Sunday, May 30, 2010

The Cool Girl

When I was 12 years old, I had a friend whose boyfriend was in high school. Being middle schoolers ourselves, this made us SUPER cool. We would go hang out at one of his friend's houses, also a high school student, who lived with his father.

The father was a middle aged man who lived with his son in a nice neighborhood near my school. We loved to hang out there because the father let all the kids drink, smoke, curse, and even supplied some of them with drugs.

Another thing he supplied an endless amount of was porn. There was a tv in the backroom that was constantly playing a porn video. You have to understand, I was so young that at this point in my life, my parents had only told me that sex was a man and a woman lying close together. Imagine my shock when I walked in that back room and saw what I saw. This, pornography, was how I learned about sex.

Sometimes my friend would disappear with her boyfriend for awhile, and I would be left alone on the couch. Little bad ass 12 year old me, sipping on my wine cooler and trying not to let on that I didn't know how to smoke the cigarette in my hand. At some point, the father at the house took an interest in me. He'd sit next to me and ask me about boys. He didn't talk like a normal dad, he was cool and never asked about homework or school or parents. Nope, just wanted to know about boys. Which ones I liked, if I liked to be kissed. Many times when these conversations started, the son, who was a few years older than me, would come "rescue" me and usher me off to another room. I never understood why, just thought at the time that he had some sort of crush on me or was embarrassed by his father (which OMG why?? He's so cool!)

And then one day, the father sat right next to me on the sofa and put his arm around me. His hand was on my shoulder as he asked me about boys and girls and what goes on at school. I suddenly realize that his hand has slipped down on top of my breast, but he is still talking , and I am absolutely positive that he doesn't realize it. I'm too scared to tell him about it because it will embarrass us both. I figure eventually it will move on it's own. Then, as suspected, he does realize it. "Wow, look at that!! My hand was on your boobie that whole time, and you didn't even move it. Wow! ha ha ha, you're such a cool girl!!" To prove that I'm a cool girl, he went ahead and actually grabbed it, and what can I say at that point, because I want to be liked and would never want to be banished from this house. I laugh it off, stand up, and walk away, completely unsure of what has just happened. I never told anyone.

I avoided the father at all costs every time I was there from then on, but instances like this occurred many times over the time I spent there. Finally other girls began coming over and he seemed to lose interest in me.

I didn't think about what had happened and somewhat blocked it from my mind, until one day we were at his house and he wasn't there. When i asked where he was, the son informs me that he has been arrested. One of the other girls was undergoing the same situation with him, and had gone forward to her parents, who called the police. The mood in the house was outrage. Everyone was angry at the molested girl for turning Dad in to the police. That was just messing with someone's life, no matter what he did to her, and she must have wanted it anyways because she kept coming over here, she could have just said no thanks.

As an adult, the repercussions of those few months as a pre-teen affect my life every single day. Although I have tried intense therapy for the effects of the abuse I received, and I have made some progress, I have somewhat given up ever being "normal". He robbed that from me, back when I was just a child. Because of him, everytime I have had sex, every single time, since I became sexually active, I enter a period of panic and black-hole like neediness. I can't shake the feeling that I have just been used, abused, degraded, and dismissed as a person. Because of him, when I try and discuss sex or what happened to me, I glaze over and my mind wanders. My protective instincts kick in and I numb out. Just while typing this blog post, I've stopped multiple times and forgotten what I was even writing about. That survival skill that kept me sane as an abused child just won't go away.

Sometimes it's manageable. Sometimes it's so bad that I have to just shut down and wait for it to pass. I cry, I want to be held tight like a child, I want to feel accepted and loved and safe, but most of the time I just can't. All I can do is apologize to the one I'm with and hope that he understands.

Let's face it. It's not easy to understand. I don't always. It gets old, to me and to my partner. I try to put on a brave face and hide it as much as possible. But sometimes, it is so overwhelming, that it takes over for days at a time. I slip into a needy depression. I shut down because it's easier than explaining again. I hold back tears and blow up at odd things.

I hate it.

Because really, who wants to have sex with someone when you know that afterwards they're going to act like that???

I found out recently through Facebook of all things that my molestor passed away several years ago. I can't say in my life that I have ever been happy to hear of someone's death. But for some reason, the world felt a little safer to me the second I heard it.

Friday, May 28, 2010

I'm Here

Although there is much I want to write about, I just don't have time but am getting text messages (ahem) from worried friends wanting to know if I've stopped blogging.

No, my life has just been an unbelievable whirlwind of family, birthdays, end of school, girlfriends in crisis, and work. May is always a crazy month for me but this year has been one for the record books.

So, a summary.

My son is about to graduate elementary school. I have of course known this for awhile, but man it hit me this week. My baby boy, who has had the unfortunate role of basically growing up WITH me, since I was only 22 when I had him, is just growing before my eyes into a young man. He's smart, he's sweet, he seems so well adjusted and I'm just so proud of him. I'm looking forward to spending as much time as possible with him this summer before he realizes how uncool I am and stops calling me Mommy.

Couples therapy is going so so well. I always leave with new insight and am training my mind to think in new, positive ways that don't lead me down a path of fear and panic. Each time we leave I'm reminded just how lucky we are to have found each other. I'm also learning to stop thinking about my marriage and the cheating as the biggest tragedy of my life, and start thinking of it as the best thing that ever happened to me. Traumatic? Yes. But it brought about the best changes I could have ever asked for.

In just a few weeks I am taking my kids to Florida, in what I think will probably be our last vacation as just us 4. I'm kind of sad in a way, mourning the phase of my life where I was doing it all on my own and it was just our little team...but also ready to move into the next phase that includes Mr. Wonderful. The following week will be a very small vacation with our group of friends and their children, and Mr. Wonderful will be joining us for that one.

Another trip coming up-Mr. W is taking me to Paris the end of July. I've never been overseas before, and absolutely cannot wait!!! Our plan as of now is to just sort of wander the city for a week, eat tons of bread and chocolate and pastries and cheese, drink wine and see the most famous museums and churches and buildings in the world. Heaven.

That's it for now, I do have a lot I want, *need* to write about, coming soon.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Single Mother's Day

I am incredibly grateful for all that I have. I have three children who love me and called and begged their Dad to take them Mother's Day shopping for me (he wouldn't, but my brother saved the day ever so graciously). Mr. Wonderful surprised me with the greatest card and handwritten letter that made me cry about what a great mother I am, even detailing what he loved about each relationship with each of my kids. (how did I manage to find the seemingly only guy out there who just *gets it*???) My youngest woke me at 4 am, snuggling up into bed with me because she was scared of a thunderstorm. My middle woke me again at 6 because she couldn't wait one more minute to give me her homemade card and flowers. My oldest coordinated with his uncle all morning to make sure all the kids had signed my card and that there was something inside for me.

I came here initially to bitch about how my day was nuts and how I was reminded all day that I am a single mom who never gets a break, even on Mother's Day, and how Mother's Day is just a cruel reminder that I'm doing it all alone. But I'm trying to have a different outlook. Yes today was hard and messy and I'm exhausted, just like every Sunday that they are home (or even not). But that's single motherhood, and I'm surviving. Thriving even, most of the time. And my kids are all sweet and love me, and I must be doing something right. This is definitely not easy, not even close. But it's worth doing and in those amazing moments when my baby is holding onto me for comfort or my daughter is making me beautiful art or my son is worried about not having anything to give me, it makes it all worth it.

To all the single mommies out there who worked today from sun up to sundown, who didn't get cards or breakfast in bed or acknowledgment whatsoever, I hope you know how much you mean to your children even if they don't understand that yet, how they would not make it without you, that you are doing the hardest job there is and you're kicking ass at it. Pat yourself on the back for the tough decisions and choices you've made and will make in the best interest of those little faces, for the long hours you put in; and do something for yourself, even if it's just small.

I bought myself a little chocolate bar at the grocery store, sat in my car in silence, and enjoyed every second of it.

Happy Mother's Day Mommies!

Monday, May 3, 2010

My Feng Shui is stuck

As one single person running an entire household, especially one house with 4 people and a dog living in it, organization is not only important, it's vital.

Things run in a certain flow, all the time. Big things, little things.

For example, last Sunday I went to Six Flags with my kids instead of buying groceries. Sunday night I had Mr. Wonderful stay with them after they went to bed so I could get groceries. I got home late and without everything I needed, which sent me to the store extra times every day last week. Which meant I lost time doing things like laundry, cleaning, and work. (because with three kids, you cannot just run in and out of a store).

Right now, my laundry is piled to the ceiling. You cannot see the floor in my laundry room. I am down to my last set of clothes. I haven't done laundry because the laundry baskets are full of clothes needing to be put in the kids drawers. I haven't put the laundry in the drawers because their drawers are overfilled of clothes that don't fit them. Their drawers are overfilled of clothes that don't fit them because I haven't gone through and stored their winter clothes or boxed the clothes that don't fit because there is no room in my garage. There is no room in my garage because there is a crib in there waiting to be sold, along with boxes of trash that need to be cleaned out. I haven't sold the crib or cleaned out the boxes because there JUST ISN'T ENOUGH TIME IN. THE. DAY.

One of these days I will use my weekend without kids to get these things done. A weekend when I don't have to cram all the work I didn't get done during the week with them here into, or am not so exhausted from the week that all I want to do is sleep.

Sleep...omg that sounds so heavenly right now.