OCD

Doubters and sinners are afraid that if everything isn’t perfect or done just right something terrible will happen or they will be punished

Counters and arrangers are obsessed with order and symmetry. They may have superstitions about certain numbers, colors, or arrangements

These are two symptoms of OCD.  Thankfully, i am not a checker, washer, or a hoarder. 

When i was a preteen i became obsessed with counting.  I would continually count my fingers (as if the number would change).  I would add together any collection of numbers and thought if the sum was 9 then it was good luck. 

I remember once my mother had a horse and i would just let it out and walk it around.  I don't remember anyone being home to tell me not to or maybe they just didn't notice.  I had pushed the horse to make it move and then it stepped on my foot (which hurt).  I then made a connection between perfection (good vs bad deeds) and punishment.  It is probably where the concept of the other shoe came from. 

the day it all changed

"Gossip is when you make light of someones personal life as a way of being hateful, not complimentary"

Perspective.  This too shall pass.  When i am in the middle of something that i feel is tragic or overwhelming i try to think of a time in my past that made me feel overwhelmed.  It is always seems to remind me that life is everchanging and that rough spots don't last forever (thankfully). 

It is very easy to judge people harshly, but then i am able to remind myself that it wasn't too long ago that i was judged wrongly and how that made me feel.

I had spent over a decade eating, living, and breathing a company.  It was normal for me to wake in the middle of the night stressing out how to reach and exceed a metric.  I was consumed with how to make me team be better (on paper), how to get their buy in and motivate them.  It worked, I was number 1 in almost every metric that this company measured.  The DM called me and would talk through certain situations with me, I was called upon to lead conference calls.  I totally got off on it, I felt important (and we all know how important this is to my low self esteem). 

Then one day, it all changed.  There was a stocker who was accused of stealing sodas.  He then told a story of being harassed by a guy that he called "big poppa"?  The department manager had nude photos of a cashier.  They all had talked of making a porno.  A person that was going to be promoted to dept manager was having a sexual relationship with a cashier of the same sex (supposedly in the breakroom).  They all said they NEVER acted this way around me.  I fired my entire management staff, borrowed an assistant from another store.  This was the start of the holiday season from hell.  I had to borrow managers from other stores and practically work open to close seven days a week.  I lived in fear of losing my job daily.  Finally the week before christmas i was given a final write up.  I was thankful to have my job and thought the situation was finally over.  I was still working like crazy, but was trying to live and learn.  Review time came, i was given a needs improvement.  Okay, i thought, now it is all behind me.  Human Resources came in and interviewed all of the people that were there that day.  I could have changed the schedule and coached people to say what i thought would be appropriate, but really had nothing to hide.  I then sat down with HR and was told "you created the situation, you must live through it".  Then, she finally got to the real point of why she was here, she wanted to talk to me about my attendance and how "sometimes, you are late in the morning".  While my boss, sat on the desk acting as if this was the biggest tragedy he had heard of in his career. 

I went home and i cried.  I started the process of letting go of yet another bad relationship in my life. 

happiness

I asked my best friend if she felt different when she got married, she replied "yes, i felt trapped".

When i registered for my first marriage, i had picked out a comforter set.  My adoptive father took me to the department store to get it.  A different comforter set had caught my attention immediately, but i got the one that i had registered for.  Why, because i had wanted it for so long.  It was just like my upcoming marriage. 

I have always been a serial relationshipist.  I cant think of many times that i didnt have a boyfriend/fiancee.  I needed a boyfriend/fiancee to make me feel special.   My first love had cheated on me very publicly at a football game in highschool.  I had told myself that she couldnt be as special as i was.  Until one day, i was sitting in the hallway with my friends.  I saw him and her, the way that he was holding her hands and looking at her.  I thought, he used to look at me that way.  I then knew that i wasnt special. 

I was engaged once to a guy who treated me badly (yes i realize this doesnt narrow it down), but he had bought me a 1 carat engagement ring.  I would be feeling bad about myself and i would look down at that ring to remind myself that i MUST be special to have such a great ring.  The problem with using things, people, or a job to define yourself is that things, people, and jobs go away.  I have always depended on these things, people, or jobs to make me happy. 

entitlement

one time my mother asked me how the divorce had affected me.  I told her that it had made me more thankful.

I think what i really meant was it made me scared to not be thankful because it can all be taken away in a second.  A friend always said "you are one phone call away from a bad day".  Cynical but true. 

I always blamed myself for not being thankful for what i had when i had it.  I felt as though i had an attitude of entitlement.  If i had not have taken my mother being there for granted that maybe she would not have left.  I sent my mother one of those chain emails (i don't usually forward them on unless i really think the other person will find them amusing).  She replied "I remember when you were young and how well we got along. I loved you so much. Love you now..."  I have seen pictures and we look as though we are happy, but i don't remember those times.  I must have been three when her and my adoptive father were married.  They must have been happy, but i don't remember those times either. 

gossip and thoughts

today on the radio, a man called and actually asked if he would have to study the bible when he got to heaven or if there would be new material to study

I think this guy has way too much time on his hands.

There are two things i struggle with everyday, gossip and thinking bad things about people.  When does talk turn into gossip?  If i talk to someone to voice my concern about someone else or to get advice is this gossip?  It isn't gossip when i tell someone of a good thing that happened to someone else, only when we talk about bad things. 

I was once told, that god knows what we are thinking.  So if we think it, then we might as well say it.  I passed a car that had a sticker in the window that stated something about being cute and indian.  The indian part might have been correct, but the cute part could not have been further from the truth.  Why is it that only ugly people feel the need to pronounce that they are cute?  Do they think that it is a self fulfilled prophecy?

Ugh, i digress.  I cannot help thinking bad things about people, but i have at least gotten better (on most days) from voicing those thoughts....this has to be an improvement. 

Emotional boundaries

Emotional boundaries define where our feelings end and another's begins.

I have always found it very easy to substitute someone else's judgement for me own, to take on other peoples issues, feelings, etc as my own cause.  I either get engulfed in the situation or i cut and run.  As usual, i am to one extreme or another. 

I have been trying to balance these extremes.  I seem to be a little more successful these days.  It is amazing how much better i feel when i express my feelings when i feel them.  I am honest about what i can and cant give or take.  I offer my advice on situations and try not to dwell on the outcome too much....especially when it involves other people.  Sometimes i think that being codependent is more about trying to control the people and situations in your life because you feel so totally out of control.  There are also passive aggressive ways of controlling people, manipul I know that i am physically and emotionally unable to be everything to everyone.  Sometimes, it isnt about just being able to say no to people.  I am notorious for offering my own assistance. 

the leaver or the leavee

“Codependency, by definition, means making the relationship more important to you than you are to yourself.....it doesn’t sound like it means a one-sided relationship. But that’s what it is. It means you’re trying to make the relationship work with someone else who’s not,”

My first love was intense.  Summer came and he went away to work with his father and of course i was a teenager.  I cheated.  Trust me, he paid me back.  After that relationship i could never be the leaver, i was always the levee.  Unable to trust my ability to make the right decision.  I don't know how to not work hard, especially when it comes to relationships.  I would kill myself to be the person that i thought they wanted me to be.  One time a boyfriend told me that the love of his life and him had never argued.  I wanted to be that person, so i just didn't voice any concerns that i had about much of anything.  I lost myself in that relationship.  He finally cheated on me and left me.  It destroyed me.  I knew the relationship was toxic, but i was in too deep that i couldn't have found my way out if someone had given me a map and a flashlight. 

Women are brought up with the idea that being selfish is a bad thing.  If i had been more selfish and less willing to give so much of myself to people who didn't deserve it, i could have saved myself so much heartache.  I am not talking the "wall", but boundaries.  I am probably more to the other extreme now.  Needy people suck the life out of me and i pull the cord for the ejector seat immediately.   I know that i am giving way too much unused advice when i suddenly become tired of the sound of my voice. 

I am so very thankful for the lessons that i have learned in life, i just wish that i would've been smart enough to follow good advice and saved myself so much heartache. 

the look

I was in jr high, my parents were taking me home after a weekend visit.  There was this huge house fire and we drove by to see the house was engulfed in flames, people were running back and forth in front of the house. 

I said something about the house not being much anyway.  I think it was to justify such a tragedy and dismiss the feeling of helplessness we all had.  My mother gave me such a look of disgust and said something about it being a person's home regardless of how it looked.  I didn't say a word.  Ironically, they were taking me to drop me off at a trailer house that was falling apart.  The only thing that was missing was the trailer park. 

I wished that instead of the look of disgust that i was given, that she would have taken the time to deal with me and explain the ways of the world to me.  This was a very typical situation of my upbringing.  I wanted so much to be close to my mother, to have her approve and accept me. 

You may forget what people say, but you will never forget how they made you feel.  That look made me feel undeserving of her love and attention. 

he's just not that into you

Hilarious, I have been listening to that audio book.

Tonight, i am sitting in class.  There is this really cute girl that sits in front of me.  I cant figure out why she keeps turning around and looking behind her.  Until, the boyfriend joins her at the break.  I suppose he must have been late for class.  She then starts to ask him questions about where he has been all day and why this is the first time she has seen him.  He gives her some lame excuse about not wanting to wait for her to get out of class. I wanted to yell at her, you are cute, he is a lazy loser, and you deserve better.

I so wished that someone would have yelled that several times in my life. 

sarcasm

sarcasm is a passive aggressive way of dealing with emotions and people

I used to be the queen.  When you always have a snarky comment to make, then people see it as a stop sign and usually go no further in dealing with you or the situation.  Almost like the motley crue song, "don't go away mad, just go away."

It was pointed out to me once that sarcasm was a disrespectful way of dealing with people.  It is amazing how you cannot unring a bell.

I have spent my life with a wall.  My mother once told me about her wall.  Since i had no judgement of my own, i substituted her twisted view on relationships as my own.  I thought it would make me sound mysterious and insightful. 

There are people who speak of their issues to heal and people who speak of their issues to get attention.  I wanted the attention.  I spent most of my life doing and saying what i thought would be cool.  This is why i started smoking.  This is why i started drinking.  This is what i thought the wall was. This is what i thought sarcasm was.  This is why i dated the unemotional available bad boy.  This is why i never excelled in school.  Isn't it amazing how all of the things that i thought were cool, were killing me?

the other shoe

How does family dysfunction produce codependency? When parents exhibit problems that bring chaos to a family, the children are forced to abandon being children and must enter survival mode. In survival mode, children can become hypervigilent - that is, they compulsively scan their environment to detect the next threat to their safety and well-being.

I once read that women are programed to look at situations and find the threat quickly.  Cavemen just had to hunt and not be hunted.  Cavewomen had to cook, clean (i guess), and make sure the children weren't hunted.  This conditioned women to immediately focus on things that could be dangerous. 

I have spent most of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop, in a constant state of yin and yan.  Thinking that if one aspect of my life was going good that the other would soon be in the ditch.  I am not sure how much of that thinking became a self fulfilling prophecy.  When the moment would come, i was able to reveal in the crisis and then get prepared for the next one. 

I finally started to stop thinking this way, when i met my husband.  I was finally able to get out of a relationship with an alcoholic that lasted way too long.  I finally had someone who adored me, had a job, and a great family.  I had to talk myself out of getting into crisis mode and waiting for the other shoe to drop with my professional life.  The funny thing about waiting for the other shoe is, anything and everything can either be considered bad or good. 

Perfect example, yesterday, i was late for work.  I had to iron two separate pairs of pants, because i had ordered three pairs of size 12 pants (the first pair i ironed and tried to wear were obviously marked incorrectly).  I thought it was suppose to be in the upper sixties and didn't wear a long sleeve undershirt.  My coffee maker either didn't actually heat the coffee or i grabbed a cup from the previous day (not really going to spend much time thinking on that one), because when i got to work the coffee was cold.  My groomer didn't feel the need to schedule anyone at 8am, so i got to answer the phone and check in the dogs.  My night crew managed to lose the keys to the bird hex and so i played handywoman yesterday and changed the lock, so i didn't have to explain why i lost three $500 birds.  I think one of my employees has fallen off the wagon and he called in.  One of my department managers is trying to stop drinking (i think trying to make me start) and is in a constant state of manic or depressive behavior.  My aquatics specialist roommate is the child of alcoholics and her boyfriend left her so she tried to commit suicide. 

So, i ironed another pair of pants for me, warmed my coffee in the microwave (praying my dollar tree cup didn't explode), answered the phone, played with the dogs in grooming, called in a replacement, went to penneys and bought a clearance sweater (four actually, super cute), ran to lowes and purchased a new lock (keyed an incident report and waited for the nastygram from my boss), replaced my wagon fallen employee, gave my department manager some tough love (suggesting he go to some AA meetings...which i think he thought people drank at these meetings) and hugged my crying aquatics specialist and told her to get away from her toxic roommate. 

How was my day yesterday you ask?  I lost my cool twice, but i had a really good day. 

aging

My sister once said "I was going through a really tough time....it was called my twenties." 

I am knocking on the door to forty, i don't feel almost forty something.  Heck, i can remember the show thirtysomething and i thought all of THOSE people were old and dramatic.  Who knows, maybe they were, they sure didn't make thirtysomething seem fun.  I probably don't feel like a grown up because i don't have children.  I know that having a mortgage scared the crap out of me, now there is a commitment.  Ironically i have had a car payment since i was sixteen, but something about signing a 30 year mortgage brings you more in touch with your mortality.  Knowing that if it takes me 30 years to pay off this house (it better not), i will be in my sixties is a little unnerving. 

Isn't it funny how your definition of old gets older the older you get? 

the master

I am the master of disguise. 

I think some of it is just what good southern women do and some of it is the military adoptive father i had which basic theory was "i will give you something to cry about".  I have dealt with the public daily for over two decades.  Customers don't care if your dog died, your mother has cancer, or if your boyfriend just left you broke and a stack of bills.  I am like the mother we all hated who would be chewing you out one minute and then answer the phone the next as if nothing had ever happened.  The first time my mother ever did this to me, i was so angry at her.  Here she was laughing and being joyful on the phone while i was sitting there so upset. 

I also learned that airing your dirty laundry didn't get you much support for very long.  Now, i just don't complain about things that i am not willing to do anything about.  I spent too long complaining that i just got tired of hearing the sound of my own voice.  Also, there is some victim mentality to complaining and not doing anything about it.  I cant stand a victim, so i just stopped.  It was never allowed when i was growing up, butch didn't have the patience for it and i just don't think my mother knew how to deal with it.  I don't think that my mother has ever whined a day in her life. 

I know that every person has a vulnerable side, but my mother would die before she ever showed it to me.  I have seen my mother cry once in her life, it was when we put her beloved black lab to sleep.  I don't know if any of these things are good or bad, it was what it was. 

the child

I cant recall much of anything from my childhood until about age 4 and some of that seems like a dream, so it is difficult defining reality and imagination.  I often wonder if there are things that i have been blocking that causes my anxiety, depression, inability to focus, and irrational thoughts.  I always thought my ability to go from one extreme to another was because i was a Libra. 

Yesterday i watched 2 episodes of hoarders and then began to panic that i might be a hoarder because there were 3 pieces of unopened mail on the kitchen counter.  Fortunately, i have ADD and i can quickly find another bizarre thought to focus my anxiety on. 

No one ever tells someone to act like a child.  I think that my mother and adoptive father thought i wanted to be a boy when i was growing up.  I remember them always asking me who i wanted to be and i would say "me".  I am not sure what else i was suppose to answer.  I was a tomboy, so i imagine this question was relevant.  Without having much of my mother in my life, i did figure it out, finally. 

I don't really remember enjoying my childhood, except for the few memories i have of living in California.  When we all moved to Oklahoma, i just remember lots of tension.  Maybe i tried to grow up fast so that i could be included.  I would be sitting in the back seat of the car and my mother and adoptive father would be having a conversation and i would so want to be a part of their world, but i just couldn't keep up. 

I have to remind myself that i was the child. 

the reality

perception is reality

there are 3 sides to every story, my side, your side, and the truth.  I tried to stop getting wrapped up in the right or wrong of a situation or subject, because it is tiring and time consuming.  I believe that ultimately everyone wants to feel heard and that have their feelings validated and made to feel important. 

The problem is that i don't have any idea how to communicate properly.  My career has forced me to become a better communicator and to not communicate in anger.  This has been very difficult because growing up, most problem communication was done in anger or sarcasm.  One time i was having an issue with a guy i was dating and i was emotional and i was screaming.  He told me there was no reason to yell.  I don't think that i had ever thought of talking out an issue without screaming or being more worried about being right than fixing the issue. 

Sarcasm has always been my defense mechanism and i was the queen.  I now see it as disrespectful when dealing with someone you care about and love.  It is a way of minimizing the situation and not acknowledging the feelings.  I pray that God will make me patient with people who are still trying to pull down the walls as he was patient with me. 

blog worthy

there are 2 types of women, high maintenance and low maintenance.....you are the worst kind, you are high maintenance but think you are low maintenance

ladies and gentlemen, that is me.  I type this as i have just finished my nightly beauty routine of washing my face, toner, lotion, eye cream (i am hispanic and there is no amount of eye cream to cover up my dark circles), anti aging cream, mouth piece, lotion, cotton gloves, lip balm (are you tired yet). 

perception

One of the traits of a Narcissist is the inability to view the world from the perspective of other people.  Wikipedia was so kind to point out that co dependents are naturally attracted to Narcissists. 

If someone who tells you that they love you cannot and will not acknowledge your perspective, most of the time you think that you are crazy and that you are perceiving things that arent actually real.  I have learned to disregard my point of view and therefore my feelings. 

I cannot discern people that say they love me with people that actually love me.  My adoptive father said that he loved me, but projected most of his feelings of inadequacy onto me.  I feel as though he wanted me to suffer as much as he did/was. My mother said that she loved me, but i felt mostly an inconvience for her and an object of her anger.  I spent a lot of my life trying to figure out and fix what was wrong with me to make people treat me badly.  I still am, but i have gotten better about pointing out inappropriate behaivor. 

It is ironic, i would never allow a stranger to say or do the things to me that someone who said they loved me have done. 

I will not allow anyone in my life to tell me that my perspective or feelings are wrong. 

the oxy moron

finding out that my uncle and sister are schizophrenic makes me wonder, was my adoptive father afflicted as well?
There is nothing better than growing up with a paranoid ex cop.  No wonder i think i am going to be abducted.  I was told from a very young age that "people" he had "put away" were getting out and might come after him or me. They would shoot my dog and take off with me.  If anything suspicious should ever happen, i had a group of people to call.  We left restaurants because people he had "put away" were there.  On more than one occasion he would back down a road and turn off the lights because he knew that someone was following him.  He had no issue with leaving me in a trailer in the middle of nowhere alone until late most nights, because "nothing was going to happen to me". 

I am not sure if he really thought these things were happening or if he was just trying to make himself seem more important.  When i was older, the paranoia was just humorous.  One time, he came into the house swearing that someone had been driving his car.  I replied "yes, someone takes your car, drives it around and parks it in the same place that you left it."  I don't think that he ever got the sarcasm of that statement.    The lady that cut his hair told him that his hair was getting darker and he was sure that i was putting Grecian formula in his shampoo.  I couldn't even drive, where exactly was i going to get Grecian formula in a town that didn't even have a stop light?  Mr. Investigator, i am probably sure you have to leave it on for longer than the amount of time that it takes for you to wash your hair. 

When you are young and really feel that this is the only person in your world, it really stinks that they were so messed up. 

the neglect

I had the privilege of being the part of a very important duo when i was growing up.  I didn't think about the importance of it until i was much older.  This duo made me feel very important and special.  My adoptive father was able to get a police dog.  Since you aren't ever sure if the stories he tells are the truth or not, i am not sure if this dog ever worked a day in his life, but i loved him just the same. I don't have a childhood memory without this dog.  When we moved from California to Warner America, the dog came with us.  After to divorce, my mother came to pick me up and the dog was so covered in ticks that my mother cried all the way home.  It is ironic that my adoptive father will talk so fondly of that dog and he just ignored and neglected that dog and he probably died in a field alone. 

My ex husband asked me one day what had happened to smokey, i didn't know.  He asked me how i could have no idea what happened to a dog that i had loved so much.   I was only a child.  I took on the same indifference that my adoptive father did.  It breaks my heart to think of how that dog protected me and how he only wanted a little attention in return. 

One time i had rescued these cats, cindy and sandy were their names.  Only Bob Barker spoke of spaying and neutering your animals.  I guess my parents didn't watch the price is right.  I have no idea how many unwanted and unneeded kittens those cats had, but my adoptive father loaded them up and took them to the "animal shelter".  Amazingly, 6 months later one of the cats showed up.  I told the story for years about how that cat managed to make it home from 30 miles away.  It makes me ill to wonder what the heck he did with those animals, it would have been more humane to shoot them in the head. 

We never spoke about the cats or the dog. 

the workaholic

After my divorce, i felt like such a failure.  I was physically and emotionally beat down, this is when i started throwing myself into work and found my escape.  I became an office manager, key carrier, and then an assistant manager.  I worked 10-16 hour days and finally found the approval that i so desperately needed.  I could lose myself in this world.  It was a constant challenge that i struggled with at times, but got high off the success at other times. 

After i had graduated high school and was working at the service desk at a discount store, i overheard a lady that had been a teacher at my school telling another customer that she had a new job.  When i asked her where, she looked down her nose at me and said with disgust "not here".  Obviously, she didnt recognize me and i suppose that was my punishment for eavesdropping.  I didnt say a word to her and i internalized that shame for years. 

I was always reaching for the golden ring.  When i was an assistant manager, i would tell people that i was a "hardlines manager".  I changed companies and then told people I was a "merchandising manager" or "operations manager".  I was so wrapped up into the title, even when i was promoted to STORE MANAGER.  It didnt take long to realize that title only meant people wanted to really suck the life out of you. 

Life is funny.  I spent my whole life waiting for my mother to tell me she was proud of me, when i stopped expecting it, i got it.  I still carry the card that she sent with the roses that read "We are proud of you.  Love, Mom and Dad".

About 5 years ago i stopped telling people what i do, if you ask i will tell you where i work.....and leave off the fancy title that made me feel so important for so long. 

co dependency

wikipedia defines it as

Codependency (or codependence, co-narcissism or inverted narcissism) is unhealthy love and a tendency to behave in overly passive or excessively caretaking ways that negatively impact one's relationships and quality of life. It also often involves placing a lower priority on one's own needs, while being excessively preoccupied with the needs of others.^[1] Codependency can occur in any type of relationship, including family, work, friendship, and also romantic, peer or community relationships.^[1] Codependency may also be characterized by denial, low self-esteem, excessive compliance, or control patterns.^[1] Narcissists are considered to be natural magnets for the codependent.


One paragraph defined my entire life.....irony

the roller coaster

I am a godly person.  I believe that everything happens in life for a reason, there are no accidents, mistakes, or chances, there is a purpose.  My motto was "this is the place in my life where i need to be, because there is a lesson to be learned".  Unfortunately, i had to learn some lessons more than once.  I also believe that god will do whatever it takes to get your attention.  First, he will whisper in your ear, then he will tap you on the shoulder, then he will grab you by the hand, then (if you are still not getting it) he will smack you upside the head.  I feel that there too many lessons in my life that i had to learn this way.  Most of the time, i would look to the sky and say "God, i get it this time".  Some lessons i feel that i am still learning. 
Life is a roller coaster and i don't like roller coasters.  I like to be in control and this is an oxymoron to being a godly person, because god is the only person in control.  I have to remind myself when i find myself in a situation that is uncomfortable, that it is the roller coaster.  I must sit down, buckle up, and no matter how much i may try to stop the ride, i cannot.  I can either fight it or embrace the ups and the downs and its okay if i close my eyes.

Pain, emotional and physical, must be felt.  One day i had a physical hurt, instead of trying to busy my mind with other things, i acknowledged it and experience it and then it left.  I find this the only way to release my emotional hurts is to acknowledge them, experience them, and eventually the hurt will leave me......

the minimizer

I have spent my entire life minimizing...minimizing how i felt, minimizing what someone did to me, or even minimizing what i did.  Due to this, i struggle with defining my feelings or even how to feel.  Any emotion aside from anger makes me uncomfortable.  The moment that someone becomes emotional, i become 9 years old and feel as though it is my responsibility to fix the issue causing the grief.  I immediately take on the problem as if i caused it or that it is my fault.  This is where my boundaries become distorted.  I often have to say "its not my deal" as a reminder to not try and fix the issue. 

I run from confrontation and the only way i can have one is to become angry.  The fear of confrontation, causes my anxiety and makes me feel overwhelmed.  It is difficult for me to not shut down when i get too overwhelmed. 

I continue to pack my days with errands, tasks, in order to focus on anything other than issues that cause me anxiety.......not working

 

the deal

I wouldn't consider myself a pessimist, my dad says that he is a realist.  I used to always expect the worst so that if something else happened i would be pleasantly surprised.  I think some of the most detrimental things that happened to me were things that i didn't expect, so i wasn't prepared for them.  It is so tiring trying to prepare for every bad thing that you think may or may not ever happen. 

My mother asked me years ago (after watching an episode of oprah) if i was scared by the divorce.  I told her that it taught me to be more thankful.  When we first moved to Warner America, all i had to do was open the door and walked 20 feet to the bus stop, we soon moved and i had to walk an 1/8th of a mile.  My mother would get up in the morning and make sure that i had something for breakfast, the divorce happened and i don't think anyone ever noticed if i ate breakfast.  For years i felt if i had been more appreciative then maybe that wouldn't have gone away.  The divorce happened, i stayed, she left and my adoptive father told her that she was the worst mother ever and she believed him.  She always kept me at arms length.  I used to take whatever crumbs of a relationship she was offering.  If i called and she didn't want to talk, i took it as a personal rejection. 

Here is the deal, my mother has cancer.  She has been radiated, cut on, and cut out so much that she is a shell of the person she should be.  She has had part of her lung removed, some of her brain taken out and she continues to smoke.  As my father says that the damage is already done.  I feel as though the only good that has come out of it is that i quit smoking (my dad says i am less fun).  I have gotten to a point in my life that i think i have come to terms with the fact that we wont ever have a relationship and i am okay with that.  She may die and i may regret that, but i have finally stopped crying over it.  I wont ever understand it, but i think i am at a place that i can accept it.  I do know one thing, that i cannot be codependent upon her moods and i cannot place my value of myself upon how she receives me or doesn't.  The issue now is that it is killing my dad, she is mean, and hard to deal with.  Fortunately, he hasn't always seen her that way.  Unfortunately, i have. 

the narcissist

I am not sure that i would have had the strength to stop seeing Dick, but i had finally met someone new.  We had gone on a few dates and i realized that i wanted something different.  Dick finally tracked me down at work and i told him, i just couldn't do it anymore. He seemed sad.  It was odd after all of the horrible things he had ever said and done to me, that he said a few words that day and hung up.  There was no fight, no raised voices...maybe the fight had left both of us. 

Out of the frying pan into the fire i went.  I fell hard and fast for the new guy.  He opened the door for me, always brought me a rose, made me smile, and had all of the right things to say.  Bob was a narcissist to say the least and a pathological liar.  I am not sure if you could say that i believed everything that Bob told me, i just never considered it a lie.  I spent years after he left me kicking myself for all of the crazy things that i believed.  I just never know when to leave the party. 

Bob and I met at the store that i worked, he was one of my vendors.  I had met him once and honestly didn't pay that much attention to him.  One day, him and i started talking and he asked me out.  I almost cancelled at the last minute (that would have saved me lots of heartache).  We went to an okay restaurant and then stopped to play pool and have a few beers.  He knew that i was in the process of getting divorced and he told me he was as well.  He had shared custody of his son and we commiserated over being (almost) divorced. 

One night the phone rang, but it stopped before i could answer.  I saw on the caller id, it was Bob.  I tried to call back, but had to leave a message.  Then the phone rang and it was his wife, she was hysterical.  I don't even remember what she was saying, but he said that he would call me back.  I am very sure that his wife wasn't aware that they were separated or seeing other people.  This relationship broke me very quickly of seeing men that spoke to their ex daily and had children.

If they will do it with you.....they will do it to you!!

the definition of insantiy

.......is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results

an abusive relationship is an oxymoron, the yin and yang, sweet and sour

When i was writing yesterdays blog, even i became bored with it and thought really????  A woman will go back seven times before she finally leaves an abusive relationship.  Dick never told me he would kill me, but you know that one day he will.  He would become so angry that he would just ball his hands into fists so tightly that the blood would drain from his hands and his entire body would tense up and he would just shake. He became possessed.  The verbal episodes would always start with "you know what".  It took me years to not cringe when someone would say that phrase. 

For every person shaking their head with disbelief as to how women become brainwashed into these relationships, let me try to explain.   I have always had a low self esteem.  I have always been in a relationship of one sort or the other. I am an addict and use other peoples opinions to validate my self worth.  Abusive men pick their prey carefully, and it is all about the timing.  It happens slowly and the trick is to make the women believe that they caused the situation, they "made" him do it.  If a man walked up to a woman on their first date and gave them a black eye, there is no way that woman would ever see him again.  If a man told a woman on their first date, that she was worthless, couldnt do anything right, stupid, and that sex was her "duty"; there would be no second date. 

Dick told me he loved me and I so wanted to believe it.  I had no healthy relationship to compare this to and at first the relationship felt good.  I was so starved for someone to love me that i was willing to take whatever came along.  This is also my second weakness, family, Dick had a tight knit family.  There was no outward appearance of dysfunction.  This is when i learned that all families are dysfunctional, just depends on how much they hide their dysfunction.  Dick's mom and dad were high school sweethearts, both college educated, and planned their family.  They went to church every sunday, the entire family lived in the same small town.....blah, blah, blah.  I desperately wanted to belong to the type of family that i didnt have growing up. 

Being in an abusive relationship is akin to dating the bad boy.  If they would change for you, then you would be special, but when they dont (because they never will) then it just solidifies your opinion of yourself that you arent special, worth changing for, and reinforces your low self esteem.   The drama makes you feel special, he is mean to me, look I AM the victim, pay attention to me, feel sorry for me.  This is self induced victimiazation and people tire of it quickly.  I always had this need for a judge and jury, i wanted someone (everyone) to tell me i was right and he was bad and wrong.  I needed someone to tell me that i didnt deserve what happened to me (not just this situation, my whole life).  There was part of me that never wanted to try for anything any better, because i just didnt think that i deserved it.

Inside every woman who is or has been in an abusive relationship is a little girl needs someone to tell her that she is special, worthly of healthy love without any strings, and deserved to be cherished. 

commit or quit

I left Stillwater that night with my cat and left the rest behind. 

One night, my friends and I were hanging out watching movies and we heard a tap at the window.  Dick and I reconciled that night with more empty promises of happier days.  We continued with our weekend marriage until my parents pushed me to commit or quit.  I quit my job and moved.  I was so ready for a fresh start in a new town and make new memories. 

My entire family was or had been in law enforcement.  I thought i was so street smart.  I soon found out i was not only married to an addict, but a drug dealer as well.  I gave my job a weeks notice.  One of the ladies i worked with was married to a sheriffs deputy, i had confided in her what i had been going through and she asked if i was interested in speaking with someone at the police department.  I went to meet the task force at their office, thankfully wasn't at the police department.  When i told them my story, they asked where i lived and when i told them the addition, they all ready knew what street.  Dick had already been under observation.  I was so stressed out i couldn't eat.  Dick was so strung out, that all he did was sit around and eat starlight mints and look at nude magazines.  One night when my mother couldn't reach me on the phone, she called the police.  I could have died when i opened the door to police officers standing on my front porch and Dick was to be home from work any minute. I strained to hear the sound of Dicks motorcycle and be cool enough to get rid of the cops.  Thankfully, he didn't see them and none of our neighbors said a word to him. 

Finally, the day came and my parents, best friend, and one of our friends came to help me move.  This time i took no prisoners.  My mother in law came the night before and gave me the title to his truck and motorcycle.  She told me that i had a dent in my car that Dick had put there and my name was on the title to his truck and motorcycle, i should get my car fixed.  I told her to take whatever was left in the house that she didn't want to be destroyed or sold for drugs.  We packed up the truck and headed home.  I had been so strong for so long, I fell apart on the BA between Sand Springs and Tulsa. 

I wish i could say that this was when i finally learned my lesson, but no Dick and eventually got an apartment together in Tulsa and he raped me one last time.  He moved out.  The cycle of on again, off again continued until one day. 

Dick and I were to go eat with a college couple he knew.  I was too indecisive about what vehicle to take and this lit his fuse.  This was a brutal day, the phone calls would not stop, and he had the most horrible things to say.  I laid in the floor of my apartment and cried.  It was as if i was looking down upon myself.  I asked myself, if today was the day that i finally had enough.  Dick and I saw each other one more time after that, but the spell was gone and i couldn't do the cycle anymore.  I saw how hopeless my life would be with him. 

After we were divorced, he called me before he moved back home.  I finally told him that if he was looking for a reason to not move, i wasn't it.  He soon started seeing someone else and when he told me about her, he said that "she knew when to keep her mouth shut"....i guess she finally found her voice, because she would finally divorce him as well.  Yes, he is my facebook friend....he is fat and bald.....karma.

a real man

Every night, i sit at my laptop and let my thoughts take me where they may.  I am hoping to get through all of the depressing stuff and be able to blog about happier subjects.....lets see what today brings. 

There have been so many times in my life that situations seemed so surreal.  After the night of the dare, my husband and I went to counseling.   We were finally able to unite and decide that our counselor was an idiot (this would not be my last encounter with this counselor).  One day while waiting for our counseling appointment, Dick decides that he wants to move and go to school at OSU.   WARNING, WILL ROBISON, WARNING. I knew this was a classic move of an abuser to get their victim away from their support system.  I was very cautious, but he was so determined that the ball was rolling immediately.  Dicks parents took what was left of his college money and bought a trailer for him and paid his tuition and he secured a job at the college.  We moved his stuff and i moved in with my parents, continued with my semester of school, and looked for a job in Stillwater when i wasn't working or going to school.  It should have been a sign when i didn't find a job.  Of course, it was killing him that i wasn't under his direct control and the mood swings were outrageous.  He would call me with diarrhea of the mouth, this was my name for the emotionally abusive tyrants he would have.   He would hang up on me and then call right back with more of the same.  Once, my mother finally picked up the phone and told him not to call back.  It wouldn't be long before he would call and swear that he was sorry and it would NEVER happen again, we would start the cycle all over again.  I am sure that i thought i deserved this treatment.  Besides, i didn't want to "love conditionally" as my adoptive father always said and i wouldn't ever want to be "selfish" and look out for my own well being. 

I had told Dick about the last boyfriend that i had and how we had sex the last night we were together.  Every time Dick and I would talk about splitting up, he would bring up the goodbye sex and that since i did it for my ex that i HAD to do it for him.   I had fully embraced being the victim at this point, we had sex, i cried the entire time.  I got dressed and left for home.  We went to another counselor.  I was in denial of the severity of this situation.  I was there to get my husband better and that was all i wanted to talk about.  I can still see the look of horror on their face as I was oblivious to any damage that i may have sustained during this abusive relationship.  Therapy didn't last long.  One day Dick called me and told me that he "was a real man and didn't need help to solve his problems".  DANGER, WILL ROBISON, DANGER!!!

the dare

After 5 days of purging all of these memories and feelings from my system, i had felt a bit lighter today.  I hope my doctor isn't right and that i am bipolar, but then there is a part of me that wants a label to put on my emotional roller coaster and maybe it wasn't nature and nurture that caused me to be this messed up.

I became an overachiever about the time that my first marriage started to fall apart.  I married a guy who was physically and emotional abusive.  He started becoming emotionally abusive when we were moving into our first apartment about 3 months before we were to be married.  I don't remember what it was about, just that i was blown away when he went off on me.  This was the beginning of the roller coaster that became my marriage.  It became this really sick game of me trying to control when and where the outbursts would happen.  I could feel the tension building and would try to push him over the edge to get the argument over (in private) so we could get to the honeymoon phase. 

One day i we were both off of work and I had a dentist appointment, he decided to not go with me and he wasn't home when i came back from my appointment.  My adoptive father would come over twice a week before his night class and have dinner, which he did that evening.  Dick came home and i could tell he was drunk and wanting to fight.  I tried to just stay out of his way.  He was asking me if we were going to have sex.  I told him no.  He said that i was "his wife and it was my duty".  At one point he had me on the floor and he ripped my bra off me.  My memory is sketchy after this but he had me in the bedroom and was telling me to call the cops.  I went into the kitchen to call his friend, but he didn't answer.  Dick finally came into the kitchen and tried to rip the phone out of the wall and told me that if i was going to call the cops that he would need bail money.  I told him that i didn't have any cash and would have to go to the ATM.  He said that he didn't believe that is where i was going, so i told him to follow me.  So he did.  This was before everyone had a cell phone attached to them 24/7, but i had a bag phone.  I got into the car and immediately started calling friends.  My best friend was at home and told me to go to the pizza place his friend worked (luckily enough it was right next to the ATM) and she would meet me there.  I pulled up with Dick right on my tail, jumped out of my car, left the door wide open, and ran up to the restaurant.  Jeremy came out and tried to talk to Dick, but he just drove off.  I really expected him to ram my car into the restaurant.  He had a wild look in his eyes as he drove off. 

My best friend and I went driving around and Dick kept calling me, being abusive.   He kept "daring" me to call the cops.  One of the girls i went to high school with was married to a police officer and we went to her house.  I lived in the county and so we had to call the sheriff's dept.  This was like a high school reunion, because Debra and I had gone to high school with the guy who showed up.  When we arrived at the house, he asked if Dick had a weapon.  I am not sure what i told him, but Dick was in bed and told me later that he did have a gun.  That night could have turned out a lot different. 

the loss of innocence

I don't think my adoptive father had a clue how to raise children, even though he had two from his previous marriage, not to mention a daughter. I don't remember there being many boundaries in our household. Regrettably, i did not have the knowledge to know that this was abnormal, intrusive, and damaging. It was not unusual for me to see my adoptive father naked. It was a common thing to have a conversation with him while he was sitting on the toilet taking care of business. In his very rude and crude way, we had a discussion of the birds and bees and i found out what a blow job was.

He always told me that my mother loved conditional and i assumed this was a very bad thing. I spent my life loving people even when they did horrible things to me, because i did not want to be like my mother and love conditionally. One time he told me that i must make sure that i pleased my man sexually, this was a very important part of a relationship. Playboy magazines, porn movies, and sexually explicit books were always in the house and never hidden.

Amazingly enough i did not become sexually active at a very young age, even though once a boy a few years older than me did convince me to show him my private area because "he had never seen one without hair"....really? I once had a baby sitter who had me take off my pants and we "scissored". I asked later in front of someone else if we were going to do (whatever i assumed it was at the time) in front of someone else and she was very uncomfortable and acted like i was telling some kind of story. I think only then did i realize that it was bad. Thankfully, i don't think i ever stayed at their house again, but i did see her years later when i was in college and she had the nerve to remember me. I think my childhood stunk, wonder what hers was like?

improper relations

I dont think my adoptive father had a clue how to raise children, even though he had two from his previous marriage, not to mention a daughter.  I dont remember there being many boundaries in our household.  Regrettably, i did not have the knowledge to know that this was abnormal, intrusive, and damaging.  It was not unusual for me to see my adoptive father naked.  It was a common thing to have a conversation with him while he was sitting on the toilet taking care of business.  In his very rude and crude way, we had a discussion of the birds and bees and i found out what a blow job was. 

He always told me that my mother loved conditional and i assumed this was a very bad thing.  I spent my life loving people even when they did horrible things to me, because i did not want to be like my mother and love conditionally.  One time he told me that i must make sure that i pleased my man sexually, this was a very important part of a relationship.  Playboy magazines, porn movies, and sexually explicit books were always in the house and never hidden. 

Amazingly enough i did not become sexually active at a very young age, even though once a boy a few years older than me did convince me to show him my private area because "he had never seen one without hair"....really?  I once had a baby sitter who had me take off my pants and we "scissored".  I asked later in front of someone else if we were going to do (whatever i assumed it was at the time) in front of someone else and she was very uncomfortable and acted like i was telling some kind of story.  I think only then did i realize that it was bad.  Thankfully, i dont think i ever stayed at their house again, but i did see her years later when i was in college and she had the nerve to remember me.  I think my childhood stunk, wonder what hers was like?

the outcast

I used to think that i was special.  Everyone told me i was special and then i realized this is what they are suppose to tell you. 

Lets see, it was the early 80's, people did not get divorced in this small town and if they would have the male would not have raised the female child that wasn't theirs by blood.  My adoptive father was the typical ex cop, baseball coach, army guy.  He cussed like a sailor, tried to bed any woman who would give him a second, and had little or no patience for a daughter.  I don't really remember when i became conscious of the fact that people looked down on me because of this.  There are things that you don't learn when there isn't a woman around to teach you, little things.  Everyone in my life felt the need to tell me what having my period would be like and not to panic that i wasn't bleeding to death.  I had been shaving my legs for at least two years before i found out that most people don't shave their thighs.  I didn't know that you should wash the chlorine out of your hair when you get out of the pool.  I figure i had been in water, wasn't that as good as taking a shower?  I remember once, that i had gone to bed with wet hair after getting out of the pool and woke up the next morning with awesome hair.  A teacher stopped me and asked what i had done to my hair to make it look so great, she didn't seem very excited when i told her.  In order to save time in the morning, i decided that i would sleep in the clothes that i was going to wear the next day......a mother would have noticed this. 

Once, there was a gift exchange for a Christmas party at school.  I was such a tomboy that my adoptive father had picked out a puzzle, it was a star wars puzzle.  I took it to school and we did our exchange and the person who received it thought they had picked a boy gift by mistake.  I remember stealing the gift tag from the package so that i wouldn't have to explain why i thought this was a totally appropriate gift for a girl, these are things that having a mother around would have been helpful. 

I was very lucky to have a best friend who lived down the road from me and her family was straight out of a 70's family show, or so it seemed.  They lived in a beautiful 2 story house and her parents met in college.  Marjorie was a stay at home mom, later we found out how much she hated that, but from the outside it looked typical.  Thankfully, she took as much pity on me as she had the energy for, she made sure i ate breakfast daily and I spent more time at their house than i did my own.  I am sure the fact that i didn't turn out to be a stripper amazes them all. 

the divorce

I dont remember the exact day that my mother moved out, I dont remember any goodbyes, I dont remember any missing furniture, or huge fights.  She was just gone one day and that is when the anger was replaced with sadness.  I know they must have asked me who i would rather live with, but i dont remember the conversation.  I was about 9, I think.  I remember my adoptive father hanging up the phone after speaking with her and just sitting on the floor crying.  This is where my codependcy comes from, always trying to fix things, and feeling a huge amount of responsibility for situations (most of which are beyond my control). 

Years later, my mother and I had a long conversation about these events and she is still blown away by the fact that he was so upset.  She says, they had planned for the day that she would leave and the day came, she left, and it was a big surprise for my adoptive father.  I would live with my adoptive father until I married at 25.  I was pretty much left to raise myself, he was still MIA with baseball, school, and women.  I had more women drug in and out of my life then i care to remember.  I was always trying to cling onto them in desperate need of a mother in my life.  Most of all, I was responsible for the mood swings of depression and anger that ruled his life.  He spent decades being angry at mother for leaving, for finding a good man, and for trying to live a good life.  I learned that the anger will eat you alive, the anger he had for her did not stop her life from going forward, just his.  I can remember being on the receiving end of that anger many times, being told to "pull my head out and plug it in" and that "i was getting too big for my britches".  This is where i learned to cultivate my fear of the other shoe and the looming dread of it dropping.

Sometimes i wonder if my anxiety, depression, and inability to focus is nature or nurture or both. 

The accident

My mother went to school and received her associates in criminal justice and because a police officer.  This made me feel very special and very proud of her. Unfortunately, she was working a wreck one day that involved a truck with bales of hay.  She was throwing the bales back on the truck, when one fell off and she caught it instead of letting it fall.  This caused massive damage to her back.  My mother has had many surgeries since this first accident and at times, the prognosis wasn't good.  She spent many days laying on the floor of that trailer that we lived in on a heating pad with a back brace and weights attached to her trying to do who knows what.  I am not really sure how long this period lasted, except that my father had checked out.  He was a professor that had late night classes twice a week, took an unpaid position as a an assistant baseball coach (which meant practice everyday, games on the weekends),  he also had drill one weekend a month, and don't forget about the philandering.  In the nick of time, my grandmother came from California for a visit and found my mother dying on the floor of that trailer with pneumonia and was able to get my father to take her to the hospital.  Hospitals were so different then, i wasn't allowed to go into the room to see my mother, and no one really talked about it.  I just felt like a burden and forgotten. 

Fortunately, my mother was able to walk and work again.  It seemed as if the only day we were all together was Sunday.  Oh, how I have learned to hate Sundays.  The day was tension filled and if they weren't fighting, they were avoiding each other and I was forgotten and felt like a burden, trying to make the situation better.  It was only a matter of time before they announced they were getting divorced, i was soooo very happy, but little did i know that this was only the beginning of the end. 

New year, same me, same issues

I usually spend every milestone in each year analyzing the events the have occurred since the last occurrence of that milestone (i.e. birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and of course new years eve).  I am not a person to ring in the new year with 150 of my closest friends...that i don't have.  I am very low key and would rather snuggle up on the couch after a good meal and enjoy the a quiet evening.  Since this year has had many upsets, like divorce papers that were served and a spouse that i am still not on the same page with.  I rang in the new year in bed, with my dog on sedatives so that my neighbors traditional fireworks and sometimes gun shooting wouldn't cause her and I unneeded anxiety.

The new year always seems to bring new hope that this year will be MY year and according to facebook, lots of my friends feel this way as well.  I do know one thing that this year will have its ups and its downs and i will turn 40.  I do not feel compelled to make these new years resolutions, as i am always trying to improve myself daily.  I do not want to be 20 again, ugh, i have battled myself for the last 20 years (actually longer) and it has taken far too many years to get where i am today.  I have succeeded financially, professionally, and emotionally (some days more than others).  I took a pay cut and gave up on a situation that was unwinnable and spent a year mourning that loss and failure.  I finally was able to fulfill my dream of going back to school and received my associates with a 3.75 GPA. 

I am taking a page out of my amazing aunts book and creating this blog to hopefully work through the rest of my issues that through the help of medication that i am finally able to get rid of the static in my brain to focus on.  I hope this will fulfill my dream of writing, sharing my experiences to keep someone else from repeating, and working through my issues without paying for expensive therapy to have someone ask "how does that make you feel?".  I can do that on my bffs backporch with a 12 pack for a lot less and not be concerned that she thinks that i am crazy, because she gets me. 

Here is my history.  I was born in '72 to a single mother.  This was my mothers second child, she had married her high school sweetheart, the relationship was abusive so she left her husband and son behind.  Supposedly, my father had asked her to marry him and she wasn't sure, so he took that as rejection and they split up.  My biological father is Spanish and was the first in his generation to be born in America.  I can remember meeting him a few times, but never really had a relationship with him or that side of his family.  My mother met and married my adoptive father when i was very young (under the age of 5).  My mother was 23 when i was born. I cannot even imagine what it would be like to be 23, on your second marriage and second child.  She feared failure and was determined to make this family work.  I am sure there weren't a lot of men standing in line to marry a single mother in the seventies.  My adoptive was willing, he had already been married to his high school sweetheart, had 2 children, and was getting divorced, he was 11 years my mothers senior.  Maybe she was looking for a father figure or thought that he was older and wiser (not the case).  My adoptive father decided that living in California and being a cop was too dangerous to be married and raise a family.  He found a job as a professor at a junior college in Warner, Oklahoma.  This town doesn't even have a stop light.

My adoptive father comes from a family where depression and  schizophrenia has ran through at least two generations.  My grandmother and grandfather had four children, my adoptive father was the oldest and between child two and three (i believe) grandmother would have a tough pregnancy that would end in the death of the child.  David Wellington (which my brother was named after).  The family still remembered the day every year.  My adoptive fathers grandmother was a strictly religious person and made my father believe that the baby died due to his sin, he has carried this anger and guilt ever since that time.  My uncle and sister are both afflicted with schizophrenia. 

My adoptive father suffered from severe acne growing up and he had huge ears.  He felt rejected by women and spent the rest of his life trying to screw every woman he could just to prove that he wasn't the pimple faced high school dork.  Women were objectified by him....that is another story for another day.