Going Back

I haven’t talked about this for a really long time on here.

How the LDS church was my home growing up. How that changed after my divorce. How I went through a period of confusion and eventually left last year.

And now.

How I spoke to God and He told me it’s time to go back.

That was three weeks ago. And since then, my life has changed so much.

I changed how I dress.

I took out my nose ring and my extra earrings.

I poured out the bottle of alcohol that had been sitting in my fridge for months.

I had a few meetings with my bishop.

My daughter set a date to be baptized in just TWO short weeks (she’s 8 and a half).

And my bishop told me he wants to see me this Sunday for a temple recommend interview.

Before that appointment, I was having a hard time deciphering what I wanted and how quickly I wanted to make these changes but deep down, I knew.

Because when he told me we should set a goal of getting a temple recommend for the new year, I immediately began to cry happy tears.

And as I was looking back on the last few weeks, something hit me pretty strongly that this was all for a purpose and that the timing is exactly what it should’ve been.

I had struggled with the new bishop that was called to preside over our ward last summer. He wasn’t the reason I left but I was really struggling to have faith and trust in him.

Well ironically enough, the week before God told me to go back, our ward was split and that bishop no longer presided over my area.

And this new bishop that they’ve called is gentle and sensitive. He seems so REAL and genuine. I felt really comfortable talking to him about this past year and everything I’ve been through. 

But mixed in with the peace I feel are serious bouts of anxiety.
Because I had reasons for leaving. 
Reasons that doubted the existence of the Priesthood.
Reasons based on my childhood in the church and some unfortunate experiences.
Reasons that have felt very valid for me.

And I was happy attending my new non-denominational Christian church.
So happy.
I had met amazing people, learned new things about Christianity, and enjoyed worshiping each Sunday.

And then I thought back to my breaking point---the point where I tried so hard to hold on to everything I had known and believed before I couldn't hold on any longer.
Because the last time I was a devout member of the church was before an entirely huge d-day that had me so angry at God for a very long time.
And although I didn't leave the church right away and I didn't leave as a direct result of those events, that breaking point spiraled a lot of doubts and feelings inside of me about the type of person I want to be and the type of God I wanted to believe in.

I have healed so much from that heartache but it still comes back sometimes. 

Three weeks ago, it came back full force when having a conversation with my daughter.
Because when I say that I'm not fully healed, it is because my children aren't fully healed. It is because I experienced the trauma not only as a friend but as a mother.

And I have never really talked about that or worked through it because I was so busy dealing with all of the outside heartache.
For me, speaking about the things my kids have gone through is so deeply personal to me that I keep those things in my physical journals. And they are things only their father and I know. And they are heartbreaking and hard to deal with as a parent.

And I don't quite know why I equate my religious affiliations with those horrible memories but right now, that's kind of what's been happening.
Because I don't want to turn back into who I was back then.
And I'm trying so hard to change that.
I'm trying so hard not to go back to that place I was once in because the truth is, God didn't do any of this to my family. He is not the reason bad things have happened.

If anything, He is the ONLY reason I am able to get out of bed each day. 

These are big changes and they're going to take me some time to get myself adjusted.

The majority of my feelings have been peaceful, even though it probably doesn't sound that way.
My doubts and anxieties are small but because they exist, I am working on keeping them small so they don't grow.

I have faith that God gave me this answer and that this is the next step in my life.

I'm scared.
But feeling positive. 

The Other Woman

I spent Thanksgiving without my kids this year. It went better than most of the other holidays I've spent without my kids and I'd like to think that means I'm healing and getting more used to sharing my children part of the time.

It felt good until my kids got home and my daughter said, "We got to spend Thanksgiving with dad's new girlfriend! She's the best! I love her so much. She says she will paint my nails and do my hair. She is my best friend."

In that moment, it felt anything but good. 

I could barely catch my breath. 

Wait a minute, Peter has a serious girlfriend and she spent a five day holiday weekend with my kids?

It felt like the world was spinning around me but I wasn't able to move or speak or even blink my eyes. I tried so hard not to lose it in front of them.

But it's been six days since then and I've lost it every night. I've cried myself to sleep every single night. I've had panic attacks every single day.

It's hard to even explain my reasoning for reacting this way. 

Peter said he hated being married and I always expected him not to get into another relationship, at least not for a very long time.
I was the one who wanted to date right away. I was the one who still believed in relationships and marriage.
And now Peter gets to have that. Peter has 26 nights a month that he could spend with his girlfriend but he is choosing to spend the ONLY 4 nights a month that he has our kids with his girlfriend too.
You'd think that'd be a good thing but last night, the kids told me that they had to go in the basement and watch movies so dad could have alone time with his girlfriend.

And then there's my eating disorder. I'm an overeating, purging mess over here because I'm just not handling this news well at all.
My thoughts turned to, "Is she skinnier and more beautiful than me? Did he find someone with a model-like body that hasn't been covered in stretch marks from pregnancy?" 

Today I met her. 
I was only given six days of knowing he had a girlfriend before I met her.
Because she was at my daughter's dance recital tonight.
And while there, my son ignored me and snuggled on her lap. My boy. My cuddly, momma's boy. He refused to sit with anybody besides her.
And while there, my daughter gave her a short hug and she said, "Really, that's all I get is a one-handed hug? I feel so unloved!" in a joking voice that grated on my last nerve because she's known my daughter for like four days now.

And I should be happy that my kids love her. But it hurts so much right now. 

It hurts so much. 

I want to write it all down, all of the pain and sadness I'm feeling, but honestly, I don't have the energy because it's all being used just to function these days.

All I can think about is how they're together and I'm here all alone, struggling to find worth within myself and raising two children who are beautiful and hard and amazing and active.

And because he only has to be their dad 4 days a month, he gets to date and have time for another adult and have physical and emotional connection.

It really, truly hurts. 

And I'm just not dealing with it well. 

It hurts that he can treat me as horribly as he does while treating another woman like she's the most important person in the world.

That used to be me. I used to be the most important person in the world to him. I used to be the one who would lay on his shoulder while we would listen to music late at night on the couch. I used to be his everything.

And although I don't want him back, it tears my heart to know that he---the man who left our family and hurt all of us so much---gets to have the very thing I've wanted for a long time.

I'm so angry that he is in a relationship and that I'm not. I'm so angry that he gets to ignore his kids the majority of the time but then they prefer him over me if we're all together. I'm so angry that my kids think she might be "their new mom".

He's already taken so much from me. He has already ruined so much. 

WHY is this even happening the way that it is? Am I really that horrible of a person that I cannot find a boyfriend? Am I really that horrible of a mother that my kids prefer their dad, the guy who is emotionally abusive to them, over me?

It all just feels like too much right now, like I'm never going to get past this phase of heartache.

It Hurts

*******************

The majority of the reactions included:

It was bound to happen eventually.

Good for him. He’s moving on.

You had to know this was going to happen.

So why are you acting so upset?

******************

They say it shouldn’t hurt because it isn’t happening to them, because the person they loved for 8 years wasn’t now in a relationship with another woman.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they didn’t feel the hurt I felt when he walked away.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they haven’t gone three years fighting extremely lonely thoughts and struggling to learn how to find a relationship worth trusting and then finding out that he gets to have the very thing they have wanted.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they don’t see the day-to-day life of ‘single mom pouring her life into her children’ while he has 25 days a month to be a bachelor.

They say it shouldn’t hurt---but they are wrong.

Because it should hurt and it does.

I didn’t know how I would react when this eventually happened. Honestly, I think I figured it would be me in a relationship first so I wouldn’t react as poorly as I have.

My daughter got in the car on Sunday and almost immediately stated, “Guess what? We might be getting a new mom because I saw dad kissing a girl out on the front porch.”

And I should’ve handled it better. The tears that started pouring down my face surprised even me. And then my sweet baby girl felt like she had done something wrong. And I felt like a complete mom-failure. I should’ve been able to keep it together for her sake.

But. It. Just. Felt. So. Horrible.

So. Horrible.

So shockingly, devastatingly, painfully horrible.

And all of my feelings of loneliness were intensified.

I can usually keep them together but not this week.

This week, the tears seem to pour out of the corners of my eyes with the tiniest little thing.

And although yesterday was horrible because I was extremely sick and threw up 7 effing times, I think I needed that day in my bed, to hide from life a little bit. Because now that I’m back living life again today, I’m trying to deal with it a little better.

And it is extremely difficult.

And really, that is all I have today. Because my beautiful life is clouded right now by some really shitty feelings. 

I Hate Today

It's just that I hated today in so many ways.

This whole weekend, actually. 

And I keep letting dumb shit get in the way of my happiness.

I'm frustrated and anxious and possibly depressed and trying to fight but not really fighting at all.

I hate August. 
I hate change.
I hate so many of my shifting relationships right now. 
And I hate how the old ones changed and were ruined and have left me with a deep pit of anxiety that seems to bleed on the new relationships.

Relationships suck sometimes. 
People suck sometimes. 

And some days I just feel like there's no one who understands me.
Like my situation is too unique and the things I've gone through have intertwined too many elements for anyone to understand exactly how I'm feeling.

Some days, I'm still angry about the past 18 months of my life. Or maybe the past 3 years. Or maybe the past 28 years.

Some days, I am angry that I'm alone and that my support group shifted so drastically and that the majority of my closest friends are in seemingly 'easy' relationships with comfortable lives.

People don't understand. And if I try to explain it, it's not going to come out right.
Because sometimes, even when people are trying to be kind, they end up being hurtful.
Like that time last week when my sister said that I should be grateful because there are some easier things about being a single mom of older {as in 'non-baby' age} kids. And I just felt pissed and hurt and totally invalidated.

Because although I do it every day of my life right now {mostly because I literally don't have another choice unless I want to just give up---which I don't}, being a single mom is not an easy thing. Even without the work and school and other things, being a single mom would still be hard.

I would give up the every other weekend breaks for having a partner who was here at night.

So I hate today. And I really hope I don't wake up hating tomorrow.

But I've decided to let these feelings sit and not to fight them off.

It's ok that I hate today. That doesn't make me a bad person and it doesn't make me ungrateful.

Three Years

The odd thing is that I thought this was going to be the 4 year anniversary.

I don’t know why I was adding an extra year on there. Probably because it feels like I’ve been on my own for much longer than three years.

I knew August was creeping up on me. I could feel it even without looking at a calendar.

There’s just something about August, about school starting and schedules changing.

And the night before school, I’m lying in bed and praying for my kids and thinking about another year alone.

Another year where I go to parent-teacher conferences and schedule extra meetings to make sure my son with ADHD is getting the schooling he needs alone.

Another year where I help with homework and book reports and reciting poems alone.

The irony is that Peter left me just 3 weeks into our oldest child’s Kindergarten year so I’ve never really known what it’d feel like to have a spouse more involved with those school activities.

So I don’t know why it always hits me hard in August.

I’ve been doing this all alone since the very beginning.

But this anniversary always hits me the hardest---because it is my D-day. Three years ago, I was in a relationship and since then, I haven’t been.

In fact, I can count on ONE hand the number of dates I’ve been on in the past three years.

I’ve tried. I’ve done the online dating thing a few times and it’ll seem to be working for a week or two and then all of a sudden, one guy will ruin it for the rest by texting me something dirty or I’ll read the profile of a guy who says extremely provocative things in his bio and I take ten thousand steps back and think to myself, “Oh my gosh, being single forever would be better than this!”

Because at least if I’m single, I won’t be getting my heart hurt by the extremely douchey guys that seem to exist in this world.

Another thing that really triggers me about online dating is the fact that 90% of the profiles say they’re interested in someone “slim and slender” or “athletic and toned”. And any time I see that on a profile, I feel like I’m reminded of why I’m single.

And then I have a hard time not listening to ED because it seems like he’s telling me the truth.

It’s just one big ball of frustrations and disappointments and there are days I consider just getting back together with Peter because, you know, he still loves me and maybe he is the only guy who ever will---because am I even loveable? 

I realize how irrational this is. 
Or maybe I don't. 
But I want to realize how irrational this is. 

It's just that dating with an eating disorder is not easy.
I'm pretty sure dating in general isn't easy either though.

So I tell myself most days that I'm ok being alone because, most days, I am.

But some days, it just hits me that it's been 3 years since I've been in a relationship and had another adult living in this home with me.

August is a messy month for so many reasons. 
Six years ago, tomorrow, I was diagnosed with infertility.
Four years ago this month, Peter left the church we were both attending and I felt so scared.
Three years ago this month, Peter walked out on me.
Two years ago this month, I had to stop being a stay-at-home mom and went back to work.
Last year this month, I was dealing with some after shocks of some traumatic events earlier that year. I also started telling others that I was questioning my faith and wanted to attend a Christian church.

August is my messy month and every year, I brace myself for what is to come.

And this year, I found myself quitting my job recently and dealing with some after shock and anxiety from that.

I'm not doing well right now. I'm hanging in there because I know it will get better but I've not been handling life well.

Because my body just senses the unsafety of August and every day feels unsure. 

Thankfully, I've got my tribe of people who are patient with me while I struggle through the shittyness of August.

Thankfully, thankfully, thankfully. 

I Quit My Job

You know that post about being selfish last month?

I had to be selfish this past week and make a decision that I did not want to make.

I had to quit my job teaching dance.

It was weird how much anxiety I was feeling when it came to making this decision and then how much peace I felt after it was done.

I’ve been burned so many times. Too many times. And this time, I was done being burned. I was done spending my days with anxiety over how my boss felt about me and spending nights teaching dance and feeling the anxiety dissipate because dancing is such great therapy for me. It was an absolutely unhealthy rollercoaster.

A month ago, I loved that job more than any other paying job I’ve ever had.

But as it has been before with my life, there were red flags regarding my boss and her personality. I knew she could flip a switch quickly but as it has been before with my life, I believed she wouldn’t do that to me. How could she not like me? My classes had the highest numbers of students. The parents loved me. I loved all of them.

And when something switched in her, I asked to have a meeting with her to go over why she was calling me a liar and accusing me of going behind her back. I decided the right thing to do would be to sit down face-to-face and explain why I had been misunderstood.

The confusing part is that meeting went really well---or maybe that’s not the confusing part. Maybe I’ve been through this multiple times in my life with different people.

Things were better for a few weeks until last Friday.

Last Friday, I got a text saying she was cutting my classes in half.

Ok. That sucks. It doesn’t really make sense. But ok.

And then lower down in the text, she began accusing my son of inappropriate behavior in the studio and she used the phrases “I’m thinking it’s happened a lot of times but other kids haven’t said anything” and “Kids with problems like this”, among other assumptions.

And it took everything I had in me not to say “EFF YOU!” back to her text.

Not only because I have given so much to that studio but also because my son is six and ONE time of him showing the character print on his damn underwear to his friend does not make him a ‘predator’---in fact, although we’ve talked about not doing that ever again, it’s absolutely normal six year old behavior---and he’s SIX!

And I just knew in that moment that I had to quit to protect my son and myself.

Because it wasn’t the first time and somehow, I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to end and that if I continued just for the mere fact that I love teaching dance, the fallout was going to be so much worse.

And although it’s been an emotionally hard weekend and my daughter was caught in the crossfire and had to lose her spot on their competitive dance team, we are already picking up the pieces.

She starts at a new studio this week and I’ve even noticed a little bit of excitement in her voice.

I’m proud of the decision I made to be selfish in favor of my family. I’m proud of the lessons I learned and the way I handled everything.

I may not be anywhere near perfect but I am learning and growing from my experiences.

And I guess if life is going to keep throwing sticky situations my way, at least I’m learning how to handle them better than I used to. 

Stressed Out

“Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol' days,

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out.”

I think about those two phrases whenever this song comes on the radio. Because I often wish I could turn back time to the days when I wasn’t stressed out as much.

To the days when addiction and betrayal and honesty and my eating disorder and dating and parenting didn’t stress me out.

To the days when the biggest mistake I made was wearing the red shirt to school instead of the blue one. Or hitting my sister and my parents recognizing that although I needed a consequence, I was a 5 year old and I was still learning.

How come people don’t give you as much grace as you get older and find yourself in new learning situations where you end up making the wrong choice unintentionally?

Is it because people expect adults to ‘have it all together’?

Because I don’t think I know a single adult who has it ALL together. 

I've been struggling fiercely lately---mostly since Thursday afternoon. I didn't get permission by the right person at one of my jobs and although I thought I was asking the right department for permission before going ahead with what I was doing, my boss found out and was angry that I hadn't gone to her.
And she said some really hurtful things to me in the process.

Like I don't even know how to process the things that were said, they hurt me so deeply.

And ever since then, I feel like I've been in this fog where I dislike going to work (at a job that three days ago, was my favorite place to be) and I'm not sure how to feel better about it all.

I get that she thought I was going over her head. I even tried to explain myself and why I was sorry for not asking her instead of asking for permission from the person that I thought was in charge of this special project.

I think the thing that worried me the most was how low I felt on Thursday night. People have said hurtful things to me many times in my life and this wasn't even the worst but I found myself bawling and shaking and feeling utterly hopeless. I was up half the night crying and I woke up on Friday with a massive headache. I wouldn't have even gotten out of bed if the kids' therapist wasn't coming over at 8:30am (Why did I even schedule a session that early?!).

And since then, I've had this hangover feeling, this gray, foggy, messy, anxious feeling.

So I don't know where I'm going from here or what is going to help me work through these hurt feelings I'm experiencing.

But I do know that with time, it will get better. It always does. Sometimes quickly and sometimes it takes years but eventually, I'll feel better and this will be a small blip in the history of my life. 

He Still Loves Me

Peter told me he still loved me on Sunday.

It was one of those moments where that tween phrase “I can’t even!” seems to fit perfectly.

He said it was hard to be around me because often times, he still has strong feelings for me. And I just sat there and wondered what that even means to me.

Because it DOESN’T mean I want to date him or marry him.

And it DOESN’T mean things are fixed.

He also said that his feelings for me are often the reason he doesn’t treat me well “because it’s so hard and confusing to be around me so he can’t control his feelings.”

Umm…

I asked him how that was MY fault---that he gets to treat me like shit because he likes me? How does that even make sense?

My mind went to the stories of little girls getting their hair pulled by the boy who had a crush on them---stories that SCREAM rape culture.

Stories of inequality for women---because if he’s mean to you, that means pay attention to him because he likes you.

Barf.

So much barf.

I’m still trying to process these feelings---and honestly, I don’t even know what it means to process these feelings. I don’t know what that looks like or feels like. I don’t know how to do it.

I’m just so frustrated. With myself. With Peter. With this entire situation of divorce and everything that has tail-spun out of control since then.

I don’t want to go back to “back then” but I’m angry about where we are right now also.

I think summer is just hitting me really hard. It’s easier to be a working mom when my kids are in school because I don’t feel like I’m missing out on as many things with them.

I hate the stress of getting babysitters and my kids complaining that we aren’t doing much this summer because mom has to work.

I remember the summers when I stayed home, when we would do swim team and water parks and vacations and the Harkins summer movie passes.

We no longer do those things---because mom works.

And I resent Peter for that. Because if he loved me, WHY THE HELL are we in this situation right now?!

Back then, I told him I would fight for him and he didn’t believe me.

And now this is our life.

This is our life because of addiction and lies and secrecy. 

Selfish

The thing is, you can’t fully trust that anyone will be loyal to you. I think that’s something I’ve learned as I still find myself struggling to fit in to my support groups without feeling this urge to take a huge leap backward.

I still find myself struggling to trust anyone. And I still question whether any of them trust me.

Although the messiest parts seemed to have passed, it isn’t magically over and fixed. I still find myself feeling traumatized and scared to move forward.

And maybe that’s because I had trusted that the messiest parts had passed last summer---and they hadn’t.

So I find myself pondering and learning from this and saying, “Well, Wendy, life is always going to be somewhat messy. You can’t control other people. All you can do is decide how you’re going to handle the messes.”

And that’s kind of what I’ve done.

Because a few weeks ago, I met with an old friend to talk about some of our past messes.

And I started out really optimistic.

And days later, I got extremely pessimistic.

And then I was more realistic.

And mixed in there were really great days and some more messy days.

And now I’m just here---back to mostly optimistic but making sure I’m also being realistic.

Or maybe I’m not optimistic. I don’t know right now.

Today I’m really confused.

Or maybe just sad.

Because I had these high levels of optimism that fixing this would fix other relationships and that we could just move on from here.

But that isn’t always how it works.

Because I don’t get to tell people how to feel or how to act or what to say.

And. That’s. Just. Life.

I was going to attend the Togetherness Project this next August, thinking it was what was best for me, but now I’m quite certain it isn’t.

I had convinced myself that I deserved to go, that I deserved to be there just as much as anyone else and I’ve realized that was my main reason for wanting to go.

And although I DO deserve to be there just as much as anyone else, I don’t need to go just to prove myself.

Because I’ve learned that people are going to hate me if they want to hate me. People are going to believe I’m a liar if they want to believe I’m a liar.

I can’t change any of that.

People can live their lives without trusting me pretty darn easily. That’s not the main problem.

The main problem is when I don’t trust myself because that is when I start to unravel.

When I trust in myself and have faith in myself, I don’t feel this urge to prove myself to the world.

And so, right now, that is what I am working on.

I’m sad about my decision because there are people I’ve wanted to see whom I truly love so deeply.

But today and tomorrow and the next day---I need to be a little more selfish and do what’s best for me. I need to learn to trust more and recover more and worry about the outside stuff less.

I need to save me before I can save anyone else. 

Peter Pan

Peter.

This weekend was one of the worst weekends to date with Peter.

He refused to give me a time frame of when the kids would be home on Memorial Day and kept saying, “When we’re done…”

He then refused to drop them off to me while I was teaching dance so I asked him to keep them until I was done (Because, you know, if he wasn’t going to drop them off BEFORE I started teaching, he would need to keep them until AFTER…common sense…)

And again, he refused.

I got a text a while later stating he had dropped the kids off at my parents’ house.

What. The. Hell.

And by this point, I was going all sorts of crazy. They had been away for a few days and they were late 2 hours getting home and now I had to drive to my parents to get them?

And I lost it. Big time.

I called my mom and yelled at her for not questioning why he was randomly dropping the kids off to her. {Not her fault…}

I fought with my mom and dad when I got to their house because the kids were swimming and I JUST WANTED TO GO HOME. {Not their fault…}

It was horrible. I felt so horrible.

On the drive home that night, my 8-year-old said, “Mom, dad says you were mad at him today but it’s not his fault. He says Memorial Day was his this year and since you never give him extra time with us, he shouldn’t have to give you extra time with us.”

So after I put the kids down to bed, I wrote Peter an email with the new Parenting Plan contract I had written up {because it’s long overdue to be updated} and I told him how disappointed I was that he had brought our children into this mess and talked poorly about me to them.

And he wrote me back some confusing paragraph about how he will ‘review it and we can come to an agreement upon said plan after adequate time is allowed for assessment of the plan you are suggesting.’ {Seriously, the oddest email I’ve ever read before with a bunch of big words that DID NOT make sense together}

Why does it still surprise me that Peter acts the way he does?

I think that’s the most frustrating part for me---that his actions catch me off guard and I allow myself to burst with anger.

I should be used to this by now. I should be able to handle things like this without getting so angry.

My therapist gave me good advice on this because I absolutely HATE when my anger escalates to the point that it did on Memorial Day. I hate feeling guilty after because I want so badly to just love and understand people and be calm and compassionate but realistically, I make mistakes and sometimes I let my anger pour out on others.

I hate this about myself. I’m trying to give myself more grace but I seriously hate this about myself.

Because I hate hurting people.

I’d rather hurt than hurt others.

But sometimes I am the one doing the hurting and I’m trying to work on that. I’m trying to recognize the anger when it’s in the beginning stages so it doesn’t get out of control. 

I wish Peter would grow up.

I do. 

But I have to remind myself that I still have a lot of growing up to do. 

And that really is the only thing I have control over.

Face To Face

Finally. 

Face to face. 

It only took fourteen months. 

Fourteen months of hurtful comments and hateful looks. 

I took a trusted friend with me because I knew I needed someone to actually process and hear everything while my anxiety did it's work. 

And when we walked up to her, I felt this waive of relief that we were finally face to face after so long. 

And maybe I felt like I had missed her. 

Three hours of each of us explaining our side and trying to get the other person to understand. 

It felt like a divorce mediation. 

She said some things that later I realized were hurtful to me as I thought over them. And I think she knew that. 

I didn't need to know details. But because she had been hurt living through it all, she wanted me to know all of that pain. 

And the reason it was unnecessary is because the whole point of this meeting was supposed to be about moving forward and about telling her how ONLY in hindsight could I have prevented everything. 

The whole point was to convince her I wasn't ever malicious. 

She already knew that though. I know she did. Because she knows me---or at least she knew me. 

I am a completely different person after going through everything I've experienced these past fourteen months. 

So we met. 

And afterward, she asked if I wanted to keep talking and let my friend go home. Maybe her and I could go grab some lunch? 

But I said no. I wasn't ready for that yet. Or maybe ever. 

And when we got in the car to go home, my friend set me straight. 

She is still blaming you. 

What she said was manipulative. 

That felt fake. 

Don't go home and blame yourself all over again. 

And I was surprised because I felt so good. 

But my friend was right. 

Because later that night, I started to panic about all of those details. 

She had gotten to me again. 

Whether consciously or subconsciously, she had said things in a way that made me wonder if this was all my fault. 

Was I really to blame? 

Somewhere deep down, did I know what I was doing? 

And as I pondered these questions and allowed myself to go back to that dark place for a minute, I suddenly remembered back to those days and weeks. And I remembered my heart and how I did everything right in the moment---the best I knew how. 

I told the truth. And although that truth brought about more pain for a while, it was still the truth. 

And in that moment, I knew that meeting did not have the power to put our relationship back where it had been fifteen months ago. 

And I didn't want it to go back. 

Because I remembered how all of this hurt my family and made it so that I could not safely talk about my own children's pain and healing. 

I had been stifled because I had been blamed by someone who should've trusted me---who should've answered when I tried to call dozens of times---who should've come over to my house to talk face to face when everything happened---who should've trusted me instead of turning me into a villain. 

I was never able to talk about my own children being hurt because the times that I tried to, I received nasty comments about how this was all my fault anyway. 

 And I suddenly questioned how any of those people would've known the part about my own children. Because I had only told one person from their group. 

And so when months later, a comment was made on Facebook that said, "How sad that you are dealing with that on top of your son being molested", how did that person know? 

And I suddenly realized that the betrayal went much further than I had thought. I kept quiet about what had happened, not knowing that a large group of people were spreading around the fact that my son had been involved. 

My family was not kept safe in all of this. 

And none of them really seemed to care about that fact. Nobody stood up and said, "No matter the circumstances, we should NOT be gossiping about her children." 

Nobody did that for us.

So yes, we met face to face. And maybe it helped in little ways. 

But it will never be the same. Because the protection of my family is far more important than gaining a friend back who wasn't really a friend anyway. 

And I have so many people in my life who are capable of trusting me through really shitty times. 

So I'm glad it's over. And I will continue to move on and heal each and every day. 

**************

PS: My children are bravely and beautifully doing well. They are warriors. And they are my greatest teachers. And I may never mention their part in this again. Or I might if it feels right. But I hope if you read this, you will respect the privacy of my children in all of this. 

------------

Excuse me while I let the negative feelings seep out.

Does there just always have to be something?

I feel good about my maturity and strength with some things that have brought immense anxiety lately. I haven’t let them get to me. I’ve done so well letting myself feel the fear without letting it consume me, and talking myself out of taking on other’s problems and anxieties.

But I cannot apply those same things that I’ve learned to my eating disorder.

I literally consider(ed) quitting my day job…for my eating disorder. Because then I’d have more time to exercise and control my eating without being around people so much of the time.

I mean, if that’s not irrational, I don’t know what is…

I’m about to get on a stage in two days and dance for the first time since having my two kids. There are days I can talk myself through this because I absolutely love being on stage and performing but there are also days where I cannot even fathom the thought of this.

I am not anywhere near what I would consider to be a goal weight. In fact, I switch between starving myself and stress-eating every damn thing I can get my hands on.

And the stupidity of this is not lost on me.

If I would just NOT eat…or if I could just eat smaller portions…or if I could just pick healthier foods…

If I would do ONE of those things, I wouldn’t be overweight. Or at least, I don’t think I would. But maybe I would…

I have a friend who is a Beachbody coach. Two years ago, in the middle of my worst addiction cycle to date, she invited me to try Beachbody shakes and I remember telling her, “Absolutely not”, because part of recovery was trying to eat like a normal individual---crazy/fad/strict diets don’t work for my recovery. But then I got to a point where I felt I was ‘in recovery’ but I was overeating and needed a different kind of help.

She offered the shakes again and I decided to try it.

And I hated them. They were so gross. I tried so hard to convince myself that those chocolate shakes didn’t taste like Pediasure but they did. So. Gross.

And that experience had me frustrated because if I could just ENJOY healthier foods and not feel like ‘eating healthy is a punishment because I’m a fat person’, I feel like this would all be easier.

Because that’s how I view food---it’s either a reward or a punishment. 

I'm Done

I was so triggered by a friend's comment today. And she doesn't get it, she doesn't understand how telling me 'skinny people are more self aware' is so damaging.

I can't do this anymore.

I'm done fighting my eating disorder.

I tried. I failed. It wasn't worth it.

The end.

Their Safe World

My children have been through so much in the past 3 years.
Often times, I've wished I could erase the pain and confusion they've felt as they've witnessed us navigating through divorce and co-parenting.

My youngest has been especially impacted by all of this. He has grown fearful of many things and often begs to just stay home with me instead of attending school. He holds his blankey tight and would suck his finger all day long if he could.

I know my son has ADHD. I know this. I have it and I see it in him. His therapist has mentioned it on many occasions.
And up until this point, I didn't think anything needed to be done about it. He's doing fine in school and I know how to parent him at home.

But the past few weeks, things have been getting worse. He gets kicked out of his dance classes almost every session. He has daytime accidents and cannot seem to remember many of the things I say to him.

Tonight I was at the end of my rope with him. I love him so dearly but it was an exhaustively frustrating day. I called Peter on our way home and told him I'm going through with the psychiatric evaluation to get our son the help he needs and he got angry and told me he doesn't want to medicate our son.

And a part of me gets that. A part of me thinks he's too young or that maybe I'm overreacting. But he gets in trouble all the time these days and he is starting to fight back and become more aggressive toward me when I discipline him.

Peter told me the solution is that I need to discipline more...

Can someone remind me why I even called for his advice? I should've known it was going to be asinine.  

I kept arguing and telling him that I discipline and he said, "No. You need to put the fear of God in that kid."
And my heart broke knowing that my son is parented that way at his dad's house.

I'm just not willing to parent that way. I don't want my children to be afraid of coming to me. I don't want them to grow up not trusting me with their hearts.

So tonight, I just sat and cried as I worry about the life my son will have, where he will have to struggle to pay attention or have friends because of the way his brain works.
I'm sad that this is a part of myself that I passed on to my son and now he will have to deal with his own set of challenges that come along with having ADHD.

I don't know how to help him right now or what I can do to protect him from feeling like a failure.
I'm not willing to give up on my little bubba just because his brain cannot physically connect to what I'm saying every time I tell him something.

I don't want him to grow up feeling like an outcast. My heart aches even considering that a possibility. I want him to be loved and accepted and understood.

I hate feeling lost as a mother. I hate feeling helpless and fearful about my children's futures.

I want the best for them. I want them to live in a safe world.

But they don't live in a safe world, do they?

Eating Disorder Reality Check: Part II

We filled today up with family time.
I think that's why I've been feeling a little lighter load than the other days this past week.
Even though I'm still not listening to my recovery voice and I'm still fighting the urge to break down, I opened up to my best friend because I needed a reality check.

And she gave it to me.

And I didn't much like it.

Because instead of telling me that it is wrong for me to feel the way I feel, she validated my feelings. And that should be a GOOD thing---we all love feeling validated, right? But in her validation, she told me that there are many men who go for the skinny girls, the perfect bodies, the impeccably distributed curves.

And then she asked me if I really wanted one of those guys...

...and although I gave her an answer (No...), I'm still struggling to believe my own answer.

What do I really want? 

Perfection? Is that what I want in a man?
No.
I want someone who is caring and HONEST and loyal and funny and outgoing.
But really, I'd settle for someone who is honest and who loves me.
Seriously.

But knowing what I want hasn't made this any easier. Because I'm starting to think that what I want doesn't exist.

I'm starting to think that recovery, or whatever you want to call the past year and a half, was a waste of my time because even the best of the best guys want skinny girls.

*****

This past year, I still turned to addiction. I was addicted to food. Much like the trauma from Peter leaving me, my immediate reaction was to turn to food and tell myself I didn't give a damn what people thought or said. And much like my pattern from back then, it was only a matter of time before I found myself overweight and feeling worthless. And it is when this break happens that I switch gears and give in to the purging.

I remember a friend telling me once that she didn't enjoy throwing up (Does anyone, really?). But the thing is, when she said this, I was smack-dab in the middle of my eating disorder hell and I remember thinking, "I may not like this but I like the way I feel right after. I like the control." I felt strong. I felt incredibly invincible.

When I woke up the other day and realized that this is a pattern, I was angry. And sad. And extremely frustrated. I want to beat my own statistics.

But I can also tell you on the flip side that I already feel a sense of control that feels highly addictive. I feel like I am working toward a goal to better myself.

I don't know, you guys. I really just don't know.

Some days, I try to fight my eating disorder and other days, I don't believe it is worth the fight.

And that's frustrating for me because every time I relapse or gain weight or believe unworthy thoughts, I start feeling like maybe this fight will never be over.

Like ever.

And I really hate that thought.

Eating Disorder Reality Check

Four relapses in one week. It's been a while since I've even considered this being a huge deal. In fact, most of the past year and a half, my struggle has been with loving myself and not so much about restricting/purging.

I don't know how much weight I've gained because instead of smashing my scale this time, my children accidentally broke it. And I feel like someone should give me a high-five for not even getting upset at them. In fact, I took it as a sign. "Wendy, you don't need a scale to tell your self-worth."

Ed tells me there's no one I'm hurting if no one knows. Or at least that there's no one I'm hurting if no one knows how bad it gets. So if it does get bad, just don't tell anyone, right? Don't reach out. Because if you reach out, they will tell you to stop.

And you don't want them to be disappointed.

Ed tells me that when they see my weight loss mixed with my beaming smile and awesome hair, they'll congratulate me and think of me as strong and capable, rather than weak and incapable.

Ed tells me that the reason my friend who's been single for less than 6 months has a boyfriend is because she is beautiful and skinny. And that the reason I have been single for almost 3 years and haven't had a boyfriend in that time is because I'm the opposite of beautiful and skinny.

That last paragraph might be my main trigger this week.

In fact, I know it is. Because I don't believe the lies about this not hurting other people. But I can't help but believe that the reason she is dating while I'm not is because she is skinny and I'm not. I honestly don't think there's anything anyone could say to convince me otherwise. The truth is right in front of me.

Ed tells me that people will take me more seriously as a dance teacher if I'm skinny, that my career will be much more gratifying and fulfilled if I lose weight and become as skinny as the ballerinas you'd see at the professional ballet.

And I don't think Ed is lying about all of the things I'm being told. I don't.
I'm still struggling because I know what a lot of the world's views of right/wrong with eating disorders are. I know it isn't considered healthy to purge meals or restrict eating.
But I don't quite know what to believe when I feel bombarded with a society telling me that my worth is equated to my size.

When I look in the mirror, I don't love what I see. I love my hair and my eyes but I don't love my body as a whole.

Will I ever love my body as a whole?

And I don't have an eating disorder support system. I don't have people who fully understand what I'm feeling or why I'd want to choose my eating disorder.

And I guess that's ok---I didn't have that for the first 26 years of my life so I don't think it's something I necessarily need to have now but it's still hard when you've experienced that support for a while and then it's gone.

Because now I'm left with my family support---which is just one big effing joke since nobody in my family takes eating disorders very seriously---and my friends---which is semi-ok because they try to understand and at least make an effort to support my struggle.

But Ed never left me. In fact, Ed has been one of the most consistent companions I've had. And I look back to the times where I was going to the gym a few hours a day and obsessing over my intake in food and I think I'd be happier being her and looking like that girl I used to see in the mirror.

Because if I'm supposed to create my own happiness, I think weight loss is a huge part of that.

I remember being happy with the path I was headed down before. I went into recovery for other people, not for myself. And if I had continued to listen to Ed, maybe I'd be dating or married or at least a lot prettier than I am right now.

Those Moments

I witnessed a car accident last week.

It was one of those heart-wrenching moments where I could tell the car in front of me hadn't seen the light turn red because she wasn't slowing down at all.
At all.
It happened slower than I'd imagine witnessing a car accident would. I scanned each car that had a green light, praying they would somehow see her careening into the intersection and stop their cars. Some of them did but one of them didn't. He hit her and her car ran into a pole.
All of the kids in my car peered out with wide eyes, worried about the situation we had just watched unfold. And when the girl got out of her car, we all breathed a sigh of relief.

Haven't we all experienced these types of moments in our lives? Moments where we can look from the outside and hold our breath as another person makes a decision that we believe will alter their life from that day on?

I've been there. More than once, I've been there.

But that's the messy and incredible part about life---that we can't choose for others. That we can watch someone lashing out at others---or at us---and wish we could shine light on the situation that would prevent them from doing something they may later regret. That we can watch someone running straight into a relationship or situation that we know isn't healthy for them.

And we cannot do a damn thing about it.

Life is messy like that. It'd be so nice if we had someone there to stop us from doing a lot of the stupid things we do. But God gave us free agency for a reason.

My Bravery

I've used this picture a few times.

It's one of my favorites.

This week is significant for so many reasons.

A year ago today, I attended a conference with many people whom I believed to be my safest group of friends. And it turns out, they were the opposite of that.

And despite that, I never gave up. Not once. And I'm never going to give up.

The thing about really hard moments in your life is that they can make or break you---in my case, both of these things happened.

I am more of who I am supposed to be because of everything I've learned this past year.

And I can sit here today and tell you that I love who I am.
This week might be a hard one but it also comes with a lot of reminders that I chose life and bravery over death and fear. I chose to keep living.
And that is huge.

I am so proud of myself, of everything I've experienced and the person that it has molded me into.

I am a brave warrior. And I will never give up.

Unbreakable

 Once upon a time, I thought I was unbreakable.

And then my husband left me.
And my children struggled.
And a lot of my friends decided to hate me.
And some of my friends betrayed me.
And I struggled with my faith.
And my eating disorder almost killed me.

And I broke. 

I thought I was unbreakable---and I broke. 
Not once. Not twice. But multiple times, I broke. 

And I remember as each of these things happened that I would look toward Heaven and wonder WHY?
I would get so angry.
I would cry.
I would reach out.
I would hide out.
I would experience deep feelings of anxiety.
And some of the times, I wanted to die.


And then time would pass and people who truly loved me would remind me why they stay and God would comfort me.

And somehow, the thing that I thought I would never heal from would start to heal. The wounds would scab over. The sun would peek out of the clouds. The flowers would start to bloom again.

It was in these moments that I was reminded time and time again that I am not unbreakable.
I am not. 
But when I break, I don't break forever.

Today I am relishing in this truth---that I am a survivor. I did not give up, even when I wanted to so many times.

I did not give up. 

I have spent countless hours of crying and wondering and doubting and although this sounds awful, it isn't always awful. Because those hours of crying and wondering and doubting are what made me who I am today.

A much stronger, more resilient, more compassionate Wendy. 

And I've learned that the people who blame me or hate me or try to break me---they don't know me. And that thought used to frustrate me. I used to get upset thinking I'd given up a portion of my life to people in my life whom I truly loved but who didn't love me back and I hated that they never took the time to truly know me.
But I no longer feel that way.
It no longer makes me angry.

It makes me sad---for them.

Because I know who I am. I know how incredible I am. I know what is inside of my heart. And anybody willing to try and break that is missing out.

My life is beautiful not because it's perfect and not because the sun is always shining. My life is beautiful because I choose to see it that way.

I choose to bask in the brightness that is my children and being a dance teacher and being a child of God and a Christian. I choose to remember the good and learn from the bad.

I might be breakable---but I am also capable of healing. 

And that is what truly counts. 

It’s a weird feeling for me to not be blogging regularly, either here or on my family blog or even just writing in a journal.

Lately, I haven’t been doing any of those things. I haven’t been writing anything down anywhere. And for my brain, that means I’m not going to remember a lot of it.

I’m not going to remember the feelings I felt and the things that impacted me in those little moments.

I want to be better. I’m trying to be better. But between school, 2 jobs, and 2 kids, I’ve been struggling to find time for myself, to do the things I love to do.

And maybe beyond that, sometimes it’s just painful to write when I feel so lost right now. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m lost.

Because if I don’t write and I don’t think about it, I can just continue to live my life without those interior worries and fears consuming me.

I’ve been super anxious about the black lives vs police lives vs ALL lives arguments that I’m seeing all over social media.

I truly believe that God gave me a gift to understand heartache in many different forms and as I read the arguments being made for all of the different sides, my heart literally hurts from the pain that so many people are feeling.

So many people are hurting---not just one group vs another group.

And the problem is that when we argue against each other, we are minimizing each other’s pain.

When we’re stressed out, we tend to personalize other’s behavior. “They did this to us.” 

I've been on both sides of that.

I've been blamed for things I did not do.

And I have blamed others for things they did not do.

It's an ugly process and one that is hard to forgive.
Because if you KNOW me, you wouldn't BLAME me---right?

Wrong.

I think when we know each other, we know more flaws. And I think that's why it is so painful to be betrayed by someone we are close to. Because they know things about us that can really hurt.

I'm a mess of anxiety today. But I'm trying not to let that close me off from my relationships. 

Sometimes Ed Wins

I broke down yesterday.

It was one of those moments were, on the inside, I had completely lost my shit, but on the outside, I was acting totally fine.

I was fighting within myself---eating disorders are good, no they're bad, no they're good, no, no, no, no, no---*brain explodes*.

And I'm pissed. Because I have so many reasons to be happy. In fact, there are so many reasons why I AM happy.
But on the inside, when I allow my thoughts to turn to body image, I lose control. I cannot handle it. I fail at every recovery measure I've tried. I hate my body. I get angry at it for not being perfect.

Recovery tells me that my body has birthed two children, that it teaches dance and can still do incredible things.
Ed tells me none of those things are good enough, that I'd be worth something if I'd just stop eating.

Stop. Eating.

I tell myself this daily. And then when I do eat, I hate myself for making such a bad life decision.

Because even though my life is so beautiful, it'd be even better if I was beautiful. My body doesn't match the life I'm living. It isn't beautiful.

I want to be beautiful.

And the only reason I'm still fighting is because I've heard stories of the damage and the heartache. In fact, I've been those stories. I've been ruined before. But if it weren't for journals, I wouldn't remember those broken stories because right now, when I look back, all I remember is feeling so strong and accomplished and worthy.

And I want to feel those things all of the time.

A part of me still feels like fighting is the right choice. And the other part of me feels like fighting isn't worth it.

So badly, I wish this wasn't my life. You have no idea how much I wish this wasn't my life.

To feel happy with your life while fighting or not fighting inner demons, that just doesn't seem fair.

I want to feel happy without hearing so many hurtful things being said about me inside of my brain.That girl in there, she is mean. She is cruel. She has extreme standards. Not for everyone, just for herself.

Sometimes I don't get how I can be her, how I can be so concerned with loving and accepting others without being that way with myself.

Sometimes I feel absolutely crazy.

Absolutely crazy.

A Life I Love

A few days ago, my coworker came into my office and was telling me about how she met a childhood friend of mine whom I hadn't seen in years. This friend was asking about me and whether I was still active in the church and how my life was going after divorce and my coworker said, "Well, you know, she's just had a really hard life."

As she was relaying this conversation back to me, her last comment took me by surprise. A part of me was thinking, "Yes, I have! This shit has been hard and traumatic!" But there was a different part of me, the more healed part of me that was thinking, "Everyone has hard stuff. Everyone. My life isn't based on only the hard stuff. There is a whole slew of beautiful roads traveled and beautiful roads in my future."

And that's where I'm at today. 

I'm not fully recovered. I don't know if I'll ever make that concrete statement. But so much of me is doing so much better.

So much better. 

I was out with friends last night having dinner and shopping with my tribe of warriors whom I love and they kept joking about how I had also made plans later in the evening with another set of friends. And how tonight I have more plans with more friends.
And as I was thinking about this fact this morning, I felt an immense amount of love from my Heavenly Father because friendships have not always been my forte. I was bullied a lot as a child by people whom I felt should've loved and accepted me. It was extremely painful and I've held onto trauma from those days for a long time and wondered if I'd ever be able to have real friendships.

And I do. 

I absolutely do. 

My life right now---this is the life I could live forever and never regret it. I mean, I'd like a husband and possibly more children but I don't need that for happiness.
In fact, I really don't need anything for happiness. Just my attitude.

That's been a huge learning curve throughout this process. 

I used to get so angry and ask God why I was feeling so much resentment and sadness when I wanted to bounce back to my happy self. It took me a long time to remember that happiness is something I make, not something I'm given.

Being happy doesn't mean you never get sad or hurt. To me, living a happy life means basking in the joyous times and learning from the darker times.

In my opinion, that is the only way for us to grow. 

I love my life right now. I remember as I was going through my divorce, I was in the biggest hurry to date again and get remarried because I was certain I wouldn't heal or find happiness until I had a man by my side.
But the truth is, I love my life because I'm focusing on loving myself and the people whom God has placed in my life.

I'm not there with my eating disorder---that still gets to me a lot of the time and I don't love my body. But I love who I am, the kind of person that I am.

This girl deserves so much. 

So much. 

And I am so grateful for life these days. I'm so grateful that I've continued on through some pretty horrific events. I'm grateful that I've stood when a lot of people expected me to fall. And I'm grateful for the people who have been there to catch me time and time again so that when I do fall, I don't hit the ground as hard.