Doing It Alone

I often feel alone, like no one can fully understand or wants to hear about what I'm feeling at every given moment.

Like I'm stuck inside this body that I hate with a spirit that is misunderstood by others.

Like no matter how much good I try to do, people will still point out the bad.

I stare at the people who love me and wonder why they love me and when they are going to realize how unworthy I am. When are they going to leave? When are they going to find a flaw they can't handle?

I feel alone as a mother. I feel like no one understands this difficult journey I am on to safely and bravely raise my children in a world filled with so many evils. I feel like everyone is judging me for worrying so much about my almost-kindergartner. But nobody knows him like I know him.

Nobody sees what I see.

The anxiety, the lack of listening skills, the daytime bathroom accidents, the OCD tendencies, the portrayal of ADHD in his little kid mind.

Everyone thinks I'm overreacting.

That is, everyone besides the babysitter who told me after one day of watching him that she could no longer do it because of how difficult he is.
I wasn't mad or offended---just sad. Sad for my little guy who needs love in different ways. Sad for my little guy who will probably be misunderstood in school and receive the label of "problem child" by teachers and classmates.

Sad for my little guy for potentially going through what his mom went through as a kid.

I feel like nobody understands our family, like we are outcasts no matter where we go.

We don't fit in at church. Church is hard. Everyone is nice but I still struggle with it. I still want to run away from it most days.

We don't fit in with our extended family. We are the only ones without a dad/husband at Sunday dinners. We are the only ones without a dad/husband for family vacations.

I'm worried we won't fit in at the new school. Or at the old school. Or anywhere.

I stood back as we watched my daughter walk in to her school building this morning and I felt alone. I felt like we were standing there and looking around at all of the families and I watched her worried little face turn away from me and walk into the school and I wanted to run after her and take her home.

Because mainly, that's my solution for all of this. I know I love my children and I know they love me and sometimes I just want to run away with them and stop worrying about all of the other things in life.

There are too many things.

What I really want is for my children to be more loved than I felt I was as a child. I want them to feel accepted and wanted. I don't want them to go through the things that I've been through.

And I wish other people understood that. I wish they could see that the choices I am trying to make for my children aren't just some obsolete worrying that I've made up in my head. These worries are valid and real.

If I'm going to be alone, I'll be alone. I'll deal with it and work through it. But not my children. I don't want their life to look like mine when they are adults. I want more for them.

I'd give them the whole world if I could. I'd do anything for them.

And I feel like I'm fighting for them by myself.

Because Peter has his own shit. He quit his job and started a new one and isn't doing the "dad" thing very well right now. It comes and goes. But right now, he only takes them 5 days a month and he told me with the new job that he can't see them in between his every other weekend (which is not what is on our parenting plan). And when I try to tell him how worried I am about our children, he yells at me because he assumes I'm blaming him.

And it's really frustrating. It's frustrating to make doctors appointments and therapy appointments and to not have him on the same page as me. It's frustrating to feel like they play with dad and do all the hard stuff with mom.

But this is divorce life. This is the life I chose to live when my addict-husband ran away. This is the life I get to live forever and ever.

And today I hate it. I hate how hard it is to feel alone when you're trying to make parenting decisions. I hate worrying about whether my children are going to be ok.

I hope they are. I will do everything it takes to make sure they are.

With or without Peter.

My Worlds

Sometimes I feel torn between two very different worlds; worlds that couldn't be further apart. 

But they are both mine.

Both contain happiness and heartache, miracles and failures. But when I think of these worlds colliding, I get anxiety. I start to panic because what if one world hates the other and I am stuck in the middle?

Or what if I lose them both...

I think that is my worst fear---losing everything. Because this is reality and it is always a possibility. 

There are very few whom I allow to bleed from one world to the other. They are select and they must be able to handle it. And if they can't, that's ok. It doesn't make me mad.

Hell, I can barely handle my worlds.

But if they can't handle it, if they hate the way the other world runs, I risk losing them. And that scares the hell out of me.

Because I'm done with losing people. I'm done with it. 

In a few weeks, it'll be the two year anniversary of my d-day---the day Peter blindsided me and ran away. And I don't know what I expected life to look like two years later but all the in between of the past two years? I couldn't have even dreamed some of the things that have happened. If someone would've told me all of the things I was going to go through from August 24th, 2013 until now, I would've just given up back then. 

Seriously. 

I would've laid my butt in bed and just stopped living. 

Because there has been some seriously hard shit. Things that have hurt my life and others lives. 

And that's been one of the hardest parts of the past two years. I have my personal struggles with loving myself but loving others? I can do that. And when people I love get hurt and it coincides with my life? No. I can't handle it. In fact, I haven't ever handled it well. 

I can remember the first time I yelled at my 6 year old brother when I was 16 and tears welled up in his big brown eyes. I hated myself. I hated every part of myself. I harmed myself, I restricted my eating...I punished myself for losing my cool with THE ONE PERSON WHO SHOWED THEIR LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY. 

And whether my loved ones get hurt by my choices or I just happen to be in the path when they get hurt, I don't deal with it very well. I don't bravely continue without meltdowns or mistakes. I don't act like a warrior. I blame myself or get angry that I wasn't able to help them enough. I cry and I ache for them. 

Because my people are important to me. 

My family is important to me.

I can hardly believe it's been two years. Or maybe that's a lie because some days, it feels like an eternity since Peter left. It seems like the person that I was and the person that I am are two incredibly opposite people. 

And I don't know how to feel about that because a part of me mourns the person I once was and a part of me loves the more genuine person I am now.

I can tell you one thing---I know my capabilities much more than I did two years ago. I may still have a lot of broken pieces but for the first time since Peter left, I stopped going to counseling because I feel ready to start living my life without running stuff by my therapist. 

Two years (minus last summer) of sitting on the same brown couch alone, talking to the same therapist about some pretty messy shit. 

Two years. 

It all feels like a big deal. An overwhelmingly big deal. It feels like anxiety and bravery. 

Because I can do this. I can attend the singles ward and raise my children and pass my school classes and have friendships and forgive people who've hurt me and LOVE. 

I can love.

And I am learning how to be loved too. 

Life is full of so much and I am ready to start living again. 

And if others show up to stand by my side, great.

And if they don't, I am going to be ok. 

I can do this, right?

I've struggled a lot with my faith in the past year but pretty deeply the past two or three months. I've wondered how God could allow life to look and feel so messy. 

I'd ask Him, "I can do this, right?" and some of the times, I'd get no answer. I'd feel completely alone. I'd sit on my couch with tears streaming down my face and wonder why I deserved so much pain. 

I must've done something. Maybe before I came to Earth? Maybe I wasn't a good enough listener? Or maybe I was just stupid enough to choose this life? 

I can do this, right?

That question pours into my head a lot. 

I've been feeling awkward this past week, like people are judging me or staring at me and on the inside, they're laughing. Laughing at my stupidity, laughing because they think I don't know that they know. 

I feel like I'm in one of those dreams where I've forgotten to put on my pants before walking into my school building. 

I feel somewhat naked and exposed, like my privacy isn't really private. Hell, like others privacy isn't really private. 

I have felt a lot of emotions but the question that I keep coming back to stays the same. 

I can do this, right? Right?

I can be brave and allow people to lash out. It's ok if they do. In fact, I'm protective of my friends too. I get it. Maybe I'd do the same thing if the tables were turned. 

I can do this, right?

I can still be vulnerable with my "safe" people even if they've messed up. We all make mistakes. All of us. Me. You. Everyone. 

I can do this, right? 

I can move on without fear of people hating me. Because if they hate me, that's their choice. And I know what they're missing out on. 

I can do this, right? 

I can remember that life isn't about how many friends I have but about making sure I am trying my hardest to love others how Christ would love them. 

But can I do this? Because it's harder than I thought. It's more vulnerable than I thought. It's scarier and lonelier than I thought. 

And giving up sounds easier. 

But is giving up better? No. 

Trying to move forward and repair the brokenness is brave and I think it'll be worth it. Realizing I can't change whatever has been done is the first step. I can't change it. I cannot reach into the cyber world and change what has happened. I can't repair every tiny aspect. But I can do my best to repair the relationships, whatever that is going to look like in the end. 

I'm scared. Really scared. I don't know where to start or how to start. 

But one thing I do know---I'm privileged enough to have some pretty amazing memories with some incredibly amazing people. They are real. It was real. And I won't be giving that up very easily. 

I can do this, right? I can walk into a room where I know at least half of the people have talked about me and I can be strong enough to love them. 

I do still love you. All of you. No matter which "you" you are. Even if I don't know you, I can love you. Genuinely, I can and I will. 

Because when it's all said and done, I've been in each of your shoes at one point or another. We all have, to some degree. We all know what rejection feels like. We all know what it feels like to think everyone is talking about you behind your back. We all know what it feels like to not be good enough. And we ALL have the power to change it, to rise above the crappy situations and love each other. 

"There isn't a person you wouldn't love if you could read their story." 

Defining Moments

Life is so full of defining moments. 

I feel like there have been so many times where I've woken up on a seemingly normal day to find that God wants me to grow a little more...or a lot more. 

With each defining moment, I find myself doubting and questioning the steps I'm taking. Trust feels so scary and hard. It always has and yet, I find myself yearning to trust, fighting to hold on to anything I can get my hands on. 

It isn't until after the fall that I see the growth. 

I can remember so many times where I've bargained with God to take a trial away. Sometimes they seem so big. And when He doesn't take it away, I beg Him not to leave me during the painful process. 

And He never has. He is always there, even if His presence seems silent. 

It's extremely scary to trust people. It's always something I want to do but it's also something that brings me anxiety. I feel like I do my best. And sometimes, when I don't feel like I'm able to trust on my own, I pray to my Heavenly Father for the strength not to over analyze life and to discern whether I am making the right decisions. 

My mind has been running nonstop the past 48 hours. Nonstop. Maybe I should chalk that up to the Zoloft prescription that got messed up at the pharmacy, leaving me with no anti-anxiety meds for eight days. But I don't really believe that's it. I think I'm just trying to trust life again and that is really hard for me. 

Because when life calms down, I feel like another huge fall is about to happen. 

I'm happy today. Anxiously happy. It isn't a perfect happiness. In fact, I feel like every few minutes, I'm talking myself down from having a mental freak out. But the truth is that I am happy. 

Happy that life seems calm. Happy that I have been given second chances. Happy that I feel my Savior's love. Happy that there is hope. 

Although trust is hard and I have been burned when trusting people, I still want to be a trusting person. I still want to see the good in everyone. I still believe there IS good in everyone. 

It's going to get easier. It's going to get better. I prayed so many nights for things to settle down, whatever the end result would look like. And it seems like maybe that prayer was answered. 

Time will tell but tonight, I am extremely grateful for the opportunity I have to be alive and learn so many things. I am grateful for friends who teach me every day. 

I am grateful that God has allowed me to recognize my warrior potential. It's been an extremely messy few years but I have faith that I can get through the messes. 

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.

Sometimes The Fall Kills You

She was thrown to the ground, shunned by the ones she loved, torn apart by her seemingly loyal relationships. 

They laughed. They saw her as an outcast, a wild beast that needed to leave. 

Now. 

Leave now, they told her. Never come back to this sacred place for it is ours. It is not yours. You do not belong. 

She ran through trees and cut her shins on twigs and thorns. The forest was dangerous but she kept on running. 

And as she ran from village to village, she realized she didn't belong. 

She did not belong anywhere. 

She tried the lovers, the fighters, the sinners, the Christians, the non-believers and none of them accepted her. None of them could see who she really was. 

Days. Months. Years. She wondered when it would end. She wondered when the nightmares would stop and when the sun would begin to shine. 

Her heart was a thousand pieces of a puzzle she did not know how to put back together. 

No one understood. No one was trustworthy. No one kept her safe. 

The villages that preached love and acceptance, the villages filled with broken people---they all seemed like places she wanted to be but they hated her. 

They hated her because they couldn't see her goodness.

Her legs bled from each deep wound she endured while trying to find a place where she would be loved. 

And one day she realized that the only person she could count on is herself. No one else would always be there. No one else could love her through her mistakes. 

It was then that she realized the biggest problem. For although all of the others had shunned her, she had also shunned herself. She had been the biggest hater of them all. 

For she knows all of the imperfections. She knows all of the stupid decisions and weak moments and mistakes inside and out and there wasn't a person in the world who she could allow herself to ever fully open up to again. 

She blamed it on herself. Who else could she blame it on? She is the reason they hate her. She is the reason scars cover her legs. 

She is unworthy of love and acceptance. She is unworthy of vulnerable friendships and steady relationships. 

Often times she feels unworthy of life. 

But she will fight for now. 

Today she is holding on. Today she still breathes and fights through the pain that has resulted from those battle wounds. 

She doesn't believe in herself but she is trying. She is trying to find her path in her world filled with darkness and loneliness. 

Never will her life be the same as it was. Never again will she be able to look through rose-colored glasses and believe that goodness is common. 

Because life has proved to her that it isn't. 

Life has proved to be unstable and cruel and lonely. 

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.