When I was a Junior in high school I can remember my basketball coach yelling at me because I kept saying "I'm sorry," during practice or even games. Someone would run into me and I would say "sorry." I would miss a basket and yell, "sorry!" Without even thinking the words just ran out of my mouth. I grew up taking responsibility for others actions. I was consumed with guilt and even blamed myself for other people's behaviors or actions I had no control over.
Guess what? I'm not sorry anymore.
I refuse to ride the manipulation rollercoaster. I refuse to feel guilty when I did nothing wrong. I refuse to hold back my emotions and not being able to speak freely. I refuse to let anyone control my emotions and my well-being.
Here's the deal, I'm allowed to have an opinion. I'm allowed to be angry or upset when someone I care about makes a poor decision and choice. I'm allowed to ignore phone calls or interacting with someone who treats me badly and I don't need to give any sort of explanation. I don't answer to anyone but myself.
There comes a time boundaries need to be set. I will not let anyone drag my self esteem down or sabotage my life and accomplishments.
I'm off the ride
Monday, December 28, 2015
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
You
All this time you stood right in front of me. Right before my eyes and I looked but I didn't really see you. If I could go back, I would have saw you sooner. Time has passed and it took me years to realize it has been you...it has been you, all along.
Now I close my eyes and see you. I go to sleep and you're in my dreams. My thoughts daily consist of you. My heart beats for you. I am so grateful to have found, you.
I think back to all of the times throughout my life you were always there. A friend to confide in and someone to vent to. Your complements at times were the best part of my day. I felt you could understand on another level more than anyone else could. We had a wonderful friendship and I sought your opinion often. I was cautious to not let you get too close to my heart. Picking and choosing words carefully. Delicately dancing around the obvious.
Now I close my eyes and see you. I go to sleep and you're in my dreams. My thoughts daily consist of you. My heart beats for you. I am so grateful to have found, you.
I think back to all of the times throughout my life you were always there. A friend to confide in and someone to vent to. Your complements at times were the best part of my day. I felt you could understand on another level more than anyone else could. We had a wonderful friendship and I sought your opinion often. I was cautious to not let you get too close to my heart. Picking and choosing words carefully. Delicately dancing around the obvious.
Divorce
I feel like when anyone hears the word divorce they have a preconceived notion in their mind. I know I did. I can remember a few years back hearing of a couple divorcing and together they had two small children. I remember thinking how awful that must be for their kids and how I would do anything to save my marriage before deciding to divorce. Now going through the divorce process myself I have news for everyone who has those preconceived notions...only the two people in the marriage know exactly what went on in the marriage.
I was so worried in the beginning of my divorce process what everyone else would think. I was worried about telling my grandparents, my family, my friends. It took me months to confide in our church Pastor because I was afraid of what he would say. I had enough on my plate to worry about, I shouldn't of had to worry about being judged too.
Getting a divorce doesn't mean you gave up on your marriage. My ex tried playing that game. He said I was giving up on us and this is what I wanted.
From the beginning I made many mistakes continuing to stay with a man who I wasn't deeply in love with and knew in my heart I wasn't happy. I chose to stay when I should have ended our relationship a long time ago but I didn't go into our marriage asking for what came out of it.
I didn't give up on our marriage, instead I decided to, for once in my life, love myself first and make a decision that was in the best interest of myself and my son.
Forever is a long time to be unhappy. It is a long time to put up with abuse, whether it is emotionally or physically. In my head I wrestled over and over again thinking if I loved my ex husband enough I would be able to accept how things were. I mistakenly thought unconditional love meant no matter what my ex husband did I would love him anyway.
That's not unconditional love. God does not want someone to stay in an abusive marriage and to love them anyway because that is the "Christian" thing to do. Marriage is very much conditional. It is two people who are in agreement to meet each others needs and treat each other respectfully. Marriage is devoting yourself to one another and working daily to keep the relationship the biggest priority in your life. Your spouse is your partner. The relationship is suppose to be sacred and valued. A marriage consists of two people coming together to work through life's obstacles.
My divorce is allowing myself the opportunity to be with a husband who will love me the way God intends me to be loved. I am now capable of someday having a true marriage.
Divorce is certainly not an end, for me...it's the beginning of a new chapter. It's a second chance. I know I deserve a second chance. I know as my son's mother, he deserves to grow up seeing his mommy in a healthy relationship.
I was so worried in the beginning of my divorce process what everyone else would think. I was worried about telling my grandparents, my family, my friends. It took me months to confide in our church Pastor because I was afraid of what he would say. I had enough on my plate to worry about, I shouldn't of had to worry about being judged too.
Getting a divorce doesn't mean you gave up on your marriage. My ex tried playing that game. He said I was giving up on us and this is what I wanted.
From the beginning I made many mistakes continuing to stay with a man who I wasn't deeply in love with and knew in my heart I wasn't happy. I chose to stay when I should have ended our relationship a long time ago but I didn't go into our marriage asking for what came out of it.
I didn't give up on our marriage, instead I decided to, for once in my life, love myself first and make a decision that was in the best interest of myself and my son.
Forever is a long time to be unhappy. It is a long time to put up with abuse, whether it is emotionally or physically. In my head I wrestled over and over again thinking if I loved my ex husband enough I would be able to accept how things were. I mistakenly thought unconditional love meant no matter what my ex husband did I would love him anyway.
That's not unconditional love. God does not want someone to stay in an abusive marriage and to love them anyway because that is the "Christian" thing to do. Marriage is very much conditional. It is two people who are in agreement to meet each others needs and treat each other respectfully. Marriage is devoting yourself to one another and working daily to keep the relationship the biggest priority in your life. Your spouse is your partner. The relationship is suppose to be sacred and valued. A marriage consists of two people coming together to work through life's obstacles.
My divorce is allowing myself the opportunity to be with a husband who will love me the way God intends me to be loved. I am now capable of someday having a true marriage.
Divorce is certainly not an end, for me...it's the beginning of a new chapter. It's a second chance. I know I deserve a second chance. I know as my son's mother, he deserves to grow up seeing his mommy in a healthy relationship.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Breaking the Silence
I didn't talk to anyone about all of the problems in my life. Mostly because there was a voice in my head that said, "Alyssa it isn't that bad." Now I've learned telling myself it wasn't that bad was my way of coping with the reality.
My ex husband was an alcoholic. He still is an alcoholic because he has never in his life dealt with his drinking addiction or drug addiction.
Over and over again I would make excuses for his drinking. I thought, "Well he only gets drunk on the weekends." I thought, "He's just stressed and had a few too many." I thought, "Once our son is here he will be spending time with us and won't want to drink."
I thought wrong. I even believed his lies. I believed him when he said, "I won't drink anymore." I believed him when he said, "I only get drunk on liquor, I will stick to beer." I believed him when he said, "I'm just going to have one."
My ex chose alcohol over his wife and after Gunner was born he chose alcohol over his son.
When I was 33 weeks pregnant my ex was on a "camping trip," with his buddies. He was so intoxicated the whole weekend he began punching vehicles and carrying out a violent rage. His friend and family couldn't control him. Yes his family, his family WAS THERE. His dad and his sister sat back and watched as his pregnant wife tried to take control, but my ex was absolutely out of it. I have never seen someone so drunk.
He was going to stop drinking after that The camping trip was the last straw. He saw at that time he really had a problem. Oh yeah, let me tell you...he was really going to change now. Not to mention this was after NUMEROUS weekends of him binge drinking and becoming so intoxicated he passed out anywhere. He puked all over our bedding and always left me to clean up his mess. I put up with it over and over again.
His friends and FAMILY insisted, "it would get better." They surely thought he would be such a wonderful dad. My ex was such a great dad he left one week after Gunner was born to go to the bar at 10 am and sat and drank all day. He was such a great dad that on New Years Eve he embarrassed me in front of my parents and little sister by being drunk and hostile.
The best part about New Years Eve was when he kept saying, "Fuck my wife." I laid in bed and cried.
I can't even count the number of times I cried, so many. My mom somewhat knew what was going on but I never detailed the extent of how bad things were. I wanted a happy family. I wanted my life to be perfect. I wanted it so bad and I was convinced in my head that everyone has issues and my marriage "wasn't that bad."
Who am I kidding? It was fucking MISERABLE. I was so unhappy and sick of dealing with a man who had absolutely no regards for my feelings.
On February 27, 2015 my ex husband in a drunken rage threatened to kill me. He said specifically, "I'm going to shoot you." At the time there were approximately 21 different guns in our house.
My ex has told people I just left him for no reason. No, I left to protect my son and save our lives. I left because that night I thought I was going to die and all I kept thinking was this is it, he's going to kill me right now and wake up and not even remember doing it and I will never see my son grow up.
So for those of you who are in a relationship where you have to justify their behavior on a daily basis. If you have over and over again thought to yourself, "it's not that bad," "he will change," "things will get better..."
GET OUT. Get out now and don't ever look back. My ex never took responsibility for his actions. He doesn't think he EVER had a drinking problem or needed help. Now he is complete denial of everything and has even stated that he never threatened me.
My ex husband was an alcoholic. He still is an alcoholic because he has never in his life dealt with his drinking addiction or drug addiction.
Over and over again I would make excuses for his drinking. I thought, "Well he only gets drunk on the weekends." I thought, "He's just stressed and had a few too many." I thought, "Once our son is here he will be spending time with us and won't want to drink."
I thought wrong. I even believed his lies. I believed him when he said, "I won't drink anymore." I believed him when he said, "I only get drunk on liquor, I will stick to beer." I believed him when he said, "I'm just going to have one."
My ex chose alcohol over his wife and after Gunner was born he chose alcohol over his son.
When I was 33 weeks pregnant my ex was on a "camping trip," with his buddies. He was so intoxicated the whole weekend he began punching vehicles and carrying out a violent rage. His friend and family couldn't control him. Yes his family, his family WAS THERE. His dad and his sister sat back and watched as his pregnant wife tried to take control, but my ex was absolutely out of it. I have never seen someone so drunk.
He was going to stop drinking after that The camping trip was the last straw. He saw at that time he really had a problem. Oh yeah, let me tell you...he was really going to change now. Not to mention this was after NUMEROUS weekends of him binge drinking and becoming so intoxicated he passed out anywhere. He puked all over our bedding and always left me to clean up his mess. I put up with it over and over again.
His friends and FAMILY insisted, "it would get better." They surely thought he would be such a wonderful dad. My ex was such a great dad he left one week after Gunner was born to go to the bar at 10 am and sat and drank all day. He was such a great dad that on New Years Eve he embarrassed me in front of my parents and little sister by being drunk and hostile.
The best part about New Years Eve was when he kept saying, "Fuck my wife." I laid in bed and cried.
I can't even count the number of times I cried, so many. My mom somewhat knew what was going on but I never detailed the extent of how bad things were. I wanted a happy family. I wanted my life to be perfect. I wanted it so bad and I was convinced in my head that everyone has issues and my marriage "wasn't that bad."
Who am I kidding? It was fucking MISERABLE. I was so unhappy and sick of dealing with a man who had absolutely no regards for my feelings.
On February 27, 2015 my ex husband in a drunken rage threatened to kill me. He said specifically, "I'm going to shoot you." At the time there were approximately 21 different guns in our house.
My ex has told people I just left him for no reason. No, I left to protect my son and save our lives. I left because that night I thought I was going to die and all I kept thinking was this is it, he's going to kill me right now and wake up and not even remember doing it and I will never see my son grow up.
So for those of you who are in a relationship where you have to justify their behavior on a daily basis. If you have over and over again thought to yourself, "it's not that bad," "he will change," "things will get better..."
GET OUT. Get out now and don't ever look back. My ex never took responsibility for his actions. He doesn't think he EVER had a drinking problem or needed help. Now he is complete denial of everything and has even stated that he never threatened me.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Gunner
My beautiful baby boy, you are the light that keeps me going each and every day. I wanted you so badly, and I loved you from the moment you existed inside of me.
Out of all that has happened over the last year, you are the only good. I selfishly needed you to make my heart whole. Words cannot even describe the unconditional love I feel for you.
I look in your eyes and feel breathless that I created you and you are mine. You tug on my heart strings when you wrap your little fingers around mine and I smile hearing you say "momma" or "mom."
Mommy will protect you forever. The day you were born was the day you brought so much purpose into my life. In all that I am now, it begins and ends with you.
Baby boy we have spent so many sleepless nights together. I won't ever forget how for the first week of your life you didn't sleep unless I was holding you and you could hear my heartbeat.
I was so tired but so incredibly happy, because of you. Even on the worst days when I was struggling to get by, you gave me strength.
Being a mommy means constant worrying. I worry about you all day, everyday. I worry about the life I have given you. I worry about you being safe and having your needs met when I am not with you; which breaks my heart.
I see you growing and reaching milestones. You are so close to walking and I keep fighting back tears thinking of all the changes.
Please stay little a little longer. No matter how old you get, you are my baby boy. I just want to go back and hold you cradled in my arms again.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Out of all that has happened over the last year, you are the only good. I selfishly needed you to make my heart whole. Words cannot even describe the unconditional love I feel for you.
I look in your eyes and feel breathless that I created you and you are mine. You tug on my heart strings when you wrap your little fingers around mine and I smile hearing you say "momma" or "mom."
Mommy will protect you forever. The day you were born was the day you brought so much purpose into my life. In all that I am now, it begins and ends with you.
Baby boy we have spent so many sleepless nights together. I won't ever forget how for the first week of your life you didn't sleep unless I was holding you and you could hear my heartbeat.
I was so tired but so incredibly happy, because of you. Even on the worst days when I was struggling to get by, you gave me strength.
Being a mommy means constant worrying. I worry about you all day, everyday. I worry about the life I have given you. I worry about you being safe and having your needs met when I am not with you; which breaks my heart.
I see you growing and reaching milestones. You are so close to walking and I keep fighting back tears thinking of all the changes.
Please stay little a little longer. No matter how old you get, you are my baby boy. I just want to go back and hold you cradled in my arms again.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Toxic Relationships
In an earlier post I touched on how throughout my life I have sought out toxic relationships whether that be with a boyfriend or friend. I can think back to many friendships I've had where I was the person keeping my "friend" afloat. Right after high school I had two jobs and made a decent amount of money for an 18 year old. I would generously buy things for my friends and often times was volunteered to be the person driving on out of town road trips. I found myself paying for food, drinks, gas, etc. Lots of friends took advantage of my "kindness," again another situation in which I only saw myself valuable for what I could offer rather than just being worthy of a decent friendship in general.
As far as boyfriends go they were all the same. Unmotivated, lazy, uneducated, job-less, car-less, and addicted to drugs or alcohol. Why did I choose these types of relationships? Why did I subject myself to that type of treatment?
Because it is what I knew. I grew up in chaos. I grew up seeing toxic relationships and my parents abusing alcohol. For some reason again, I thought it is what I deserved. I didn't think I was loveable. I think in ways I even sought out romantic relationships where the person wasn't even capable of love. You know why? Because that's all I wanted my whole life and I was repeating the same pattern over and over again. My biological dad didn't love me and I couldn't "win" him over into being the father and man I needed him to be in my life. So I chose "boys," who had no interest in loving me, so that I could "win" them over.
Sounds insane. Pathetic. It is.
There are no words to describe those choices I made. I deserve better. I know that now, but I didn't then.
The worst relationship choice I could of ever made was to marry a person who wasn't capable of loving me the way I needed to be loved. He wasn't capable of treating me the way I deserve to be treated.
I look back now and see all of the red flags and warning signs. For everything bad that occurred I justified it in my mind. I can remember so many nights my ex was out of control and would wake up the next morning as if nothing happened. I was silent. Inside I was fuming. He never apologized, he never took responsibility for his actions, and most of all, he never changed.
People who are toxic don't change. Toxic people suck the life out of you. They leave you bone dry and broken. My ex damaged me. He brought me to the darkest place I have ever known. I hate him for that. I hate him for all the times I gave and gave and gave and he loathed in all I had to give. He took advantage of my big heart.
I can remember a conversation I had with my consoler who listened as I told him the story of the last few years of my life. I cried and told him that I felt so stupid for continually being made a fool over and over again. I felt so stupid for the choices I had made. I said I felt like having such a big heart was my biggest downfall, that in a way it was my greatest weakness.
He looked at me and said, "Alyssa, more people in this world need to have big hearts like you."
I won't ever forget that.
As far as boyfriends go they were all the same. Unmotivated, lazy, uneducated, job-less, car-less, and addicted to drugs or alcohol. Why did I choose these types of relationships? Why did I subject myself to that type of treatment?
Because it is what I knew. I grew up in chaos. I grew up seeing toxic relationships and my parents abusing alcohol. For some reason again, I thought it is what I deserved. I didn't think I was loveable. I think in ways I even sought out romantic relationships where the person wasn't even capable of love. You know why? Because that's all I wanted my whole life and I was repeating the same pattern over and over again. My biological dad didn't love me and I couldn't "win" him over into being the father and man I needed him to be in my life. So I chose "boys," who had no interest in loving me, so that I could "win" them over.
Sounds insane. Pathetic. It is.
There are no words to describe those choices I made. I deserve better. I know that now, but I didn't then.
The worst relationship choice I could of ever made was to marry a person who wasn't capable of loving me the way I needed to be loved. He wasn't capable of treating me the way I deserve to be treated.
I look back now and see all of the red flags and warning signs. For everything bad that occurred I justified it in my mind. I can remember so many nights my ex was out of control and would wake up the next morning as if nothing happened. I was silent. Inside I was fuming. He never apologized, he never took responsibility for his actions, and most of all, he never changed.
People who are toxic don't change. Toxic people suck the life out of you. They leave you bone dry and broken. My ex damaged me. He brought me to the darkest place I have ever known. I hate him for that. I hate him for all the times I gave and gave and gave and he loathed in all I had to give. He took advantage of my big heart.
I can remember a conversation I had with my consoler who listened as I told him the story of the last few years of my life. I cried and told him that I felt so stupid for continually being made a fool over and over again. I felt so stupid for the choices I had made. I said I felt like having such a big heart was my biggest downfall, that in a way it was my greatest weakness.
He looked at me and said, "Alyssa, more people in this world need to have big hearts like you."
I won't ever forget that.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Women Who Love Too Much
A book that has resonated with me more than any other is called, "Women Who Love Too Much," by Robin Norwood. I downloaded the book on my kindle just weeks before I made the decision to leave my ex-husband. I started reading it and it felt like the book was written for me.
For the length of my very short marriage, year engagement, and one year of dating-I loved my husband too much. I loved him to the point of losing myself. In ways I did, but I am now reclaiming my new life and new beginning.
Here is an excerpt from the book:
"When being in love means being in pain we are loving too much. When most of our conversations with intimate friends are about him, his problems, his thoughts, his feelings-and nearly all of our sentences begin with "he...", we are loving too much.
When we excuse his moodiness, bad temper, indifference, or put-downs as problems due to an unhappy childhood and we try to become his therapist, we are loving too much.
When we read a self-help book and underline all the passages we think would help him, we are loving too much.
When we don't like many of his basic characteristics, values, and behaviors but we put up with them thinking that if we are only attractive and loving enough he'll want to change for us, we are loving too much."
I am a women who has forever loved to much. A person like me often comes from the same type of childhood I grew up in. I took on the caretaker role and only dated men with issues that I thought I could change or fix. I had no idea that I was even doing this until I began to recognize a pattern in my life. You see for a women who loves too much it is much easier to wait patiently for the person they love to change than to do the work to change themselves.
I had waited for 3 years for my ex to change. The whole time I was deeply unhappy but I still thought I saw "so much potential." See the irony of being a women who loves too much is we don't even fall in love with that actual person. We fall in love with who they could be.
Looking back I feel so unintelligent for the decisions I made but I have forgiven myself. I will no longer let myself feel guilty. I know I have a big heart, and I know that I went about my life with the best intentions but what I've come to realize is those intentions only led to hurting myself.
People don't change. The inner core of who a person is, that does not change. I think we can become more self-aware, more mindful of the choices and decisions we make but our true values and beliefs are buried within us.
I wanted so bad for my ex to change. I thought if I was skinner, prettier, more attractive, kept the house spotless, met his every need...he would change. But he didn't. Day after day there were always the same issues and day after day I lost pieces of myself. Pieces I gave away to fix his brokenness.
I can remember feeling like I was drowning. He never met my needs intellectually, physically, emotionally. I just kept trying and trying. Giving and giving.
The worst part about all of it is, I actually thought that type of marriage is what I deserved. I didn't know enough then to think any different.
The day I left my ex and our home he sent a text message at work asking when I was going to work on our marriage or if that didn't matter to me anymore.
I cried in my office. Had a complete meltdown. It was in that very moment I knew. I knew what I had known all along but was afraid to admit to myself...because it was easier continuing on the path I was on.
I had been trying. Exerting all of my energy into something that was a whole bunch of nothing. Into someone who was manipulative, controlling, abusive, and emotionally draining. He was poisonous. A toxic being that thrived off of my existence.
No more.
I would not allow one more moment, not one more second. I was done.
Reading the book, "Women Who Love Too Much," opened my eyes. Gave me a clear view of what was right in front of me. It reiterated what I had already known for so long.
Ending my marriage is the best decision I have ever made in my life. It was the first step in loving myself and becoming a better mommy because taking care of myself is the only way I can raise my beautiful son with the parent he deserves.
For the length of my very short marriage, year engagement, and one year of dating-I loved my husband too much. I loved him to the point of losing myself. In ways I did, but I am now reclaiming my new life and new beginning.
Here is an excerpt from the book:
"When being in love means being in pain we are loving too much. When most of our conversations with intimate friends are about him, his problems, his thoughts, his feelings-and nearly all of our sentences begin with "he...", we are loving too much.
When we excuse his moodiness, bad temper, indifference, or put-downs as problems due to an unhappy childhood and we try to become his therapist, we are loving too much.
When we read a self-help book and underline all the passages we think would help him, we are loving too much.
When we don't like many of his basic characteristics, values, and behaviors but we put up with them thinking that if we are only attractive and loving enough he'll want to change for us, we are loving too much."
I am a women who has forever loved to much. A person like me often comes from the same type of childhood I grew up in. I took on the caretaker role and only dated men with issues that I thought I could change or fix. I had no idea that I was even doing this until I began to recognize a pattern in my life. You see for a women who loves too much it is much easier to wait patiently for the person they love to change than to do the work to change themselves.
I had waited for 3 years for my ex to change. The whole time I was deeply unhappy but I still thought I saw "so much potential." See the irony of being a women who loves too much is we don't even fall in love with that actual person. We fall in love with who they could be.
Looking back I feel so unintelligent for the decisions I made but I have forgiven myself. I will no longer let myself feel guilty. I know I have a big heart, and I know that I went about my life with the best intentions but what I've come to realize is those intentions only led to hurting myself.
People don't change. The inner core of who a person is, that does not change. I think we can become more self-aware, more mindful of the choices and decisions we make but our true values and beliefs are buried within us.
I wanted so bad for my ex to change. I thought if I was skinner, prettier, more attractive, kept the house spotless, met his every need...he would change. But he didn't. Day after day there were always the same issues and day after day I lost pieces of myself. Pieces I gave away to fix his brokenness.
I can remember feeling like I was drowning. He never met my needs intellectually, physically, emotionally. I just kept trying and trying. Giving and giving.
The worst part about all of it is, I actually thought that type of marriage is what I deserved. I didn't know enough then to think any different.
The day I left my ex and our home he sent a text message at work asking when I was going to work on our marriage or if that didn't matter to me anymore.
I cried in my office. Had a complete meltdown. It was in that very moment I knew. I knew what I had known all along but was afraid to admit to myself...because it was easier continuing on the path I was on.
I had been trying. Exerting all of my energy into something that was a whole bunch of nothing. Into someone who was manipulative, controlling, abusive, and emotionally draining. He was poisonous. A toxic being that thrived off of my existence.
No more.
I would not allow one more moment, not one more second. I was done.
Reading the book, "Women Who Love Too Much," opened my eyes. Gave me a clear view of what was right in front of me. It reiterated what I had already known for so long.
Ending my marriage is the best decision I have ever made in my life. It was the first step in loving myself and becoming a better mommy because taking care of myself is the only way I can raise my beautiful son with the parent he deserves.
Growing Up
I can't remember specifically at what age I realized I was different than other kids my age. I think for the longest time I just always knew. I was born in October of 1990 to my parents who were both young and still trying to find their place in this world. Six weeks after my sister was born my mom left my biological father and started a life with just her and us (two girls). By age 5 my mom had met someone new and I had another sister. My mom and step-dad got married and we moved into a nice home which included cable television, which I was excited about.
Fast forward to age 13 and I had the maturity level of a 20 something year old. I was the oldest of 6 kids and helped raise my siblings between my mom working two jobs and my step-dad driving truck on the road. My weekends didn't consist of the typical football games and slumber parties. We didn't have much but we always had what we needed to get by.
I guess with the bills piling up and my step-dad gone on the road my mom turned to someone else for comfort. Over the next year there was a new "friend" in the picture but I didn't at the time comprehend how much my life would change.
I was a freshman in high school with all of the potential in the world as a 4.0 student just waiting to seize any opportunity. I felt like so much at once came crashing down when within a short period of time my mom and step-dad told us kids they were getting a divorce and we moved into a rental home. My mom's friend was now her boyfriend and I became the second parent now more than ever.
It was difficult. My brother was 2 and my youngest sister 1. It was a crowded house. Mom was again working two jobs and I was trying to keep our family household together. I don't hold any resentment for her being gone as much as she was. I wish I could have been gone too, anywhere but at home.
I just wanted so badly for my life to be normal. The older I became the less I recognized what normal really was. I had an ideal picture in mind, but I think part of becoming an adult is realizing that your parents are flawed. Your parents are not perfect people and sometimes they make bad choices.
I wish I could go back and tell my adolescent self that my parents choices weren't my fault. I know they did the best they could. My parents aren't perfect people. No one is.
It wasn't until this year that I have began to realize how much my childhood has affected me. I wouldn't go back and change anything, because my life has made me who I am. It just took me a long time to realize why I have made some of the choices in my life that I made.
I was forced into a caretaker role at a young age and it continued on throughout my adulthood. I chose relationships and friendships based on wanting to be a caretaker. I wanted that person to need me, I wanted them to need me to fix themselves.
I have always been a people pleaser. Seeking out situations where I can be perfect in someone else's mind by meeting their needs. The problem with living your life trying to please other people is you forget about yourself. I have been so consumed with wanting to be good enough, wanting to be worthy, wanting to be loved that I had forgotten that I am worthy without any doing-I am worthy as I am.
Seems like such an easy concept for most people to grasp but for myself it has taken the longest time to understand. I can remember when my parents both worked during the summer months and it was my responsibility to take care of my four siblings while they were gone and the household. I would frantically try keeping up with the cleaning, laundry, cooking lunch, etc. I just always wanted the house to be perfect and spotless when my mom walked in the door. I had such high expectations of myself but also my parents did of me. I don't think it's a bad thing that they wanted me to succeed, to be successful, to go further in life then they did. There is just so much over the years I have internalized and feelings I never let myself deal with because I didn't want to go there.
I have come to accept that it is not my responsibility to take on the weight of the world. I am not accountable for my family or my friends. It is not my job to keep things perfect or bare others burdens. What a freeing feeling it is to finally recognize I do not need to fix anyone or be responsible for others choices.
I am an adult now, no longer a child wanting to seek approval from her parents or anyone else. I am for once in my life letting go of everything that has anchored me down for far too long.
I am free.
Fast forward to age 13 and I had the maturity level of a 20 something year old. I was the oldest of 6 kids and helped raise my siblings between my mom working two jobs and my step-dad driving truck on the road. My weekends didn't consist of the typical football games and slumber parties. We didn't have much but we always had what we needed to get by.
I guess with the bills piling up and my step-dad gone on the road my mom turned to someone else for comfort. Over the next year there was a new "friend" in the picture but I didn't at the time comprehend how much my life would change.
I was a freshman in high school with all of the potential in the world as a 4.0 student just waiting to seize any opportunity. I felt like so much at once came crashing down when within a short period of time my mom and step-dad told us kids they were getting a divorce and we moved into a rental home. My mom's friend was now her boyfriend and I became the second parent now more than ever.
It was difficult. My brother was 2 and my youngest sister 1. It was a crowded house. Mom was again working two jobs and I was trying to keep our family household together. I don't hold any resentment for her being gone as much as she was. I wish I could have been gone too, anywhere but at home.
I just wanted so badly for my life to be normal. The older I became the less I recognized what normal really was. I had an ideal picture in mind, but I think part of becoming an adult is realizing that your parents are flawed. Your parents are not perfect people and sometimes they make bad choices.
I wish I could go back and tell my adolescent self that my parents choices weren't my fault. I know they did the best they could. My parents aren't perfect people. No one is.
It wasn't until this year that I have began to realize how much my childhood has affected me. I wouldn't go back and change anything, because my life has made me who I am. It just took me a long time to realize why I have made some of the choices in my life that I made.
I was forced into a caretaker role at a young age and it continued on throughout my adulthood. I chose relationships and friendships based on wanting to be a caretaker. I wanted that person to need me, I wanted them to need me to fix themselves.
I have always been a people pleaser. Seeking out situations where I can be perfect in someone else's mind by meeting their needs. The problem with living your life trying to please other people is you forget about yourself. I have been so consumed with wanting to be good enough, wanting to be worthy, wanting to be loved that I had forgotten that I am worthy without any doing-I am worthy as I am.
Seems like such an easy concept for most people to grasp but for myself it has taken the longest time to understand. I can remember when my parents both worked during the summer months and it was my responsibility to take care of my four siblings while they were gone and the household. I would frantically try keeping up with the cleaning, laundry, cooking lunch, etc. I just always wanted the house to be perfect and spotless when my mom walked in the door. I had such high expectations of myself but also my parents did of me. I don't think it's a bad thing that they wanted me to succeed, to be successful, to go further in life then they did. There is just so much over the years I have internalized and feelings I never let myself deal with because I didn't want to go there.
I have come to accept that it is not my responsibility to take on the weight of the world. I am not accountable for my family or my friends. It is not my job to keep things perfect or bare others burdens. What a freeing feeling it is to finally recognize I do not need to fix anyone or be responsible for others choices.
I am an adult now, no longer a child wanting to seek approval from her parents or anyone else. I am for once in my life letting go of everything that has anchored me down for far too long.
I am free.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Ian
They say a child begins to have memories around age 3. I have never understood why some memories stick more than others. How is it that I can't remember what I had for supper two weeks ago but I can remember the first time I rode my bike when I was five years old? Maybe it's because our mind chooses what's important and what's not. Maybe it's because whether we did or didn't realize it at the time, there are moments that permanently leave an impact on our life. I have come to the conclusion the worst memories are the ones I can't seem to forget or move past. It's always easier to remember the hurt than happiness. I wish I could forget. I hate my memory.
Three years ago today was one of the worst days of my life. I used to think a bad day was waking up late for work or getting caught in a down pour with no umbrella. It's funny how the things I used to think were "bad," are now acceptable and almost welcomed. A bad day is having to carry a lifeless infant across the room to place in their mother's arms for the last time. A bad day is offering condolences to the family of a 32 year old man who died in a motorcycle accident and left behind his pregnant fiancé. A bad day is when you watch someone die and there's nothing you can do. I now know what a bad day is.
Starting in grade school I was taught if there's an emergency to call 9-1-1. My curiosity as a child always got to me. I always wondered what would happen if I called 911. I think part of me hoped for a situation where I needed to. I never had to until the night my friend was murdered. It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye a fight between two people turned deadly and now I close my eyes and hear screaming. "He has a knife," "Oh my God you stabbed him," "He's bleeding," "Someone call 911," "Oh my God someone please help, please help us," "He isn't breathing," "He won't stop bleeding," "There's so much blood," "Oh my God Ian please don't die," "Please Ian, please don't die." I tried answering all of the questions thrown at me on the phone. "What happened?" "Where are you?" "Who was stabbed?" "Who stabbed him?" "What does he drive?" "What direction did he go?" "Where is he bleeding from?" "Is he breathing?" "Can you stop the bleeding?" "Can you stay on the phone with me until help arrives?" "Are there any officers on scene?" I tried to stay calm. I tried not to panic. I told my friends Ian would be okay. I told them he would live. I told them he wasn't bleeding that much. It looked like a lot of blood but it wasn't really that much. Ian would be okay, he was in good care and he would be okay.
Screaming and crying. Lots of screaming and crying and blood. So much blood. My friends all covered in Ian's blood. My mind is stuck in that moment of time. It replays over and over again in my head.
But he wasn't okay. He was stabbed in his heart and was dead before the ambulance even arrived at the hospital.
I was alone in an office by myself at the police station. My friends were all being interviewed. I knew Ian died when I heard the screaming again. I didn't cry. I just sat there, alone in an empty office and listened to the screaming. I couldn't react. I couldn't feel anything. He was dead. He can't be dead. He had help and they were going to take care of him. I just saw him and he was alive. Nothing made sense.
I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. I wanted to pretend nothing had happened. I went to work the next day. I was expected to be okay. I am strong, I should be okay. I wasn't okay. I'm still not okay.
I remember walking into Ian's visitation. The face I saw first was my sister's and I started to cry hysterically. This can't be real, the only thought that kept crossing my mind. I won't ever forget Ian's dead body lying in the casket. His nails were still covered in blood and he had too much highlight cosmetic on his cheeks and nose. I just kept focusing on his fingernails, why did they not clean the blood off?
Ian just wake up.
Three years ago today was one of the worst days of my life. I used to think a bad day was waking up late for work or getting caught in a down pour with no umbrella. It's funny how the things I used to think were "bad," are now acceptable and almost welcomed. A bad day is having to carry a lifeless infant across the room to place in their mother's arms for the last time. A bad day is offering condolences to the family of a 32 year old man who died in a motorcycle accident and left behind his pregnant fiancé. A bad day is when you watch someone die and there's nothing you can do. I now know what a bad day is.
Starting in grade school I was taught if there's an emergency to call 9-1-1. My curiosity as a child always got to me. I always wondered what would happen if I called 911. I think part of me hoped for a situation where I needed to. I never had to until the night my friend was murdered. It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye a fight between two people turned deadly and now I close my eyes and hear screaming. "He has a knife," "Oh my God you stabbed him," "He's bleeding," "Someone call 911," "Oh my God someone please help, please help us," "He isn't breathing," "He won't stop bleeding," "There's so much blood," "Oh my God Ian please don't die," "Please Ian, please don't die." I tried answering all of the questions thrown at me on the phone. "What happened?" "Where are you?" "Who was stabbed?" "Who stabbed him?" "What does he drive?" "What direction did he go?" "Where is he bleeding from?" "Is he breathing?" "Can you stop the bleeding?" "Can you stay on the phone with me until help arrives?" "Are there any officers on scene?" I tried to stay calm. I tried not to panic. I told my friends Ian would be okay. I told them he would live. I told them he wasn't bleeding that much. It looked like a lot of blood but it wasn't really that much. Ian would be okay, he was in good care and he would be okay.
Screaming and crying. Lots of screaming and crying and blood. So much blood. My friends all covered in Ian's blood. My mind is stuck in that moment of time. It replays over and over again in my head.
But he wasn't okay. He was stabbed in his heart and was dead before the ambulance even arrived at the hospital.
I was alone in an office by myself at the police station. My friends were all being interviewed. I knew Ian died when I heard the screaming again. I didn't cry. I just sat there, alone in an empty office and listened to the screaming. I couldn't react. I couldn't feel anything. He was dead. He can't be dead. He had help and they were going to take care of him. I just saw him and he was alive. Nothing made sense.
I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. I wanted to pretend nothing had happened. I went to work the next day. I was expected to be okay. I am strong, I should be okay. I wasn't okay. I'm still not okay.
I remember walking into Ian's visitation. The face I saw first was my sister's and I started to cry hysterically. This can't be real, the only thought that kept crossing my mind. I won't ever forget Ian's dead body lying in the casket. His nails were still covered in blood and he had too much highlight cosmetic on his cheeks and nose. I just kept focusing on his fingernails, why did they not clean the blood off?
Ian just wake up.
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