2021: An Update

 Where do I even start? 

I can't possibly catch you up on everything that has happened in the last year and a half. 

But here are some of the highlights: 

- Graduated from college 

- Got a job teaching 11th grade English 

- Fostered one more baby after Cubby and then closed my license when she went home

- Started dating someone earlier this year and planning to marry him next year :) 

- Covid: another religious shift and recognizing that I need to tighten my circle a little more

The kids are all doing well. Cubby has some struggles and I need to get him in to a behavioral specialist but I am so proud of who he is and how far he has come since those early days of drug exposure and the uncertainty of foster care. 

Teaching is quite possibly the best decision I've ever made for our family. I am so glad I'm done with school and that my schedule allows me to be with my kids. Also, high schoolers are pretty amazing. They're butt heads ;) but they're also amazing. 

The man I'm dating is more than I ever thought I'd find. I mean, a liberal Christian feminist? Yeah. I didn't really think guys like that existed. We have been dating for over five months and although it hasn't been easy for me because a lot of past trauma has surfaced, he has been patient and validating. I spend most weekends at his house with Cubby or he comes to our house when the older kids are home. 

I currently attend a non-denominational Christian church and although I'm sure this has frustrated my extended family, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I don't want to get into religion right now but I do not miss the LDS church and feel a lot of relief. I tried really hard to force myself to go back to my religious roots a few years ago because it was comfortable but I never felt completely right about that choice and never felt totally comfortable there. I have since learned a lot of things that have cemented my decision of where I want to raise my family and I'm grateful for everything the last year has taught me. 

Any other topics to update? I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this blog. I might use it for processing past trauma while dating or I may go back to not writing at all. I guess we will see. :) 

Another December

Hi. It’s been a year. 

Did you miss me? Probably not. 😂 

I was reading through the last post on this blog and remembering what a year ago felt like—how frustrating it was to watch my son’s biological parents give up on fighting for him. 

The story pretty much ended there. After last December’s court hearing, Cubby’s bio mom never saw him again. 

Because of some mistakes made by the attorney, our adoption story took a little bit longer than planned but we adopted our boy in October of this year. 

I now have THREE children—and still no husband. 

Christmas can be such a lonely time. I definitely seem to struggle more around this holiday season. 

We made some huge changes this year that brought our family closer together. But I still go to bed and feel alone at night and wonder if I will ever be good enough for another man. I try really hard not to base my self-worth on whether I am in a relationship but it is really hard. 

Six years ago, I wasn’t the only one out of my friends whose relationship status changed from married to single. Not necessarily close friends, but friends/acquaintances nonetheless. And I often compare my life to their’s and wonder why I am the only one that has never been in a relationship since then. Is it because I’m not pretty enough? Skinny enough? Is it because I am a Mormon? or maybe it is because I am not a strong enough Mormon. Is it because of my personality? Gosh, what is it? 

It bothers me from time to time. I don’t think about it throughout each day and it definitely does not consume my life but that doesn’t mean I don’t think and wish my life looked different. 

I am a single mother. And yes, I adopted a baby on my own. And that doesn’t make sense to a lot of people. But even though I know it was right to adopt my son, I really wish he had a dad. I really wish I wasn’t embarking on a career while raising three young children on my own. It is so scary. The last of my college adventure starts in January, where I get to work a job for 14 weeks without getting paid a single penny. At the same time, I am expected to pay all of my bills and support three children on my own. At the same time, I am expected to be on time to pick my children up from school and day care and take them to their various activities.

That all starts in less than three weeks. And I am panicking. I am so damn scared that I am going to fall short as a mother, as a breadwinner, and as a freaking human being. What if I fail? What if I can’t do all of the things, all at once? 

My anxiety is high. Some days, I just wish I could run away with my children and not do these hard adulting things. I just want to be a mom. I just don’t want to fall short. 

I can’t voice all of these things to my closest friends and family because they don’t understand. I constantly feel like my life as a foster mom and adoptive mom doesn’t make sense because I am placing more stress on myself. But every time I pray about it, I get this overwhelming feeling like I’m supposed to be a foster mom. 

I am sure I sound crazy. What’s new? 

I miss my older kids right now. I am sure that is why my emotions are heightened. I hate sharing holidays. I hate sharing any time with their dad. I know they need him but I still selfishly want them with me all of the time. 

I need friends who are closer and more available. I don’t have that right now. I do have amazing friends but not ones that are close and available. I try really hard to mask some of the darkness that I feel because I watch other single moms and feel like somehow, they are just doing it better. They have their people. 

There is this part of me that believes I have my people. There is this part of me that tries to ask for help and reach out. And then there is this other part of me that doesn’t want to ask for help because I usually feel let down when person upon person upon person isn’t available to help. Belle moved away and I don’t have a relationship like that with anybody else. I don’t think anybody would understand what a huge loss that was. And then she made new friends and it all just feels so different. 

Sometimes I look back to three or four years ago, when the actual relationship between myself and Peter was a lot harder. And I wish we could go back to that because at least I had more people who saw me. I wish I could go back to that because back then, my relationship with religion was less complicated. 

I love my life and my children. But it is so hard. These nights, the nights where the demons come out in my brain, are so hard for me because there is no one I can reach out to and talk to. I’m just alone. 

My fear is that I will always be alone. 

Miracle Baby

Dear Cubby, 

It's already been another month. 

Another month of loving you and raising you. 

We have become so complacent. I feel like you are mine and I believe that nothing will change that. 

But I'm scared of the complacency. I'm scared that I'm going to get the rug pulled out from underneath my feet. 

Your caseworker wants you here with us. So did your last one. And so do your therapist and your lawyer. And because I hear so many stories about caseworkers and lawyers pushing for reunification even when it may not make sense, I feel like God gave us these people who can see where you are meant to be. 

Your case has two big developments from the past month. 

The first one being that your birth father wants to willingly sever his rights from you---and from your baby brother or sister. Which brings me to the next huge development...

You are going to be a big brother. 

I don't say that with an exclamation point, even though as I typed it, that's how I read it in my mind. I'm just still trying to wrap my head around it all. It's sad. And it's crazy. And it's a tiny bit exciting but it's also not really something that should be exciting. I just hope that somehow, someway, you will get to have this sibling in your life. 

It's hard to imagine that at 11 months old, you will become a big brother. It's also hard to imagine what decision we will make at that time if (but more likely when) your baby brother or sister goes into foster care. 

It's ok that I don't know what to do. Because God knows. And I'm preparing myself as best I can to be ready for whatever He wants us to do. 

It makes me sad that your birth father has not seen you since you were 6 weeks old and that he doesn't get to know how amazing you are. 

It makes me sad that your birth mother loves you but will most likely never be capable of raising you. 

But it makes me happy that this is where you landed---that I got a miracle call on Easter Sunday and that I got to meet you. 

I know this won't be an easy journey for you for many reasons. 

I know it won't be easy to grow up without a full understanding of why you aren't being raised by your biological parents. I know it won't be easy being raised by a full Caucasian family when you are biracial (African-American & Caucasian, we believe). 

But I promise you that I will be there for you every step of the way. I promise to walk with you in the hard times. 

Every day, I am in awe of you, my miracle baby boy. 

Because the fact is---and this is heart-wrenching for me to type---you were an attempted abortion. And you survived abuse in utero that flashes through my mind almost daily. They tell me your birth father did not want another child and that he was angry. They tell me your birth mother was most likely taken advantage of because of her low mental capacity. They tell me this case is way more complicated than it was when you were first born and they told me you'd be with me for "maybe a few weeks" because your birth parents seemed fine and they just needed to prove safe housing for you. 

And I am telling you right now, Bear Cub, if nothing else proved that God sees us all individually, THIS DOES. Because He protected you. He loves you. 

And you are truly a miracle. 

I'll love you forever, my happy, baby boy. You are such a bright light in my life and I am thankful for you every day. 

Sincerely, 

Your Momma

Hope

I think my body must've known it'd been three years, even though my brain didn't know until a memory popped up on Facebook. 

The anxiety I've felt all weekend has been pretty severe---chest pains, numbing, considering giving up on everything I've worked for. 

I couldn't figure out why I felt that way. Was it a money issue? A friend issue? A parenting issue? A divorce issue? 

I still don't quite know. 

But what I do know is that yesterday marked three years since my deepest heartbreak as a single mom. 

So maybe that played a part. 

When I realized this, I thought back on the past three years and all of the changes and healing that have taken place. 

I lost support. 

I left the church. 

I cut a lot of ties. 

I made new, genuine friendships. 

I came back to church. 

And I realized just how seldom I think about that day anymore. 

A portion of the past three years was spent being kicked down, building myself back up, only to be kicked down again. 

But I've learned how to better dodge those kicks. 

You guys, the remarkable thing is that I'm grateful for everything I've been taught in the past three years. I'm grateful for my time away from my church and the time I've spent back there. I'm grateful for a God who very promptly put healing tools in place when I felt like suicide was the only way to break free from my heartache. I'm grateful for the atonement of Jesus Christ and the ability He gave me to forgive myself for "hindsight" and also the ability He gave me to forgive others for the pain they caused. 

I don't know if that is why my body is feeling so much anxiety right now and I hate that. I hate how anxiety since the court trial has become hard to identify. It comes and goes fiercely, often times without explanation or warning. 

But I know it won't always be this way. I know the effects of the court trial won't last forever, just as the pain and anxiety of three years ago eventually dissipated. 

So at least there is hope. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Trauma:Trauma:Trauma

It's been a month since I've been here.

I'm sorry. 
Or maybe I'm not. 
I guess I don't need to be sorry. 
But I probably am sorry. 

Lately, the world has been turning too fast and I can't catch up. I feel such highs and such lows.

The waves have been changing with Peter and I.

The kids are in bi-monthly therapy sessions with one of the most amazing ladies I've ever met in my life.
During one of these sessions, my youngest little one told the therapist about some disturbing things happening at Peter's house. And although she reported them, nothing else could be done.
And then a few weeks later, my baby came home with more reports of violent behavior and as we talked it through with the therapist, she looked up at me and whispered, "Are you worried he is hurting the kids?"
And I shook my head---hesitantly.

Because the man I married would never hurt his children.
Or his wife.

But the man I married isn't the man my children currently have for a father.

It has been over a month since this started and I haven't had time to catch my breath. I've been too busy with work/school/parenting life.
Or maybe I just didn't want to deal with it.
Or maybe I didn't know this was my way of dealing with it.

Because as life is slowing down, I'm feeling waves of trauma hit me harder than they usually hit. I'm realizing just how scared I am and how worried I am.

These are my babies. My babies.

And whether the state classifies this as physical abuse or emotional abuse, it is still abuse.

And I can't even deal---truly, I can't. When I think about it, I stop functioning. When I think about it, it triggers some of my worst fears and I go to a very dark place.

I tried talking to my mom about it and it was so hard. Her eyes were staring at me widely and I felt like I was ruining her life by opening up to her.
But for so long, I've been carrying this burden on my own.

And I know I willingly chose that. I know it is my fault no one was there to support me.
Because I can endure trauma and pain and I will do my damndest to protect my children from it---but putting that burden on anyone else is too much.
It's too much.

I can handle this alone. Silently. {and with the help of the kids' professionals, of course}
I will protect these babies every chance I get.
And when they are gone, I will pray.
And when they come home, I will ask questions.

In my lowest times, I hate myself for allowing this to be my childrens' lives---for marrying their dad and putting them in these shitty situations.
I know it isn't my fault---at least there is a part of me that knows this---but I feel so helpless in this situation.
I feel like I'm failing the two people I care about most in this world.
And that alone sends me into a downward spiral faster than anything else.

But this isn't every day life---it doesn't consume my most prominent thoughts. Every professional I've spoken to tells me it is ok right now. And that helps me to handle life. But there are days where I realize just how traumatic this has been for me and I think, "It's no wonder I'm exhausted at the end of each day!". Because trauma is exhausting even if you don't know you're feeling it.
I've been there before. I did that with Peter for seven years. And although I couldn't recognize it then, I can recognize it now.

Right now, life needs to be taken day by day, sometimes hour by hour. Because I cannot handle much more than that.
I've been dropping the ball with friends and missing appointments. In fact, last week my visiting teachers had made an appointment with me TWO HOURS PRIOR TO COMING OVER and I still dropped the ball and wasn't home when I promised them I would be---because that is my life right now.
Trauma sucks because I feel like I disappoint people left and right. I haven't been volunteering at the kids' schools or making time for my friends or replying to all of the text messages and it isn't because I don't WANT to do any of those things. It's just that my brain isn't fully capable of handling so many things at once right now and it is taking up a lot of space worrying about my littles.

Exhausting.

Worth it---because they are worth it---but extremely exhausting.

But God---He is the only reason I'm still standing right now. I know it and I'm grasping onto that as tight as I possibly can. I know He can protect them. I know He is more powerful than I am and that all the worrying in the world is not going to do a damn thing.

But the biggest hope I have right now is teaching my children about His love for them and how to rely on Him when they are scared or feeling alone.

And for that, I am given ounces of hope.

The Grief Cycle

Never is an awfully long time.

I've been studying the stages of grief, not really for school but because I'm a nerd and like to read my textbooks if I feel like they can help me in certain situations.
And I thought that I had passed the stage of anger.
I really did.

I hit a breaking point a few weeks after my recent friendship d-day where I was angry. So effing angry.

But I was proud of myself. I did not allow my anger to burst out of me and poison the surrounding friendships we both shared. I did not gossip. I did not fight for my side to be told.
I got help.
I spoke about it in therapy. I spoke about it to my parents. I spoke about it with my best friend who does not know these other friends.
I didn't want relationships to be poisoned just because I was experiencing anger.

Ironically, that was not emulated on both sides.
My friendships were poisoned.
Regardless of what I had or hadn't done, I became very unpopular in a lot of people's eyes.

And maybe this is me trying to force my way through to acceptance. Because hell, I know I don't want to hit the depression phase. I'd rather just skip it.
But the acceptance isn't coming. The anger is raging. My mind is more clear now. I can look back and see what has transpired these past few months and I am angry that so many people left me. I am angry that I gave my heart to so many people who misused it.

I want to lash out. Oh heaven only knows how much I want to lash out.
Because it isn't fair.

Unintentional mistakes shouldn't turn you into a monster. And when they do, it hurts.
It hurts like fucking hell.

And it's worse than Peter's betrayal because frankly when he left me, I didn't trust him. He hurt me in so many ways but I already knew he was struggling and a bit crazy.

But when I gave my heart to friendships that I believed were firm and when I think back on all of the times I had strived to be an amazing friend, only to have it shatter into a million pieces, I cannot help but be so angry.

Angry that some of you chose to take a side when this wasn't even about our relationships. This had nothing to do with our support group.

Two people had an issue and for some reason, it turned a majority of my support group away from me.

How am I supposed to trust support groups anymore? How am I supposed to feel like I'm equally as worthy of support when THIS, this is what happens?

This is NOT what I envisioned a support group to look like. This is NOT what I envisioned my life would be like.

Shit isn't supposed to get harder in a support group.

But it can and it does.

Because among a group of hurting women who find themselves barely staying afloat most of the time, maybe support isn't healthy. Are we even healthy enough to support each other without going bat-shit-crazy if we feel like others aren't reciprocating?

That is my ginormous question of the day.

What the hell kind of support group deserts you when you need them most? And what the hell kind of extremely close friend decides that you are THE WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD after all of the things you've done for her?

You hear about this shit happening to other people but when it happens to you, the pain is almost unbearable.

I've never felt betrayal like this. Ever.

And that is saying something because I am divorced from a porn addict.

Neverland

I used to feel like Peter Pan was our story because of my husband's choice to leave his family and never grow up.

But maybe it isn't.

Because today all I want to do is fly away to Neverland and never return.
I feel like I'm good at making other people happy. I try to serve others. I do my best to be a good mom.

But what about me? When do I stop feeling so alone?

Sometimes I feel like Neverland would be an easier road than the one I'm currently on. If I stopped going to church and I stopped going to school and I moved away from all of the people who have brought immense pain into my life---if I did all of that, would life be better?

If I stopped eating and I ran miles every day and became a better looking me, would life be better?

If I skipped back in time and made different choices, would life be better?

Because tonight I'm obsessing over "back then" again. But so many different "back then"'s. There are way too many.

I wish I wouldn't have married Peter. I should've just gone to college and stayed single longer like most normal human beings.
I wish I wouldn't have been so stupid in regards to Peter's addiction. If I could've caught him or confronted him, maybe we would be married and he would be in recovery and we would have an amazing life together.
I wish I wouldn't have found out about Peter's porn addiction after our marriage ended. If I could've just stayed in denial and thought he was just an idiot who left because his wife didn't cook/clean enough, maybe I wouldn't feel so traumatized about pornography and how effing stupid and life-ruining it is.
I wish I could go back. If I rewound some of these events, MANY of the hurtful events that have happened these past few years would be non-existent.

And tonight ALL I want them to be is non-existent.

I hate men tonight. All of them. Ok, maybe not ALL of them but most of them. I feel so much anxiety when I think about relationships. I hate them. I hate relationships tonight. I want to run away and ugly-cry and punch things until my knuckles bleed and I'm too worn out to keep going.


I believe Neverland is whatever we want it to be. So for me, Neverland is a place where pain does not exist, where people are incapable of telling lies, where bad memories are erased forever.
I want to fly away to Neverland and forget all of the hurt feelings.

I want the fear to go away.

It's hard, living life and being naturally optimistic when you're going through things that make you want to scream and plead insanity. I feel like my deepest, darkest fear is life---fear of whatever is coming next. Because there is always something. It never seems to take too long before the next huge-ass trial is punching me in the face.

Right now, I'm coming out of one of those cycles and it isn't good. It isn't pretty. Because instead of being thankful that life seems to be getting better and maybe, just maybe, I'm getting stronger again, I am just fearing the next time life will send me a debilitating trial.

Because my experiences have taught me that it will happen and I HATE that I am not able to just enjoy the peace for a little while. Instead I'm just fearing the next thing.

I am so sick of "overcoming" shit.

Tonight I want to run away to Neverland, where none of my fears exist.

It's All A Bit Tragic

I don't get it.

I don't understand taking sides when you've only heard one side.

How is that even considered taking sides?

It's all a bit tragic, really. The way things ended and the trickle effects of things that continue to happen. I'm trying to breathe and let it go and move on but that isn't as easy as it might sound.

This was my life. Those were my friends.

And it took seconds for it all to be over but it seems to be taking forever to move on. It seems like it'll be years before the effects have stopped, before I feel like I'm not being ganged up on.

This tragedy---it is between two people but somehow it became much bigger. Somehow it became about all of us.

Somehow it turned into a group effort, a war between myself and a group---and I don't find that fair.
Believe what you want, it isn't right or fair to single out one person for a mistake that they've made. It just isn't.

If I jumped back to a little over a year ago, I wouldn't have even known any of these people and as sad as that makes me feel, maybe that would've been easier.
Maybe...but not really.

Not really. 

It's all a bit tragic but it isn't the end of the world---for any of us.

For any of us. 

I wish that mattered the most.
I wish the unimaginable heartache that we have all experienced together and helped each other through was worth more than a mistake---a mistake made without vengeance or deceitful intent.

What our husbands have done to those of us who have married addicts is messy. It is deceitful and dishonorable.
I wish this wasn't categorized in the same way.

It's all a bit tragic, the way things went down. It's all painful and I'm sad that I misread the type of people I was becoming close to. I'm sad that I trusted when I shouldn't have.

And isn't that the story of my life, of most of our lives? 

It's so hard to trust others. It's scary. Quite honestly, it's one of my biggest fears. But once in a while, I do it. And even less times than that, I do it wholeheartedly. I give every ounce I can to the people whom I trust with my heart.

And sometimes, I get hurt. I get burned and my heart aches and I stop believing that trusting anyone is safe.

It ruins me for a while---not forever---but for a while. It's painful and I replay everything I've done for those people that should've counteracted any of the mistakes or the messes.

But burns happen. We don't get to choose who trusts us, even if we choose to trust them.

I hate that it happens but there is really nothing we can do about it. We can't control others.

Tonight I'm sad that I received more news of some after-effect retaliation. I'm sad that very few people seem to understand or give me a chance to explain. I'm sad that my heart aches as I try to move on to a place where I stop caring so much about people who have hurt me.

I wish it was a switch I could just turn off. Oh how I wish there was a switch.

Please

I am the odd man out in a lot of places.
Places I once fit in. Places where I was once extremely loved.
I lost a lot of things, a lot of people, a lot of places. I almost lost myself. 

But today I couldn't shake the urge that I've been having to bring my blog back from being private.
This is scary for me. There are reasons I went private that were very valid and scary and real but this is my place.

This is my place. 

It used to be my safe place and I haven't figured out if that's true anymore but I hope it is. I hope that if you don't want to be here, that you leave. I hope that if you don't like what you read, you will walk away instead of letting me know.

I don't need to know if you like me or like my space or like my choices.

You don't have to like me. It might be painful to have you leave but at least I'll know. At least I'll learn and get stronger.

I never stopped writing while it seemed like I was gone. I don't think I'll ever stop writing as long as I live.

I hope that when enough time passes, the people in my life who don't want to be there will learn that they can walk away without hurting me with words.

I've endured so much in the past few years. I used to think it was too much but now I know I was strong enough to get through it.

I don't want my safe place to bring me anxiety. Please. Please let me be here and write my story. If you know me and you don't love me, please know that you can walk away without trying to ruin me.

Maybe it's because it just isn't in my nature but I've never understood people who have vendetta's against others. The closest I got to a personal vendetta was when Peter left. For a while, all I wanted to do was ruin his life. But that isn't me. 

In reality, I don't want to ruin anyone's life. I try so hard to be a good person and be honest and be there for the people that I love. It isn't always easy but it's something I've always worked hard to do---sometimes spending too much time on that.

I'm starting over and trying to fight for myself.

I have an eating disorder and quite frankly, it isn't going so well. Every day that I lose my battle, I lose a little more hope that I'll ever win again.

I've done it before but each time I give in, it seems like this battle is never going to leave me alone.

So if you don't like me or you don't understand me, please just leave me alone.

I need to be here. This is my space. 

A Story of Shame

I can remember exactly where I was sitting on the couch when it happened.

I was angry at my father for annoying me and he was laughing and continued to pester me. He grabbed my fist and pretended to make me hit myself in the face---except I moved my arm and punched myself square in the forehead.

I looked up at him with wide eyes and screamed, "You punched me in the face!"

He laughed. My siblings laughed. I ran downstairs to my room to cry.

I looked in the mirror of my vanity and blood was running down my face. My thumb nail had hit my forehead and taken a good chunk out of it.

My mind was racing.

Abuse. I had such a horrible relationship with my parents that my first thought was that my father had abused me. This was his fault. I was sure he had done it on purpose, maybe subconsciously.

Because he hated me. My father hated me. Everybody hated me. I had never been good enough for them and as I replayed their laughter in my head, tears stung my cheeks and I let them continue to fall, refusing to wipe away a single one of them.

The next day, it had started to scab over and everyone at school was asking me what happened to my face.
There were a variety of stories. I don't remember any of them. I just know that I didn't tell anyone the truth besides my best friend.

I felt violated. My family continued to joke about it and each time, the pain would sting just as bad. I felt like I was crazy. I felt like my pain wasn't valid or real.

They were all against me.

It was this dark, scary cloud I could never get past. I hated that story. I hated that everyone thought it was so funny. I hated that if I ever stood up for myself and tried to explain that I felt like my dad had hit me, they would all gang up on me and tell me how dramatic and dishonest I was.

And then it all got worse.

I was sent away to a wilderness rehabilitation camp at the age of 17 and while out on the trail, I told my therapist this story that had been eating at me for a year.

And she reported it to CPS.

When she told me she had to do this because of the situation involving my father "creating a wound on my body" or something like that, I had a panic attack. I was working toward building a relationship with my parents again and then she had to go and ruin it by reporting my father.

Would he lose his doctor's license? Would he lose my siblings? Would my whole family hate me forever because I ripped our family apart?

None of that happened. My 17 year old mind didn't quite comprehend CPS and how all of that works but my dad is still a practicing physician and my younger siblings still live at home.

For years after that CPS report, my family would still bring up that story every once in a while, each time ending in laughter.

Each time it happened, I would feel like the family screw-up all over again and feel anxious and angry and extremely stupid. I would leave the room or tell them it bothered me.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to talk to one of my sisters about it and since that day, I've never heard the story again.

I don't know if she ever talked to them or if they all just figured out that I hated the story but I'm glad that story is no longer a staple because it still hurts me. I think it always will.

I love my dad and he isn't a child abuser. He took a joke too far and I got hurt. His big mistake was not apologizing. His big mistake was laughing and shaming me when I tried to tell him that my feelings were hurt.

His big mistake wasn't abusing his daughter.

But for some reason, that story still haunts me. It reminds me of how messy things were when I was a child. It reminds me of why I can only remember a handful of things from my childhood. I don't know why it all still seems painful but it does. It isn't pleasant. It hurts.

I have to remind myself that I am a different person now. I have to remind myself that my dad is a different person now. Trusting him is easier. It sure isn't easy but it has gotten easier.

I have been given a lot from my dad. This week, I received a letter from him telling me how proud he is that I was accepted to the university I had applied to. He told me how proud he is of me as a mother and how he believes in me. He told me he wants the first semester to be "on him" and also included in the envelope was a check. I cried and felt so loved.

Growing up, I lived for moments like that. I yearned for them and rarely got them. It wasn't often that I felt loved by my family.

But now I do. Now I get to experience moments like these where life feels complete and wonderful and I feel secure.

None of us are perfect but this seems to be the hardest we have ever worked to have a healthy relationship and for that, I am grateful.

But I Miss Her

It's hard to explain and even to understand the feelings I've been having lately.

Mostly it is heartache. Mostly it is pain.

I saw her for the first time in six weeks on Friday. The last time I saw her was the day before this whole mess started.
She didn't see me. She was picking her kids up early from school and I was in the carpool lane waiting for my daughter to get out of school. I saw her walking to her car and I could hardly breathe. The anxiety I felt was almost unbearable. I was sweating and panicking.

I don't know what I was afraid of---that she'd start a scene in front of the school or that if she saw me, she would ignore me. Either one would've been painful. Either one would've hurt unimaginably.

A part of me wanted her to see me and smile, letting me know she was healing and moving on, but I knew that probably wouldn't have been the case. I knew it would've hurt to have her see me.

Living seven minutes away from someone you are trying to avoid is messy. I'm surprised that this was the first time I'd seen her in six weeks. At the same time, realizing it had been six weeks brought back so much of the pain.
It's been six weeks since I lost a lot of friendships and supporters, six weeks since I decided fighting my eating disorder wasn't worth it, six weeks since I was close to committing suicide.
In a lot of ways, it feels like it's been longer---years, even. But in a lot of ways, it seems like she and I were best friends just yesterday.

I wish it were easy to just forget her and move on. I wish the pain was gone and that I could fully believe that it's better having her out of my life. Deep down, I believe it. Deep down, I know that if she could give up on me so quickly and not come and talk to me before talking horribly behind my back to so many others, I am better off without her in my life. On the surface, that all makes sense to me. I shouldn't want her in my life if she doesn't want me in hers---but there is a part of me that is still struggling to accept that the things she has said to me these past six weeks really happened. I want to believe that somewhere within her soul, she knows who I am, but it's hard when she has told me a lot of hurtful things.

On top of that stuff or maybe just going along with it, I've been struggling to feel like I'm adequate these days. I feel like I'm accomplishing huge things---school, work, mom life---but I'm just waiting for it all to fall apart. I feel like I am trapped, like I'm listening to these voices inside my head that tell me I'll never amount to anything.

And Peter...yeah, Peter. I feel like he is getting a little too emotionally attached to me lately. I don't know, maybe I'm overreacting. I get really tired of the games. I get tired of feeling like he wants me and then he thinks I'm a horrible mother and then he wants me and then he thinks all I ever do is remind him he owes me money and then he wants me again. It. Is. Exhausting.

In fact, everything is exhausting right now. Everything. My brain seems to always be in hyperdrive. My anxiety is always looming. THIS IS NOT LIVING, PEOPLE! It's just not dying.

But tonight, it's all I've got. Tonight, I am trying to focus on the small things like the fact that I was accepted to the college I wanted to go to and that I've been keeping up on my housework without a cleaning lady (who I was blessed to have for the past 8 months).

I am capable. I am going to get through all of this. Just not tonight.

The Haters

The very first time I came across this Brene Brown quote, I fell in love with it. I remember thinking it applied to Peter and his family and the way I was being portrayed in our divorce---as the cold, unloving wife who left her husband because he had lost his belief in God. They had no idea what he had put me through or what life was like in our home. And more importantly than that, for a while they didn't know HE was the one to leave ME.

He conveniently left out that detail and they didn't find out until right before our divorce was final and I told his dad during our divorce settlement meeting. {Fun times...}

I digress...

A lot of people have hurt me in my life and unfortunately, I've come to fear it and expect it. That doesn't make it hurt any less and the problem with that is that it takes a lot out of me to keep my relationships genuine. It is so freaking exhausting sometimes.

Tonight I was reading through the first few months of writing in this blog {I started it a year ago this month!} and I came across some words that I wrote that have fit perfectly with where I'm at right now.

"Today my writing taught me something I hope to never forget---I cannot rely on the actions of other people to determine my life. I am fighting against the urge to hate Peter. I am fighting against the urge to swear at him and post nasty things about him all over the internet. I am fighting the urge to lay in bed all night and cry. I am not a hater. And I am not going to become something that I'm not just because someone hurt my heart."

That last sentenced pierced my heart tonight because it is exactly what I've been trying to remind myself of all week. When she turned on me, I didn't gossip about her. In fact, I was still worried about her.

I still am.

And when she came at me a week later with more hurtful words, I stood up to her but I didn't gossip about her. I didn't run to our mutual friends and tell them how horrible she is. I didn't try to get people on "my side".

Sadly, she did. Her support system was most of our mutual friends and as she started believing and saying horrible things about me, she was saying those things to them and almost all of them stopped contacting me.

This hurt me a lot to realize.

I wish our mutual friends would displace their shock with questioning. I wish any one of them would've come and asked me for my side of the story. But they didn't. She's told them too many things about the type of person that I am for them to hear me out.

I've lost so many friends in the past few weeks.

But I have not hated on her. I have not written nasty things about her or tried to build up my own gang to counteract her allies. That isn't who I am. And I refuse to become someone that I am not just because someone hurt my heart.

It's as simple as that.

So many times, I've wish I could yell at her and our other friends who have believed her. I wish I could tell them how hurt I am but I don't think it would make a difference.

This is genuinely me. I am trying to trust that tonight. I am trying to believe that I am a good person and counteract the voice in my head that tells me I am innately selfish and horrible.

My Character

When someone tries to defame your character, you are left with a few different choices. And the thing is, a lot of the choices seem scary and messy.

You can cower down and lose confidence. You can put your trust in the accuser and wonder whether you are really, truly a bad person. 

Or you can do nothing. You can ignore it and live your life, cutting that person out to keep yourself safe from future hurt.

Or you can fight. You can become pissed off and possibly go bat-shit crazy on the person. You can attack their character right back. You can try and hurt them how they've hurt you.

Or...

Or you can fight for YOURSELF. This is different than fighting with the person. You can stand up for yourself when you are attacked and you can prove the person wrong. You can live your life, showing the world your character. You can have compassion for the persons anger and set boundaries that keep you from further harm as much as possible. 

And if you pick the fourth choice, which in most situations I would recommend, you will find who you're real friends are. 

They are the people who hear horrible things about you and question them. They are the people who come and ask you for your side, even if they don't agree with you in the end. They listen and they don't attack you. They don't believe things about you just because someone told them to. 

This is where I'm at right now. A lot of days, I struggle with trusting anyone---because I trusted her with all of my vulnerability. All of it. The deep stuff. The messy stuff. The happy stuff. I was transparent and I still got hurt so deeply. 

So it's hard to feel like I can trust any of my friendships to be genuine. But I'm doing it. I'm fighting for myself and part of that is continuing to trust the people in my life who have supported me. 

Because this trial is not going to ruin me. I won't let it. 

Yes, it has changed me. It has made a lot of things feel horrible and it has left me with a great amount of fear. And fear is hard for me because I live every day with an anxiety disorder that sometimes takes control. 

But ever since that day a month ago, I have worked. And that's all I can do. It doesn't matter that it still feels so scary and messy. It doesn't matter that I'm often afraid or feel anger. Because I'm trying. I'm trying a little bit each day. 

I'm trying to build a relationship with God because I'm putting my faith in the Spirit and it's ability to help me discern safety. 

I can't forget the power of the Spirit and the help my God gave me that day or in the weeks since. I've been so angry with Him but He didn't leave when I yelled. In fact, He surrounded me with extra comfort when I yelled and blamed and asked why. He loves me unconditionally. 

I know I can trust in that.

And I refuse to let this ruin my trust in the people who genuinely love me and support me. I refuse. 

Because I am a good person. I know I did everything I could in the best way I knew how at the time. 

Yes, in hindsight, I'd change a lot of things but that wasn't possible at the time...because I didn't know any of this back then. 

The Worst Day Of It All

Today was the worst day of it all.

Because although I haven't eaten in two days or gotten off the couch or changed my clothes, the ONE thing I wanted out of all this was for my kids to never be involved.

Today I found out they were involved.

Today feels like the darkest day of my entire life.

I hate myself today.
I hate everything today.

Except my kids.

I love my brave kids with all my heart.

Goodbye, Old Life

Today my life is forever changed.

Today my life feels ruined. 

I don't know if I'll ever pick up the pieces from today.