when I tell you I cried

I carry mom guilt. Not every day, but often enough. I always hope that I didn't screw up too badly as a parent. I have only a few regrets (thankfully?) and I can count them on one hand.  They're always there, in the back of my head, that nagging voice reminding me . 

Mom guilt. It's rough. 

Last weekend I was watching the GrandBaby#1.  She's two and very independent and very much likes to mimic me.  We were having breakfast and I gave her orange juice in a cup.  A cup with no lid.

She did very well and I snapped a pic to send to her mom and her auntie.  The conversation morphed into something unexpected:

Our childhood was the best.

Seeing the Dramas talk about these specific Friday night memories with such fondness made me smile. Something that at the time seemed so small and inconsequential to me.  Yet created such happy memories and left a positive lasting impression.

Reader. When I tell you I cried. Big fat tears. And I felt an overwhelming sense of, I don't even know - relief?  Relief I didn't even know I needed.  

Damn. 

Processing

His apologies and excuses.

His promises of never again.

I wear a smile to hide the pain.

Snorting hope like it’s a goddam drug.

Assuming blame that isn’t mine.

His actions. My burden.

His lies. My heartbreak.

His smiles.

 

Originally posted 08/29/18.

Moron

I was going through old photos and deleting the 257gazillion screenshots of memes and screen shots, and other rando shit you save on your phone that you never look at again.  In the mix was several photos of the Ex. Mostly him and one of the dog's. Very few of him and me, or him and the Dramas.  It's weird that I feel absolutely nothing when I see him in person, but something about seeing those old photos made me feel some kinda way.  

I felt it like a pit in my stomach, like when you're on a an amusement park ride and your stomach falls out from under you.  But it also felt like an ache. In my heart.

Nostalgia? Grief? Indigestion?

Whatever it was, I didn't like.  And my inner dialog seized the opportunity to speak some harsh truths.

after everything he did?  

after what he put you though?

the lies? mockery? lack of respect and common decency?

you're gonna feel some kinda way?

You're a fucking moron.   

and it's not wrong, per se. 

I have a habit of holding on to shit I don't need. Literally and figuratively. During the past few months I've been purging; cleaning; unlearning old habits and archaic beliefs. Taking loads of crap to the dump. Washing my brain with soap. I gathered some of that energy and put it to use. I used those harsh truths to muster up something akin to bravery. Maybe determination?

As I deleted the memes-a-plenty, I also deleted the photos of him. Moving along, clicking next. delete. next, delete, getting into a rhythm, I came across a shitton of text message screen shots.

apologies. 

i love you's. 

it won't happen again's. 

this made me realize how much i need you's.

And I realized as I read the first few, my inner dialog was right. I was a fucking moron. All those years of staying in my comfort zone and snorting up hope that he'd change like a goddam drug. It got me nothing but older.

And as I proceeded to delete those texts, I got to a point where I didn't even read them. Because they didn't matter. And I sure as hell don't need to keep them for some self inflicted painful journey down memory lane at a later date. 

My life is different now. In a good way. In a calmer, peaceful way.  Guys, my fucking hair is healthier. Like, WTF?

People were right, it took time, patience, and reflection. And so much working on me. To find me. 

I cannot believe my life is what it is now.  I look back and don't recognize the old me or my old life.  I kinda like me again (it's a work in progress). I like the boundaries I've set. The goals I've set. The freedom to do or not do what I want, when I want. If I want. To like the things I like, without judgment.

And I sure as shit don't miss anyone commenting you got another box from amazon today. Or watching a constant rotation of Cops, drag racing, and golf.

The facts are he's miserable in his new life, and still broke, and still a liar. And well. I'll take it.  Chalk it up as entertainment for my amusement courtesy of the Fates. And Karma.

Karma's a relaxing thought ...

Ask me what I learned from all those years
Ask me what I earned from all those tears

Sweet like justice, karma is a queen...

~ Taylor Swift 

 

 

Random thoughts

Tomorrow is The Ex’s birthday. Tuesday is my birthday. Then, the following Saturday would have marked 23 years we’d been together.

I’m ok with tomorrow. Doesn’t bother me that it’s his day. Plus, I have a date with the handsome flyboy.

Tuesday I’m struggling with. For reasons I’ll set out later after I overthink the shit out of them.

Next Saturday, the 14th, oddly, isn’t bothering me much either. Which is odd. Because I thought it might.

The three dates together is mildly annoying because I almost feel like my day is bookended with bullshit.

Things at work took an unexpected turn this week that is best described as it’s about fucking time someone took notice of the shit I do around here and pays me what I’m worth. 

Yesterday, after our motorcycle ride, I took off the helmet and sat it on the bike seat.  Flyboy said “you should just hang onto that for next time.”  Clearly implying a next time. swoon

Finally, sexual frustration is a thing. A very real, very frustrating, thing. Like, seriously, it has me pissed about why that floor is on the fucking floor right now.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

His apologies and excuses.

His promises of never again.

I wear a smile to hide the pain.

Snorting hope like it’s a goddam drug.

Assuming blame that isn’t mine.

His actions. My burden.

His lies. My heartbreak.

His smile.

Grandma

Dear Grandma, 

We met when I was 11. I didn’t think you liked me very much. In hindsight, I’m sure you felt the same. I had my 12^th birthday party as an official member of the family. I still didn’t feel welcome. Out of 32 grand kids, I wasn’t sure there could be much more room for another. I would eventually find out I was wrong.

We had a mutual indifference toward each other for a few years. That is until the summer I was 14. I remember it like yesterday. We were having a BBQ at our house and everyone was there. You, the crazy aunts and the weird uncles, the cousins. Maybe even a neighbor or two. And I remember that the aunts were trash talking on Grandpa and you were mostly agreeing with what they said. Since he was the only grandpa I’d ever known, I was a bit pissed at the whole conversation. When I could handle it no more, I finally spoke up and told you and the aunts that it wasn’t your business where he lived or how he spent his money. You sat there staring at me and when you opened your mouth to speak, you agreed with me. 

 I was as shocked as you were.

That moment changed everything for us. I was no longer the step-grand kid. I was welcomed in and forever more, no matter how old or young I was, you welcomed my opinions and backed me up when I was offended by the family. We had great conversations. I am as stubborn and opinionated as you were. We shared bologna and lettuce sandwiches. You made me creamed peas on toast with real butter. You even shared your popcorn. What a treat that was and I looked forward to coming to your house because of the good eats, the good conversation and mostly, because you never talked to me like a child or an idiot.

As I grew older, I began to more fully appreciate the times we could spend together. Talking and drinking coffee or sharing a root beer. I will never forget when 8 (Drama#2) was just a baby. Not even one year old yet and you came over with mom and dad. She looked right at you and said ‘Gamma.’ Your face lit up so. I get watery eyes thinking about it now. Then as we sat in the kitchen and chatted about everything and nothing at all, and out of the clear blue you told me of a conversation with Grandpa after your divorce, about oral sex.  "He told me, [Grandma] don't ever let a man put his penis in your mouth."

I died.  

I know I choked on my coffee. Probably spit some across the room too. I know TheMan was surprised because he looked at me for something to say. I was speechless. I think back now and that is one of the many things I cherish of our conversations – no holds barred. No topic was off limits and I thank you for that.

I’ve thought long and hard and I cannot say that I have any bad memories of you Grandma. While I was never a blood relative, you never did treat me as anything less. You were my Grandma. Not too long ago, you thanked me for letting my kids be a part of your life. Well, I thank you for being a part of mine.

You died on Saturday, November 26, 2005 at 2:00 a.m. You were 88 years old. You lived a long and often, hard life. I respect that. You didn’t give up and I respect that too. I’m glad that you will no longer be in pain and I’m glad that you won’t be lonely anymore. Now, to quote your famous words "lets quit this bawling and think of something else!"

Love, me