Posted in family, friendship, kids, Learning, Life, love, Musings, People, relationships

Fallout

Fallout: 2. A secondary and often lingering effect, result, or set of consequences.

THE-PAST (1)

 

I have been dealing, lately, with the next wave of fallout from my choice to end my relationship. It’s weird, because it’s been nearly a year now, and I often think that if I am not totally over it, I am pretty close. Then, something will happen- a song will come on the radio, my daughter will ask me an innocent question, and a wave of grief so startling will roll over me that it is nearly panic. It leaves me questioning my entire set of choices between now and then…which is, of course, ridiculous. Anyone with eyes can see I have been a million times happier since I finally put an end to all of the chaos and fighting, the drugs and the lies, the anger and upheaval.

I am proud of myself for trying so hard, out of real love, to make something difficult work. Sometimes I beat myself up for pouring so much into something that could never have worked, but I didn’t believe that while it was happening, and the truth is, I had to know that I did everything within my power before I walked away. I think before he and I were together, I really believed that if two people loved each other, that was all that really needed to be true for a relationship to work out. I had to learn that there is so much more to it than that- for two people to be happy and healthy together, they first need to be happy and healthy as individuals, and then they are charged with the very difficult task of somehow managing to maintain that, while figuring out how to build a life together. You can love the shit out of each other, and if one or both of you is a mess, or wanting a different version of the same thing, or can’t see eye to eye in certain critical ways, it just won’t work.

I am even more proud of myself for finally finding the strength to get out. It was one of the hardest things I ever did in my life, much harder than the familiar misery of staying together. I was used to hating who I was when I was with him. I was used to being angry, insecure, mean, erratic, volatile, and sad. But it was killing me. I don’t think that when he moved out the last time I really thought it would stick- how many times had we been down that road? But I kept holding out another day, then another and another, until finally I even started believing myself when I would say ” We are never getting back together.” (Credit: Taylor Swift, LOL)

I would not have it any other way, now. As I said in the beginning- I am so much happier now. I could not undo what has been done if I wanted to, anyway. What we were, for better or worse, is over. We couldn’t go back if we wanted to.

But Autumn is upon us- my first one alone in over seven years. I don’t know about you, but Autumn is the season for families, in my mind. Spring and Summer are fantastic times to be single, but the minute Autumn rolls around, I start looking around for my security blanket. In this case, I guess mine is a two hundred pound man. Who knew?

I woke up two days ago, thinking…maybe I am ready to start dating again. Maybe it is time. That night, I was at a meeting, watching the fire crackle in the hearth, and the candles flicker on the mantle, and I thought how nice it would be to go home and crawl in bed with someone…but not really someone. Him.  Yesterday, I was out with our daughter, and I picked up some food and headed to the beach. I pulled into the parking lot just as a song came on that reminded me of him, and some horrible times he put me through. I realized that the beach we were at just then was where he had been working a construction job when we first started dating, and I would bring him lunch, we would sit on the beach and flirt with each other.

We had no idea, then, that seven years down the road we would be this- more broken than we started out. A child between us that we both loved desperately. A mountain of bad choices  and broken promises trailing behind us. A bad taste in our mouths over each other, and two broken hearts. I sat in my car and cried facing forward so my daughter didn’t see me. And I realized that I wasn’t really ready to date, not yet. I am still in mourning for what I gave up, as hard as it was, and as sad as it was, it was still very significant to me, and it was a loss I felt, and still feel deeply.

I certainly will not go back. But I will honor my grief and myself until I am ready to move on.

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Posted in family, kids, Life, Uncategorized

Politically Correct is Pure Crap and Common Sense is Dead, 1.

I was emailing a friend of mine today and I briefly touched on how Southerners are portrayed as well-mannered and discreet, while over here on the west coast, we are fake and politically correct. This is a sore subject for me, and I think it ties right into my observation that common sense is dead and gone, and the whole world is turning into a bunch of retarded pussies. If I haven’t offended you yet, you’ll probably be okay…

So, when I was a little girl starting kindergarten, it was 1980. I grew up in Fresno, CA. (shut up, I don’t live there now and I had no choice, I was FIVE.) which is not only NOT the friendliest town on earth, but has now evolved into, like, the murder capital of the world or some shit. But I digress- it was and probably is a city that seems to be filled primarily with people that are working, middle class of all varieties, a lot of people barely scraping by, and a lot who are just downright poverty stricken. We vacillated through most of those statuses while I was a kid there. The thing is, though, there was a rhythm to our lives- not just mine, but pretty much everyone in general. We all sat down for dinner together every night, at the table. We didn’t get up to gab on the phone mid-bite, unless we wanted to get our asses kicked. There were no cell phones, but if there had been, you wouldn’t have had one for long if you tried texting under the table. There were RULES. If we didn’t follow them, there were CONSEQUENCES.  After dinner, I did the dishes. If my mom told me to clean my room, I didn’t have the option of saying “NO.” Well, I had the option- and she had the option of slapping the shit out of me. I would not have DREAMED of calling the cops on my mom for it, either! Not unless I planned on leaving the state before she got back home, anyway.

Somewhere between 1980 and today, which isn’t all that long, really, shit has changed. And even though the changes are supposed to level the playing field and promote kindness and offend people less, as usual, it’s just completely gotten out of hand. Kids have always been bad in their way, but now they are seriously like little wild animals that no one is brave enough to train. There are no consequences for acting up anymore- unless you count the teachers who get their asses reamed for “singling out and humiliating” a child who NEEDS to be disciplined. If they have a mood, they take a pill. If they can’t or won’t pay attention or sit still, they take another pill. When they go out for sports, they all make the team, even if they suck. When they lose, they still get trophies. They won’t even really hold children back a grade when they are failing miserably in school. So what the fuck is the point of any of this stuff, then, anymore? How are these kids supposed to be prepared in any way, shape, or form for what is quite probably going to be waiting for them when they finally make it out of their parent’s home and into the real world? Easy. They never leave…OR, they get a job in Corporate America where there is just about nothing you can do to be fired, no matter how obvious it is that you ought to be.

Before I get into that, though, I want to mention one thing- I really, really believe that parents need to be able to beat their kids’ asses when necessary. I think it depends on the kid and it depends on the reason, and it depends, also, on your ability to not kill someone. Also, the age of the kid is a factor. I am not promoting abuse, not at all- but there is a difference between letting your child know that if they fuck up, they will have a welted ass before the day is through and taking out your own frustrations on an innocent kid. There is nothing wrong with your child being a little afraid of you, for the right reasons. There is something wrong if your kid flinches every time you move your arms- maybe ease up a little, mama! But if your kid would rather look like a sissy in front of his friends and NOT do something stupid, illegal or dangerous because he knows if he does and he gets caught, you will slap his face off his head, how is that BAD? That is your sole purpose as a parent- to try to turn out a human being who might possibly contribute to society someday. Trust me, you are NOT your child’s friend. Your kid does NOT tell you everything. Your kid is blowing so much smoke up your ass if you believe that, that I feel bad for you. You have to trust me on this, as I am learning the hard way- your kid is an asshole, just like you were at that age. You should stop what you are doing and go slap them right now, even if they are sleeping, just to get a feel for it. Okay, don’t do that. But look around you at the kids running around that are just spoiled brats who think everything should be handed to them on a silver platter (because it has been, duh.) and tell me honestly that the way we are doing things is working out. I have one of those kids, I know what I’m saying, man.  I did not do my job and now I’m suffering and she will probably be, too, in the years ahead.

Man, I didn’t even get to the main thing I wanted to talk about and this is already LONG. I’m going to have to make it a two parter, Sorry guys. I need to hit the sack!