Happy Thanksgiving

He had been engaged to another woman for a few months when one day I picked the kids up from his house and he pulled out his phone and showed me a picture. It was a picture of both kiddos snuggled up with you around the fire put at his place. He nonchalantly added, "This is who I'm going to marry now." As if it's normal to go through engagements more quickly than most people go through a tank of gas... "Congratulations - the kids seem to like her," I somehow managed to spit out, trying my best to hide my confusion and concern. And when the kids told me they had only met you just that weekend - the weekend he proposed - my concern grew even more. I was worried the kids would get attached to you, like they did the woman before and would be hurt again if things didn't pan out.

But I tried to step back and give it some time. After all, that seemed only fair. After all, my post-divorce romance was pretty whirlwind too. Still, I was cautious because, let's be honest, trust isn't exactly my strong suit. I haven't recovered quite that much yet. I find that even trusting myself is a challenge most days, so trusting the man that for years put me through hell? Yeah, that's a tough one for me. But I try because my kids deserve to have me try. So I tried. I trusted and held my breath and hoped that they wouldn't get hurt this time. And I worried. And worried and worried and worried. Because I'm a mom, and that's what we do.

I don't really know you. We've exchanged a few words here and there, but I've had little more interaction with you than that. But I've always been impressed. You don't have any kids of your own, but it's obvious you love kids and know how to deal with them.

The first time I met you was at an awards ceremony for boy number one. I watched as you let a restless boy number two fiddle around on your phone. I watched you teaching him how to play whatever game it was that he was trying to master. Patient and caring, I could tell that the two of you had already formed a bond. You've learned to discipline them with the stern love of a parent. You've celebrated accomplishments with them. You've nursed their boo-boos. You've played tooth fairy. You've gone to their plays and cheered them on. You've done everything a parent does. And I'm so very thankful for that.

Society tells me I should hate you. It says that we're in competition - children have a limited amount of love and I damn well better be sure I'm "winning." You're the enemy. I should roll my eyes when the kids talk about you and refuse to let them talk to you when they're with me. But the truth is that when they ask to talk to you, it makes my heart melt a little. It makes me happy to see them so eager to share their lives with you. Most people thought it was odd that I would offer you part of my time with the boys Mother's Day weekend, but I couldn't imagine not sharing that time with you. After all, you're their mom too. So I don't care what society says. I don't want a contentious relationship with you. We're on the same team.

So though it's a little unorthodox, this Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for you and your family. Thank you for being such an awesome mom to the boys and welcoming them into your family with open arms. I'm so glad my boys have so much love in their lives. So thank you for being their mom.

Cheers!

It sucks to get caught up in the cycle of blaming yourself for everything. And I do mean everything - no matter how far out of your control it actually is. And just being at the point where you just feel completely inadequate at pretty much everything - it's a really helpless feeling. When you've meant so little to so many people for so long that it is hard to even imagine it ever being any different.

Maybe I really just wasn't very good at anything growing up. Maybe I really legitimately earned my position in the shadows being largely ignored. Maybe I was the drama queen that my mother made me out to be. Always oozing drama at every turn. If I was, it certainly wasn't ever on purpose. I didn't realize having feelings was dramatic. Nobody ever told me I wasn't allowed to feel - I didn't realize those were the rules. Maybe my sadness and hurt really weren't important to anyone. Maybe that's when I made the decision to stop feeling. Or more accurately, to pretend that I stopped feeling. Because slapping a happy face over the pain and tears really only hurt me, and let's be honest, nobody really cared about that. Maybe that's why I started hurting myself - because that was the only way I knew to stop feeling altogether.

Maybe the abuse was my fault. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I brought it on myself. Because if some people on my life are to be believed, I'm clearly a much worse person than I give myself credit for. Maybe I deserved to feel afraid in my own home. Maybe I deserved a life where i could never ever be comfortable - I'd have even just settled for not scared. Or maybe I was so brainwashed by pretending not to feel that I really believed that I didn't deserve to actually feel - and I certainly didn't deserve to feel love or happiness. After all, I really never believed that I deserved either of those things. Walking on eggshells was the status quo. Always wondering when the other shoe would drop...because it always did. And it was terrifying. Every. Single. Time. Maybe I brought it on myself. Maybe I deserved every bit of it. All because I made the mistake of feeling.

But I don't talk about those things often, so people seem to be under the impression that they never happened. Because I spare everyone the details, they act like I'm just being a big pansy, making something out of nothing. Surely if I had actually been abused, they would have noticed. Clearly I must have been making it up. You know, because people have always been so adept at noticing things. "I'm fine." I smile and joke and laugh even when I'm barely hanging on. I'm afraid that if people knew the real me, they'd run because historically that's how it's worked. 

Because abuse doesn't stop just because you're free from the situation. A divorce decree isn't handed over with fairy dust and a wave of a wand. It's not some magical moment in time where, with the snap of the fingers, all is right with the world again. No, the reality is that the emotions and fears linger long after the immediate threat is gone. I still can't handle most people being too physically close without feeling trapped and being reduced to a puddle of hyperventilating anxiety. I have a very visceral reaction to raised voices, even when raised for reasons other than anger. And I still feel the need to apologize periodically for just the fact that I even exist. I hated myself for so long that it's just second nature.

And holidays are the worst. That might seem backwards, but they are. Every year, walking on eggshells to keep from saying the wrong thing or really just anything. Every year, failing miserably. Every year, even now, feeling like a big buzz kill because the holidays are where the hardest memories hide. Every year around this time, I relive the threats, the screaming, the abuse - the fear. For me, that's what holidays have always meant.

With the dreaded trifecta right around the corner (my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas), my chest is already heavy with anxiety. I want it to be fun. I want to enjoy those days. I want to snuff out those horrible memories with new, happy ones. I'm just not sure I'm there yet. I guess it's time to brace myself and jump right in. Maybe this year will surprise me...

...or maybe it's time to have a drink and settle in for the ride...

Buyer Beware

I've determined that this has officially been the year of people for me. Meeting new people. Hoping desperately that they won't think I'm a big freak despite probably have ample reason to do so. Wanting acceptance for who I am but being kind of terrified to actually be who I am. Because, let's face it, I'm a bit of an acquired taste - and I don't "people" all that well to begin with. I kind of feel like I should come with some sort of warning label so people can adjust their expectations appropriately. So let this serve as your warning...

I'm hopelessly and irreparably introverted. Completely. As in, I have no extroverted qualities whatsoever. At all. None. Which means that social situations are just plain hard. They're draining and exhausting. No matter what. Even if the people I'm with are totally awesome, it is still going to suck me dry. So yeah, it's not you, it's me - I swear. I guess maybe that high school aptitude test wasn't far off - being a mortician may just have been an excellent profession for me to pursue. Plenty of peace and quiet and, you know, not having to actually interact with anyone who has an actual pulse. Not that working in IT is fraught with loads of human interaction either...

Add to that a crap ton (that's an actual unit of measurement defined by urban dictionary as the equivalent of four shit loads - that's a lot of poop) of anxiety and depression. And not just any anxiety and depression. Sounds awesome right? It totally is. If by awesome, you mean traumatizing and completely uncool. I always seem to convince myself that people are going to think I'm an idiot in social situations, largely due to the fact that I feel like an idiot in social situations. I don't do small talk well, and I usually find it awkward. But I do my best, and I'm not so bad once you get past that.

I get anxious about pretty much everything, often for no reason at all and no treatment or medication has ever really been able to help. The depression is pretty much the same story. Tried tons of meds, therapy...you name out. Nothing has ever actually helped. Most, in fact, have made things worse and in turn made me hesitant to even try to continue the medication merry-go-round. What people don't seem to understand is how exhausting and downright damaging it can be to keep trying medication after medication like that - even people who are familiar with depression and anxiety often seen to struggle to understand. They don't understand why I'm hesitant to try yet another medication. Even medications that will ultimately work can make things less stable at first and when you go through one after the other, you are often moving from one instability to another. Not surprisingly, that's sometimes not the best idea. I'm trying my best though, so I should at least get a participation trophy, right? I'm trying, I promise.

And then there's the abuse - and PTSD that I still struggle with as a result of said abuse - because why not? There's really nothing productive that can be said about this except that abuse most certainly is the gift that keeps on giving. So if I all of a sudden seem completely shut down, I probably just somehow stumbled onto a trigger. It could have been something someone said or something I read or even just some random something else. It doesn't always even make that much sense to me. It's not you. I'll never blame anyone for triggering it. It's nobody's fault. It's just one of those things that I apparently need to get used to. It kicks my ass. I get back up. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. But I do my best. Some weeks are better than others. I'll squash it eventually but it's a long road.

And I guess the abuse has made me more sensitive to bigoted assholes than I otherwise might be. I mean, nobody really likes an asshole, but I'll call that crap out. I don't back down either. I may be generally really quiet and reserved and I'm typically really laid back, but there are just some things that just anger me. I've been at the butt end of far too much judgment and I will no longer sit idly by while ignorant people make judgments about things they don't even remotely understand. I don't really see a problem with this but apparently some people do. Bigotry and bullying are kind of my hill to die on. Life's too short to surround yourself with narrow-minded people.

The abuse has also made me more empathetic, which sometimes gets me into trouble, but it's more good than bad, so I'm running with it. In the long run, if high powered empathy is the worst thing that comes from the years of abuse, I could probably learn to be okay with that. This heightened empathy has always seemed a little surprising to me. I kind of expected to be a raging bitch coming out of everything. But then, life's too short for that too, I guess.

And the scars. I'm not proud of them. I try not to be ashamed of then either, but that's been a losing battle lately. Anyone who's around me long enough will probably see the scars, mostly because I'm sick and tired of hiding who I am. Self-harm is part of what's made new who I am. It's sad I guess, but they're a part of me and part of my past and they're part of what makes me who I am. People can either accept me or judge me for it. I can't lose sleep worrying about it anymore. If that's the thing you're choosing to judge me for, you might consider taking up a hobby because you've clearly got too much time on your hands. But hey, everyone has their priorities, I guess.

Still, as the wedding day nears, this has been weighing heavily on me. My dress is strapless. That means the scars on my arms will be visible to pretty much everyone. And the whole garter toss thing - more scars to hide. And as much as I tell myself that I don't care what other people think, I still keep reminding myself that maybe a shawl would be best. Maybe I should hide behind a shawl because I'm ashamed of it. Because I'm afraid of what people would think if they knew the truth about my past. In one breath in saying I don't care what people think, but in the next, I'm being suffocated by the fear of what kind of person people will think I am. Most of the guests at the wedding will be people who don't know me. Hell of a first impression to make, right? But as it's been said, if you can't accept me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. I guess I'll have to take my chances.

Hiding, being ashamed of myself, being someone I'm not - it's all just too much work and I'm just too damn lazy. If people want to judge, they will. They'll find something and they'll judge - some people are just built that way. And good riddance to those people. I want to surround myself with loving/supportive/geeky/smartass-y people that can appreciate how far I've come and not just see how far I have to go because if I'm being honest, I still have a very long way to go. But I'm a lot further than I was a year ago and that's really what this whole living thing is all about.

Sobriety

Sobriety. It's something that's recognized and even celebrated for people struggling with alcoholism or drug addiction or eating disorders. But it's sadly something that's completely ignored for self-harm. Recovery is hard, no matter what you're trying to recover from. It's really, freaking hard. And it's even harder when there's not much of a support network. Don't get me wrong, I've got people who care about me immensely, but not people who can really understand things from my perspective. They try, but it's just one of those things that's really difficult to understand if you haven't been knee deep in it.
I've spent a large part of the year trying my damnedest to stay on the right path. It's been a near constant and very difficult struggle. There are no support groups. There's no celebration of the little victories. There isn't any celebration of the huge milestones. There really aren't even many people that can even remotely understand. The road to recovery is long and often very lonely.

For all the buzz around mental health issues lately, it sure seems like society only wants to recognize and help the ones that it deems "acceptable." The rest of us are, I suppose, considered a lost cause. Deviants, perhaps. I don't really know. What I do know is that there are socially acceptable struggles, and self-harm sure as hell isn't one of them. What makes it so much worse than shooting up heroin or drinking yourself into oblivion, I'll never understand, but that's society for you. People, and thus society in general, often make very little sense.

We're not all deviants, of course, and there's no such thing as a lost cause. But in the end it's really hard to fight for yourself when there are very few people that seem to think you're worth fighting for. I'm lucky. I found someone who reminds me daily of my true worth. Someone who reminds me that my struggles don't define me. But for those who don't have that someone, it's hard to see the point in changing. Sometimes it's hard to even see that changing is an option.

So celebrate each step towards sobriety, no matter how small. Celebrate even if nobody else celebrates with you - or tell me and I'll celebrate with you. If other people can't recognize what great strides you're making, it's their loss. Don't be afraid to throw yourself a party in your own honor. You deserve it because this shit is hard! One thing I'm learning is that it's okay to bribe yourself. Seriously. Treat yourself to something special when you reach a big milestone. You're worth it, and let's be honest, for a lot of us, bribery goes a long way. It's the American way...or something.

Consider this a long distance high five. You're just plain awesome - and I mean that sincerely.

Soapbox

Bigotry is kind of completely stupid. I stopped for a moment and tried to think of a nice, politically correct way to say that, but after giving it a good four seconds of my time, I decided political correctness isn't really my thing.

I just can't wrap my brain around why some people can't disagree about something without it devolving into a pissing match. I can disagree with someone's beliefs without resorting to name calling. It's not that hard. Why do so many people have such issues with it?

If you're using your religion or politics or whatever else as a springboard to spew bigotry and hatred, you're doing it wrong. Real convictions and beliefs have the power to stand on their own without resorting to bullying or petty name calling. That level of disrespect and frankly, absurdity just incites anger and frustration in people that otherwise may have at least been open to hearing you out. The only thing is succeeds in doing is detracting from the point that you're so hell bent on proving.

Be strong in your beliefs. Be passionate - the world needs more passionate people. But stop trying to use passion as an excuse to be utterly disrespectful. If you think that makes you look impressive and that you'll be able to bully people into joining your "team," then clearly someone lied to you. Hostility doesn't really work as a recruitment tactic - at least for any cause worth being recruited for.

And honestly, if your cause relies on a bunch of weak-minded people that are so incredibly susceptible to peer pressure, that says far more about your cause than your words ever will. Thoughtful and insightful discourse may yield fewer results, but at least the results will be genuine.

Sometimes I worry that people will view me and argumentative and just generally contrary for not being afraid to call them out on their bigotry. But some things are worth standing up for. I'm not disrespectful about it, but I refuse to stand idly by and let people spread hate and judgment. I don't want my children growing up in a world where people pretend not to notice that those things are happening. Standing aside and allowing that sort of thing to continue without saying anything feels like lending my support by omission. Will speaking up ever actually make a difference? Maybe not to anyone else, but at least it does to me.

I think somewhere along the line, people got the impression that being respectful and considerate of people makes them weak - and further makes their arguments weak. As if somehow being respectful to someone you disagree with somehow lessens your convictions. I can only speak for myself, obviously, but those are the people I'm always the most impressed with. They don't feel it necessary to to give up being a good human just to prove that they're right. They are secure enough to let their convictions speak for themselves.

In other words, can we please all just act like grown ups?