EDITED.
That last post sounded like all I care about is the material posessions that I will miss from this house. That was not at all my point.
My point is this: I AM A HORRIBLE BITCH in many, many ways. Here's what I do have going for me. I am quite aware of all the ways I have failed. I can point out several blog posts which enumerate all of the ways in which Gene Jacobs is quite a good man and I am a creep, okay?
On the flip flop, I'd like to point out that I am not at total fault for everything, but I feel like blogging about the things that the other party has done or allegedly done is kind of immature and mean-spirited.
The point of the last post, which I deleted, was to say that right now, things are hard. There is no going back. There is much damage done. I feel like a fucking asshole for all the damage done that is my fault. Fucking asshole does not even cover how I feel. If I could kill myself, I would. I have children whom I am trying to nurture and not completely fuck up. I KNOW THAT I SUCK!!! It is TOO LATE to not have sucked for several years. It does not matter that my childhood sexual abuse and abandonment issues may be at fault. IT DOES NOT MAKE IT OKAY FOR ME TO HAVE BEEN THE KIND OF WIFE I WAS!! But that is who I was. And by the time that I was ready for fixing, it was TOO LATE.
The other thing that hurts so bad is that people that I love would think I'd clean his house out. I am leaving plenty of things, things even that my parents have given us that I would use more. I am trying!!!!!! I am trying to be reasonable and fair. I am trying to be who I wasn't for twelve years, okay?
I have never felt so alone as I do this week. The stupid part is that I made this choice, so what right have I to grieve? I can't even answer that question.
Listen, love me or hate me. I am not an evil person. I am just human. I've done lots and lots of wrongs. I could probably never begin to atone for them. But I am trying to do right now.
If you don't want to hear me whine about how sad I am about the divorce that I wanted, don't read my blog.
Peace, out.
I do not wish for the last post to be misinterpreted. I am not sitting over here in the corner pouting because I'm not on par with the smarties. I wrote that post as therapy, because yes, it does come up as an issue for me sometimes. I'm trying to get okay with who I am. Honest, I don't think I have to be everything girl. Well, I do sometimes, but that's because I was raised by Mr. McIntyre. That's a whole 'nother post.
Thanks!
I pay for this blog so I can rant and ramble. I am not capable of political, insightful blogging like Katye of Love and a Steady Hand, or Andrea over at Shameless Agitator.
That said, if you care to hear my self loathing rant, read on.
I've covered this topic before. However, like any other issue in life, this one keeps coming up, forcing me to face it.
I'm not smart. I thought I was, but that's when I was living in Meigs County or going to college at tiny universities. I graduated at the tops of my classes (see, that is probably terrible grammar!), and believed myself to be well above average. I even took some IQ tests that told me that I was pretty smart. I am not saying this to brag or prove that I'm some kinda special. I am saying it to set up the story.
I moved and met some of my current friends, then started attending a weekly poetry open mic night, and gradually began to realize it. I'm average. At best. I can't keep up with the big dogs, intellectually. And although I'm sad, jealous, and embarrassed, I need to accept it. I'm just average in intelligence.
I don't think that smart is necessarily better. It's just hard to swallow. Its like someone who always dreamed of being a dancer being told that she has no rhythm. I have to get used to it, try it on.
The next step will be to decide what gifts I do have to give to the world. Right now, I am not ready to do that. I have about all on my plate that I can handle, and maybe I can't even handle all of that.
Other ramblings, because I promised them:
I am not sure that I can be in a friendship or a relationship right now without fucking that up, either. I am having a very hard time loving myself. I can't imagine how anyone else would want to be with me. I want to protect everyone around me by running away from them. I hate her sometimes, ya know?
Getting old also sucks. Gah!
Self hate! It's fun! Drink a beer and join me.
More ramblings: American Idol takes the most unique singers and forces them into boxes, then punishes them if they stay in the box, then criticizes them for poking one toe OUT of the box. Shee!!
I hate it when I stumble upon things that I truly wasn't looking for. It embarrases me, because I feel like I read someone's diary on the sly, only that wasn't my intention. Leaves me with a vaguely icky feeling.
The Yakota Officer's Club is not rocking my world right now. Hope it picks up.
Eight days until my move! Yayyyy!
OMG only eight days!!!
I am all over the place with emotion about this one, but what the fuck is new?
My brain is suffering from lack of use.
Peace out.
Everyone in this house is in a fabulous mood. Why does the weather affect us so? I have already had the kids on a long walk. It's gorgeous today! Whee!
If you're reading, please answer: {I will answer my own questions}
1. What is the last thing you read? Answer even if it's Katye's blog, or the back of the can of Lysol.
I just finished the last chapter of The Library Card by Jerry Spinelli.
2. What is the last thing you ate?
A Dove Dark Chocolate valentine heart.
3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
American Idol on Wednesday night.
4. What is the last movie you saw at a theatre?
National Treasure, starring Nicolas Cage.
5. What is the last movie you saw at home?
The Village, starring Bryce Howard, Joaquin Phoenix, William Hurt, Adrian Brody, and Sigourney Weaver.
6. What is the last thing you purchased?
Gasoline.
7. What is the last alcoholic beverage you consumed?
Smirnoff Triple Black.
8. What is the last gift you bought?
I can't think! I guess it must have been a Christmas gift. Gee, I just can't think!
9. What is the last charity you gave to?
American Cancer Society
10. What is the last lie you told?
That I had gone somewhere that I didn't go, but only because I didn't have time to go there...
I am finalizing my cover letter and resume.
I found a place to live!
I need to get a job and some childcare!!!
This is so exciting and scary.
I am all over the place.
YAAAAAAA.
I had one of those days. One of those mom days where everything goes wrong, where one fire is put out just as another is starting.
Here is a snapshot of my day.
It was lunchtime. My two children and the two children that I care for on Mondays were at the table, ready to eat the yummy pasta, marinara and fruit I was serving. The bowl of shredded romano and parmesan (aka shaky cheese) was on the table, causing much salivation and anticipation. A certain helpful three year old asked very sweetly if he could help me by opening the bowl. "Sure," I replied, briefly thinking that I hoped the cheese didn't spill.
The cheese did not spill. It flew. It landed on my midnight blue dining room rug. Almost all of it.
All was well, nobody was upset, and I served the children their food, their drinks, their napkins, their second helpings, simultaneously cleaning the pile of cheese on the floor. By the time this task was completed, I was a mess, and three of the children were all done eating. Seventeen month old R. was still noshing.
My Spidey sense told me that Grey needed a diaper change. I wrestled him to the ground to change the diaper, and at the crucial moment of opening the dipe, he stuck his heel into the clay like shit. Horrified, he retracted his strong leg and kicked the poop off his foot. Right into my belly, only three weeks post surgery. Not only did he hit the spot, he also managed to get poo poo on my sister's shirt which I was wearing. In frustration, I tore my top off (I was braless underneath) and proceeded to finish the diapering at hand.
I threw away the toxic waste and washed my hands just in time for R. to fall off her chair. (She wasn't hurt.) As soon as I was able to console her, Grey and W. got into an altercation over some toys, and as soon as I redirected that situation, Delaney wanted to wash her hair, so I dealt with running her bathwater.
It was then that the phone rang. I spent the next few minutes talking to my friend about our respective kid crises and cleaning many small messes.
At least thirty minutes had passed since the spilling of the cheese.
It was only when I heard something at the door that I realized that I was still topless.
Signed,
Tired frazzle mama
p.s. It was one of the neighborhood cats at my door, leaving a love offering for one of my teenaged, nubile female cats. Sure is Monday!
I'm up early. And I am incredibly AWAKE! A!W!A!K!E!
Here are some people who are hott.
**LL Cool J
**John Rzeznik
**Jennifer Garner
**Jessica Alba
**Eliza Dushku
**Michael Stipe
**Brett Scallions. Still.
**Jon Bon Jovi. Still.
**Angelina Jolie
This entry is so dumb.
The secret of happiness is to be worried that you are about to lose everything.
Last week (was it just last week?) I lay in a hard bed in the ER, needles in my arms, tubes in my urethra, hearing that there was another fluid pocket inside my body. A pocket that could be another blood clot, a pocket that could mean another surgery for me.
I realized that all I really wanted was to be with my kids, holding them. Smelling their hair. Watching them play.
I wanted to live free from anger, to sing, to write, to create, to love.
I looked at my friend holding my hand and knew that even though I have done crappy things, and even though she's not perfect, we love each other.
I looked at this man, relatively new in my life, and who gives without reservation and loves without looking back. I realized that he loves me, I love him.
Life is complicated enough without me borrowing trouble. I just want to live the life I was meant for.
Tonight, I'm just happy. I have all I need, and I believe that someday I will even have all I want.
Whoo hoooo!
I feel like a chapter in my life is starting. Time to move on (side note, every time I say or hear the phrase "move on", I now tack on "dot org" silently in my head. Heck, sometimes I even say it aloud.)
Time to get a job, time to get Greyson in some care, time to get a place of my own. As daunting as it all seems, it also feels somewhat exciting.
Been working on another poem, but I don't think it's good enough to post yet.