All posts by msawesome69

Emailing with my Parents

From me to Mom:
In response to accidentally sent email to me:
“Hi Mom”
She apologized for emailing me in error. I responded with
“Its ok. I’m glad you’re still doing these trips. Lots of good memories”

Mom sends another accidental email to me – my response:
“I sincerely wish I were going with you!! I miss our retreats and spending time with you.”
From mom: “Again, I apologize”
“I truly do miss you mom. Any chance we could work on our relationship?”
No response…

From me to Mom:
Subject: I’ve attempted to reach out
I’ve attempted to reach out to you a few times in the past month or so. It is clear you have no interest in even talking to me. I had hope. A burning hope. For the past four years, I have had hope that maybe… maybe my mom… We were so close once.
I’m a lesbian. I’ve always been a lesbian. I can’t change who I am.
I didn’t choose to be a lesbian. In fact, I think it’s safe to say, I fought against it with every fiber of my being. Do you think I would’ve chosen to be hated and disgusted by my own parents and sisters? My marriage was over for more than a YEAR before you even knew we were having problems. What ended our fake marriage was you and Dad coming to see us to “fix” it. Once you knew the truth, it was time to just quit faking and be done with it. You rescued me from that hell and sham of a marriage. Thank you for that.
I’m happy now. Like ridiculously happy. I’m getting married in July. I have three more kids. Oldest Son is 13 going on 14. He’s a skinny little nerdy kid who is hilarious. Youngest Son is 9. He’s a jock like BioSon but smarter than any kid I’ve ever met. Older Daughter is 19. We took her into our home two years ago when she had nowhere else to go. She’s back in school getting awesome grades. She’s learned some skills she didn’t have before. Why? Because we have a loving and supportive home. I like to think you would like the person I’ve become. You won’t be there though. I won’t even bother to tell you the details because I think it’s safe to assume you won’t even reply to this email let alone want to meet my future wife and step kids.
I would never, ever abandon and disown one of my children. For what mom? Being a lesbian? For ending a marriage that was destroying me and my children? I tried to tell you I was unhappy, you didn’t want to hear it. Is that it? You’ve abandoned and disowned me because you didn’t want to hear the truth and it surprised you?
I don’t understand. Maybe someday you’ll step up and call or email me and TELL ME what it was that made you hate me so passionately that you can believe horrid things, and write me off as if I’m some memory, like I’ve died. But… When I think that maybe you’ll call or email, I get my hopes up, and it all starts all over again. I’m tired of having hope. I’m tired of crying when I realize that you’ll never respond. That these emails and texts go nowhere. They vanish into a blackhole, into a past that no longer exists for either of us.
I am officially done trying. I won’t email you or text you or call you ever again. My door is open if you ever wish to try but I’m done being disappointed.
——————
To me from Dad…
Subject: Truth
The is in response to the e-mail you sent your mother. If you want to have a relationship with your mother or I, this must start with the truth.
On the night we visited you in your city, I hugged you and told you our love for you was unconditional. That has not changed. Neither your mother nor I have ever said we hated you or that we despised you. We have not said that to you or anyone else.
Neither your mother nor I testified in your divorce hearing. Both of us tried to be as independent of that as we could. However, we were deeply hurt when in court, under oath, you said that we were hard core conservative right-wing fundamentalist Christians who had tried to take you to a counselor to cure your homosexuality. We don’t even know where that came from as we have zero recollection of that happening. We treated you the same as we did Jenny and My younger sister. Yet you made numerous comments on why this was all our fault because were terrible parents who tried to inflict our out dated Christian views on you.
Your mother and I drove up to your city because several people asked me to do that. That was far from what I wanted to do. I did not come up there to fix anything. If you listened to me I said the following things to you. I said that we loved you and whatever happened we didn’t want to lose you as our daughter. I said I was disappointed that you were carrying on an affair while you were still married. I did not say I was disappointed because you were gay. I only asked that if you and Ex needed to divorce that you both act responsibly and handle this like adults. I also suggested that you seriously consider the impact your decisions would have on you, your family and your finances.
The next time we talked, you called me and spent the entire time explaining why everything was totally Ex’s fault. I asked you want you wanted me to do. You said, to support you by telling you that you were doing the right thing. I could not and cannot tell you that. While none of us think that Ex is perfect and that this is all your fault, we also don’t think that you are perfect, and this is all Ex’s fault. There is plenty of fault to go around.
The last time you talked to me, you said you only wanted to talk to me about your life insurance and that you had zero interest in discussing anything personal that was going on in my life. At the same time, we were seeing Facebook posts that said your parents had abandoned you because you were gay, so you needed to find a new family. You even changed your name to remove the hated McNeil surname. Frankly, in our opinion, it was you who were abandoning us. I sent you text messages wishing you a happy birthday. You never bothered to respond. You have totally ignored us on our birthdays and on holidays for years.
You do a very good job at explaining how hurt and offended you are with regard to your perception of how people are treating you. Have you ever given any consideration to the pain and hurt you have caused others?
Like I said, the first step has to start with the truth.
Dad
——————
From me to Dad,
Subject: Truth

I would also like to start with the truth. I wanted to start with the truth a decade ago. I think it was obvious that Ex and I fought, a lot. In fact, I don’t recall any truly happy periods in our marriage. We sometimes just slogged through but never truly just happy. Money was always a problem and we both had terrible attitudes. I was miserable. I had children because maybe that will make it better. I got two more degrees because maybe that would make it better. I fought for better jobs because maybe that would make it better. We moved up here because maybe that would make it better. Nothing worked. I remained miserable. I remember standing in my new home, all alone, looking at the things I had and saying I have everything I was told I wanted and I’m utterly unhappy. When I discovered Ex had been lying about drinking and routinely endangering the kids lives, the marriage became unrecoverable. That was a full year before you came to Our city. I called mom that day and told her I didn’t think we could survive this and her response, I kid you not, was how many piano students she now had. Clearly, mom was not going to be someone to talk to about my failed marriage. So I called My older sister. My older sister said everyone except me knew he was drinking and thought I was playing a game pretending I didn’t know my admitted alcoholic husband was drinking. She laughed at me, told me that it was no big deal, and to just let it go. It was a big deal and it was far from funny and she just laughed at me again telling me to just let it go. I’ve never been so disappointed in my family than on that day. My marriage had just ended and no one cared. He’d just driven through a crowd of 500 kids drunker than I’ve ever seen someone and admitted to doing it daily, and I was told to let it go. He’d been in at least one accident while drunk and admitted it to me, and I was told to let it go. I called his mom next. She came over and we sat him down and tried to talk to him but he was too wasted to comprehend words. Later that night, she took him to an Alcoholic Anonymous meeting. He was still drunk while there. It was the final straw. He had lied to me for the last time. He had put my childrens’ lives at grave risk and he didn’t care.
You taught me divorce isn’t an option. So for a year, I got up and focused on my children. He refused to get further help past the two AA meetings he attended. He begged me to just “nag” him to stop drinking. I told him repeatedly that if he relies on me, our marriage will fail. I need to become stronger before I can support him again. He chose not to listen to my pleas and continued to beg me to “nag” him. Our marriage was done. There was no saving it at this point. But I still got up each morning and tried. I tried to be kind. I purposely hid our issues from everyone else. I pretended everything was peachy keen. I told Ex to get a job DAILY so that he wouldn’t feel compelled to stay at home and drink. He needed a change of scenery. He admitted he wasn’t looking because he liked staying home and drinking too much. But to hide the truth, I told everyone that I liked having a stay at home husband. Why? Because my family taught me that it was my duty as his wife to hide his problems and try to help him resolve them or just ignore it. After almost a year of no longer being in any relationship with him other than living in a communal home, I came to the realization that I am and always have been a lesbian. I fought this realization with every fiber of my being. I prayed, I read bible passages, I did online research to try and prove that this can’t be real. My upbringing taught me it was learned, not natural. I fought it. I knew that you all would likely not accept my sexuality, and that scared me. My body shook with fear at the idea of betraying everything I knew. I eventually spoke openly about it with Ex. He fully encouraged my second relationship and never once expressed a concern over it to me. At that point, he and I were calling our marriage “open” but purposefully not advertising it to anyone else. We both knew it was long over. Until you showed up on our doorstep. While he had been telling me he had no issues and encouraged me to spend time with this other person, knowing full well what the relationship was, he was telling you the opposite. I felt utterly betrayed that at no time did any of you ever call me to ask what was going on, to get my side of the story. Instead, you drove for 10 hours to show up and confront me and make accusations without the full story. While you may believe your words were supportive, one phrase has stuck with me since that day. It was so dumbfounding that it has reverberated in my brain since. I can still hear you, Dad, telling me these words. It was said three times to be exact, “It’s ok that you’re gay, but you need to go back to your marriage”. I wasn’t allowed a voice during this “intervention”. Each time I tried to reply with a truth, you belittled me or interrupted and shut me down. You came to my house and accused me of things that weren’t true and at no time did you even attempt to hear my version of events. It was clear that you only wanted to reprimand me with what you’d been told by Ex. I was scared of what this revelation might mean, and instead of asking what was going on, instead of providing compassion and understanding, you attacked me. That is not unconditional love.
A mere month later, I was in an accident. According to the EMT, he was surprised I’d survived. I was unconscious on the side of the highway for five minutes, the passersby who called 911 had thought I’d died – until I woke up screaming. I had someone call you to tell you and you essentially hung up on them because it wasn’t Ex. Ex was not invited to participate, nor was he going to be, because he was no longer my husband. But you didn’t care, you only wanted information from him. I broke both arms in three places, had severe whiplash, a sprained jaw, a badly bruised body, and worst of all I had a major head injury. I could barely form words. For months, I fought for clarity in my own head. I couldn’t sleep at night. I couldn’t remember how to feed myself or remember to use the bathroom. I couldn’t bathe myself with two broken arms. I got disoriented quickly, even in familiar places. I had PTSD episodes. Bright lights and loud sounds literally shut down my brain / body. I was deemed handicapped by my doctors so I could get additional treatment when needed. But to support my children, I went back to work within a week. It was insane for me to go back to work so soon, so there’s no surprise that I lost my job only a few months later because I was physically and mentally unable to do the work. I developed severe depression and became suicidal, so much so that I had to have my meds locked up. My gun was taken away from me. I wanted to die; I planned many times. I couldn’t stand being rejected by my family who were supposed to support me, while also living in a broken body. My friends My chosen family saved me. Where were you? You weren’t here. You couldn’t even be bothered to keep in touch except for a couple of brief calls. You didn’t even have any idea that I wanted to die because you had abandoned me to fend for myself. I required intensive 24 hour care for months. I needed my insurance expert father to help me sort through the mess. I needed my parents to love and take care of me. Instead, you disappeared. That is not the unconditional love you speak of.
I desperately needed your love and support. I needed to know that my family still loved me even though I was now divorcing and had come out as a lesbian. I needed my family to care about me and help me. I should’ve been taken to California to stay with you to heal. Instead, you accepted lies as truths and avoided me. I needed you and you weren’t there. That is not unconditional love. Months went by and I got a “Happy Thanksgiving” text. Um ok… Thanks? How was I supposed to respond? You abandoned me when I needed you most. I had lost the job I couldn’t function at. Did you ask ME if I needed money or food cards? No, but you fell in line with the accusation that I was withholding from Ex and helped him out. I’m still paying back rent from those months. I lost nearly 50 pounds by practically starving to death and you didn’t even know about it. That’s not unconditional love.
During this time where I was broken physically and mentally, the divorce raged on. I was served while in a hospital bed prepping for surgery. After several months of being told that you had no interest in hearing my truth and being served copies of the declarations, I declared I was done being a McNeil. After months of being disregarded, disrespected, abandoned, lied to, and then finding out my sisters were testifying against me, I was done trying to be a part of this family.
I’m grateful that I didn’t have to watch my own parents testify against me. However, when you submit a declaration to one team, it shows clear favoritism. Having the declarations in an evidence folder was no different to me than if you’d shown up to testify.. Under oath, I did in fact state that you were conservative right-wing fundamentalist Christians. I do not recall using the words “hard core”. I still believe what I stated then to be true. First, I’d like to add that your religious beliefs would not have appeared in the trial had my sisters not testified. I had to use our upbringing, which included our religion, to show bias in their testimonies. My older sister in particular with her vehement protesting of “That’s a Family” was a factor. I also had them admit they were bullies to me for most of my life, which contributed to my fear and hiding. I don’t believe there is any doubt that you are conservative, vote with the Republican party (aka right wing), and are Christians. So your trepidation must be on the word fundamentalist. I researched the word before I used it, quite extensively actually, because I wanted to be as accurate as possible when describing the upbringing I shared with my sisters. Fundamental Christianity, in my research, believes the following: belief in Jesus is the only path to eternal life, the bible is infallible, protestantism is the only correct religion, the Earth was created exactly as Genesis depicts, abortion is murder regardless of circumstances, marriage is only between a man and a woman, and the second coming could be imminent. All of these things are things you raised me to believe. All of these things are regularly mentioned by your pastor at your church and every church I went to growing up. If I am incorrect in this definition, please let me know.
Was I a homophobe growing up? Yes. I also believe that “Children learn what they live”. James Dobson was on the radio each morning for years. He is profoundly anti-gay and isn’t shy to say so. When gay marriage was presented as a ballot option (several times), you were all clearly disgusted by the thought. My older sister and her best friend were praised for their stance against “That’s a Family” being taught because there were gays in it. Things like Ellen “Degenerate” – can’t forget her nickname. My short hair made me a “dyke”. Not dressing like a girly-girl was routinely ridiculed. When George Bush was elected it was seen as a win to keep a conservative on the Supreme Court so that we could again deny gay marriage. And yes, the visit to the counselor happened. It was the day I was hit in the face with an ice chunk, earning a wicked black eye, at the bus stop by a neighbor kid and had to talk to the school counselor about possibly being bullied (which wasn’t happening). I absolutely was told the things I stated under oath, while mom was right next to me, and I stand by that testimony.
I was raised to be nice to everyone but at home, gay was not ok or natural and it is clear you still believe this wholeheartedly. Imagine figuring out you’re gay in a family that openly thinks it’s disgusting and unnatural. I had just come out. Now, my family isn’t talking to me, is showing me in every way possible they don’t love, respect, or care about me, and they are willing to accept anything they are told about me – except by me, and I’m not supposed to think it’s because I’m gay? I had no evidence that suggested otherwise.
Dad, I occasionally read your blog. It breaks my heart every time and my fiance has begged me to stop. I find it appalling that you can say to me in an email that you love me and yet post the things you do. You post anti-gay rhetoric on a regular basis. (link1, link2, link3,… there are several more if you need additional links). My favorite quote from “redacted blog title” posted in 2016, two years after I came out, “Trump is right … that the gay rights movement has morphed into an anti-Christian crusade determined to require everyone to embrace their delusional view of morality. I don’t care what people do in their private lives, just keep it private.” If that’s not anti-gay, I don’t know what is. So no, you have never specifically stated to me that you are disgusted that I’m gay but I have read it in your blog, many times.
Since realizing that it didn’t matter my approach, that I was going to continue to be ignored and disregarded except when holidays came around and guilt set in and a meaningless text would arrive, I quit responding. Knowing I’d lost my family in all meaningful ways, that they hated me for being gay and for other unknown reasons, made me suicidal at times. I had to choose to live and that meant that I had to choose to stop trying to figure out why you were so angry. I tried to pretend you didn’t exist.
The ultimate truth was finally given to me quite a few months ago. I went to visit my cousin and her partner a few months after they came to visit you. My cousin felt it was necessary to tell me what mom said while she was there. I attempted to discourage her because anytime people want to talk about my family, it triggers intense emotional pain, but she insisted. She told me that you believe I am a drug addict, that I’m addicted to prescription pills, and I smoke pot daily (around the kids). I was told you think I am a sex addict and a whore. And somehow you actually believe that was having sex in front of the kids. All this was told with vivid details. You believe I am a child abuser. You believe I refuse to give Ex any money and I fought against paying any child support, and frequently withhold funds from him. You believe I would buy things for my stepsons but not my own children, after telling Ex I didn’t have money. In my cousin’s words, it was a whole series of “Poor Ex’s”. She took one look at me and said, it’s clearly bullshit. How can they believe all those things? I said, I have no idea, they won’t tell me why they are upset. If you’d like, I can send you the email from her verifying this conversation as evidence.
The truth is – I have only ever used prescribed medications and never more than my prescription called for – I’ve never been a “pill popper.” I’ve smoked pot like 5 whole times in my life, all prior to your visit to Our city, including once with Ex, but not since. The sex in front of the children accusation baffles me and makes me laugh hysterically. I am still extraordinarily modest and this just isn’t a thing. The allegation of being an abuser is the most despicable, especially when coming from Ex, who routinely endangered my children. I’ve seen what abuse does to kids and I have NEVER and would never abuse my children. And finally, I knew from the beginning I would be paying child support, I only did not want to pay alimony because I believe Ex is perfectly capable of providing for himself. I only asked for the court worksheet to be used for the child support; I never fought against it. Now, it’s garnished from my checks. I can’t “not” pay. If we are talking about telling truths, please explain to me why it is ok to spread lies like these? My cousin’s recollection was too close to what Ex was saying to other people to not be an accurate reflection of what was said to her. This wasn’t some telephone game gone wrong. I believe she heard what she told me. The difference is the other people that were also told this nonsense came to me and laughed about how ridiculous it sounded; they didn’t spread the clearly false gossip.
I’ve never stated I was perfect. In fact, I take ownership of the problems I brought to the marriage. I wasn’t a perfect wife. The insurance call you mentioned was after I’d already felt alienated. After I had been provided all of the declarations, after my voice was lost, I called to tell you to please stop providing my insurance information to Ex. When you took issue with my request and tried to be dismissive, I announced I was done trying to be a member of the family. I’m not perfect and I never asked to be defined that way. I simply wanted to be heard. I wanted my family to help me when I was broken. I wanted to know you were listening to me, too. I wanted to be loved in my darkest hour. Instead you were dismissive, which was cruel.
You accuse me of causing pain. Any pain I caused was a direct result of a horrific marriage ending, it was unavoidable. The pain caused was worsened, not by me, but by a clear choice by you to allow one person to rule the dialog. The pain was worsened when you abandoned me, when I needed you most. The pain worsened when you wrote blog post after blog post about how disgusting and morally reprehensible I am just for being gay. I’m still trying to figure out how I caused even a measurable amount of pain to anyone else considering the way I’ve been treated. The only pain I can see you suffering is your own guilt. I didn’t write a note to you Dad because I don’t see a path in which you can accept me as who I am. you’ve made it clear that I am not someone you wish to associate with. According to your latest posts, I’m “stupid”. I wrote to Mom because I saw hope there. But after I was ignored yet again, I wrote what I considered to be the very last email. I truly never expected to respond again, I certainly didn’t expect to hear from you.
I’m thankful you reached out. This situation has been both consuming and frustrating. I’m not sure there’s room in all of this for a relationship but if there is, you would have to be able to accept me as I am. I am a lesbian in a loving relationship, I’m a gay rights advocate, I’m agnostic, I’m very out and very proud of who I am. My future wife would need to be welcomed with open arms, as would my step sons and bonus daughter. I’m willing to flush all of the past, starting over with a new beginning, if you think you can do the same. If you are really, truly capable of showing us all “unconditional” love. To me, I think your journey is harder than mine, clearly there is a lot of pain here.
With all this said, I can see how accepting me as I am could be a difficult step for you. It certainly was difficult for me to come to terms with not being what I was raised to view as “normal”. I’m not oblivious to the fact that this has challenged your beliefs in the same way it challenged mine. I do care about you both, very much. I’ve helped many people work with their families on acceptance and I am willing to help you too. The burden to rekindle a relationship now lays in your hands.
Thank you for finally giving me the opportunity to be heard.

 

These were sent nearly a year ago and I’ve never gotten a response….

Love is hard. Love can hurt. Love isn’t always TRUE LOVE.

Love is hard because this world requires balance. Good and evil, love and hate. If everything in this world was filled with love, we wouldn’t be able to recognize it as love. Think about it. Living in a purely happy world means, there can be no other emotions. If there are no other emotions, how do you know if you’re happy?
 
You can’t force love. If you aren’t comfortable with the person you love, if you can’t be at peace in your relationship, then this person isn’t the right person for you. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t fantastic and awesome and amazing and what you thought you wanted, they just aren’t the right one for you. Go ahead and love but don’t expect the sun and moon from a spark. The universe reveals itself when it’s ready and no matter how many times you meet someone and throw gas on that spark, if it’s not your flame, then it will go out. Don’t invest too deeply in false loves. True love includes a peace within your heart.
 
I once spent every day of my life throwing gas on embers, using fire starter after fire starter, only to watch those embers get kicked and tossed in angry winds. Frustrated and angry that this spark wasn’t a raging inferno. I was told it should have been, everyone else said so. From the outside (for a long time), it appeared like an inferno. But only because I woke up every morning and tried again to restart that flame. It took 16 years before I quit trying and that flame just died in a cold second. Now I have a flame that is sky high, every day, and I don’t have to throw gas on it. It burns hot all on it’s own. My heart is at peace knowing that when I come home, my heart is happy there. I am no longer frustrated and angry with life wondering why I had to work when others didn’t. Having a fire that doesn’t want to go out doesn’t mean I can’t do stupid things to put it out. We’ve all heard of water and extinguishers. I spend time on my relationship every day all day. I make sure my love is happy and at peace. We communicate, we grow together. It’s a partnership. True love is amazing and wonderful and for those of you wondering why love hurts – maybe it’s time to quit gathering embers and throwing gas on them. Maybe it’s time to find a new flame.

Christmas Time and a New Kid

It’s the holiday season again and all the old memories of when I was a kid come flooding back.  The lost traditions that I’m sure my family still celebrates haunt me from time to time.  From whether or not the marshmallows were burnt on the sweet potato recipe to the cookies made from my Grandmother’s recipe, the memories hang like a broken piece of tape still attached to the broken and torn box I was long trapped in.  My grandfather had a green globe ornament (about the size of a child’s basketball) that hung in his kitchen.  When you pulled the cord, a melody played.  I’ve had this song in my head for years.  Last time I saw that globe, my older sister had it.  I’ll likely never see it again.  It’s memories like this that haunt me.  I want to recall those happy moments where a memory exists but those happy memories lead to a sad path of disconnect and anger.  It’s unreasonable to believe that I can get through a holiday season without those memories but getting through those memories without allowing myself to feel the burn of the anger is a challenge I face every day.

We brought another kid into our home.  She’s legally an adult but she wasn’t given the care and attention that a kid required.  It’s not that her family didn’t love her but they had zero expectations for her.  When you never expect a kid to do anything other than fuck up, the kid never learns how to do things right and they never learn to be proud of themselves.  This kid is amazing.  She’s incredibly smart and has some hidden talents but no one nourished those things in her and she has no concept of her own potential.  She slipped in and out of homes, some foster families, she stayed on friends’ couches when home was too much to handle.  No one cared enough to say, come home we love you.  We love her with all of our hearts.  When we tell her we love her, or tell her how proud we are of her high grades in school, she struggles to accept the praise often waiting for the “but” to follow with some sort of reprimand.  She too struggles with memories from the past where she was given an ounce of hope and love (when she deserved so much more) and feels the burn of anger when she realizes it was just an ounce.

I try to focus on how unequivocally happy I am now.  I am who I was supposed to be.  The box (as I often refer to it) that my family shoved me in to keep me straight, Christian, and brainwashed has long been trampled.  The lid is busted, the tape and chains that once sealed it are broken and corroded, and it’s in a dark corner of my memories where the burning searing pain emanates from.  When I make cookies using my Grandmother’s recipe (because they are the best…) I do it with my kids and my fiance to overwrite the memories that come first with newer, better versions.

The Third Anniversary

I woke up yesterday morning like it was any other day.  I watched my future wife get ready for the day and for the millionth time her beauty took my breath away.  I thought wow she is absolutely beautiful.  I checked in with our oldest just as she was getting ready to leave for school – I love how independent she has become over these past couple of months.  Then the two boys followed not far behind.  Slamming out their morning routine with practiced ease.  I sipped my coffee and logged in to work for the day.  The keys on the keyboard were an extension of my fingertips with my mind clear, and focused.  I texted our other two kids and wished them a good day at school.  The kitten playfully jabbed at my toes while the dogs slept soundly waiting for their kids to come home from school.  A peace washed over me as I realized that this is the life I was meant to live.  It wasn’t until around noon that I realized it was the 3rd anniversary of my motorcycle accident.

I crave riding again and dream of having a motorcycle of my own once again.  Everytime a motorcycle passes me, I feel a deep sense of craving to be on a bike again but worry that I’d have another PTSD episode.  I still have unexpected pains in my left wrist, is it enough to stop me from being safe or am I just too scared to try?  A nicer bike this time.  One with better brakes and a wider body.  It’ll never happen I mumble.

Then I realize how fortunate I am.  I lived.  I faceplanted on a semi truck with only a plastic shield and leather to protect me and I lived.

Those months trapped in a broken body were terrorizing.  There were no physical walls to keep me in and  there were no guards who could unlock the doors and windows.  I was trapped in a body whose tongue didn’t speak the words the brain had in mind (and still doesn’t when I’m tired).  I was trapped in a body that was affixed to a metal rod that grossed people out and made comfort nearly impossible.  Sleep eluded me almost entirely making my body neurotic.  My brain told me I was never hungry.  My mouth often refused to chew.  I lost almost 50 pounds. Flashing lights, loud noises, and fast movement shut my brain down.  I couldn’t drive and the bus torqued my broken body but I as the only breadwinner, I had no choice but to go back to work within a week of the accident.  I was trapped in a brain that lacked the memory skills I once had.  I was missing pieces of my own history.  And, I was in pain.

The distance between myself and my family was made permanent when they never called to ask how I was doing and so many other ridiculous hateful things.  The beginning of the end of a 20 year friendship started when she thought demanding I remember to call her daily was reasonable.  She could never grasp that I had trouble remembering to eat, take my strong pain meds when I was hurting, and to even get up to go pee! – let alone make calls.  She would call me and yell at me for forgetting.  She would never recognize that I required 24 hour a day care and calling her was not a priority to me or my caregivers.  My life flipped upside down, inside out, end over end, and back again.  But, I lived.

I’m free now and so entirely happy.  I’m free from most of the pain.  My mind is functioning almost as clearly as it did before the accident.  My ability to chew and eat again has added several pounds back onto my body.  I went through years of pain and memory impacts.  I have a fantastic team of doctors who have helped me navigate this steady stream of fallout issues.  I still have memory gaps of my past – often having to search through old emails or Facebook posts to see what I forgot.  I have solid plans for a future now.  I have the love of my life, my children, my pets, and a home I can be proud of.

For those of you who knew me before, during the worst times, and now – thank you for standing by my side, understanding the battle that a head injury can inflict and for helping me to push through the pain to find the life I have today.  There were many times I almost quit and you were reason I didn’t.

Anemia and a Hysterectomy

Why can’t I fall asleep at night?  Why does my body want to shiver and shake?  My legs and arms won’t relax without benadryl and melatonin and pain meds.  Something isn’t right. Getting up three or four times to wear down my limbs so that they’ll pass out like my mind and the rest of my body craves for them to do.  I’m crazy during the day, can’t put words together like I should sometimes.  I’m fidgety, can’t sit still in meetings.  I’m making poor decisions.  My driving skills have waned a tiny bit but not enough to stop driving.  Something needs to change.  I go see the doctor and he says – I’d bet your anemic.  I hadn’t thought of that – figured I was just genetically predisposed to a horrifying life with restless leg syndrome like my father has.  Has me start taking iron supplements and within a few days, the restless legs and arms are better but not resolved.  So he sends me in for a sleep study.  I have been diagnosed with periodic limb movement disorder.  It sucks.  But since I’m low on iron, doc won’t give me sleep meds until my iron is up because we won’t know what scale we’re dealing with until then.

So I start taking iron and I get my period, it’s a vicious one and it wipes me out.  My body can’t handle the blood loss.  I’m weak and tired and suddenly What the hell is this sharp pain in my hip?  Ugh.  Why am I suddenly getting cramps?  I haven’t had cramps in years.  Huh there’s a little lump there where this hurts.  That’s odd, this lump is pretty big, how have I not felt this before…  Weird… Two days later, lump still there, but it doesn’t hurt any more – no pain, move on with my life.  Four months in a row this happened.  Each month it hurt a little more. Eventually, it didn’t stop hurting and I couldn’t walk up the stairs without crawling in as close to a fetal position as I could muster.

In August 2016, it never stopped hurting and it put me on the floor a few times.  On Sunday, September 4th, it hurt so badly my fiance put me to bed and had me take some powerful drugs. I went to bed at 7:30pm hoping to not feel the pain any longer.  I woke up in a flurry of pain several times through the night.  I called the doc in the morning.  On Tuesday, I had an appointment with the doc.  On Wednesday, I had an ultrasound.  On Thursday, I had surgery scheduled.

It was diagnosed as and confirmed to be endometriosis.  Caused by the c-sections I’d had for both my kids more than 10 years ago.  A few cells escaped and embedded themselves in my abdominal wall way over near my left hip.  I asked the doc to do a hysterectomy while she was in there.  I am done having kids and the bleeding plus my anemia is making me ill each month.  She agreed and so did my insurance company.  So in I went, they sliced me wide open and removed the endometriosis lump, my uterus, tubes, and cervix – leaving my ovaries behind.  Then they saw another endo lump on my right hip and took that one out too.  Doc says less than 2% of endometriosis cases are caused by c-sections.  I felt lucky.

A month later I went into full menopause.  WTF?  I still had my ovaries, they are supposed to allow me to go through natural menopause.  Again, WTF?  So I visit the doc and get put on Estrogen.  Yay.  The estrogen does a great job of helping with the mood swings and night sweats but it also helped a fibroid grow rapidly in my right boob.  It was in the exact same spot as one I’d had removed in 1995.  Went to see my boob lump doc and she said – yep, the estrogen will make these pop up wherever they are.

So then I had to have another surgery to have the lump removed.  Fun times.  It’s been a couple of months and I’m doing better now.  But I’m gaining weight.  I need to do something about that.  Oh and my blood pressure is increasing so I’m going to go see my doc today.  And I still have PLMD.

I Now Know Why

I went on a business trip that took me within a few hours of my only cousin on my mom’s side.  I spent a few nights with her and her partner before relocating to the hotel for the business trip.  What I learned while there has haunted and tormented me since.

My cousin and her partner went to visit my estranged family in California over the summer of 2016. They knew we’d had a falling out but I hadn’t provided details.  While there, they were inundated with horrifying stories about me.  My cousin who knows I’m not the person my parents and sisters were portraying me to be, contacted me by email and let me know that she fully supports me and she knows my family is full of shit – her words, not mine.

The night I arrived at my cousin’s house, she wanted to talk about my parents and sisters.  I knew it was bound to happen and decided to keep myself protected but to allow my cousin the opportunity to share what had been burning inside of her for nearly six months.  She let me know what they were telling everyone and I’m even more hurt and angry then I have ever been.

My ex told them that I was a whore.  That I came home from whoring and told him all about it to rub it in his face.  That I had sex in front of the children all the time.  That he never, ever wanted me to have that relationship.  That I maliciously left my precious children with him so I could go whoring.  Oh and I’m apparently very addicted to prescription drugs, pot, and alcohol.  I’m so high all of the time that I might require inpatient help to quit.  I hate my children and avoid them all the time.  That I have a new family and I love them more.  I never, ever give him any money.  He’s broke and can’t afford anything.  I treat him horribly.  I’m an awful person.  And on, and on, and on….

The reality is he is living a financial high life while I scrape together meals with leftovers brewed from an empty pantry.  Breakfast dinners are almost mandatory once a week because it’s extremely cheap.  I have no left over funds each month because he takes half my income.  I can’t even count how many payday loans I have had to get and loans from friends that I’m repaying just to keep from getting the electricity turned off but yeah, he’s “broke”.  I’ve clearly left him destitute.  I often wonder how he will survive when he doesn’t have the money coming from me anymore.  But for now, he’s comfy with his steak dinners, buying every DVD he wants, getting the kids extravagant gifts.  Anyway…

He spends no time with the kids.  Like none.  He works until dinner time then goes to bed at 7pm.  He watches TV in his own room and totally ignores the kids (probably to hide that he’s drunk).  He wakes up at 9:30pm to tell the kids to go to bed but according to our son, he often forgets so the kids put themselves to bed around 11pm.  I ask my son if they played in the snow – no.  Have you been outside this week? – no.  What did you do today?  Played video games or watched YouTube.  That’s all he ever says.  Are you fucking kidding me?  I’ve never gone to bed while my kids are up and awake.  I cherish my time with them.  But yet he’s supposedly a far better father than I am a mother.  Such bullshit.  I play games with my kids, I take them on adventures, I teach them responsibilities, we do homework together, we do art together, we do stuff!  Random fun stuff! We go on vacations that don’t include just staying with family and doing nothing all day.

So I’m hopped up on drugs.  I hate my children.  I’m a whore.  I’m a monster to my ex.  I’m a money hoarder.  The details my cousin gave me were even more disgusting than the small amount of detail I posted here.  I was absolutely horrified.

My ex is a disgusting liar.  He did such a fantastic job of lying to my family that they won’t even give me a moment to hear a rebuttal.  They believe hand over fist what he’s told them and that they are now sharing with anyone who wants to listen.  I had hopes for reconciliation but there’s no fucking way in hell these people will ever be in my life again.  Fuck them.  My cousin asked if she could talk to my mother and I told her that I will neither request that she talk to my mother nor stop her.  My parents and siblings will no longer be a part of my life.  If she wishes to try and break through the shell of stupidity, she’s welcome to try but I’ve tapped out of those relationships and have no expectation to renew them.

XMAS and my missing family

The Christians seem to want to claim this holiday that is celebrated in nearly every home in the world and criticize anyone else from being able to celebrate or NOT an originally pagan holiday. Christianity took over the birthday of the sun god, the cult of the sun, and transformed it into CHRISTMAS DAY, the “birthday” of the Messiah. It was in reality the birth day of the pagan sun god, worshiped by millions throughout the Roman Empire!  Do I fault Christians for wanting to celebrate their Messiah – Not at all?  But they need to wake up and realize that most of their traditions are not rooted in Christianity and are therefore not for Christians only.

Marriage – it’s been happening for thousands and thousands of years.  Christianity is what two thousand years old?  So how is a tradition that predates Christianity only theirs?  They didn’t come up with marriage, they simply participate in the practice and add in their God where they choose.  People can get married by a judge in a courthouse.  They don’t have to be in front of a pastor at a church.  Add your God to the ceremony but don’t force me to use “Civil Union” because you have some deluded recollection of where marriage came from.

Along that same line, maybe the rest of us should use a different name for Christmas because we shouldn’t tarnish “Jesus’s birthday” by celebrating with our non-religious customs like Santa and a tree with presents underneath (oh wait they found a way to make those things “Christian” too).  Let’s just rename Christmas to something else for non-Christians – maybe “gift giving day with a tree and a dude in a red suit” or “XMAS!!!!”  (Using XMAS really pisses them off – taking the Christ out of Christmas) Maybe we should be banned from celebrating anything other than Christian holidays and if we do only in the way that Christians deem suitable?  Of course, this would disenfranchise millions of people who aren’t Christian and have other holidays that they prefer to celebrate but Christians only care about themselves it seems.  We should hold annual votes for this – even the different Christian groups can’t agree on how to celebrate Christmas. Some open presents on Christmas Eve, some do stockings after presents, some don’t have a tree because they actually understand that it’s sacrilegious, some require a birthday cake be served….  I’d say let the Pope decide but then Protestants would have a conniption. So people who want to vote would have to somehow prove that they are indeed Christian or else the vote would be tainted by non-believers (that’s how they ended up with Moderates and RINOs in the Republican party). And what makes someone a Christian? So we would need to first create a litmus test and have the entire country vote to agree on the standards, then test every single person to see if they fit the criteria as a Christian, then hold a vote that only Christians are allowed to participate in just to figure out how we are all allowed to celebrate just the holidays they deem acceptable?  but if the non-Christians vote for the litmus test standards, won’t they be skewed?  OH I KNOW – they can just shut the fuck up and just let people celebrate the pagan holiday that has become a day focused on family and gift giving however they see fit.

Perfect Example of revisionist history to suit a purpose:

 

Capture2

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why did they push me to be straight?

I’m angry with my family for walking away from me.  Everyday I think about missing them.  I wonder if they even think about me.  I wonder what they think of me.  Do they hate me?  Do they pity me?  What do they think I am doing besides ruining my life by divorcing an abusive asshole who couldn’t stay sober or truthful for the entire course of our marriage?  Do they know I’m engaged to a beautiful woman who makes me extremely happy?  Why haven’t they reached out?  Do they really not care that I am gay as they once claimed and have some other issue with me that they’ve never had the balls to ask me about?  Do they think I’m playing a game for attention?  I may never know.  I will never be the first to call them ever again.  I tried too many times to reach out only to be rebuffed.  I’m moving on.  If they want to know how I’m doing, they will have to be the ones to take the next step.

My family didn’t cause my marriage to fail.  And my switching teams didn’t cause it to end either.  It was doomed from the start, it was horrible, my ex did everything he could to betray my trust, and it failed on its own.  It wasn’t until months after it was very much so over when I let go of the thought that divorce was not an option and began to let my heart wander free that I found a woman, the brainwashing shattered, and I found the world I belonged in.  But my family did drive me into a straight marriage and forced me into a lifestyle that was doomed with a partner that couldn’t hold up his end of the marriage agreement.  Had he been a faithful partner, I would probably still be “happily” married and oblivious to what true happiness feels like.  Growing up, I was routinely ridiculed for looking like a dyke.  My clothes weren’t girly enough, my hair wasn’t girly enough, I didn’t wear makeup and that wasn’t girly enough.  The first time I shaved my legs about age 11, my older sister told the neighbor boys that I was an idiot and explained how I did it wrong in detail to kids younger than me.  My family and their friends teased me into compliance and conformity.  I was trained to be disgusted by gays and lesbians.  Especially the ones with “an agenda”.  Having boyfriends was highly encouraged.  Abstinence was just as important.  For me, any boyfriend was considered amazing.  I grew my hair out just to make them stop ridiculing me.  I didn’t wear jewelry or clothes they didn’t approve of because I didn’t want to be teased.  It was made clear to me that gays were gross and unnatural and that they wanted to recruit everyone with their evil agenda (- which was what to make everyone gay?).  Anytime a gay couple was featured on TV or in a movie my mom would audibly scoff at it and demand we change the channel or stop watching.  My older sister fought against the “That’s a Family” materials being taught at her son’s school.  Pulling him out of school for a week to purposefully keep him from learning about Jane’s two moms from a pamphlet.  Her friend, a teacher, moved to another state because she refused to teach the materials.  I voted against gay marriage like 9 times because I was trained to.  I remember being so relieved when George W. Bush won reelection because he would be choosing the next supreme court judge and he for sure wouldn’t pick someone who would allow the abomination that was gay marriage.  My only lesbian friend beat on my dashboard after he was confirmed and I remember thinking ha ha, gays lost.  What was wrong with just giving them a domestic partnership – it was the same thing, why use our word – “marriage” is for straight christians.  These were my words – or so I thought.  I was brainwashed and corrupted by a religion and family that outwardly “loved” everyone but secretly wished they would all disappear.

So you see, I couldn’t be gay.  It wasn’t a real thing.  After my husband’s brother came out as gay, my husband and I discussed many times over the years about how it was just a choice.  He hadn’t dated enough women.  Maybe if he had women friends in high school.  Maybe if their dad hadn’t treated him like a piece of shit his whole life he’d be a real man and into women.  He clearly chose to be gay and should not be.  But to his face, I supported him.  I asked about his boyfriend, I attended his parties with his other gay friends, I made it seem like this was totally ok but once we were in the car, my husband and I went off on how wrong it was.  We ridiculed their aunt for joining PFLAG after her son came out, secretly teasing her for being ridiculous and over the top. Because that’s what I was taught to do!  It was just a bunch of degenerates that should just go hide that shit at home or repent because ew.  My mom was disappointed when she realized her only niece was gay.  My mom grew up near Buffalo, NY.  Her dad had passed away and I went with her when I was about 14 years old to help sell off Grandpa’s stuff and relocate the keepsakes to my aunt’s and cousin’s.  I was strong and agile and she needed my help. I had spent days climbing through attic rafters and crawling into tiny dirty spaces to find the lost treasures so my mom arranged for me to spend some time off with my cousin at her house.  It was nice to relax.  I’d been there for a few hours when mom came to collect me.  My cousin had brought me so my mom wanted a tour before we left.  My cousin happily took her around the 2 bedroom apartment.  Here’s the roommates son’s room, here’s our room….  (MOM BLANKED)…., here’s the kitchen, etc.  Mom noticed ONE bed in their shared room and her face went ashen and she momentarily froze in her tracks before saying “oh this is nice”.  They had lived together for like 10 years but somehow this was a shock. The drive back was fairly silent as my mom processed this awful news. She asked if I realized they were sharing a room and I remember saying no.  Truthfully, I hadn’t asked for a tour.  I was busy hanging with my cousin and couldn’t care less what bedspread she had. For the next few years, I watched my mom struggle with my cousin’s partner and their son.  She would talk to her when she called to say hi.  She would send her Christmas gifts but there was always this deep seeded air of disapproval after she hung up the phone.  She tried to hide it and probably thought no one really knew how she felt, but I saw it.  The flicker in her eye, the tightening of her jaw muscles. These moments shaped my own beliefs.  Ok to be ok with them in public but deep down, it’s ok to hate and reject them because they are sinners and gross and going to hell.  Lie to their faces.  Make them feel loved.  Puke when they are out of site.  Pray that they will find God and repent.

I have always known even if I couldn’t realize it.  I secretly tried on my dad’s ties when the house was empty.  I have always wanted a man’s suit. I gawked at men wearing khakis and polos when I had to be in a skirt and wished I had been lucky enough to be a dude so that I didn’t have to wear skirts.  I fought with my mother over clothes almost daily.  I wanted jeans and a polo or button down.  She wanted nice slacks and a blouse on me.  The most epic battle I recall winning was over a canvas belt.  She didn’t want to get it for me because I wanted a navy blue one.  She made me get a tan one too, I only ever wore the navy one.  When I was about 8 years old, I was brought into a counselor’s office.  The walls were a dark color and we sat at a small round table.  The counselor, my mom, and I were there.  My mom doesn’t recall this happening and flatly denied it occurring but I remember almost every word.  The table was next to a window but it was too high for me to see out of.  The counselor sat across from me with my mom on my left between us.  You see, it was the first time I was told that I couldn’t be what I wanted to be.  My favorite teachers were sexy blond women.  My favorite actresses were women.  I remember being grilled about the colors pink and blue.  Blue was my favorite color.  I was asked why blue, why not pink?  Every girl likes pink.  Blue is for boys.  Blue shouldn’t be my favorite color.  The counselor made me agree to green being my new favorite color.  For years I was afraid to ask for anything that was blue because I wasn’t supposed to like blue.  Blue was for boys and I was a girl.  I had short hair a few times growing up but each time was an awful experience.  One time a lady yelled at me to get out of the ladies’ bathroom at a store because I was a boy.  Mom told me she was probably drunk. My mom loved repeating this story and embarrassing me with it.  Then on my  first day of sixth grade at a new school all the kids thought I was a boy and through the window I could hear them saying I wonder what his name is.  Only to witness the shock and horror that I was indeed a girl with a girly name.  I managed to find two friends that entire year.  So within a year, I grew my hair to shoulder length and didn’t cut it off again until after high school. I didn’t want to be a dyke anymore.  I was tired of being teased for having a haircut I liked and wearing clothes I liked.  For the next twenty seven years, I obeyed the hetero rules to avoid being called gay.  When the teasing kicked back up again, I asked for help with makeup or had a sister take me clothes shopping.  I wore what they said was in style even if I hated the way I looked.  I let the hairdresser choose my hair style.  I let my sisters and mom plan my wedding so that it was up to their standards.  I quit.  I gave up trying to be who I was supposed to be because I wasn’t supposed to like the color blue and short hair is for dykes.

Even after getting married the signs were there.  How was this a surprise?  When watching porn with my now ex-husband, I refused to watch any porn involving penises.  Each time I realized this I became enraged and broke the porn DVDs or tore up the magazines because porn was evil and wrong.  I hated sex with my husband.  I avoided it as much as possible for the entire duration of our marriage.  Touching his penis was gross and felt unnatural every single time.  The ten blow jobs he got from me over 16 years were all in desperation and I would violently wretch or vomit if he finished where I could see or feel it.  He never, ever turned me on.  I had sex with him out of obligation.  I pretended as if I were into it.  I honestly cannot ever remember initiating sex with him.  When we were done, I rushed into the bathroom to clean up because – gross.  We slept with the comforter rolled up between us because I didn’t want him touching me.  In the mornings, I would wait until he left the bedroom, hop up, quickly lock the bedroom door then get dressed.  Pajamas were an absolute requirement.  If he knocked, I made him wait until I was fully clothed before he was allowed to enter the room.  When I showered, I not only locked the bedroom door, I locked the interior bathroom door too.  I made it a challenge for him to ever see me naked because it was so unnerving to be naked around him.

Now that I am who I really am, I have a much healthier view of myself.  Sex with my fiance is amazing and is nothing like the dreadful engagements with my ex.  I’m excited to be there with her, I initiate sex as often as she will allow me to.  I never ever have to look at a penis again if I don’t want to.  I enjoy touching her intimate places and exploring them as we explore and excite each other’s bodies. I walk around my house naked when she’s home.  I have never, ever felt the need to get dressed after she’s left the room.  We sleep holding each other, spooning, holding hands, cuddling, foreheads touching.  Rarely apart. We shower together almost every day.  I wear mostly men’s clothes.  Not because I want to be a man but because it’s what I’m comfortable wearing.  Oh and I wear a lot of blue, and black and gray!  I don’t like the cuts and colors most women’s clothes come in.  I even wear men’s underwear because panties just don’t feel comfy.  I like the way boxer briefs feel on my legs under my jeans.  I like the freedom from having elastic around my girl bits.  The thick cotton and wide waistband are home.

Is this why my family hasn’t spoken to me in years?  Because I am finally who I was supposed to be and they lost in the battle to hide it from me?

Self Righteous, Egotistical, Uneducated, Misinformed, and Misaligned Idiocy – You’re not a superhero, get over it

I’ve held my tongue for too long.  It’s time to unleash this beast of emotions and anger that I have kept hidden for the sake of others.

My fiance chose to end a friendship a couple of weeks ago. The now former friend was once very important to her. They’ve known each other for years and we have even spent time vacationing together. My fiance and I met through this friend. They talked everyday on instant message while working. They were very, very close.  I had the horror of watching it fall apart from up close.  Then I got the pleasure of being blamed by the friend when the blame laid entirely in her lap.  I listened to my fiance explain the final falling out but never gave my fiance any indication of what she should do.  I listened.  I hugged.  I did not make this choice, nor did I push for this choice to be made.  I didn’t push at all, I never provided an opinion, I did not even hint which direction I thought she should go.  Of course I had an opinion, it didn’t matter what I thought and it still doesn’t.  It was their friendship, not mine. My fiance made the decision to end their friendship completely of her own volition.

My fiance has had a few frustrations with this friend over the past year regarding the friend’s treatment and response to my fiance’s mental health. She told me that the way the friend spoke to her about her mental health bothered her but never really wanted to talk about it.  I wasn’t a party to their conversations, I stayed out of their friendship. I had my own with each of them but didn’t interfere with theirs. I purposefully never challenged their relationship. Before the friendship ended, I never stated a negative opinion of the friend. I do admit though, that I did on occasion vent about rude comments being made by the friend regarding my daughter. As a mother, I could not accept such petty, childish, backhanded insults to be thrown toward my daughter. When my fiance was frustrated with the friend, I listened and said that sounds shitty or some type of response like that. I just listened. When I found out the friend’s husband hated me after being unfriended (childish), I didn’t ask why, even though it was horribly painful to realize I was unwanted in that home.  I loathe rejection, it is my greatest anxiety.  Turns out based on the friend’s own words, that she has been telling my fiance for months that I’m a master manipulator and accusing me of all sorts of evil deeds. She’s been encouraging my fiance to consider alternatives, you know, to consider leaving me.  Thankfully, my fiance didn’t listen to her lies and manipulations.  Even going so far as to write my fiance an open letter on her blog where she flat out blames me for the friendship failing.  She accepts no responsibility for the friendship failing, even though the blame is entirely hers.

My fiance has depression and anxiety.  She doesn’t hide it, it’s not a secret. She wakes up each morning and fights hard.  She never gets a break from the battle.  It’s not a winnable war but each day brings a new opportunity to fight hard enough to enjoy life. She is following the advice of her medical team and she is currently winning most days’ battles. She is in counseling, as am I.  She goes to group therapy.  We attend a parenting class together. We’ve had joint therapy together.  We go to the gym as often as we can.  We eat healthy. We read books.  We care for each other’s well being.  I love her with everything I have to give and she loves me.  We have learned how to communicate and speak each other’s love languages. We know we love each other but when two broken people love each other, they have to work harder to make it work than those people who just have it easy in life. In the beginning, we had some communication issues that were briefly exasperated when we first moved in together but using the tools and techniques we’ve learned from our therapy teams, we now know how to ask the right questions and are in a place where we can be honest about things that bother us – without fear – because we know how to do it respectfully. We have discussed what makes us happy and what upsets or frustrates us and it’s working!  These past few months have been so entirely happy and positive for the two of us – but this friend isn’t happy about it.  It seems as though she’s been against us for months now and I have no idea why.  Both of us are happier than we’ve ever been in our entire lives.  I wake up each morning with a beaming smile after falling asleep in her arms.  So, so happy.

The problems began after my fiance had a mental health breakdown in May that required some additional care.  While I was the one that hit the panic button and asked the friend to check on my fiance since she was down the street from her and I was 45 minutes away, my role in my fiance’s life was ignored.  The friend treated me like an outsider and shamed me when I asked for information.  The friend took over control of my fiance, including taking away her phone, and ignored my persistent requests for updates letting me believe everything was “fine” until it suddenly wasn’t.  My fiance was forced to put someone in charge and chose the friend.  I had issues with that choice but she and I have discussed all of this openly and honestly, and I accept her reasoning.  Regardless, after being put in charge, the friend has done nothing but brag about how she dropped everything for my fiance like she’s some sort of superhero.  She’ll share with anybody and everybody my fiance’s personal matter just to sound even more important.  Well, guess what – a lot of other people dropped everything too.  I can’t even tell you how many people came to help me pack both my house and hers for our move or came over to be with me.  But the friend wasn’t one of them.  I spent the entire time working my ass off for my fiance, does that mean I’m a superhero too?  No!  It means we are good honest people that did what needed to be done for someone we care about.  You’re not a superhero, get over it.  And if you were – you certainly are the opposite now.

This friend began planning more and more things during times I couldn’t be there or it would be very inconvenient for me to be there.  Like right after work, across town near where my fiance worked but not me.  She flat refused to EVER come to our new house. It’s too far, she has too many responsibilities with her kids… These are not my words – this is what the friend said to my fiance and is now claiming she never said. She claims she has all these kids and just can’t make the drive but guess what, we have nearly as many kids who are with us more than hers are with her, they are all in sports too, and we can still make the trek.  If something is important, you find a way. My fiance knows this and does not accept this response.  She sees it as the friend being too self absorbed to realize she is not the center of the world.  She keeps saying she’s like this with everyone but yet claims my fiance is one of her best friends. When I found out her husband didn’t like me, I wasn’t surprised. They are both fickle people and honest people like me aren’t welcome in fickle houses.  We don’t understand fickle bullshit so we can’t play their games which makes them hate us.  I wasn’t told why, just that he didn’t like me. I was told that he could be civil so I shouldn’t be bothered by it. What the holy hell fuck kind of answer is that? I’m supposed to smile and be nice to someone who has made it public that he doesn’t like me but doesn’t have the balls to admit it to my face or even tell me why so I can maybe fix whatever behavior is bothering him? He and I are just supposed to pretend that we like each other because it’s easier for fickle people to be fake and lie. I’m not fickle, I don’t lie, and I’m not a fake. This friend went from being a friend to tolerating me at best and I have absolutely no idea why or even when I became her target. I brushed it off.  I let it go.  It hurt but it was important to my fiance that I pretend that it didn’t.

As someone who has been rejected by many people, I was simply waiting for this friend to take the final walk away from me too. I am too familiar with the body language and behaviors that precede being rejected that I saw it coming but I said nothing.  My fiance held this person close and I didn’t want to be in the way. Just the day before the falling out, I encouraged them to go and have a spa day while we were supposed to be camping together.  Or coffee, or something! I knew by then I was persona non-grata with the friend and her husband but my fiance was excited about camping so I was too.  I rallied up the kids, I helped plan where I could.  I never said one foul word about camping except to defend my daughter.  This former friend was constantly asking my fiance about my daughter.  It was repetitive, it was obnoxious, it was angering.  I just wanted to scream ASKED AND ANSWERED – Now what about your kid?  Oh but when I brought up her daughter’s behavior that led to my daughter’s behavior I was being rude – apparently criticizing someone else’s child only goes one way with this friend.  After all, her daughter picked almost every fight last year and would NOT give my daughter the space she kept begging for. But an occasional swear word is enough to turn my daughter into a villain.  I’d rather be around a kid that pops off a swear word once in a while over one that can’t give me personal space any day.  But I bit my tongue because I didn’t want to start a war.  It wasn’t my friendship anymore.

What led to the final straw in this friendship and the moment my fiance decided to walk away, was the behavior of this former friend.  She was horrific and she needs to be called out on her behavior.  My fiance had a bad night.  Her mental illness is similar to mine in that it manifests quickly in the form of they don’t love me anymore so now they are going to leave.  It’s my first thought when someone is upset with me.  It shouldn’t be, but it is. My fiance and this former friend had some conversation that led my fiance to believe the friend was done being her friend.  I’m not sure what was said – I didn’t ask. But my fiance suffered a breakdown thinking about the loss of that friendship.  I held her while she sobbed on the kitchen floor.  I held her while she fell asleep crying. I listened to her as she attempted to put into words the feelings she was having. I never said one negative thing about the friend.  In fact, I assured my fiance that she was probably perceiving something incorrectly.  The next morning I texted the former friend and let her know that my fiance had a bad night and provided one or two key sentences from her concerns.  I encouraged the former friend to reach out to help reassure my fiance that their friendship was solid but asked politely for the friend not to betray my confidence.  I specifically asked her to reach out in a way that didn’t let my fiance know that I “ratted her out” so to speak.  She did the opposite and as soon as possible used my words to confront my fiance during what was supposed to be a fun get together.

A few days later, the two of them were going to meet up for a drink and for my fiance to collect a payment toward camping. According to both of them, they were not in each other’s presence for very long.  Both reported that the friend told my fiance that using her mental illness as an excuse is a “cop-out”.   My fiance ended up storming out.  That’s all they agree on regarding this confrontation. My fiance called me while driving home, sobbing and screaming about the friend’s behavior.  I was stunned and said very little.  I just listened because that’s what I was asked to do.  I hugged her when she got home and tried to help her forget about the confrontation.  My fiance said that the former friend immediately started verbally attacking her.  Telling her she was ridiculous for thinking their friendship was in jeopardy.  To this, my fiance attempted to explain that her brain, her wiring, her mental illness, makes her think that everyone is leaving (as does mine). The former friend told my fiance that using her mental illness to explain a breakdown was a “cop-out” and that she should be over it (her mental health issues) by now. To hear my fiance’s version of events just shattered me – the ignorance behind such a statement is bewildering.  So I waited a day or so and called the former friend.  I only asked – what happened.  I tried asking some questions and to pass along some well intended thoughts but I was interrupted so many times, I quit talking and resorted to grunting noises. I was told by the friend that my fiance walked into the bar “looking for a fight”.  (No she wasn’t, she called me just before excited to spend time with her friend).  And that soon after they sat down together, the former friend confronted my fiance and in describing her version of events repeated the words “cop-out” no less than 20 times – thereby admitting to the most despicable act. She also mentioned that had my fiance spoken to their other friend, she’d be all better by now because that other friend was once depressed and fixed it.   According to this former friend, a lifelong battle with depression can be cured by talking with this other friend who can fix it within a few days with the tips and tricks that worked for her… Not the team of professionally trained doctors and therapists that my fiance is already working with. The most disgusting insult and most ignorant thing I have ever heard someone say is to accuse someone with a mental illness of using their mental illness as a cop-out and telling them they should be over it by now.  These two perceptions are easily the most uneducated and misaligned idiocy I have ever heard and to hear them coming from someone my fiance trusted was infuriating.  Then the friend went on to proclaim as many times as she repeated herself that she did nothing wrong, she is a superhero remember, and would stand by what she said. I kept my cool for the most part, at first I tried to rationalize what was being said but I couldn’t find any rationality.  She was refusing to admit she was wrong.  In fact, she was insisting she was completely justified in her words. I wanted to scream at her but knew it would solve nothing and it wasn’t my friendship.  She was yelling in my direction and I let her.  The one or two minor corrections I tossed back at her bounced off her ego so hard that it wasn’t worth trying.  I finally told this former friend that I was going into an area with no cell signal just to be done listening to her self righteous, egotistical, uneducated, misinformed, misaligned idiocy. It wasn’t my decision on what was going to happen next. I knew when I hung up the phone that I would likely never speak with this person again. I didn’t even tell my fiance that I spoke with the former friend until days later AFTER my fiance had decided the course she was going to take.  What was I going to say? Oh hey, you know that person you once held dear?  Yeah, she’s gone psychotic.  Instead I listened to my fiances suggestions on how we could make things better and discussed options for going camping still with this former friend and her family.  Yep – after being told that I was a piece of shit, after being excluded and treated like shit, after listening to my daughter get slammed for asinine reasons, after listening to this person admit that she insulted my fiance in the most despicable way, after finding out the husband hated me – I still listened as my fiance worked through her options including going camping after all.

This former friend thinks she is amazing. She’s not.

  • Nothing is ever this friend’s fault.  I have never heard her apologize for anything.  At least not in a sincere manner.  She’ll apologize but it is words to appease, not an admittance of guilt.  For example, I’m sorry you can’t understand me instead of I’m sorry that I didn’t word that in a respectful way.
  • She is consistently negative.  I’ve never heard her say much of anything nice about anyone but she blankets her statements with coy terms like “but that’s just how I feel”.
    • I’ve been trying to think of a time when she had something nice to say to me and I can’t.  Every time she talked to me, I felt shamed. She talked down to me so much that my self image deteriorated with each conversation.  I grew to be fearful of what she had to say because she could never find a positive approach to anything.
    • Like for example, we had a long conversation about gay marriage.  She’s against it – feels it’s a sin, would vote against it, doesn’t think it should be legal – but she would be in our wedding in a heartbeat.  (WTF?)  Then she wrote a whole blog post about how wrong it was but she loves us anyway.  If you can’t accept that we deserve to be married as much as you then you’re no better than the worst of them.  Fickle…
  • She claims to be broke and borrowed money left and right but goes on vacation without repaying her debts first.  It’s like she lives her life on a gamble that someone else can fund it until she balances her checkbook.  But don’t ever tell her husband that she borrowed money because then she might actually get rebuked.
    • I was always hearing about how the friend owed my fiance $100 for this, or $200 for that.  My fiance said she gave up asking to collect money from the friend because it was never paid when first promised.  It always got paid, just much later than planned.
    • She made my fiance pay for four campsites back in January for a trip in August and after rescheduling payments a few times, finally offered to reimburse her AFTER the camping trip.  In those 8 months, the friend and her husband/family took several trips to the beach, went to winery after winery, landscaped their backyard purchasing all sorts of new vegetation, bought a bunch of new pool toys, spent money left and right but couldn’t fork over the few hundred dollars my fiance desperately needed to reimburse her for the campsites.  After all, I had been unemployed for three months and we were broke as it was.

This friend used my fiance.  She played on her willingness to do anything for a friendship; constantly borrowed money, used my fiance for free pet sitting, used her to pay for and reserve camping sites months in advance, invited her to bring presents to her kids’ birthday parties but couldn’t be bothered to come to one of my fiance’s kids’ parties.  My fiance’s only compensation was friendship.

When my fiance decided not to go camping with the friend, the final falling out happened less than two weeks before a planned joint August camping trip (mentioned above).  One day earlier and we could have gotten a refund but we were within the two weeks and couldn’t.  My fiance decided without my input, that since the friend hadn’t paid a dime yet, the sites were rightfully ours so we would offer them a proposal to quit or pay.  Basically, an eviction notice from the campsites for lack of payment.  OUR MONEY USED AND IN OUR NAME = OUR SITES.  We told the friend to reimburse us immediately, or we would have to sell off the sites to recoup our money and if they can’t be sold or paid for, we would be using them.

The friend lost her shit and unfriended and blocked us on Facebook claiming it was all about the money.  What was really happening was she was embarrassed that she had to tell everyone, including her husband, that she hadn’t paid my fiance yet and that we wanted to be paid or we would rightfully use what we paid for.  She was embarrassed that she caused the situation so she decided to blame me.  Because Fickle people can’t handle being at fault.  She thought that we would just not go and let her pay us in a few weeks, after the trip, losing money on the two sites we had planned on using while her and her buddies camped there.  My fiance decided nope, pay for all four sites or it’s ours to use. The friend kept saying how we were ruining their vacation.  Um nope, you’ve ruined ours and now you’ll ruin your own vacation if you can’t pay for the sites.  We took time off work too and we intend to have a vacation of some sort.  You have our plan, now pay or don’t show up.  It wasn’t about the money.  It was about fighting for months in mediation to have a vacation with my kids.  It was about finally getting to spend time with all four kids at once.  It had nothing to do with revenge or even anger.  It was about wanting to have a peaceful vacation, and we shouldn’t have to pay for one we aren’t going on – pay your debts when they are due and no one has to ask for their rightful money.  She also bitched about having to meal plan for everyone on her own now.  Really? Um so do we – that’s a normal thing moms do?  Anyway, waiting 8 months to pay someone back, making them feel unwelcome, and then having a fit about them asking for reimbursement is childish.  You don’t get to pay for something after you’ve used it.  You can’t eat a box of donuts then pay for it.  You don’t get to pay for admission to the amusement park as you leave.  You don’t get to take the groceries home, eat them, and return six months later to pay.  You don’t get to use someone else’s campsites for free.

Here’s an excerpt from the friend’s blog about the falling out which shows her complete ineptitude to understand that I had no role in this and only wants to blame me because she can’t accept that she chased her friend away.  I have no idea what lies she thinks I’m telling.  I haven’t told any that I know of.  I have admitted that I withheld my own opinions about the friend but that can’t be what the friend is talking about.  I’ve never said anything to my fiance about the friend that the fiance didn’t say to me first.

While I still stand by the fact that in our last confrontation I didn’t do anything “wrong” per se, I do have deep regret on how you perceived things to be, and am sorry you were feeling the way you were/are.  And unfortunately, it helped open the door to the lies you are being told.  I can only hope, that you after 7 years, would know I would never ever say half the things you are believing right now, and that you’ll know, that’s not me.  That the twisted words you are choosing to hear right now… are not ones I would say.  I hope you will see the lies, and manipulation for what they are.

See – no responsibility taken for her own actions.  Somehow, even though I wasn’t there and said nothing about it – I’m to blame for how my fiance perceived the “confrontation” and again, what lies?  She wouldn’t say half the things my fiance heard her say?  Huh?

I would never tell you who you can, and cannot be with.  I know you’ll choose to remain with your partner, and I respect that.  I sincerely hope though, given other events that have happened, you’ll know what you are hearing is not what was said, or done.  We both know the extent of manipulation that can happen with her… and I will always regret that your partner is what caused our friendship to end.  I should’ve seen it, and I should’ve known better.  I should have maybe fought harder or gone a different way about things.  I should not have let her come between us.

I don’t know what other wrongs you believe I have done you… and I may never know.

I repeat – I had nothing to do with this friendship ending.  And I’m glad my fiance has chosen not to read this “open letter” because in her exact words she “knows it’s all bullshit and doesn’t need to read it”.  I can only hope that the former friend’s remaining friends will find a way to reach her and help her come to terms with being a jackass to someone who relied on her and for blaming someone who had nothing to do with it.  The only way this friendship ever resurrects is if this former friend comes apologizing on her knees for forgiveness and guess what – I’ve forgiven her, it’s not me that requires an apology, it’s my fiance.  I don’t hold grudges.  I never have, I never will.  If this former friend were to admit she was wrong, I would listen.  But my fiance might not ever give her the chance.

Tired of Being a Stupid Fuck Up

Seems like I can’t do anything right lately.  Things were going great for a while there. My girlfriend and her boys moved in with me and my kiddos.  I proposed and she accepted. Happiness all around! I love having her come home to me every night.  I love having all of our kiddos in the same house.  We sleep in each other’s arms.  We share our story now. It is as amazing as I had hoped and dreamed. Now if everything else could’ve just fallen into place too.

In April, I was let go from my job. I loved my job. I’m an IT Project Manager and that means I “people” for a living, translate between technical and non-technical people, negotiate, find common goals, and write reports about it.  I’m good at it. Unfortunately, my company made some financial mistakes and too many of us are now looking for jobs because of it. So I’m unemployed.

I went to see my therapist which I have done consistently for almost a year now.  Each week or every other week, I sit there and tell her what’s been bugging me and she helps me sort through it all. Definitely one of my heroes through the hell I’ve gone through with this divorce and the ongoing issues with my body following my accident two years ago. She’s been with me this entire time.

A few weeks ago, I had a joint session with my fiance’s therapist just ahead of moving in together and he asked me about my ADHD and how it is being treated. I looked at him like he was on drugs. Then my fiance nodded like, yeah.  So I asked my therapist and she was like, yeah. And so I told some friends and they were like, yeah.

So now I’m like WHAT THE FUCK? Has no one thought to talk to me about it so that maybe I could be treated for it? So that I could quit being such a fuck up? So that maybe the stupid shit that I forget to do every day I don’t feel so horrible about because I’m actually biologically fucked up and forgetting simple shit is what my brain does to me? Maybe if I were treated for this, I could actually be able to not forget what the fuck I was doing and get something done for once!

All I know is that when I forget to do something small, I seem to gather up oh it’s ok she’s just stupid points. I can no longer just let myself be a fuck up.  I need to fix this. I need to quit forgetting to do simple shit. I’m pissed off that I have no insurance right now – which means I can’t get on meds – which means I can’t fix my fucked up biology – yet.

We moved.  I’m unemployed.  We should be fully unpacked right?  Wrong.  Because I keep fucking that up too. Can’t seem to find time to unpack even a single box most days.  I’ve been looking at the same pile of shit in the front room for a month now. I manage to get a few things done each day but it never seems to meet the standards of either my own expectations or my fiance’s. I see disappointment in her eyes when she gets home from work and the same pile of shit greets her.  She says she’s not disappointed but she’s frustrated at a minimum. But the fridge is dispensing water now!  I sold the giant ass TV and made a hole in the garage’s pile of shit. I slaughtered the rooster that was supposed to be a hen and kept waking us up at 5am and he’s ready to eat now! I’ve made delicious dinners every single night this week using scraps from our empty cupboards and fridge.  I’ve kept the kitchen reasonably clean.  I’ve managed not to kill the children while you’re at work.  For the first few weeks, I drove two hours each day to pick up two of the kids after school because they were still attending where you used to live and it was during rush hour.  Often taking them to sports or therapy afterward – and I never once complained because I didn’t mind at all. I liked being needed and feeling loved when they ran out of their classrooms and into my open arms.

But I fucked up my unemployment. I missed requesting four checks because I’m stupid.  I didn’t hit “confirm” so they weren’t sent and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Then I forgot to update my address when we moved so when the checks started flowing, they got sent back because government mail doesn’t get forwarded – and somehow everyone but me knew this. I forgot to do a five second task I promised I would do. I left a couple of bills on autopay because I’ve used it for the past 20 years without any problems but now it’s a problem and having those bills come out as planned sucked for my bank account. I forgot to deposit the one check I needed to on time. I forgot to email the old landlord about them stealing $550 from us. I forgot to tell my ex to pay me for the damn truck he got in the divorce because no the bank won’t just put the loan in his name.  And on and on and on.

I’m tired of disappointing every single person, every single day. I’m tired of feeling like a failure. I’m tired of not feeling good enough for anyone. Can’t clean up the pile of shit in the living room or the front room.  Can’t remember to start dinner early enough to eat at a reasonable hour. But hey, want that picture hung perfectly level – I can zone in on that for hours until it’s done right. Want me to start six projects and finish none of them?  On it. That’s my specialty.

My therapist actually says it explains a lot about the way my parents treated me as a kid. Here I was this high energy, super excited kid who noticed everything and my parents just wanted me to sit down and shut up and be who they said I was supposed to be. Then I grew up to be something they believe to be disgusting and reprehensible. I’m divorced and gay. Obviously, they raised a piece of trash.

To top it all off – my kids are going to go spend 10 days with my bio family.  The ones who are angry with me for some unsaid reason but the only thing that’s changed is that I’m not married to that man anymore and I am gay.  That man who they have accepted with open arms. The one who committed perjury on the stand. The admitted, untreated alcoholic who verbally, emotionally, and socially abused me and flat denied all of it. The one who practically raped me when he found out I preferred women. Only, I can’t say he did because technically, I didn’t say no. But they are paying for his airfare – flying him down, welcoming him to their table, speaking kindly to him, allowing him to stay in their home, allowing him to teach my children to question my devotion to them… all while pretending he’s done nothing wrong that I am the person who is to blame for the marriage failing – when his drinking, lying, and daily endangerment of the kids was the sole and only reason our marriage failed.  I figured out who I was only after the hetero-christian box I was forced into collapsed around me.

I was in town six months ago for New Years.  I reached out.  I offered to meet for coffee. My parents said no. MY PARENTS SAID NO TO COFFEE.  Coffee.  They can’t even be in my presence for half an hour with several weeks notice. But they can let him stay at their house with open arms and an open wallet. I shouldn’t be surprised.  They didn’t call when I was almost killed in an accident. Why should I think they’d want me now?

He’s a prince and I’m a reject. How the fuck is this reality?  I am an idiot for thinking I was ever loved by them. They chose when to give me praise and it was so infrequent that I spent every day trying to live up to their standards, just to get that ounce of praise I craved. I was never good enough then, I’m not good enough now, I’ll never be good enough.