Categories
Family Thoughts on life

Am I A Bad Mom?

I have been asking myself lately, “Am I a bad mom?”. The reason I have been asking this question is that my children aren’t speaking to me. As long as my boyfriend is in the picture, they want nothing to do with me. 

They have a valid point in their stand against my boyfriend. See, they are aware that my relationship has put me in danger in the past. So they feel, and rightfully so, that forgiving him, getting back together, and moving forward is a bad decision. I can’t say I blame them. I think about how I would feel if it was my mom and I know I would be mad at her, although I wouldn’t refuse to see her over her choice.  

Maybe the difference is that they are given the choice of whether to see me or not. I have major mixed feelings about that. On one hand I agree they shouldn’t see me if they don’t want to. On the other hand, if I don’t have my boyfriend around them, which I don’t, then what’s the big deal? They need to spend time with me. 

I understand they are worried about me, but I am a big girl. Also, unfortunately, I only get about 12 to 16 hours with my kids in a whole month. The rest of the time, I’m living my life. 

I don’t mean to sound insensitive, I’m just being honest about the way things are. Trust me, I wish like hell I had more time with them. I also know they are in a much healthier environment living with their dad and step-mom, and that is a fact that took me years to come to terms with. They have stability with their dad that I am not mentally capable of giving them.

So, other than worrying about me, why do they care who my company is when they aren’t around? 

I wrote in an earlier post that I proposed that my family life and personal life be separate things. Why can’t that work? 

I imagine 100 women gaping at me right now and wondering how I can be so awful, shaming me, and judging me. Go ahead. You aren’t perfect, and although you love your kids very much, if you had no choice but to have very limited visitation with them, what would you do with your time? If your kids lived an hour away from you, and you saw them 12 hours a month, would their opinion of how you spend your time and who you spend time with matter to you? Or would you tell them to hush, mind their own business and say they are kids and have no idea how life really works, yet alone the complexity of romantic adult relationships. 

This situation is a tough one because I see both sides. My kids aren’t just being brats. They are way above average intelligence, compassionate, funny, spiritual, talented, just the whole package. They are outstanding. It would be different if they were simply brats wanting their way. That is not who they are at all. I believe their standing comes from genuine love and concern for my well-being, and although I appreciate that, they are after all, still children, and don’t know the consequences of us being estranged. It could possibly have life-long effects which could include anger, resentment and unhealthy relationship patterns themselves, which science teaches us that fun fact. 

If my children had to be around my boyfriend in any capacity, and they were afraid for my safety or their own, the decision would be simple. His ass would be gone. No question. 

In this case however, they do not ever have to see him. Ever. We don’t have to talk about him, in fact, we can pretend he doesn’t exist. 

If I break up with my boyfriend, in my case, it should be for my own personal reasons being that I am the only one around him. It might happen, believe me, he pisses me off on just about a daily basis. The choice to break up with him should be mine though and I don’t think it’s right for my family to dangle my relationships with them just out of reach unless I make the choices they want. That doesn’t seem right. I would never think of doing that to any of them, whether I agree with their choices or not. 

So dear readers, hate me if you want. At least I’m honest enough to admit my humanity rather than hide it. So many women are in shitty marriages and pretending everything is okay while their kids are there every day to witness the horror show. 

So judge me if you must, but before you do, I sure hope you know what it’s like to not have regular visitation with your kids that’s out of your control, while you attempt to scramble some sort of life out of the remains of your broken heart. I also hope you are in love with someone who drives you completely insane that your family hates and punishes you for being with. Then and only then, do you have the right to judge me. 

Whew!!! I feel better, thanks guys. 

Rant over. 

Categories
Mental illness

Cheaters and Liars


If I am to be honest, I have been a cheater and a liar before. In fact, I had an affair during my first marriage which ultimately ended the relationship. Once trust is broken, it’s incredibly difficult to get it back.

Of course, no one cares about how the cheater feels, they cheated. They deserve pain, guilt and whatever else happens as a result of their bad karma. Until I was the cheater, I assumed they didn’t feel guilty about their actions anyway.

I can’t speak for all cheaters or former cheaters, but not only did it not feel good to cheat, the remorse I felt once I was found out and seeing the pain I caused was truly awful.

Karma working the way it does, it would make sense for me to pay for my decision to cheat. The mere feelings I had were not sufficient. Well, I paid in spades.

Everyone knows the saying, ” once a cheater, always a cheater”. That rule doesn’t apply to everyone.

I became an anti-cheater, or as someone affectionately called me, the “Monogamy Nazi”.

Honesty, fidelity, and trust became the most important things in the world to me. There is no room in my world for infidelity.

Lying and cheating tend to go hand in hand. Lies become necessary to carry out the cheating and to keep the affair going. Once the habit of lying has begun, it’s like a contagious illness, it spreads. It spreads into all areas of your daily life, and after a while you may even begin to believe the lies yourself.

With my monogamy comes honesty. I am honest to a fault at this time in my life. I have never liked to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I will if I have to.

*If anyone would like me to tell you about yourself, just ask. I will begrudgingly oblige.*                          

Keith’s death also has contributed to my lack of filter. My mother-in-law refers to a condition very similar as “grief-stripping”.

Seems appropriate.

The whole point of this rant is to let it be known that I understand what it feels like from both sides, and they both suck.

Being the one cheated on feels horrible because of the betrayal. Your body and soul should belong to your partner, and that is sacred. When betrayal occurs, it’s a violation of this sacred bond and ultimately, a violation of trust.

Being the one cheating sucks on a different level. You know you’re screwing up, and you know you could lose everything you have that truly means everything to you, but the lure of infidelity can be exciting and intoxicating.

Once the cheating has happened, there’s no going back. You can’t take it away, no matter how much you may want to. If your partner finds out or you tell them, their pain becomes your pain, and it should. I had to keep in mind that the pain I felt merely witnessing my partner’s pain, was nothing compared to how felt.

My pain was well deserved.

The cheater and the partner (or former partner), now have to deal with the consequences of infidelity.

If you stay together, be prepared for a lot of work. Relationships are hard work without betrayal, so throwing the wrench of deceit into the mess makes it extra tough, but It can be done.

My best advice is this; cheaters, accept responsibility. Do not blame your partner for your bad choices. It’s your fault and yours alone. If there is a problem at home, go home and fix it. All of that energy used to lie and sneak around can be transferred to your relationship and fixing what’s broken.

No excuses.

Ok, now the victims, because that’s what you are. The betrayal feels awful when it’s done to you. If your partner comes clean and wants to work things out with you, you have a decision to make.

Do you stay with this person, or go?

If you stay, be prepared for a tough road. If you leave, then do your best to move on in a healthy way. In both cases, forgiveness is in order.

Always remember, forgiving isn’t for the person who wronged you, it’s for you.

Respect yourself, love yourself. Make your stance on what your needs are and stick to your guns. If your partner loves you and truly wants to make it work, they will work to keep you and they should.

If they won’t fight to keep you and work really hard, LET THEM GO.

GOOD RIDDANCE.

Categories
Good Advice Thoughts on life

Love In A Time Of Pure Craziness


There is a lot I can’t say on this platform for various reasons. The most important reason is that my children have access to my blog and I want their innocence to remain intact as long as possible.

I can say though, that I have had a very full and interesting life with so many stages, twists, turns, heartbreak and a lot of love thrown in the mix.

Everyone has been asked at one time or another, if they could live their life over again if they would change anything. I have heard about fifty percent say yes and fifty percent say no.

I am on the fence about that particular question and have gone back and forth on my opinion of it many times over the years.

I have had the same generic answer everyone usually gives when referring to a life of no regrets. It usually goes something like this… “I have no regrets because my mistakes have helped mold me into the person I am today.”

I’m calling bullshit on that whole thing. Okay, it’s not complete bullshit, but come on. Of course we have regret. Of course we wish our lives had been a little easier or we had taken that vacation last summer. Everyone has regret.

Before you argue or dismiss what I’m saying, think about the last time you said, “I wish I had (fill in blank).” Five minutes after I began writing this piece I said, “Man, I wish I had made coffee before I started this.” Regret.

We all regret something, and if we can regret something as small as the route we took to the mall, it’s safe to say we regret some of our past mistakes.

Where I think the “no regrets” speech sort of applies, is within the lessons we learn. I believe we can regret our choices or how some things have played out while still appreciating what we took away from the experience.

I’ve talked about learning and the evolution of the soul in past posts and this regret thing applies. Why can’t we be all of it? Regretful, yet grateful? It’s ok to have regret. It doesn’t make you a bad person or a weak person. What makes you strong is the presence of gratitude.

You might want to smack the hell out of me right now. I get it. However, in times when we reflect on our lives and feel regret, it’s so important to look at where the choices led you and be grateful you made it through without killing everyone.

It’s ok to regret and wish things had gone differently, just don’t beat yourself up about it. Forgive yourself or others involved, be grateful for what you took away from the experience and move forward. Hopefully not making the same mistake multiple times. Even if you do make the same mistakes again, just know you simply haven’t learned what you’re supposed to yet, so look closer at it. Try something different because the old way doesn’t work, you already know that because of regret.

I choose to be grateful for regret. It reminds me that I’m human and imperfect. It also reminds me that I have a conscience telling me, “Girl, that shit ain’t right.” Embrace your regret and then bury it in the backyard next to your ex-husband. (Just kidding).

I’m going to share my favorite quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson I believe fits well here.

Write it on your heart
that every day is the best day in the year.
He or she is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day
who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.

Finish each day and be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in.
Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day;
begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit
to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

This new day is too dear,
with its hopes and invitations,
to waste a moment on the yesterdays.

Categories
Mental illness

My Momma, The Fighter


I haven’t written anything recently because my momma got sick. I mean, really sick.

We have known she has COPD from years of smoking cigarettes. She was smoking two packs a day since she was fourteen, with a couple of breaks thrown in there.

One such break lasted six years. She quit when pregnant with Little Sister, and then five years after having her, she was also smoke-free. She was addicted to nicotine gum, however.

It has become increasingly difficult for her to breathe and lately she has been very lethargic and winded more than usual.

My sister took Momma to an urgent care center where she was diagnosed as having stage four COPD. Her oxygen level was low but they were able to get it up to eighty. It’s supposed to be at one hundred, or at least close to it.

The doctor reluctantly allowed Momma to go home. After being home a short while she was beginning to not make sense when speaking and feeling extremely sleepy.

Little Sister checked her oxygen level and she was at a thirty-five. Momma said she only wanted to sleep but Little Sister said, “No, we are going to the hospital, deal with it.”

Poor Little Sister watched as nurses and technicians scurried around Momma, starting I.V.’s and oxygen. ” You saved her life, ” one nurse had said.

The hospital ran test after test and when the doctor entered Momma’s room in the E.R., he gravely told Little Sister that Momma probably wouldn’t make it past a week, she was dying.

She called me hysterical and as luck would have it, my car was broke down, still is. I got to the hospital the following day and my momma was incomprehensible. She made zero sense. She also thought it was nineteen-ninety-one. I wish.

It was scary and I was very upset. Little Sister left and I stayed with Momma. I went home late that night and broke down. I was devastated.

The following day, I returned to stay with Momma all night. The previous day, I had left a sickly, frail-looking, dying woman. The feisty woman sitting up and griping about nurses was way more recognizable.

I was relieved until I found out there was very little improvement. She was simply making more sense due to her body receiving the oxygen it so badly needed.

I’m going to back up a little and tell you something about Momma.

Momma is somewhat of a drama queen. She is also an attention seeker and prefers the spotlight. She is “on stage” most of the time. Take those attributes and combine them with a little hypochondria, and you have my momma. Except this was real.

A day and a half later I arrived to Momma’s room and found her as I did before, sitting up in bed and griping about nurses. They didn’t hop around her and worship her properly, you see. So I thought I had better do it, and fast, or there was no hope for humanity. The world would surely suffer, but I digress. (I’m not a drama queen at all you know)

I was then informed she had improved. They no longer felt she was dying, at least not within a week as originally thought.

I told her, “You know, the mean one’s live forever.” She didn’t laugh. I thought it was quite funny. Sometimes I think I am the only one finding me funny. Oh well.

My aunt came up from Florida to see Momma because she was dying. With her no longer dying, (well at least not dying as soon) my aunt feels she has wasted a trip. She’s the aunt who only comes to Oklahoma when someone dies. She’s hysterical. I spent some time with her today and we have a lot in common it turns out. She may be more of a bitch though. I have much to learn.

So, there you have it. I am stressed, tired, and now dealing with an incredibly difficult patient. If Momma had her way she would fire all of the nurses and only have me and Little Sister nurse her.

I don’t mind helping or taking care of her. She is just a horrible patient. At three in the morning, right as I am drifting off to sleep, she begins to poke me. She also demands ice chips, she is allowed a couple of teaspoons a day. She is very thirsty and I understand that. She can’t have anything by mouth because she is aspirating everything she ingests. So no, Momma, I’m not going to be responsible for killing you, at least not today.

In all seriousness, although she drives me insane, I love her so hard and we are very close. I know someday I will have to live without her, but I’m not ready. I still need her. I suppose I will always feel that way.

We are always our mother’s babies, and they are always our mommies no matter how old we are. I am thirty-seven and when I’m sick I would give anything to feel my mamas cool hand checking my forehead for a temperature, or have the best potato soup ever that she always spent hours making for me when I had strep throat. It would be hard to pick a favorite memory, there are many.

Now I’m going to go fluff her pillows for the millionth time, figure out how to put subtitles on the blaring television, and empty her urine bucket because according to her, that work is too gross for the nurses. I will do all of this with a big smile on my face because one day I will wish she were here to cause me all of this stress. Oh ya, also because I freaking love her so much. She’s nuts, but she’s mine.

Categories
Thoughts on life

Perception Is Reality

I used to at least always attempt to be optimistic about everything, even when the universe seemed against me. This is a feat I struggle with immensely now, especially after everything I have been through in my life.

Years of mental health issues, tragedy, or just being a grumpy asshole can turn the optimist into the pessimist; ultimately changing not only one’s perceptions but the course of one’s life.

The butterfly effect based on chaos theory was originally centered around the weather. Since the 1980s, people have also come to think the butterfly effect is a metaphor for how a small, seemingly insignificant event or action can affect or even completely change the outcome.

Perception is kind of like that. What we perceive in any area of life is our reality. You can think, speak or believe things into existence including happiness.

For us mental patients, this is such a good idea in theory but damn near impossible.

I believe to my very core, that the meaning of life is so simple, just hard to attain.

Gratitude and Love

Simple, right? Easy? No. It seems easy but it’s not. Life makes us bitter and angry.

Even the nicest person can have tons of pent up anger and aggression while appearing to be happy and healthy. A person can even be unaware of these toxic feelings until one day they just, snap.

Anger and aggression aren’t even what makes gratitude and love the most difficult.

It gets the hardest when tragedy enters your life. It’s very hard to love and be grateful when your spouse or child just died.

It’s unfair and makes no sense to us when tragedy happens. The only explanation I can come up with is that we are supposed to learn something, and we either get it or we don’t. If we don’t get it in this lifetime, maybe we will in the next one.

Learning to live a life of gratitude and love is very difficult. I know from personal experience that when we at least attempt to attain a life of gratitude and love, the results are magical.

Suddenly doors open that were previously closed, relationships improve and you start living a life you always wanted.

Try it. Make a serious conscious effort to live your life with gratitude and love for two weeks. Hell, try it for one week. You will find something you have been looking for…

Happiness.

Categories
Mental illness

My Love


So my man is not perfect by any means. In fact, we have had our share of issues since the beginning of us. One thing I am absolutely certain of however, is that he and I are meant to be together. There have been many crazy coincidences since we met that cannot be ignored. I met a woman recently that has known my man since he was very little and this woman also knows my family including my mom and favorite uncle. This is just one of many things that is a little creepy.

I have a “pod” theory. I believe we all have a “pod”. It includes people we know or have yet to know and that we are meant to know. I believe we have more than likely lived many lifetimes with these same souls with their involvement in our lives varying from lifetime to lifetime. I think we keep finding each other over and over again because we each fill a purpose for someone or more than likely, multiple people. Meeting Jason in this lifetime has taught me innumerable lessons and also given me a love I never thought I would ever have again.

When I lost my husband Keith in October 2017, I was convinced he had been my greatest love and I would never find that again. I was ok with ending up an old spinster with 100 cats. I thought I saw my future so clearly. I was so, so wrong. Jason came into my life unexpectedly and the love that followed being even more unexpected. I was in the throws of grief and he helped me in ways no one else could have. We have had problems though and it’s been a tough road at times but it was bound to be. He was newly divorced and I was newly widowed. We weren’t ready for what was happening yet there it was. With these life changing events right under us, there have naturally been challenges. The awesome thing is that we continue to thrive and grow together as a couple, as friends and as a family that we are creating together. He is my family.

I have been struggling lately with trust. It’s made me clingy and weird and I have hated myself for acting this way. I have come to a realization that I trust him 100 percent with my life, my heart and my soul, and this fear I have is based on actions of his, which were based on his own fears. The most important thing is that not only is he still here with me, but he chooses me every day and I choose him. I have every confidence that our upcoming marriage will be strong and last because we have already survived the impossible together and survived the even further impossible before we ever met. We are simply survivors. I can’t think of anyone I would rather do the rest of life with other than him and thank God I don’t have to think about that. My man is here with me and here is where he will always be. It feels good to know that and really know.