretation. Not that I invite it, but folks are more than willing to provide it. All the ways I should own the problem instead of trying to “blame” the ex.
Each time these stats come out I feel a great new to defend myself. To plead my case and ask for mercy. I still want to be among the accepted because my circumstances were beyond the normal. I did work. I did try so hard. I fought. And yet here I am, divorced. A stat, but not the kind welcomed.
Everything in lfe takes practice. From the time we’re born until we leave the earth, we spend our time in respective tasks trying to become masters of our domain. Eating, walking, talking, reading, driving, working, flirting, dating, and on and on.
As I have expanded my wings since the divorce, I’ve not bed a change in what I fantasize my dream man to declare. At first I wanted someone to find me sexy and compelling. I longed to be so attractive they’re overwhelmed by my intoxicating sensuality. Then my dreams moved to being found beautiful. Someone who would see me beyond simply physical and be attracted to more of my soul. Now, I wish for someone to fall in love with me. To desire to be with me during the boring times as well as share in the erotic.
I wonder if that will happen. That’s where the practice comes into play. I’ve had tremendous practice being sexual and therefore have confidence I cand find a fuck. But when it comes to that same confidence in finding love, I just don’t have the experience to draw from. The only time I’ve been loved is by my ex who was not capable of truly loving me. So, as I continue to approach the dating world, I am saddened and discouraged by the lack of connection.
I remind myself that time will prove itself and eventually will find someone. Patience is not my strong suit and I continue to have opportunity to practice that too!
My mom sent me the diet she did when I was 5. She wrote a quick note saying she thought I’d have fun reminiscing about the diet I did when I was young. Wheni was FIVE! It took me a couple weeks to review the plan as my reminiscing wasn’t necessarily a happy stroll.
Overall, the plan is similar to any modern day plan. High proteins, low carbs, lots of veritables. They recommend a breakfast of one egg, one piece of toast or cereal and half orange or half grapefruit. It’s been about 15 years since I’ve had a grapefruit and I love them! So, in a strange way I am glad she sent it out even I it does make me think of my inadequatey.
Lately I’ve had a lot of anxiety thinking about being naked with a man. I’ve been hitting the dating sites lately so it’s been on my mind, though the chances of anything happening soon are nil.
I was talking with a friend about my dating future. As we talked, it became evident my desires have changed – for the better. What I miss the most is the companionship that is built-in as a couple. Someone to come home to, someone to go do things with, and someone who doesn’t mind just being together. Of course sex will be an important thing that comes with a healthy relationship, but that’s not the first my first priority. Well, at least night right now….that doesn’t mean it won’t creep up again.