Yes, I’m holding a sign that says “Censored.” Even though I’m no where near censored. I just love irony. Or is it hypocrisy? Definitely both. Makes for a better story.
It’s time to say goodbye to 2015 even though I’ll be putting 2015 on my handwritten checks for the next few weeks. Oh, how I hate that. Why is it that we are such automatic creatures? Creatures of habit. More importantly, is it really possible to break habits? Good habits? Bad habits? Or worse…obsessions? Letting go of the one person we loved so deeply? Not only letting go of them but the hope of a future. Even if they aren’t good for you, you know you have to let them go. For you. For them. For your clarity. For your sanity. Read More
Of the bottle.
It’s 4am. I’m wide awake. Waiting for the Aleve to kick in. Just another day. Another downed bottle of wine. Another pack of cigarettes smoked. WTF am I doing? Where am I going with all this?
I know much of this blog is about surviving abuse and ultimately thriving because of it. But some days, I’m not thriving at all. I’m barely surviving. If it was all about just surviving sexual abuse, then I could take on that challenge. But it’s more. So much more. I’m a fighter but I’m beat down constantly. Abandonment of a father and constant rejection by him. And a mother who had zero feelings for my pain and told me to forgive her husband for sexually abusing me. Simply Jesus forgave him and so had she. Fine. Forgive him all you want but you could have kicked his ass to the curb. Making me feel like I was loved. Never mind, you may be alone. Clearly, your needs of a man to take you to dinner and make you feel important were far more important than my needs of a mother to protect me when I needed it most. A fucking trifecta of “Fuck you, Wanda.” The selfish needs of your parents are far more important than yours. Let this be your foundation for your life. “You are not important. Our needs come before yours. Period.”
I started this blog 3 days ago after I hit bottom. Again. How many times am I going to hit bottom? Luckily, I have a lot of friends. And a really good therapist. And several friends who are really good therapists.
I’ve always been told I was an accident. Ummm…I was the result of failed birth control. Failure to put it in. Details… Anyhow, thanks Mom. I feel much better about my existence now.
Until the other day … my relationship with that woman (my mother) is strained … to say the least. I have almost zero respect for her. Seriously … who stays with a man who molests her daughter? Clearly, someone I don’t respect. Compassion wasn’t something learned in my family. But I do have some. Not much but some. My brother and I felt it was time for her to move out of her house and into an independent living home. Her Alzheimer’s is getting worse. My compassion for her is almost nil. Emotionally. But my wise mind tells me this woman can no longer live (safely) in her home. Alone. She needs help. She needs human interaction. She needs compassion. And, she’s not getting much from me. So the smartest thing to do is move her where she can get more care than she’s getting at her house. Read More
I feel like I’m an average Facebook poster. Not an over poster…I don’t post every time I go to the restroom or every time I have a cup of coffee. Nobody and I mean nobody cares. But I do engage. I share. I divulge. Used in its intended way, Facebook is a great way to share photos and videos with your friends and family all over the world. Instantaneously. Imagine if we had to wait for the pony express to get us info. Geez. Talk about a lot of downtime!
However…as with everything, there is a flipside…a downside…a painful reality…with lots of intended “fuck you’s”. I’ve seen my friends post pics of their new loves rubbing it in their ex’s faces. Sometimes unintentional and sometimes clearly rubbing it in. I did enough damage to my ex husband. Why rub it in any further? I do my damnedest to not post anything with me and men I date. What’s the point? Create further pain? I’ve caused enough. Read More
Mother’s Day…always looked for the card for my mother that said, “Happy Mother’s Day…thank you for not drowning me at birth!” But Hallmark doesn’t make those cards…or at least, I couldn’t find one. Hmmm
How I dread Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. For me, as the child. Not the mother. My kids are fine. How do I know this? It’s the little things that tell me I’ve done something right. My older daughter loves to draw. She can sit in her room for hours and draw and create. The other day I saw one of her drawings. All it said was “I love myself.” Wow. Job well done, Wanda (and Richard). Confidence and self esteem are two of the most important gifts we can give our children. Now, I’m going to add the ability AND THE GIFT to love yourself. That is so incredibly important. And powerful. I’ve never written that down. “I love myself.”
We should all love ourselves. Now that R is no longer in my life, I’m getting a new love. Me. He told me I was the perfect woman. So perfect that it scared him away. Oh well. I’m moving on to a better love. Me, myself and I. I gave 120% and he didn’t want it. Guess who gets that 120% now. Yep. Me. About time.
I’ve gone as deep and dark as I want to go. I’ve cried my last tear. No longer will any man be worthy of this woman who simply isn’t deserving.
Including my father. I’ve tried to love him, but, quite frankly, he isn’t worthy of it. He left 45 years ago and, clearly, has no intention of coming back. Oh well. His loss. I’m done giving and giving and giving. If you don’t want me or love him, then so be it. I can no longer sit here and cry over a father who never was. It’s simply not healthy. No longer will I go for men like my father. No longer will I be second fiddle. No longer will I be time fill.
This amazing woman is learning to love herself and getting rid of all the toxicity in her life. It’s damaging and benefits no one.
Hello, Wanda. Look forward to getting to know you. And love you.