10

10 days left.  That is all that is left until the big day... and there is so much to do.  Too much.

There is like major house cleaning to do.  Major.  I have standing water in my basement and mold.  A lot of each.  I am trying to not even *deal* with that right now... and trying to focus on what I can... like the gazillion of fucking finger prints on every single wall.  Would it be unrealistic to start painting?  Probably.

I am stressed.  Can you tell?  Everyone else can.  How does this translate?  I started to parent S this weekend and she had a tantrum in return.  Full on stressful weekend.  I fell into what I *do* when I am stressed.  I did housework, did the laundry, and I organized shit...  you get the picture.  I noticed that much of the time when I spoke to S, it was with parental undertones.  I winced, "I'm sorry."  She admitted that she also noticed it, but graciously forgave me and pointed out that I don't do it when the kids aren't with us.  Only when I am wearing my mom hat, I s'pose.  Still... I don't think this should be an excuse.

But it was good for us.  It's not all rainbows here at the Love Shack.  There isn't always a pony ride at the end of the day.  But - here we are, still together - working it out.  Still communicating.  Still loving.

We got to yell at each other.  (Well, I didn't really raise my voice.  I don't think I did.  I try not to do that anymore.)  We got to be really mad at each other and walk away - without the fear that the other person was walking away.  We got to cry  and allow each other that space for those tears.  Some of us took longer to stop crying -  I won't say who...

In the end, I think we are stronger.  Because we know that truly, when there are hard times, when we are really feeling our shittiest - the other person is still going to be right there waiting.  I'm not going anywhere.  Neither is she.  Well,  I might like go out back... and she might like go to the basement... but eventually we find each other and ... well... the making up part is definitely worthwhile.

So I guess that is all for tonight.  I haven't felt this exhausted since childbirth (no exaggeration) and I have DVRed a Criminal Minds marathon.  That, in addition to my nicely poured Merlot and a very quiet - kid free home - should make for a perfect ending to a roller coaster weekend.

A Commencement

S and I went to the 8th grade graduation for Motherless last night.  Her father and his new girlfriend were there, of course, as they should be.  But my other kids were not.  I had to ask Motherless where they were and she informed me that her father took them to her aunt's house.  I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with sadness.  I tried to push it away for her sake.

Next I saw Motherless give her father The Packet.  It was The Packet that I saw every other 8th grade mother walking around the gym with.  The Packet, I assumed, held the contents of what consisted of an 8th grader's portfolio.  I had to assume because I was never shown The Packet.  I waited for him to show me.  He didn't.  I know - I could have went over and asked to see it for myself.  I just couldn't do it.  I just couldn't bring myself to even speak to him last night.

Seats were assigned last night, 4 per student, but her dad took the bleachers and S and I took the back row.  I couldn't handle sitting inside all of those people.  I hope she understands.  Before the ceremony S asked if I knew any of the people there.  I knew almost everyone.  It is a small, farm community.  Motherless has gone to school with these kids for years.  I've talked to these moms at school parties, softball games, church, via Facebook, and even on the phone.  She seemed surprised that I knew people there - then I realized that no one was talking to me or had even said hi to me.

The ceremony was nice.  Sweet.  Cute.  It made me teary.  I remembered her little Kindergarten graduation.  Motherless is smart.  The kind of smart that doesn't get straight As.  The kind of smart that doesn't care about GPA.  The kind of smart that will assure she will  really be happy in life because she is going to do whatever the fuck SHE wants to do.

I felt so disconnected last night.  There was a point in the evening where I looked at where I assumed our 4 empty spots were and I got a little sad.  The thought that crossed my mind was, "Right there - that was the reason I stayed married."  And it wasn't enough.  I started to feel so low last night.  Low like I haven't felt in a long time.  The guilty feelings all flooded back.

I broke up the family.

I needed more. 

And I felt as empty as our 4 reserved seats were.

Then I put my hand in S's and I realized my family is still here.  It just looks different.  I'm not empty.  I'm finally whole.

Change is Good, Right?

First of all this is a little test blog from my iPhone. Probably would be going smoother with an iPad but... I'm super poor and trying to pay for braces, a wedding, and soon my student loans.

The point, I know I had a point... Oh, I'm thinking of changing my layout/design/template to something that is more mobile device friendly. What do my readers think? Good idea? Bad idea? Indifferent?

I don't know if I am even savvy enough to figure this out (S and I jokingly refer to me as "tech support" in the relationship, but I don't really know why)!

Post a comment. Leave feedback.

Thanks!

This Shit's Gettin' Hard (jumbled up blog post about it all)

...and I love it.  I truly do.

I'm referring to my course work in grad school.  It's becoming increasingly more challenging.  My instructors are inspiring me to think and feel.  This is starting to become more than just completing assignments and "getting the right answers."  I actually want to KNOW the right answers.

Fuck.  I just looked at where I left off in this blog and there is so much catching up to do that I am not going to do it.  I'm just going to throw out some random thoughts that have been making me itch in a creative "I want to write about that" kind of way... so this will be a blog-soup sort of post where none of it will really be full complete thoughts.  Catch my drift...?

Went out with co-workers last night.  It was great.  I realized a few things last night and this week:

• Everyone doesn't hate me.
• More people who I know in real life (meaning co-workers) read this blog than I thought.  This made me nervous.  But, I also felt good.  Like, oh they are reading it and still like me.  (See previous point.)

• It isn't just me who has noticed the difference in myself since I've been able to really be who I am since coming out.  They have too.  And I feel like this experience (knowing me pre and post coming out) has been able to show others what it's like to live a lie... miserable... and then be able to live free and authentic... incredible!

This week was also sorta kinda like a big deal for me.  I found out that a person in a supervisory role, someone who is my direct supervisor to be exact, was behaving in a way at my workplace that was in absolute violation of state (and federal - in a way) laws which protect me from discrimination due to my sexual orientation.  When I asked my coworkers who were present at the time of this violation if this allegation were true, they said, "Absolutely." and "It was horrible."  and other things.  

Well... except for one person.  She said, "I didn't think it was that bad... she just said..." 

.... and I was back at that place all over again.  Hearing those words all over again.  

How many times did it happen?  Was there penetration?  Did you say no?  It wasn't that bad...

Of course I didn't realize I was in that place.  When I found out what went on I was driving; I had to pull over.  I immediately drove home, threw a mini blazer over my sundress, and took off again to demand request a meeting with HR department at my place of employment.  

En route I phoned Bebe.  Another sexual abuse survivor.  But I didn't see that then.  I phoned her because I wanted to talk law.  In addition to being one of my very best friends, she is my sister, my mother, doctor, and my lawyer.  I needed to talk law.  MmmmHmm.  Okay.

I also had time to phone my actual mother.  I told her, "I just need to talk to you because you always make me feel stronger when I need to stick up for myself."  MmmmHmm.  Interesting.

I wanted to bring the spirits of these women with me.  Bebe who defends me today - fiercely and loyally.  And my mom who I felt didn't defend me then - but tries to now, wants to now.

So... very interesting developments, I think.  Now that I look back at what that stupid supervisor bitch's effects caused.  Let's recap:

• I know for certain my coworkers like me, they really like me (think Sally Field acceptance speech).
• I came out, again, this time to administration, VP of the HR department, and it felt pretty good.
• I got to "do the work" my weirdo therapist kept talking about in those leather chairs I blogged about a while back.
• I didn't need Bebe or my mom.  I didn't it all myself.

Moving on...

The Motherless Situation has been amazing.  We share conversations that literally make me cry - good tears.  I am so proud OF HER.  Not proud to be her mama.  I think there is a distinct difference.  This has nothing to do with me.  I take no credit.  She is just an incredible young person with a tender heart and an old soul.  There was a little trouble on Easter Sunday.  S and my ex husband had strong words at a loud volume (nice way of putting it, eh?) and it was over S requesting that he have the children wear helmets when they ride on the back of his motorcylce.  Currently in the state we live in, there is no law that requires that.

He went from 0 to 100 in a manner of seconds.  Yelling, "Who the *(&^*& do you think you are?"  It was terrible.  She (and I) just simply want the kids to be safe.  It scares me.  He was there to pick up Motherless (who slept over all weekend -- woot woot!!) and he had the Harley, no helmet for her.  BARF.

It was all quite dramatic.  As you can imagine.  Essentially, she left in tears, barely speaking to either one of us, and S was less hopeful than I that things were going to be reparable I think.  For an instant, I'll admit, I had that sinking feeling, "I lost her again."  But I didn't let myself think that for long.  I just reminded her how much I loved her and want the best for her always.  And I told her S loves her too.

She needs to know she is loved here.

Officer S.  Don't Fuck with her.  Put your dishes away.

I can't blog about the wedding.  I'm almost sick of it and it hasn't even happened yet.  Is that normal?  I want to get married!  I do!!!  But... I'm just so DONE with planning and organizing it all... for fuck's sake...

We are writing our own vows and I want to make mine really kind of funny... but then tear inducing sweet and the end.  I am secretly afraid no one will "get" my humor though.