Just Checking In - As Opposed To Out

2008-05-30

Caught a wild hare and decided to post.  Went to the park today with the kindergarten classes.  We learned that frogs suck in their eyeballs when they swallow to help force the food down their throats - interesting fact I never realized I didn't know.  Some of my past has come back to haunt me in the last few days.  I'm still terribly homesick, but I realize I can never go back.  Too much water under the bridge.  It's OK, I guess.  Onward and Upward.  I'm doing my best to build a new life here.  It's slow going, though.  I'm almost finished with term 3 out of 4 towards my LPN.  I've been on the Dean's List since I started - no small feat, considering what's going on in the rest of my life.  6 months and counting, but the divorce doesn't seem that much closer to being finalized.  What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?

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South Pacific Murals

2008-01-26

A little something I've been working on to distract me from the miserable things in my life...

 

 

 

It's amateur work, but what can I say?  I've never tried to paint faces before.

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Trying Not To Look Back

2007-12-27

To say this past year has been difficult would be woefully inadequate.  I've faced a lot of major life changes and done so with about as much dignity as I can muster.  If I dwell too long on any one of them, I'd get bogged down in a swamp of self-pity.  Instead, I'm going to shelve as much of the tough stuff as I can and do my best to look forward.  I'm facing a few more major life changes, but I'm hoping and believing that the future will be much better than the past. 

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Pre-emptive Strike

2007-12-12

I was thinking I'd be filing for divorce after the first of the year.  Get the holidays out of the way and just take the plunge.  My husband told me tonight that he has an appointment with a lawyer tomorrow morning and will be taking care of that part of things himself.  He said the lawyer could work with both of us (I'm not too sold on that) and we'll just get it taken care of.  We had a fairly reasonable conversation - no shouting or slamming doors.  Just simple, practical questions from me and direct, unemotional answers from him.  I don't know if this is the calm before the storm or an indication of things to come.  Either way, I'll enjoy it for what it is now and worry about tomorrow when it comes.

I'm not thrilled over this news.  It gives me no great happiness to think about the past 13 years and how everything is about to change (despite how bad things have been), but I'd be a liar if I said I don't feel some semblance of relief.  I'm sure I'll do some crying when this all sinks in.  I don't imagine the moment when I get served with papers will be a celebratory occasion.  Even still, if this stops us from hurting each other or our kids anymore, then it's the right course of action.

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Blah!

2007-12-11

The closer it gets to Christmas, it seems the more down I am.  I know there's plenty of rational explaination - this has been one of the most difficult years in my life thus far.  I'm on the verge of divorce, I'm living in a different city away from my friends and family, I've placed a lot of pressure on myself with school, finances are tight and looking to get much tighter, my heart feels empty and full at the same time, I'm struggling hard to be grateful about the things I know are good in my life, and I feel like I'm on the edge of bursting into tears at any given moment in the day.  As hard as this past year has been, this is almost worse.  I can't even put a finger on what exactly is bothering me.  So, I'll go back to blogging and see if I can't sort it out a little.

I've been in counseling since a couple of months after we moved here.  I was dragged there because my husband was convinced there was something wrong with me that needed to be fixed.  He knew this was true because we didn't magically turn into the happy family he anticipated the minute we were all living under the same roof.  I'll admit I've contributed plenty to the situation, but I can't carry all of the blame for what's happened.  It's gotten to the point where it doesn't really matter who started what or who added to the problem.  The basic fact is that I no longer want to be married to him.  The time I spend in counseling now is devoted to making peace with that decision and moving ahead with it.

The counselor didn't talk me into this.  No church pastor, family member, or friend helped me make this decision.  I came to this conclusion with the help of some objective observation, but the decision is all my own.  It has taken me years to get to this point - years of unhappiness, lonliness, and a sense that I was missing out on the deeper connection that should be at the center of a marriage relationship.  Maybe the relationship we had is enough for some people.  Maybe it's always been enough for him and always would be, but it's not enough for me.  If I'm going to share my life with someone, I want it to be with someone who sees the best in me and encourages me towards that end.  I don't want to be put on a pedestal - just appreciated for all of who I am, faults and all.  I want to feel the same about the person I'm with.  I want to be excited about building a life together and confident that we'd have each others' back.  If I were to continue in my marriage, I'd go down a path that leads further and further away from what I want and need.  Not only that, but I'd be stuck in a toxic relationship that would eventually suck me dry and poison a lot of other relationships in the process (as it already has).

I had a friend a few months ago talk to me about the Christian women in her life that she admired.  She spoke of women who hold their heads up high, regardless of circumstance, and find a way to "bloom where they've been planted".  I think that's a wonderful and admirable way to go through life.  I've been beating myself up for months because I haven't found a way to do that in my own life.  Everybody struggles at one time or another in their marriage.  Everybody experiences pressure, whether from outside sources or from within.  Lots of women find ways to balance the stresses and responsibilities in their lives and still manage to experience some measure of joy.  So why haven't I been able to do that? 

If it were just me and my children, I think I probably could.  It's not that I'm excited about getting divorced - far from it.  That's really hard for me to come to grips with.  I hate the way my husband and I communicate.  I hate how he treats me and I hate how I feel about myself when I get done having a conversation with him.  I don't want to live like that.  I don't want to be with someone who treats me like dirt and wonders why I don't worship the ground he walks on.  The whole thing makes me feel angry and helpless and frustrated and miserable.  Why, then, is it so hard to toss in the towel and just accept defeat?  I DON'T KNOW!  THIS SHOULD BE A NO-BRAINER!  Is it just fear?  Is it simply the fact that I've lived my whole adult life with him and haven't ever had to make decisions on my own?  Am I so afraid that I couldn't make it on my own? 

In my lucid moments, I can see how our relationship has existed all this time.  He brought home the paycheck.  I took care of the finances, the housekeeping, the child-rearing, the cooking, the home maintenance, the social calendar, worked off and on outside the home, and fostered what little good will we had between us.  In all the years we've been married, he's never once taken the initiative to relate better to me, to dig deeper into my heart & mind, or love me in a way that was meaningful to me.  According to everything he's told me, his only responsibility was financial.  You know what that makes me?  An accountant, a maid, a nanny, a personal assistant, a chauffer, and a whore.  Of course, I can't just call myself a nanny because I honestly love my kids for the simple fact that they're mine.  I even like them a whole bunch. 

It's the whore thing that I keep getting stuck on.  My husband has said that his "love language" is touch (what guy's isn't?).  Furthermore, he can't understand or accept love without touch.  If I don't touch him the way he wants when he wants, it means I don't love him.  The part about discovering my love language and loving me in a way that's meaningful to me was largely left out of the equation.  What does come up often in conversation is how he's fulfilling his responsibility in the marriage by bringing home that paycheck.  Seriously, isn't that basically prostitution?  I guess none of it really matters, except that I find the whole thing incredibly depressing.  It makes me sad to know that my husband didn't think it was worth the effort to discover how much of a difference he could've made if he'd only tried.  Instead, he made excuses, made other plans, told lies to me and about me, and squandered so many chances to try something different with the hopes that different actions would produce different results.  I had that hope.  I tried to get him to share in it.  It made no impression - my words made no difference whatsoever.  

So why do I still feel the need to explain myself?  Why do I still go through the justification process?  Sure, he says he's changed.  Says he WANTS to be my husband.  His words have always sounded "right".  But are his actions consistent with those words?  NO!!!  Grown-ups don't throw tantrums on a regular basis.  Adults do not repeatedly speak out in whatever emotion they happen to be experiencing in the moment and worry about apologizing later.  Adults think before they speak.  They walk away and take a breath when they're angry so they don't say things they'll regret.  They aren't always perfect, but the times they do the right thing outnumber the times when they make poor choices.  They learn from their mistakes and make better choices when the opportunities arise.  I'm expected to do all of that.  Why do I feel bad about having the same expectations?      

 

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Santa Sucks

2007-11-24

While reading another blog about Austrailia's choice to change Santa's "Ho! Ho! Ho!" to "Ha! Ha! Ha!", it occured to me that I'm completely offended by the whole concept of Santa Claus.  I think it's wrong to tell children that the "good" kids get presents and the "bad" kids get lumps of coal.  Based on my own personal experience, I've found that it just isn't true.  I can rememeber one Christmas when I was in 6th grade, realizing that the financial standing of the parents had much more to do with what kids got for Christmas, rather than how they behaved. 

My family never had much in the way of worldly possessions.  We usually had enough to eat, though the food we ate wasn't extravagant by any means.  There were weeks we'd have to go without (what I now consider to be) basic necessities, like soap & shampoo.  My mom worked hard and tried to stay off welfare (an admirable attitude), but the money just didn't go far enough.  Even still, I wasn't terribly concerned about it when I was little.  I was more concerned with being good and doing well in school.  I believed in the "Miracle on 34th Street".  I hoped against the odds that there really was a Santa Claus who might actually bring me something special as a reward for being kind and conscientious.  The more I listened to the kids at school, the more I realized how naive I was.

I went to school in a pretty small town where everyone knew everyone else.  To make matters worse, it was a fairly affluent community.  My family's financial situation was in stark contrast to that of the kids at school - something that became increasingly apparent, especially right after Christmas my 6th grade year.  My mom and step-dad had gone to an auction at a close-out store in order to get Christmas presents.  We mostly got odds and ends, but they were something new & different and it was better than nothing.  I was fine with that until I got back to school and heard about the things my classmates had received. 

It's notable that I call them classmates and not friends because these kids were nasty to me.  They teased me mercilessly about nearly everything.  My clothes weren't good enough.  I didn't have all of the Lisa Frank stickers and pens and other cool gadgets the rest of the kids had.  Sometimes, I'm sure I didn't smell the best because bathing properly is difficult when you don't have soap.  I knew these weren't "good" kids based on how they treated me, yet somehow, they ended up getting things like designer label clothes and various electronic devices.  I felt like I was a "good" kid.  I was kind, despite how badly they treated me.  I got good grades and helped out at home because my mom worked and needed me to, yet my "reward" wasn't nearly as extravagant.  I think that was probably the first time I really felt ashamed of myself and my family. 

I've learned a lot since then.  I learned much of it in the couple of years that followed.  The things those kids said to me hurt me terribly until I spent some serious time thinking about why it hurt.  I realized that what they were saying about my clothes was true, but I also realized that my clothes didn't define me as a person.  I had a choice about how I was going to behave, regardless of how much money my family had or how I was treated.  Those lessons have served me well and I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't gone through those experiences.  I'm OK with that, but I'm not OK with Santa Claus - especially in light of having heard the real message of Christmas - one of grace and love that can't be earned by being "good" or taken away when a person is "bad".

I teach my children that message and leave Santa Claus to the rest of the world.  I teach them to be kind and respectful to the kids who believe in Santa, but I also teach them that Santa isn't real.  I do take the good things out of the Santa message, though.  I show them, by example, how to care for other people who don't have as much as we do.  I don't call them "less fortunate" because I don't want my kids to think they're any better than anyone else.  When we have a lot, we give a lot.  A few changes in circumstance and we could very well be in the position of needing rather than giving.  As a result, we have a ball shopping for an "adopted" family each year.  We aren't wealt hy by any means, but we have a lot of love and it's only right to lavish it on others.  

 

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Wordless Wednesday

2007-11-14

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Camelot

2007-11-04

I know where I was a year ago today.  Wow, it's been a long year.  Did any of that really happen, or did I imagine it all?

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Why I Want To Be A Nurse

2007-11-01

This assignment seemed simple enough; just explain the above statement.  Even so, I've had a hard time getting started because I want this to be genuine and accurate.  Mostly, I just want to communicate how the choice to become a nurse has been more of a process of discovery than a decision I made in a single moment.  I've spent quite a bit of time getting my thoughts organized before I sat down to write. In doing so, I realized that it was the title that was tripping me up.  I don't just want to be a nurse - I want to be an excellent nurse.

There are plenty of noble reasons for wanting to become a nurse, but not all of the reasons behind my decision were necessarily noble in the beginning.  When I was researching nursing as a career option, I learned from friends that it's a profession where you spend a relatively short amount of time in school and get a fairly decent return on the time/money you spend - at least compared to some other vocations.  I know nursing comes with flexible hours, good pay (for RNs anyway), medical benefits, and seems to be pretty well suited for a woman with a family.  That's a pretty attractive package for someone looking to make the transition from full-time mom to mom/career woman.  
  
All of that sounds really good, but my friends didn't neglect to tell me about the "cons", if you want to call them that.  It's hard work.  Extremely hard work - but then, so is mothering.  Basically, good nursing doesn't seem much different to me from what I'm already doing as a full-time mom. There are definitely additional skills involved in nursing, and thankfully, new nurses are trained far more thoroughly than new mothers, but it seems to me that the basic premise is the same.

Once I got past the initial considerations, I began to wonder whether or not I'd be good at nursing.  I realized that choosing a career based on weighing the "pros" and "cons" wasn't enough.  I had to also determine how my personal strengths and weaknesses would influence the way I'd do my job.  I went through a great deal of self-examination in order to see where my current skills might translate.  My StrengthsQuest evaluation seemed to confirm much of what I believed about myself. 
  
Time management, organization, prioritizing, perseverance, dealing with unpleasant odors & bodily excretions, and learning from experience are all a part of what I've done as a mother.  I've had to figure out what motivates and what irritates for each child as an individual - and for me, as well.  I've also had to factor in the physical, emotional, and developmental abilities of each one as I made decisions. I've wanted to do everything to the best of my ability because I care deeply about them, so I've tried hard to objectively examine whether or not the things I'm doing are effective.  I'm learning that all of these skills I've taken for granted are strength and are directly relevant to the kinds of things a nurse does on a daily basis.

According to my StrengthsQuest evaluation, my top two strengths were "Input" and "Achiever".  From what I understand, the "input" strength involves accumulating or collecting things, not necessarily tangible.  In my case, it happens to be song lyrics and knowledge.  I love to read and have interest in a wide range of subjects - something common to people with this strength.  I know from our discussions in class that this trait will serve me well as a nurse.  When reading about my #2 strength, I found that achievers tend to be very goal-oriented and driven to accomplish something each day.  I can easily identify with that description.  It's something that has served me well as a mother because I didn't have a clear-cut job description.  It's been up to me to define my job and be self-motivated to improve.  I think being an achiever has been advantageous in the past and I can see how a nurse would also benefit from this particular strength.    
 
At this point, I'm fairly certain I'm capable of performing the duties of a nurse and do it well, but I feel like there's more to this decision than simply finding something I can be good at.  After 9/11 and again after Hurricane Katrina, I found myself glued to the news coverage.  Watching the news is a rare thing for me since I tend to become overwhelmed and depressed by the knowledge that they'll never run out of negative and devastating things to report.  Despite that, I couldn't seem to turn the TV off.
 
The hurricane should have leveled the playing field and reduced everyone to thinking only about essential human needs.  Instead, the social barriers seemed to become even more insurmountable to the point where people would rather die or watch others die than pull together.  For me, it brings to mind the sinking of the Titanic.  Obviously, that tragedy took place long before I was born, but, of the stories that have remained, the tales of bravery and heroism seem largely outnumbered by those of people who fought and kicked to survive at the expense of others.  Maybe that's not accurate, but it's what I remember learning about the event, and it bothers me on a fundamental level.

So, what does a person do with those feelings?  Well, for me, I can choose to hole up in my house and pretend like the rest of the world doesn't exist.  Adhere to the compassionate conservatism approach where you simply say, "Everybody's Got Problems". It's true, and sometimes those problems are self-inflicted, but that hardly justifies burying your head in the sand.  If the problems are left to grow, they'll eventually reach your doorstep.  By the same token, I could become overwhelmed and paralyzed by the enormity of the world's problems.  If I were to sit and watch CNN for any length of time, that's just exactly what would happen.  I'd become so distraught that I'd wonder why I even bothered to get out of bed.  Not exactly a desirable quality of life.  So, what can I do to combat the despair?
 
I fully believe that everyone is connected to everyone else by the simple fact that we're all human.  Circumstances in each individual person's life can be vastly different, but we're all born naked and we're all going to die.  Not pretty, but true nonetheless.  The only thing we have to work with is the time in between those two events.  So, what am I going to do with my life?  I've chosen to devote some of it to my kids - definitely a worthwhile endeavor, and not just for their benefit.  They'll (hopefully) outlive me, so my legacy - for good or bad, will at least be partially carried on by them.  I've impacted their lives and they will, in turn, impact the lives of countless people with whom they come into contact.

What about my own direct impact on society?  I may not be able to change the whole world, but I think it's imperative to try to positively impact my own little piece of it.  Living a meaningful life is something that's very important to me.  There are lots of options, but I believe nursing is where I belong.  I'm excited by the opportunity to work with individuals and families.  I'm also excited by the vast number and variety of opportunities available, once I learn the basics.

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Happy Halloween!

2007-10-31

I was just reading another post and the accompanying comments about Halloween and it got me thinking about why I celebrate this particular holiday, knowing full well that it has pagan roots.  For a long time, I wasn't able to celebrate.  I was involved in an Assemblies of God church and they frowned on it.  OK, that was an understatement.  I used to volunteer in the church office.  My job was to publish the church's bulletin every week.  I was supposed to get the pastor's approval before it was actually printed - partly because he was a control freak and partly because the church didn't have the extra money to reprint in case there was a mistake (which there rarely was, due largely to spell check).  As with everything, I went over and above the call of duty.  I started adding clipart and playing with fonts, just to give some visual interest.  One week in October, I added a jack-o-lantern to one of the announcements.  It happened to be a week where I was running behind and didn't get the pastor's approval before printing. 

By the time he saw what I had done, it was already too late to fix it.  He was nearly in hysterics by the time he approached me about the infraction.  In my defense, I didn't understand what the big deal was.  I had no idea at the time about Halloween's pagan roots - probably because I wasn't a pagan myself.  Fortunately, the pastor gave me a chance to explain myself before he went off on me too badly.  He told me a little about his understanding of paganism and went on to say that there were some older people in the church who had raked him over the coals for allowing Halloween to even be acknowledged, let alone celebrated.  He was clever enough to turn my naive mistake into a "teaching moment" for the congregation.  His sermon that morning became a history lesson on Halloween, as well as an explaination and apology for the mix-up in the bulletin.  The lesson stayed with me for a long time - long enough to think it through on my own.

My husband is a staunch Southern Baptist.  He was raised that way and fully buys into just about everything they teach.  He's also of the mind that we do not celebrate Halloween.  Funny, though, that the church happens to have a fall party, complete with costumes, on Halloween night every year.  Usually it's called something like a "Harvest Festival" or "Hallelujah Party".  I understand where they're coming from - it placates the people in the church who want their kids to be able to dress up in costume and get candy just like they did when they were little (and like the kids' friends do), it provides a safe place for kids to "trick-or-treat" - which is an important thing in today's social climate, and it gives the church an opportunity to "reach the lost".  I have no objections, though there is something missing with those events - the interaction with kids in their communities.

That became apparent to me last night.  In Des Moines, trick-or-treating happens on the 30th under the name of Beggar's Night.  I think it has a lot to do with the fact that churches planned their parties on Halloween, so nobody was taking their kids out anymore.  For the first time in years, I took my kids out trick-or-treating - much to my husband's chagrine.  I had a marvelous time with the kids - I even dressed in costume myself.  I managed to find enough stuff in my own closet to put together a gypsy costume and had a great bonding time with my daughter while we played dress-up.  She ended up in a princess costume and my son wore his wizard robes, complete with a staff that a friend helped me put together at the last minute.  We went door-to-door in our neighborhood.  It was a lovely evening.  Warm temperatures, leaves on the ground, the distinct aroma of wood burning in someone's fireplace, and all of the amazing decorations people had taken time to put up.  We went out after dark, adding to the excitement for my kids. 

Our neighborhood up is populated mostly by older people, so there weren't a huge number of kids out.  The people who answered the door honestly expected my kids to perform a trick or tell a joke if they expected to get a treat - something I'd forgotten to prepare them for, yet found really amusing because it meant my kids had the opportunity to think on their feet and blurt out whatever came into their heads.  Given how imaginative my kids are, that can either be highly embarrassing or immensely entertaining.  My daughter was kind of bratty about it at a couple of houses until I explained to her that she needed to play along or we'd be heading home.  She had to sing a song at one house to get her treat.  The lady wouldn't budge on that requirement and I'm glad.  We had a great time meeting the neighbors and I know the neighbors enjoyed seeing the kids in costume.  There was even an ambulance driving around handing out glow-in-the-dark necklaces for the kids to put on for added safety.  So what if the kids got candy for their trouble?  So what if there were "scary" decorations and jack-o-lanterns.  All my kids took home from the experience is that our neighbors are really nice and it was great fun to dress up in costume and go for a walk at night.

So why do I celebrate Halloween?  Because it offers me the opportunity to delight in my children and it stretches my skills as a seamstress and party planner.  I set the bar pretty high with my son's costumes.  I told him he could choose anything he wanted and I'd find a way to make it work.  He has been a deep-sea diver, Larry Boy from Veggie Tales, a ninja, a cow, a puppy, an M & M, a dragon, a gryphon, a wolf, a wizard, and a whole host of other things.  My daughter has been a scarecrow, a leopard, a puppy, a pirate, a princess, and an M & M,  I've kept all of the costumes I've made, so whenever we need something (or just want to play dress-up), we head for the costume box.  Even my friends have caught on.  The year my son was a Veggie, he had two friends who also wanted to be.  I ended up making a Bob the Tomato and Junior Asparagus costume that year, as well (keep in mind, there were no patterns for these characters).  Last year, one of my daughter's friends wore the Larry Boy costume.  It was great to remember my son being that small and gratifying to see the costume get some more use.  Maybe I'll try to dig up some pictures of the kids over the years.  When I'm looking at those pics, pagan thoughts never enter my mind.  When we were out trick-or-treating, I was laughing at my daughter because she saw a "pumpkin man" (scarecrow with a jack-o-lantern head) and told me she was going to marry him someday.  She was Cinderalla, so she was out cruising for her prince. 

Say what you will, but I know those people who met my kids last night will probably keep a closer eye out for them when they're driving in the neighborhood.  I'll also take a little more care watching out for my neighbors.  Enjoying a holiday, regardless of the origin, doesn't make me a hypocrite.  God gave me a brain for a reason - He meant me to think through my beliefs and His commands.  I don't remember reading a command about Halloween.  There's plenty about not worshipping false gods and about loving my neighbors.  Last night's experience had nothing to do with the former and plenty to do with the latter.  If it was wrong, then I guess God will have yet another thing to take issue with me when I meet Him face-to-face - something that's nobody's business but mine and God's.    

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Strange Dream

2007-10-30

My life has been hectic the past couple of weeks.  It always is this time of year, what with fall parties at school, costumes, and the general pressure I place on myself to be supermom.  This year has been especially challenging when I factor in my school schedule.  I enjoy school and I'm trying hard to settle into the routine while still trying to keep things running smooth at home.  I thought I was doing pretty well until this morning.  I had an assignment due for one of my classes - something like 150 flashcards with medical terms.  I'd completed them on Friday and put them in a neat little binder, so I wasn't worried.  On the way out the door, I checked my backpack - just to make sure they were there.  They weren't. 

I was completely panicked because I know I had them on Friday.  I spent the weekend cleaning out the garage, as well as my van, and didn't remember seeing them at all.  I searched and searched, to no avail.  I was late dropping my daughter off at childcare and late for school myself.  Even worse, I had to show up empty-handed.  I wanted to throw a tantrum in the worst way, but a friend reminded me that it would be both unproductive and completely childish.  Some friend!  :)  I was 15 minutes late for class, but I tried not to let it ruin my ability to function and pay attention.  I took time during my break to look one more time in my van.  I'm glad I did, because they were wedged under the driver's seat in a place I never would've expected they'd fit.  I was able to hand them in when they were due, making sure to be honest with the teacher about the fact that I turned them in halfway through class instead of at the beginning.  I helped my lab partner finish hers and get them handed in as well, so all was not lost.

I'm glad this happened today instead of yesterday.  Yesterday was my first clinical for the CNA course I'm taking.  We were sent to a nursing home to gain practical experience by putting the skills we've learned in class to use on real, live people.  It was a daunting proposition for me since I have extremely limited experience in the medical field.  I worked at a hearing aid clinic for a couple of years after my son started school.  Even though the clientele was largely elderly people, they were generally high functioning, so it was pretty easy to get along with them.  Working in a nursing home is a bit different.  The level of care is obviously much more intense and involves dealing with people's basic needs.  Walking into the room of a complete stranger, knowing you'll be getting very personal with them in a very short time can be incredibly intimidating.

I knew I was apprehensive and that came out in my dreams the night before.  I had the strangest dream about attending some sort of music event with the Bishop's wife.  For whatever reason, I was walking around with her looking at various vender booths.  I looked at baby clothes (though I have no intention of having any more babies) and blankets with sports logos on them.  I turned to look at her and realized her nose was bleeding profusely.  I asked her if she was OK and she said "No!" as she started to collapse.  I could feel the panic rising in me until, in a moment of sudden clarity, I remembered that I'm going to be a nurse and I know what to do.  The dream ended as I was calling for help and getting her situated.  Aside from the anxiety over clinicals, I have no idea why I'd dream about that particular person.  Seems strange.

On a positive note, the place we're doing clinicals is absolutely beautiful.  I'd live there if I could.  The staff is pleasant, knowledgeable, and seems to have the time and inclination to teach us.  The person I worked with was particularly pleased to have us there.  They were short-staffed and she thanked us over and over for helping her out.  In addition, she seemed as interested in what we were learning in our classes as what she was trying to teach us by sharing her own experience.  She helped to set my mind at ease and we ended up getting along famously.  I'm looking forward to next week and hoping I get assigned to the same person.

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A Song That Makes Me Smile

2007-10-23

Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you
For I can't help falling in love with you

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Something Funny

2007-10-21

Something my son shared with me that I thought I'd pass along:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5z4Vs26-TI

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All 80s All The Time

2007-10-20

I went to a costume party at a local winery last night with my friend Susan.  The wine was free-flowing and the costumes were outrageous.  I wish I'd gotten a picture of the grand prize winners in their "Adam & Eve" costumes.  They wore only flesh-colored body stockings with leaves covering their "naughty bits".  Brave souls and a fabulous idea.  It got them a trip to Cancun, so it was worth the exposure, I would think.  I didn't put nearly as much effort into my costume - just wore what I had (except I did buy the boots and gloves).

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It's My Birthday!!

2007-10-16

And it's going to be a great day!

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If I Had A Million Dollars....

2007-10-11

That's the song (by Bare Naked Ladies - I love that group name!) I woke up to this morning.  It makes me laugh!  ....I'd buy you a monkey - haven't you always wanted a monkey?  Maybe a spider monkey so I'd know what the hell they were talking about when they say "I'm gonna come at you like a spider monkey!"  So, I started thinking about what I'd really buy if I had $1,000,000.  That's a lot of zeros, but it doesn't matter a whole lot how many zeros there are.  I know it's cliche, but what I want - what I really want doesn't come with a price tag because it can't be bought. 

Yesterday when I picked my son up after school, he said, "Mom, you're a great writer."  I thanked him, but wondered why he thought so.  He pulled a folded up piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.  I wondered what I was in for.  Apparently he'd found something I'd written over a year ago in one of the notebooks he'd taken to school.  Once I started reading it, I remembered why I'd written it.  The Bishop had given me a list of the kinds of lies people believe about themselves, others, and the way the world works.  He told me those lies serve as baggage that holds a person back from learning, growing, maturing, and properly connecting with reality.  That conversation prompted me to examine the things I hold true and wonder how they might measure up to what actually is true.  This is the list I came up with and the reason my son told me I'm a great writer (wonder what he'd think if he ever ran across my blog - scary):

Live what you believe.
Ability has less to do with success than attitude.
I'm no more or less special than anyone else.
I think more of myself than others think of me, but not that I'm better than they are.
Nobody would love me if they really knew me.
I'm capable of unconditional love, but I don't believe others are because....
...if my own parents couldn't love me unconditionally, then I can't expect anyone else to.
So far, I don't believe anyone has loved me unconditionally.
All men cheat - some genuinely feel bad about it, though.
You don't know what you're capable of until you try - with an open mind.
I'm ultimately responsible for everything.
It's easier for people to trust me than for me to trust them.
Nothing comes without a price.
Honesty isn't always the best policy.
Everyone has something to contribute.
Everything I do should be done to the best of my ability and I believe everyone else should do the same.

I don't know if I believe all of these things the way I did when I wrote the list, but it serves as an interesting reference point.  One of these days, I'll revise the list - in my free time :)

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Maybe I Am A Drama Queen

2007-10-05

A friend of mine invited me to spend Saturday night at her house, sans kids.  My son will be "hanging" with his dad this weekend and going to some kind of Renaissance festival in Sioux City.  I hope he has a good time - and I actually mean that.  It's an activity that would normally be right up my alley and one my husband would be dragged to under protest (if he went at all), but he actually offered to take my (our) son to it.  Since he was taken care of and I didn't want to intrude on the "guy" plans, I made arrangements for my daughter to spend the night with my mom in Lincoln.  I figured I could drive the kids to Lincoln tonight and spend the night there, then take my son up to Sioux City and hand him off to my husband there, leaving me free to spend time with my friend.  

Unfortunately, my friend's husband made other plans without consulting her.  He's normally gone because he's a trucker, but apparently he invited their grandkids to spend the night at their house Saturday night.  She'll be expected to clean, cook, and entertain, but he didn't even have the decency to clear it with her before issuing the invitation.  That means our plans are nixed.  I'm a little pissed because I'd already made these complicated arrangements for the kids and it's all for nothing.  I understand she has no control over the situation and she's definitely not going to turn her grandkids away, but damn it!  I was really looking forward to watching a movie, talking for hours, having a nice relaxing drink, and maybe getting a good night's sleep for once.  I love her house and I love spending time with her - something that's become much less opportune now that I've moved.  I can't back out of the Lincoln thing because I know my mom is looking forward to it, too.  I also can't throw a big giant tantrum because it's pointless.  What kind of deal is that??

OK, so I can be really selfish and short-sighted.  I'm sure I'll find something else to occupy my time this weekend.  It just won't be the same.  It never is when you get excited about something and it ends up getting cancelled.  Still, I wouldn't want to be the kind of person who refuses to get excited about anything because they're a chance they MIGHT be disappointed if it doesn't work out.  No, I'll roll with it.  It could turn out to be one of those situations where I'm pleasantly surprised by something unexpected. 

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A Year Ago Today...

2007-10-04

...he took me in his arms and kissed me for the first time.  Six months after that, he took me in his arms and kissed me for the last time.  A year later, I'm thinking about it.  I'm thinking about moving forward.  I'm learning that I don't need someone else to define me.  I've learned that I can move forward and be who I want to be - which is an extraordinary human being for the simple fact that there is no one else on earth who is exactly like me.  I don't need anyone else to tell me that, though it's wonderful when someone else recognizes and appreciates me.  Today, I'm not going to mope and cry about what I've lost.  I'm going to celebrate what I've gained.  "I'm Not Who I Was" by Brandon Heath: 

I wish you could see me now
I wish I could show you how
I'm not who I was
I used to be mad at you
A little on the hurt side too
But I'm not who I was

I found my way around
To forgiving you
Some time ago
But I never got to tell you so

I found us in a photograph
I saw me and I had to laugh
You know, I'm not who I was
You were there, you were right above me
And I wonder if you ever loved me
Just for who I was

When the pain came back again
Like a bitter friend
It was all that I could do
To keep myself from blaming you

I reckon it's a funny thing
I figured out I can sing
Now I'm not who I was
I write about love and such
Maybe 'cause I want it so much
I'm not who I was

I was thinking maybe I
I should let you know
I am not the same
But I never did forget your name
Hello

Well the thing I find most amazing
In amazing grace
Is the chance to give it out
Maybe that's what love is all about

I wish you could see me now
I wish I could show you how
I'm not who I was

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Self-fulfilling Prophecy

2007-10-02

Start the day in tears and end it the same way.  For much the same reason.  I dreamt of the Bishop again last night.  The ultra vivid dream where he tells me he loves me and wants me, but I can never reach him.  The circumstances are different, but the theme is the same.  We arrange to meet and do everything we can to make it happen, but the dream ends before we do.  I wake up hurting and thinking about something he said to me.  He told me there would never be another woman for him.  He'd go back to his wife and the life he knew before he got involved with me and never reach for another woman the way he did with me.  Stupid, but that made me feel like he really did love me - that our relationship was something special and unique in his life and it was because of who we were and how we fit together.  That he didn't ever expect to experience that with anyone else because it was so extraordinary.  That would have been lovely if he'd left it there, but he went on to say he knew there would be other men in my life.  That hurt me.  It seemed like an accusation.

I didn't want to be in a position where I could choose someone else, but I'm finding myself walking down the path of divorce.  It's painful and disappointing, but also inevitable.  I wrestle with failure and selfishness and guilt.  None of that is enough to drown out the pain of being married to a man who can't even tell me why he wants to be married to me.  If he can't tell me why, then how do I know he really does - especially in light of his recent vascillation on that very point?  If I'm going to be with someone, I want them to have a reason beyond a sense of obligation.  A reason beyond an aversion to the alternative.  I want to be with someone who feels like I understand them and accept them for who they are, encourages them towards growth and enrichment, and knows that I love them above all else.  I have so much to give.  I also want to experience the same in return.  To know I'm loved, accepted, and treasured for who I am.  That someone isn't my husband.  If it's not him and I'm single, then is it unreasonable to think I might find love with someone else?  If the Bishop had chosen differently, I wouldn't even be asking these questions because I'd be with him.

Yes, Bishop, I imagine there will be other men in my life.  Why, then, do I feel guilty about that?  Why do I feel like I'd be cheating on you?  Like I'm betraying our relationship?  What a rotten thing to feel!  Maybe I do need to talk to you again.  Maybe I need to hear those final devastating words - that you don't love me.  You never did.  You were just caught up in the excitement of being with a younger woman who looked at you the way you wanted to be seen.  That's really what it's all about, isn't it?  I loved you as thoroughly as I possibly could.  I believed the best about you.  I poured my heart and soul into that and experienced great joy at how you responded to the way I loved you.  You positively glowed when you looked at me and I found that irresistable.  My heart shattered when that ended. 

I'm healing - very slowly.  I want to allow myself to fall madly in love with someone else.  I want to experience that again.  I wouldn't have wanted that if you'd chosen me.  I'm not blaming you - you were always honest on that point.  It just hurts.  It hurts to think about what might've been.  It hurts to let go.  It hurts to reach for someone else, knowing that to do so would make me vulnerable to the same kind of pain.  What it comes down to is this:  I don't know how to do anything halfway.  If I'm going to love someone, I'm going to do it with passion and abandon.  If I do, maybe this time it will be for keeps.

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My New Boyfriend

2007-10-02

I went to orientation for nursing school this morning, which was held in the nursing lab.  We started out right away with CPR training.  I'd never been in the lab before, so I was shocked to walk in and meet the man of my dreams.  It was love at first sight!

He has children, but I think I could learn to love them, despite the fact that they take after their mother....

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Feel My Pain!

2007-10-01

After today, I'm now positive I'm regressing!  In the past 6 months, I've enrolled in school, applied for student loans, developed a persistent acne problem, and today - had a school physical, complete with booster shots.  All of this from a new doctor. 

I've been to doctor's offices enough to know what to expect.  I signed in and filled out paperwork.  I realized when I got there that I had to pee, so I asked the receptionist if they'd be wanting me to pee in a cup.  Now, I know she's worked there longer than 10 minutes, yet she seemed a bit shocked by the blunt way I asked.  Whatever.  If I have to make a trip to the bathroom anyway, I might as well get the whole cup experience out of the way at the same time.  It sure beats emptying your bladder, then feeling like you have to eek out enough of a sample later under pressure!  I got the paperwork done, the urine sample deposited, then headed out to the lobby to wait some more.  I'm pleased to report there was actually no waiting.  The med tech was already calling my name as I rounded the corner.  Of course, she was calling me by my given name (which I hate), so I had to correct her on that.  She took it well.

First up on her list was the weighing and measuring.  I said, "Yippee, my favorite!  I'll bet you haven't heard that a dozen times today."  She laughed, which was good.  I now weigh almost 30 lbs less than what I lied on my driver's license!!  I want to get bragging rights out of the way for that now because I worked damned hard to lose most of the weight, and because I'll be getting a new driver's license sometime in the next couple of weeks - possibly Thursday or Friday.  Good thing, too, because my picture is beyond hideous.  It looks like a mug shot for a redneck trucker woman being arrested for domestic violence against her husband.  It's all because they stopped using cameras with flash bulbs.  With the digital video cameras they use, there's no way to know the precise moment they're taking the picture and it's up to the "photographer" as to whether they warn you or not.

OK, survived the weigh in and the height measurement - I'm officially 5'3", but I'm not about to broadcast my weight.  The doctor says it's healthy, but still about 20 lbs above ideal.  I can live with that, considering I've lost a grand total of 70 lbs in the last 5 years in order to get to the weight I'm at now.  I'm sure I'll still fluctuate, but I'm a lot happier now than when I crossed the 200 lb threshold!  We went to our little room and, instead of being made to wait, the med tech stayed and talked to me while she entered my info into the computer.  She asked questions where she needed to and made idle chit-chat - which beats the hell out of waiting alone and feeling like I've wasted most of my day.  When she was finished at the computer, she gave me instructions to disrobe and don the ever-so-fashionable paper vest and lap covering (I was in for the annual pelvic exam as part of the physical).  I could've been a good girl and followed instructions, but I said, "Would it be possible to meet the doctor for the first time before I get naked??" 

It boggles my mind that routine and expedience has eliminated the human element in the medical profession.  I'll bet, if they stopped to think about it, the people working at those offices would agree.  I did get to meet the doctor before removing my clothes.  He was very gracious and thorough - both in the questions, and in the exam.  I try to be a good patient.  I keep a sense of humour and stay pretty relaxed because I've been through it so much already.  I told him I'd apologize for the visual assault when it came time to disrobe, but I figure he knew what he was doing when he decided to be a doctor, so he was on his own for that.  He teased right back about my choice to become a nurse.  I like that in a doctor.  Someone who can think on their feet, spend a little time getting to know the patient, and not take themselves so seriously.  That makes it a little easier to swallow when I realize I'm paying the dude to stick his finger up my butt....uh...I mean give me a rectal exam, which apparently becomes standard after you turn 30.  So much for regressing all the way!  At least I got a bugs bunny band-aid to cover where they drew blood!

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Sucking Big Giant Rocks

2007-09-30

I'm experiencing serious aggression right now.  I want to beat the hell out of something or someone.  I quit smoking a couple of days ago and the withdrawal symptoms should be easing, but I'm not feeling it right now.  Perhaps because there's so much other tension going on in my life.  Perhaps it's because nobody is walking on eggshells around me because nobody around me even knew how much I smoked or how long I've been smoking.  That's right, I've had to hide it like some kind of f*cking criminal.  I don't think smoking is a good thing or that any kid should grow up thinking it's cool, fun, or desirable.  People do it, nonetheless.  I've sheltered my kids from my habit.  I've never intentionally smoked in front of them, though I think my son has caught me doing it at least a couple of times.  I don't smoke in the house, in my car (usually), or around small children if I can help it.  I don't smoke in daylight where my kids can see me.  How's that for being in the closet on something??  So, I've gone to great lengths to hide my addiction.  The Bishop knew I smoked and encouraged me to quit for awhile.  I wanted to quit because I wanted him to want me.  I wanted to drive him to distraction and impeccable personal hygeine goes a long way towards that sort of endeavor.  He smelled divine and I wanted him to think that about me.

None of this has anything to do with anything else, except that I'm pissed off.  I'm pissed off that the instructions on the recipe I used to make dinner wer flawed.  I'm pissed off that I don't want to smoke, but I don't want to quit either.  I'm pissed off that I can't just make major life changes on a whim.  I'm pissed off that I'm sexually frustrated.  I'm pissed off at the world and at myself.  I know it'll pass, but it doesn't help a whole lot when I'm beating the crap out of my fingertips and my keyboard because it's the only outlet I have for my current aggression.

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Church Humor

2007-09-27

A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak.  After mass, he asked the monsignor how he had done.  The monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous on the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass.  If I start to get nervous, I take a sip."

The next Sunday, the new priest took the monsignor's advice.  At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink.  He proceeded to talk up a storm.  Upon his return to his office after the mass, he found the following not on the door:

1. Sip the vodka, don't gulp.
2. There are 10 commandments, not 12.
3. There are 12 disciples, not 10.
4. Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.
5. Jacob wagered his donkey - he did not bet his ass.
6. We do not refer to Jesus Christ as "The Late J. C."
7. The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are not referred to as Daddy, Junior, and the Spook.
8. David slew Goliath, he did not kick the [feces] out of him.
9. When David was hit by a rock and was knocked off his donkey, we do not say he was stoned off his ass.
10. We do not refer to the cross as the "Big T".
11. When Jesus broke the bread at the Last Supper, he said, "Take this and eat it for it is my body."  He did not say, "Eat me."
12. The Virgin Mary is not called "Mary with the Cherry".
13. The recommended grace before a meal is not: Rub-A-Dub-Dub thanks for the grub, Yay God.
14. Next Sunday, there will be a taffy pulling contest at St. Peter's - not a peter pulling contest at St. Taffy's!

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Book Hunting

2007-09-25

My counselor recommended that I read a couple of books today, so I trekked on over to Barnes & Noble to see what I could see.  I found the books I was looking for and realized that they were in the Relationship section, which happens to be right across the aisle from the Sex section.  There was an older gentleman perusing that particular section.  When he realized I was looking at him, he moved on down the line.  Ever curious, I wanted to see what he'd been looking at.  I picked up a comprehensive photo guide to the Kama Sutra.  It pretty much covered everything.  Meanwhile, the guy who'd been browsing the section was watching me look at it.  I'm not quite sure what he thought, but he didn't say anything to me, so I just kept thumbing through the book.  When I was finished, I noticed another book with a similar title.  At first, I thought, I really hate it when they mess with the spelling of common words - like "nite" instead of "night".  Still, I picked it up and looked at it.

A couple of pages in, I realized the spelling change was intentional and actually quite clever.  I also realized I've been going about the whole car shopping thing completely wrong. 

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Reading

2007-09-24

I just read the saddest, most amazing book.  I cried at the end - as much for the course of events in the book as for the course of events in my life.  That's the mark of a good book, really.  The ability to believe that the events in a story are real.  The characters are genuine - real people trying to make it through the day, like anyone else, with the tendency to drag you right along with them because their stories are both engaging and approachable.  I know it was a good book because I can't just rattle off my conclusions.  It's the kind of book I'd want to read with my friend Pat because it's the kind of thought-provoking book we'd be likely to discuss for hours together in varying states of sobriety.  In the end, we still might not be able to put a coherent voice to our conclusions, but the process would be indescribably rewarding.  I normally prefer a book that neatly wraps up the details of the main story, but there are times when being left to wonder is a much better way to end it.  This was one of those books.  You can imagine several possible outcomes and you'd be satisfied with any number of them, but the end really wasn't the point.  The thing I liked best was that the main character's pivotal defining moment in life served as a jumping-off place for more questions, rather than providing the answers to life, the universe, and everything.  That's how I feel about my own life right now.  Lots of unanswered questions, yet I somehow know I'm better off now than I was several months ago.  Maybe the path isn't totally clear, but at the very least, I'm learning things about myself and other people that I just didn't know before.

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Sentimental

2007-09-24

I thought I was doing so grand and then it hit me yet again.  A friend called to tell me she'd seen the Bishop and his wife the other night when they were out to dinner.  It sucked to hear that.  I expected his life would just go on as it always had, but I still feel a tugging when I hear that it has.  Maybe I should be glad he's out with his wife instead of with someone new.  Maybe he meant what he said when he told me he loved me and that there would never be anyone else.  I don't know why any of it even matters anymore.  Perhaps the little stabbing pain I felt upon hearing about him was nothing - just a leftover remnant.  Oh please!  Who am I kidding? 

I wanted him to love me.  I still want him to love me.  I want to know I made a difference in his life - a lasting impression.  I don't want his life to really ever be the same because mine never will be.  I haven't come all the way out of the depression.  I haven't even been all the way through the process of dealing with the loss.  Part of me - the irrational part that responds with protests of pain over hearing that he's out and about - says that he's still alive and kicking, so there's still a chance I could be with him.  I don't know what that part is all about.  I guess not everything has to make sense.  I just don't want it taking over to the point where I get back to moping.  Might be good for the Bishop's ego to know I'm still that affected, but it wouldn't be good for me to go through it all again.  There are still plenty enough times when I wish he'd call and tell me it isn't easy.  I don't need him to tell me he wants me back - just that it's no easier for him to get over me than it is for me to get over him.

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Chicago...

2007-09-23

...was amazing.  I went to the top of the Sears Tower.  I told my son and he said, "You mean the woman who's afraid of heights even when she's watching a movie went up to the top of the Sears Tower??".  It's true, I'm terrified of heights.  I'm really proud of myself for going through with the experience!

 

 

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It's Not My Birthday

2007-09-18

Happy Birthday Bishop.  I still think about you.  I still care about you.  I still love you.  Part of me always will.  It's been the strangest (and hardest) year.  A year ago today, I had an appointment with you in your office.  You were stressing about being a whole year older.  You were as baffled as anyone else at how your age didn't seem to match up with the image you had of yourself.  I wanted to communicate to you that I didn't think the number mattered nearly as much as the man.  We hugged at the end of the appointment, like always.  While you had your arms around me, I whispered in your ear, "You're not a whole year older - only a single day."  My lips brushed against your ear and my hands were positioned so that my fingers were touching the nape of your neck right at the hairline.  I wanted so badly to ask your permission to give you a birthday kiss.  

I chickened out of kissing you on your birthday, but it was only a couple of weeks before our relationship changed.  I still remember your kisses.  How your arms felt around me, looking into your eyes, the way you smell.  I remember your laugh and the way your eyes would crinkle when you were teasing me.  Today, I'll be sitting in a different counselor's office.  I'm sure we'll be talking about you.  I wonder what you'll be thinking about today. 

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I Want It All Back

2007-09-15

When did I become an adult?  When did I realize that my decisions have consequences?  When did I begin to take responsibility for those decision/consequences and try to do better?  The better question - the question of the day is When did I take on other people's responsibilities in addition to my own?

I know that my children have to be a priority.  I know that they didn't ask to be born into the family they're in and I accept that their needs have to be considered in every decision I make.  In fact, I fully embrace that.  I love those little buggers, warts and all, and I want the absolute best for them.  At the same time, I want it all back.  I want to go pick out a car because it's pretty and I'll look hot behind the wheel.  I want to drive fast, live carefree, and regret what I did instead of what I didn't do.  Stupid, childish, selfish.  I can't have it back.  I don't suppose I'd do a whole lot any different if I did.

I'm in a rather morose mood and I'm quite tired of it.  I'm tired of waking up well, tired.  What happened to the days of waking up content and ready to face the day?  I've never been a morning person and have always had to claw my way to consciousness, but there were plenty of times where it was completely worth it.  Times when being awake was a good thing.  Now, although there are some remarkable bright spots in my day (kids, friends, etc.), I'm not feeling much in the way of gratitude for having my sleep interrupted.  Quite the opposite.  I feel like there's some giant hand pressing down on me.  I feel the pressure increase as the day wears on.  I was sitting in a dealership earlier checking out new cars and the only thing I could think about was crawling back into bed.  I'm not myself.  I'm not any fun.

Asking for fun is asking for a lot these days.  I can smile and laugh with my kids, on the phone with friends (or in their presence as often as possible), but coming "home" has become so oppressive that I'd rather skip it altogether.  I'm stressed about the finals coming up on Monday night - not so much about Math, but certainly about Anatomy & Physiology.  I want to do well.  I don't just want to accept the fact that I'll probably end up with a "B" instead of an "A".  I know it doesn't sound that bad, but I think about how far downhill my life has gone since July when I started classes.  My attitude has declined right along with the circumstances.  What's it all for anyway?  People keep asking me how I'm doing.  How do I answer that question?  I'm not fine.  I'm not particularly happy.  I'm not even sure half of the people asking really care.

All of this is just words spewing forth filling up the page in an attempt to avoid what I want to do - what I think is right.  My husband put the divorce on hold.  Why?  Because he loves me and wants to live out the rest of his days with me?  No.  Because the lawyer said it would be expensive and he wouldn't get the kind of custody agreement he'd envisioned.  He says he ended the relationship with his girlfriend.  Why?  Because he knows it was wrong and is so utterly sorry for what he's done?  No.  It's because she has a kid and he doesn't want to play step-dad to him.  Lies, lies, and more lies.  I'm a bad Christian and a bad wife because I now want the divorce.  I want to be done with the lies and the verbal abuse.  I want to be done with the accusations, the depression, the hideous miserable existence my life has become.  How much is enough?  How much do I have to take before it's OK to move on?  Is this the kind of suffering I'm supposed endure for the rest of my life?  If I hear one more person tell me that God hates divorce, I'm going to scream in their face, "Doesn't He hate liars and adulterers and cruel, self-absorbed, hypocrites, too?  Doesn't He forgive?  Does He really make you pay for your sins the rest of your life?"

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Uncharacteristically Silent

2007-09-15

I've been neglecting my blog and those of others because I've spent way too much time on the phone recently.  Dealing with insurance companies SUCKS!  I don't want to buy a car.  I don't have time to buy a car.  I hate buying them under any circumstances, but especially when I don't have the leisure time to devote to research and negotiating.  I feel completely ill-suited to the whole experience.  As pathetic as it sounds, I want a man to go with me!  It would help with negotiations, but it could also be lots of fun.

See, if I had a man with me, we could do crazy things like climb in the trunk and take pictures, or test out the size of each of the seats to see if they can accomodate two people at once, or have bizarre conversations during the test-drive phase when the salesman is in the car with us.  Take a tape measurer along and maybe a body bag - all kinds of creative things to leave an impression that would ensure they'd make a deal with us just to get us out of there.  I guess I should just be grateful they all seem to do CarFax reports now.

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Relationships Based On Lies

2007-09-10

I loved the Bishop.  Of that I'm certain, but as much as I loved him, I loved the idea of him.  A big, strong, virile man who listened and communicated with me on an intimate level.  Still, what I found most attractive about him (integrity, kindness, Godliness) was sullied when we crossed the line into that intimate wrong relationship.  I've been thinking about what it means to be a "nice" person because that's how my husband is describing his new girlfriend.  If actions speak louder than words, then I should consider the actions.

I'm not a nice person - at least I certainly haven't been in the past.  Nice people don't have affairs.  Nice people learn to deal with their marital problems head-on instead of finding someone else to meet their needs.  I can honestly say I tried that route.  I tried to meet my husband's needs.  I tried to express my needs to him as best I could.  He avoided the issue as much as possible.  He turned it around and made me feel defective for having needs that went beyond what he was comfortable or capable of giving.  I turned to someone else to fill my needs instead of persisting with my husband.  Maybe I figured it was pointless to try to squeeze blood from a turnip and unconsciously decided to take what I could get to get me through.  I can't say I really gave much consideration to the outcome of my relationship with the Bishop.  I accepted the fact that we were both married, so we'd never have a future together.  I didn't think too far past the moment I was in.  That's not a nice way to behave. 

Some would say, "What's the big deal as long as nobody gets hurt?  It happens more than you think.  Marriage is an unnatural institution.  People can't be expected to remain faithful and love each other their whole life."  That's a pretty fabulous justification.  The problem is that people who are physically intimate often times also share an emotional intimacy.  As that grows, it changes other relationships.  It diminishes a person's motivation to repair their damaged marriage.  It draws them even further away from their spouse.  As a friend told me, the secrets pile up and serve as a wall between spouses.  I saw it happen with the Bishop.  His marriage was suffering as he was spending more and more time with me.  The stronger his feelings for me got, the less inclined he was to put effort into loving his wife.  He still followed his usual patterns, but his heart wasn't in it.  I was already pretty withdrawn from my husband.  Years of conditioning taught me that protecting myself was preferable to his numberous forms of emotional rejection.  That doesn't justify my actions - merely explains them.  Still, I readily admit that the Bishop and I weren't being "nice" in any way shape or form, even if spending time together felt really good.  Our actions were hurtful to other people even before they were revealed to those people.

I've come to terms with that as best I can.  I want to be more than nice.  I want to be kind and trustworthy and honest and live in such a way that there's nothing in my life that has to be hidden.  Keeping secrets is exhausting and miserable.  Love is something that should be celebrated, not shamefully hidden away.  If you find you need to hide things, it usually means that something is wrong (unless it's a birthday present). 

So, is this new girlfriend nice?  I'm skeptical.  I'm sure she's been very nice to him and listened and offered much sympathy.  To what end?  Because she's so selfless?  Hmmm.....she wants them to move in together.  She wants him to be with her.  He's made a commitment and countless assertions that he's trying to make his marriage work (at least to me and in front of witnesses), yet he's also been involved with her.  She hasn't discouraged their involvement or insisted that he follow through on ending his marriage before he takes up with her.  Why not?  Because he might change his mind if she doesn't give him what he wants (and claims to need as a matter of life and death).  If she has more to offer and if he really loves her, wouldn't their relationship wait until after his divorce is final.  For that matter, why would she place her trust in this relationship with him knowing that he's sneaking around in order to have it?

I know, I know.  Single mother.  Starved for affection.  Thinks his wife (of nearly 13 years) is a fool for not seeing how great he is and for not appreciating him.  She can love him so much better.  She's got one side of the story.  What about the other side?  Does she really think that one person shoulders all of the blame for a dying marriage?  And what about a man who bails when the going gets tough?  I admit, this is one of the toughest things to put a marriage through, but he's now saying he never should've married me in the first place.  Funny, he said that about his first wife too.  So, he has a history of jumping into relationships without really knowing the person.  He's not even through his divorce and is already "in love" with someone else.  If what he says is true, he's only been with her in this relationship for a couple of months.  I wonder if she realizes he proposed to me after only having been with me a month.  I wonder why that is?  Could it be that he can't be alone - codependent perhaps?  That it doesn't really matter to him who the person is as long as there's someone beside him?

Yes, I'm angry and bitter.  Yes, I want his relationship with her to fail.  For that matter, I wouldn't mind if he drove off a cliff right about now.  I admit death would be a lot easier to face than divorce.  I also admit, yet again, that I was an equal contributer in the demise of our marriage.  I withdrew.  I didn't stand up for myself.  I didn't put up boundaries.  I didn't see him for who he was - just that he was the father of my child and he was willing to take responsibility for us.  I didn't have a clue what a marriage was supposed to be.  I didn't know what I was supposed to ask for.  I was 19.  I also didn't understand that he wasn't telling the truth about why his first marriage failed.  I didn't understand that he was codependant.  I didn't know I had options.  All I knew was that I was facing the biggest, scariest thing I'd ever faced and I didn't want to do it alone.  What happened after the wedding was pathetic. 

Take an immature 19-yr-old girl who didn't know the first thing about babies and give her one to take home after a long and difficult pregnancy.  Add to the fact that she's now going to be a stay-at-home mom in a new city (we moved when I was 5 months pregnant) with no friends and no support system.  Mix in the guy:  a 27-yr-old man who's divorce wasn't final and who was out of a steady job for several months.  Move them to a new city in order to follow a job and see how they do.  He works a lot of hours at a company where he's hard to reach at times.  She's confined to bedrest due to complications, so she's gaining weight at an astronomical rate.  She has no idea what being a mother is going to be like.  She's ashamed for being pregnant and not married.  They can't even get married before the baby comes because his divorce isn't yet final.

Wow, looking back, it's amazing we made it as long as we did.  We didn't have a great start, but we really tried to make the best of it and be responsible parents.  Maybe the feeling of love wasn't there, but the action sure was.  Neither of us was really equipped to be a parent.  Neither of us was a good candidate to enter into a marriage.  We pushed through some really tough times.  I know I battled lonliness, depression, insecurity, and a whole host of other things at the time.  I made it through with my sanity relatively intact, though it was questionable when I started out.  I'd nearly forgotten how much I went through that first couple of years.  It's remarkably similar to what's happening now.

I moved to Des Moines with my husband because our relationship was extremely tenuous.  I'm hurting and lonely here and being asked to do seemingly impossible things.  When we moved to Sioux City, he moved us into a dump because he said we didn't have time to look for something better.  That's about how the move went this time, too.  The place we're living isn't what I'd have chosen.  I feel trapped and isolated, just like I did back then.  I made friends, though it took a long time.  I found my place there and made it a home.  Maybe I can do that here, too.  I have to stop waiting to see how this relationship is going to play out and just start being myself.  My circumstances aren't ideal, but I'm an older, stronger version of the person who overcame so many obstacles in moving to Sioux City.  There's something to think about.   

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Been Awhile

2007-09-04

It's been awhile.  I don't know if I'll keep posting here after this one.  I'm pretty sure I'm heading for divorce court.  Maybe that will be the final punctuation on this time period in my life.  I love my kids and I desperately want the best for them.  I hope anyone who's reading will pray for them.  This experience hasn't been a total loss.  I've learned a lot about myself - about what I believe and what I'm willing to accept in my life.  I've learned so much about faith and how it fits into my life.  I've made some awesome friends online and I've needed all of you.  Your feedback and comments have helped me see things from different angles and you've been a tremendous source of support.  This isn't the end of my life.  It just ends a hope and a dream.  It's sad.  It hurts to think I couldn't make the marriage work.  It was crazy to think I could do it all by myself anyway.

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Thoughts To Ponder

2007-08-24

I've been pretty consistent in my desire to make good choices and do what I know is right.  What if I don't know what's right?  The more I'm learning, the more I'm questioning.  I'm comfortable with that.  If I don't ask questions, how will I ever learn anything?  So, the question for the day is "What If?"

What if I end up getting divorced, despite all of the efforts to avoid it?  Obviously my main concern would be my kids.  What would happen to them?  I'm a product of divorced parents.  My mom and dad divorced when I was three years old.  My dad was an alcoholic.  He drank away his paychecks and my mom took sole responsibility for the care of their three children.  I'm the middle child, so I was doomed from the start.  OK, I was being facetious, but really, there's fact to back up the notion that the middle child is often ignored.  I was certainly emotionally neglected by my parents throughout most of my childhood.  There were times when I was physically neglected as well. 

My dad was the typical "deadbeat dad".  Although he was willing to allow us to come stay with him a week or two in the summer every now and then, we'd more often than not opt to stay with one of my grandmother's (who both lived in the same town he did).  He lived in a trailer most of his adult live.  It was a disaster area.  There were overflowing ashtrays, porno mags, empty beer cans and liquor bottles, wadded up dirty clothes, and various other odds and ends everywhere.  To be fair, he learned his housekeeping skills from his mother.  My grandmother lived in a big old house so packed with junk and trash that there were paths cut through the place to get to the kitchen, bathroom, living room, and her bedroom.  When she was forced to move into something smaller that she could better afford, rather than clean the place out, they burned it down.  My dad was very similar to her, with the confusing and embarassing addition of all the Playboy and Penthouse "reading" materials.  He drank from the time he got off work (when he was working) until the time he passed out.  I'm not sure how he functioned as an adult.  I don't think I ever saw food in his refridgerator.  He must've always eaten at the "beer joint".  In fact, now that I think about it, I spent more time with him at the bar than I did in his home.  My memories with him weren't all bad.  He was decent to me when I was around.  There just wasn't anything connecting us.  I think he remembered my birthday twice in my entire life.  To a kid, those things are important and speak volumes about how much you care.  As an adult, I still don't understand much and I'm sad I can't ask him because he died 6 or 7 years ago.

My mom worked very hard to stay off welfare.  We lived in Sioux City for a time in the upstairs of a house.  The main floor was occupied by Robert and Marty, one divorced and the other never married.  They had a couple of pinball machines in their basement.  The house was located right next to a bar where my mom worked nights "waitressing".  I'm not exactly sure what all she did, but I don't get that she was very proud of some of her behaviors because she doesn't talk much about that time.  Maybe because she was drinking and taking drugs to the point where she can't remember a lot.  Most of what I remember is having to walk a long way to school by myself because my brother would ditch me.  I was in Kindergarten then.  I drove past that house when I was in Sioux City last time.  I followed the path I took to school - I walked over a mile each way.  That tells me that my memories, though sporadic, were fairly accurate.  I have the typical problems of a person with an unhappy childhood.  There are large gaps in my memory.  Maybe because the days were all the same.  Maybe because most of what I'd remember is too painful.  I know my mom wasn't around a lot when I felt like I needed her to be.  I know she made a lot of personal sacrifices to provide for us with little or no help from anybody else.  I also know she made a lot of bad lifestyle choices along the way.

I don't know if I would've been different if I'd been in her situation, but I know how it's affected me.  I have a great deal of difficulty trusting anyone, but especially men.  I have trouble establishing boundaries with people.  I have no concept of object permanence - meaning I've had so little stability in my life that I don't believe it's possible to have things stay the same for very long.  I don't believe people will stick with me through thick and thin.  These have been extremely difficult things to work through in my life.  Learning to trust, to love, and to accept love have all been arduous tasks for me.  Right now, because of some of my own choices and the choices made by others, the tasks are just as daunting.

That's only a part of what my parents' divorce has done to me.  It wasn't just one divorce, though.  My mom married and divorced 3 times between the time I was 3 and 17.  There were boyfriends in between, too.  She didn't learn from her mistakes.  She didn't make changes in herself to ensure she'd make better choices in her life.  That's hard to say about someone I love, but it's the truth.  Not everything in her life has been of her own choosing, but I think there are a lot of things she could've avoided.

Divorce is hard on kids.  Divorce is also a reality in a lot of kids' lives.  It's been a reality in mine and I learned to cope.  Not everything I learned was good.  I didn't have the resources at my disposal that I'd make certain were available for my kids, should my husband and I get divorced.  I want my kids to be the best they can possibly be.  I want to prepare them for life in the real world as an adult.  I don't know what direction those lives are going to take, but I don't want to be responsible for hurting them and their chances to be the people they're meant to be.  At the same time, I know that struggle is what makes people stronger.  Even the Bible says that in your life, you will have trouble.  I can't prevent or even minimize the amount of difficulties they'll face.  I just don't want to make things harder on them.  If we divorce, things will definitely be harder - especially if my husband chooses to try to use them as a means to hurt me.  Or if I lose my mind completely and choose to do the same. 

I have great concern for my kids, but I also have personal concerns.  What would happen to me if I got divorced?  I'm scared I wouldn't be able to make it on my own.  I'm scared I'd lose sight of my priorities and allow my emotions to control my decisions.  I'm scared of a lot of how much harder my life will be.  My husband told me last night that he thinks it would be easier to just give up on this relationship.  He thought it would be easier after he moved us here.  I don't think he has a very firm grasp of reality.  I know my life would change drastically and not all of it would be things I'd choose. 

If I got divorced, I'd have to find a place to live.  A safe place that I could afford.  What could I afford?  Not a whole lot, considering I don't have much beyond a high school education.  I'd have to find a job.  I know I'm employable, but it would take a special person willing to take a risk on me.  I don't have a solid job history in terms of long-term employment because I've been staying home with my kids.  That should speak volumes about my level of commitment and organizational skills, but not everyone understands what it takes to do what I do.  I also want to finish school because I want a chance to do something personally meaningful with the skills and talents I've been given.  How would I accomplish that if I had to struggle so hard for mere survival?

Practical matters aside, the rest of the thought of being single is both intriguing and terrifying.  Dating when you have kids is vastly different than dating with only yourself to worry about.  I certainly don't want to place my kids in the same positions I've been in.  I don't want my daughter to face the prospect of getting molested or either one of them to become targets of abuse.  Stating that sheds a lot of insight on what I believe about what people are capable of.  It also speaks to what kind of confidence I have in my ability to make good choices regarding men.  I'm pretty naive.  Even with what I've been through, I still have a tendency to believe the best about people.  I wouldn't want to look at every man with suspicion, but how does a woman balance those things?  Unnerving to think about, but exciting at the same time. 

What would it be like to find someone I'm actually compatible with?  What would it be like to spend time with someone who appreciates my company?  Who thinks I'm someone special and treats me that way?  What would it be like to be with someone who listens, responds, shares with me, and trusts me to take care of what they tell me?  Would it be as good as it was with the Bishop?  Would it be better because we could be open about our relationship?  I don't know.  I still believe I'm capable of connecting with a person like that.  I still want that kind of relationship.  I don't think my husband is at all capable.  I don't want to live with that forever, but I do want to do what's right.

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Conviction Crisis

2007-08-23

I hate people who tell me I need to quit smoking.  I hate them because I know they're right.  I love to smoke, but I don't love the smell of it on other people.  I don't like the fact that it's inconvenient or the amount it costs.  I don't smoke anywhere near my kids.  I don't smoke near the entrances to buildings.  I throw the butts away when I'm finished.  I'm a fairly consciencious smoker.  I don't even smoke that much right now.  I mostly just like to sit in a corner of a dark place and smoke and listen to live jazz on occasion.  It has gotten a little out of hand lately, especially with the amount of stress on the homefront. 

So, I joined the YMCA today and already took a yoga class.  I'll exercise and taper off the smoking to nothing, except maybe social situations.  Ugh!  Can't wait for the withdrawal!

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Getting It Together

2007-08-23

We went to counseling yesterday.  I've suspected my husband is about ready to give up on it because he's not been liking what he's hearing.  What he's hearing is that he has to start examining his own feelings, their sources, and trying to learn how to put them into perspective.  If he understands himself better, he might be able to exercise better self-control in the way he behaves towards me.  Those things require him to accept the fact that he has emotions and that those emotions are not all a product of my choices.  If they are, they shouldn't be.  I can't be the and-all be-all of his existence.  That dumps a lot of responsibility on me that isn't mine to carry.

All of these concepts seem pretty straightforward to me.  He doesn't get them.  At all.  I can't figure that one out.  Everyone has emotions.  If you don't deal with them, they're likely to control you.  I think that's a lot of what happens for him.  He gets upset, angry, frustrated, whatever and he reacts immediately.  His actions are based on those emotions, independent of rational thought.  To top it all off, that book on narcissism I've been reading might as well be a case study on him.  I'm not sure what I was hoping from the book, but it doesn't paint a very satisfying picture of the future.  Basically what it says is that narcissists are generally incapable of changing because they honestly don't see anything wrong with the way they treat people.  I concede the point.  How can your mind be open to learning anything if you already know it all? 

Where do I fit into all of this?  Well, apparently it's up to me to set the boundaries, stick to them, stand up for myself against overwhelming opposition, and try to find a way to remain emotionally healthy.  The tendency is to get so worn down from the constant barrage of insults, passive-aggressive behavior, demands, and verbal assaults on my character that I'd just give in rather than fight for my right to be an equal person deserving of equal consideration.  That sounded eerily familiar as well.  That came up in counseling yesterday in reference to something I'd asked for last Christmas. 

I asked for a Maytag drying center.  It's this amazing stacked dryer that has a regular drum on the bottom and a second drying compartment on top for hanging clothes or laying sweaters flat.  It'll dry special care items in 3 hours instead of 12-24.  Not only that, but it saves having all of those items strewn over the house because they need to be hung with space around them in order to get dry.  I had my whole proposal put together before I approached my husband because I knew I'd meet with opposition.  I've learned from experience that I have to be certain of what I want and be prepared to argue the point because his reaction to any request is never favorable, regardless what the item in question is.  The dryer was no different.  I said upfront that it was a desire, not a necessity.  We already had a functioning dryer.  This was something the manufacturer was discontinuing (reason for asking then instead of waiting til our dryer died) and it would make my life a lot easier.  I knew it was expensive, which is another reason I asked when I did - Christmas bonus time.  I knew we'd have the money for it because we weren't taking a big trip and we weren't buying extravagant gifts for the family.  He finally "relented" and "gave in to me" and looked into purchasing it.  There was one store in Sioux City that carried the dryer and they were doing a huge close-out sale on it.  It cost several hundred less than what we thought - about the same as a regular dryer, even with delivery.  We learned at the same time that a friend's sister was in dire need of a working dryer.  Her husband is a full-time student, they have 4 small children, and they'd been hauling laundry to her sister's to get it dried.  They were thrilled to take our old one.  When all of those factors come together, it doesn't seem like it should be such a hard decision - especially when I don't generally ask for many extravagant things. 

In fact, that's the most expensive thing I'd ever specifically asked for that was just for me.  That's the kicker.  I go through this thing in my head where I consider the cost of something I want, whether or not it's necessary, how badly I want it, and whether or not we can afford it long before I ask.  I've done this for a long time because I know how my husband reacts.  It really doesn't matter what it is, how much it costs, or the way in which I ask.  He just doesn't seem to like the idea that I have independant thoughts/desires.  So, I make damned sure it's something I want and I go into the conversation completely prepared.  Anything less and he'll end up talking me out of it.  I've not shared this with him because we don't communicate well on any level.  The book I'm reading is shedding some insight on that, but I also accept that I bear some of the responsibility.  I thought I was handling things the way I should.

Picture the same situation from my husband's perspective.  He always ends up giving in to me on the things I ask for because I don't back down.  He has to relent to my will because I'll argue the point until I get what I want.  That's absolutely true.  By the time I've made up my mind, I've already weighed the cost (arguing until he gives in because he won't ever concede the fact that I have a valid point).  I know there are lots of women who use subtle manipulation tactics to get what they want.  They have a way of planting an idea in their man's head so that he thinks it was his idea in the first place.  I know that works, but to me, it seems underhanded and sneaky.  Besides, if I understand the situation correctly, the man never has to recognize the fact that his wife is a person with thoughts, wants, and desires.  It saves the arguement, but she loses more and more of her identity.  He takes credit and she builds resentment.

Then again, there seems to be resentment either way.  That's what I'm struggling with right now.  The fact that I have to accept this gargantuan ego pushing his will on me, pouting like a baby when he doesn't get his way, telling me I'm damaged because I'm in touch with my emotions, treating me like some blood-sucking gold-digger when I want something, taking for granted everything I do to contribute positively to the household, and just learn how to deal with him.  I also have to swallow the fact that he'll likely never change because he can't see past the end of his nose, so I can kiss the idea of an intimate fulfilling relationship goodbye.  I have to reconcile this with what I believe to be right.  I have to continue to try to live according to my faith, fight against him whenever I do what I know is right because what's right is that I follow the path God has placed in front of me (which is not necessarily the same one my husband has in mind for US - because I don't exist independent of him), and I have to do all of this without building resentment or getting sucked into his neverending arguements because if I allow that to happen, I'll end up a bitter, shriveled up shell of a woman.  Either that, or a chain-smoking alcoholic recluse.  I'm just not sure I'm up for the task.  I'm not so sure anyone should have to be up for that kind of task.

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Da Blues

2007-08-21

I'm in such a funk this afternoon!  I feel like I should dig out a black turtleneck, paint a random shade of dark melancholy on my lips and go read bad poetry in some coffee house.  Now I'm beginning to wonder if I should take my own lone candle with me to light before the reading or if one will be provided.  Is that a commonly stocked item in coffee houses anymore?  It should be.  I should be able to go into any kitchy little coffee house in America and find all of the familiar trappings of my tortured past.  The requisite aroma of the various blends of coffees, the alarming sound of the milk steamer, the muted sound of philosophical discussions, students dressed in carefully selected layers of rumpled malcontent carrying books with provocative titles, mismatched sofas, an eclectic mix of shelves filled with ratty paperbacks and pretentious intellectual games, a small raised platform in the corner for the aspiring musician or poet, walls lined with the works of local artisans, and esoteric musical selections tugging at the fringes of your consciousness.

How I miss those days of getting up early and putting my time in at a job I didn't yet hate because I knew I wouldn't work it long enough to hate it.  All so I could piss away the afternoon and evening hours in my favorite coffee house enjoying every moment of the time I spent with self-proclaimed "slackers".  Role-playing gamers, musicians, artists, students, the odd yuppie, pretentious people who manage to drop the word "surreal" into a conversation at every opportunity - all dressed the part, wearing their thrift store finds like a uniform of angst and suffering for always being the square peg being unsuccessfully forced into the round hole.  I'm poking fun because that's as much a part of who I am as being a mother.  A role that doesn't define all of me, but certainly enhances parts of me.  I love coffee houses.  I can't help it.

I used to sit in the corner watching people as I read and sipped my coffee.  Most of the time, they'd wander in, look around, and decide to come and sit awhile with me.  We'd talk about everything and nothing.  I met my friend Ron there.  I haven't seen him in years, but I know that if I did, he'd walk right up to me and plant a dramatic toe-curling kiss right on my mouth.  He once asked me if I'd ever had my ankles sucked.  When I told him "no", he decided it was something I couldn't live another minute without experiencing, so he lifted my ankle to his mouth and did the most amazing things to it.  I think his mouth may have contributed to the decision to have my first tattoo placed around my ankle.  He and his brother would both kiss me in greeting and in farewell.  His brother's name was Marshall, but he preferred to be called Mars.  He was sardonic and quick-witted and I quite enjoyed him - and his kisses.  They were among many unusual and idiosyncratic people I met at that place.  Now that's a happy crazy thought for the day.  

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Not A Morning Person

2007-08-21

I'm tired.  Really tired.  I haven't been able to get much sleep the past couple of nights.  I'm trying to get homework done and get the kids geared up to start school - tomorrow!  I'm glad for that.  They're bored and tired of me and need to be out making friends.  I still have a lot of projects around the house I need to get done and just haven't had the motivation or free time to get them done.  Maybe having time to myself to work on those will give me a sense of accomplishment and a chance to think about what's been going on around here.

Thunderstorms have greatly interrupted my sleep, as well.  My daughter is afraid of them.  She wakes up in the middle of the night and has difficulty getting back to sleep on her own.  I don't mind snuggling with her for a little while and giving her the reassurance that she needs, but it wears on me.  Between that and the difficulties in dealing with my husband, I'm all but exhausted.  He tries every which way to wake me up in the morning before he leaves (or as he's leaving) for work.  His behavior has me all knotted up inside to the point where I spend a fair amount of time late at night trying to find my happy place before I go to sleep.  Late nights, early mornings, interrupted sleep, and the general tension of the situation are taking their toll.

This morning, my husband did whatever he could to disturb my sleep as he was getting ready to leave for work.  While he was doing that, I was peripherally aware of what's happening, but I know I can go right back to sleep after he leaves, so I don't get too worked up about it.  Unfortunately, this morning didn't quite work out that way.  He called me 20 minutes later to say he'd forgotten his work computer at home and asked if I'd at least bring it half-way because he had a meeting at 7:30 and needed it.  He woke me out of a dead sleep and I wasn't particularly pleased with that, but I got up and did as he asked.  When I went into the bathroom, I found a note sitting on the counter complaining about some pretty minor stuff - like leaving clothes in the bathroom.  He asked if I'd stop doing that.  Yeah, that's the way to win friends and influence people.

This all started because I brought up something in our last counseling session about wanting my own bathroom.  I did it to illustrate a point.  My husband told me he doesn't like the idea of separate bathrooms.  Separate sinks maybe, but not separate bathrooms.  His parents have separate bathrooms, which I pointed out.  He said he's never liked that about them.  I found that rather odd.  What does he care?  It's not about the bathroom.  It's about personal space.  He's uncomfortable with the idea of me having a space that's separate from his.  I have plenty of reasons why, if it were possible, that I'd like my own bathroom and I mentioned them.  Women have different grooming needs and different ideas of cleanliness than men.  I don't see that a counter cluttered with bottles of lotion and vario