Tag Archives: love

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:

 

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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.

My Dad has a Blog

My Dad is a blogger.  He is one of the biggest hypocritical bigots on the planet.

He has rallied for Ted Cruz for months – I keep typing responses like this one into some of his posts but can’t bring myself to hit “send”.

So what you’re saying is that you fully support and encourage Republicans to vote for Rafael “Ted” Cruz?  You do know that he is not a naturalized US citizen (born in Canada – which you railed against Obama for)?  I’m sure you realize he is a staunch anti-gay rights / anti-marriage equality candidate.  Your second daughter is a lesbian.  How does she feel about you supporting such a bigoted candidate with an agenda that clearly focuses on taking away her rights as a human?  Should she not be allowed to love a person of the same sex just because you think it’s wrong?  Isn’t the US built on the premise that religion and politics should not be intertwined?  She’s not asking to be allowed to marry because her religion mandates it. She’s asking to be married because your religion should never have banned it in the first place.  Have you even spoken to your daughter since she realized the hetero-christian box you forced her into as a child was not right for her and came out?  Do you expect her to ever want to spend time in your company again when you hold beliefs that are clearly opposed to everything she is and always has been?  How do you expect her to respond when everything you’ve rallied for and against her entire life slaps her in the face for who she is?

I just want to scream in his face sometimes.

22 Nights

Since the moment I met my girlfriend, I knew she was the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.  We’ve been together for almost eight months now and I haven’t had a moment of doubt.  My love has grown with each passing day and she continues to amaze me with the love she has for me.  She’s seen me at my worst and my best.  She brings me up when I’m down and down when I’m too far up.

Back in July, a series of events unfolded that allowed us to spend 22 nights in a row together.  First, her sons went on a week long vacation with their dad so she came and stayed at my home.  Two days before her sons returned, my kiddos left for a ten day trip with their father.  I employed a dog sitter and we spent the next ten nights in each other’s arms, first at her house then on a camping trip with her extended family.  After we returned from camping, her sons left for another week with their dad and my kiddos came home.  The last week was spent at my home where we got to get up and go to work together, cook and clean up dinner together, hang out and watch TV together, and so much more.

I have always been comfortable in her arms and worship the good night’s sleep I get when she is next to me.  She likes to touch me while she sleeps.  It could be holding my hand or placing her hand on my body.  She likes to spoon some nights and on other nights she’ll bury her face in my chest with her arms and legs wrapped around me tightly.  Feeling her touch or her breath on my skin sends shock waves of happiness throughout my body.  The smell of her hair and body is intoxicating. The softness and curves of her skin turn me on so quickly and deeply I become a sexually deprived adolescent in seconds at the thought of touching her.

With my divorce still pending and my children’s resistance to merging households, we have made the decision to hold off on moving in together until next summer at the earliest.  We agree that it would not be a good choice to relocate her boys in the middle of a school year.  Her boys have repeatedly asked me when I’m “going to become their other mom” or “when do they get to have two moms”.  To which I reply – someday.  I loathe the nights apart.  Living a half an hour apart means we only see each other on weekends and on rare weeknights.  We manage to talk to each other throughout the day while we’re at our desks but night is a different story.  I especially loathe the nights where we don’t get to talk as much as we would if she were here.  Between our children’s sports schedules and social events, there are plenty of nights when we barely manage to say good night.  Having spent 37 years living in a world that didn’t feel right, I don’t want to wait for anything anymore.  I want to take life by the horns and grab it not sit idly by while the winds shift so that my sails can be filled.  I want to fast forward to next summer but yet I don’t want to miss a single day with her or my kiddos.  Life is cruel and yet now that I know who I am, it is ever so amazing.

Those 22 nights were pure bliss.  We had some deep conversations, we laughed, we smiled, we relaxed, we played, we had LOTS of sex.  They ended two nights ago and I haven’t slept well since.  The first night without her, I fell asleep on the couch waking up at 2am with a stiff neck and deep regrets.  The second night, I went to bed at a reasonable hour but couldn’t fall asleep.  My bed was cold and no amount of blankets would warm it up.  Tonight I’m an insomniac.  It’s nearly 2am and although I’ve been exhausted all day, sleep is not my friend.

I miss her arms around me.  I miss her smile.  I miss her laugh.  I’m head over heels in love with her.

Am I Really a Victim with a Defeatist Attitude?

I used an analogy today that seems to represent the way I feel lately.  I feel like a punching bag.  I keep getting punched. Over and over and over and over and over.  I’m strong enough to withstand each punch but that doesn’t mean the punches don’t hurt.

I’m still not divorced.  Not because I don’t want to be nor because I haven’t offered several times to settle but because my ex has no desire to see the reality of the situation and is forcing us all the way into a trial.  I have had the hope several times now that after the five times the court has ruled in my favor that it would make it clear to him that he isn’t going to get what he’s asking for.  During the trial, he will probably call people to the stand that claim I’m a bad mother.  He’ll name call and chastise me for about a day.  I can handle that.  Even if it’s my family doing the name calling.  The people he could call don’t know me and haven’t known me for a long time.  My lawyer will have no problem destroying their credibility on the stand.  I’ve got a lot of people who are willing to refute whatever claims he might make and I’ll bring them all.  But going through the motions of getting to this trial and the day to day frustrations that come with not being divorced yet are all punches.  Sitting in that courtroom will be a marathon of punches and I’m already wincing at the thought of the pain I will bear.

Life is not easy and hasn’t been for awhile now.

As mentioned before, I am a very different person than I used to be and it’s not easy on me or my kids.  Muddled in with all the divorce drama is me as a newly single mom dealing with traumatized kids who are further traumatized each time they spend time with their father.  Their visits with him make them rude, angry, and bitter.  It takes hours for them to return to happy after spending time with him.  My daughter, being a teenager, is especially frustrated because she can sense things at a deeper level than her brother but isn’t quite old enough to voice them in a way that allows her to find peace in the situation.  I am her safe place.  She vents her frustrations on me because she knows that I will still love her when she’s done.  My son’s defense is tears.  He cries – a lot – too much.  He uses tears to get attention and it usually works because I feel the immediate pangs of being a mother and want to “fix” it as soon as it starts.  I am starting to recognize his tactic and have began deploying the “suck it up” method of parenting with this kid.  But each day, more punches and from my kids no less.

I am whining a bit but to me it’s totally worth it because this blog is my safe place.  I have a wonderful girlfriend.  She loves me for me.  I have been been madly in love with her since the moment we started dating and six months later, I continue to love her more and more each day.  I have moments where I haven’t been able to see the forest through the trees but she is capable of telling me there is more to this than what I can see and feel.  For example, I was frustrated with the way one person was treating me.  She pointed out that this is just one person and his opinion has zero impact on who I am.  She said I needed to quit being a victim with a defeatist attitude.  That stung.  It was painful to hear those words.  Far more painful than I will ever admit.  So many people before her have thrown this label on me and it’s beginning to tear at my skin.

I have been doing everything I can to quit being a victim of my circumstances, to not let life get me down.  I have sometimes lost this battle and given in to the temptation to whine but only for a moment.  I don’t wear the banner of my past on my chest.  Even though it lives in my heart and in my memories.  I haven’t forgotten how painful some of the experiences of my life were.  They flow through my brain like they were just yesterday.  The times I was ridiculed or teased, the times I wasn’t up to someone else’s standard, the times I utterly failed, and so many more painful memories.  But also in my brain, flowing alongside these memories, are the happy memories.  Getting to see my kiddos for the very first time. Going on adventures with my lady love and all over the globe, people who have come and gone from my life, scores and scores of happy memories.  Far more than the negative ones that seek to ruin me.  Once in a while, I let an unhappy memory leak out of my face.  I am a Gemini.  I talk.  I talk and I think.  So when one of these thoughts becomes my focus, I tend to discuss it.  Not necessarily looking for someone to tell me how to deal with it.  Just wanting someone to understand my past or present situation because I always feel so misunderstood.  Often these memories come up only when triggered and can lead to a snowball of past frustrations. Looking at a dress in a catalog reminds me of the cruel way my family ridiculed my strong desire to never dress like a girl, which reminds me of the time last week when someone picked on me for the way my hair was, etc. Depending on the person who I’m with, I might share a snippet of the story.  Apparently, this comes across as playing the victim card when in reality it’s just the way my brain processes things.  I see something, my brain relates it to a memory.  My Gemini mouth discusses it without thinking about it.

Sometimes I let the frustrations of the moment slip out of my face when I’ve taken too many punches for the day.  Everyone can only take so much before they need to take a breath and fight their inner demons with a new strategy.  I’m horrible at asking for help.  I don’t know how to do it.  This is the same reason why I went to bed hungry for months instead of going to a food bank. I couldn’t admit that I needed help!  I spent most of my life being ignored by the people that should have realized I was not like them, that should have allowed me to be the butch lesbian I have always been.  I was taught to just go with whatever they said because resistance was futile or painful at best. I still can’t let myself dress entirely the way I want out of fear of rejection.  Then, after finally breaking free of that life, I almost immediately had to spend six months living at someone else’s mercy.  I ate when she fed me, I bathed when she showered me, I slept when she medicated me.  I got used to not having a voice – my whole life I have never had a voice UNTIL NOW.  I can finally tell my story the way I remember it not the revisionist history others have trumped up to feel better about themselves.  The problem is when I point out that something hurt my feelings or trumped up a memory, I’m called a victim.  When I try not to show how much each punch hurts, but they start building up and I can’t fight the frustration anymore, I am said to be letting life defeat me.  I could expel so many victim-like statements soaked in a defeatist attitude about my past but it isn’t important any more and doesn’t deserve my focus and energy.  I’m not defeated.  I AM NOT A VICTIM.  I AM A SURVIVOR.  I’m not losing this battle to win my life back. I’m winning it!  I am stronger now than I ever have been.  I can go out in public dressed however I want without any regret – although I haven’t had the budget to actually purchase the clothes I want to wear yet. I have the most perfect girlfriend whom I look forward to spending the rest of my life with.  I get to know my kids all over again as they become teenagers and young adults.  I’m free of the boundaries and fears that I was held to and held on to for so long.

I’m tired of being told I’m acting like a victim.  I’ve worked very hard to get here and I’m not going back.