Thought it was time to do one of those lists. Seems like everyone has a list…
So here goes my list…
1. Do be honest. If you’re married, fess up. If you claim you’re married but separated, actually be separated. You will ALWAYS get caught. Why not start out being honest. It will save a ton of pain in the end.
2. Do be emotionally available. Stop blaming her for everything. Get over her. Move on.
3. Do be ready. I’ve nursed far too many men who aren’t ready. It’s not my job to put your books in your backpack and make your lunch. That’s my job as a mother. Not a girlfriend.
4. Do understand that the opposite of love is indifference. NOT hate. Learn the difference. Feel the difference.
5. Do send flowers. But not on the world’s clock. Do it on your own clock. A random day with no meaning other than to say hello. Fuck Valentine’s Day. 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.
Considering making this the title of my book…
I suppose everyone who goes out with anyone is dating someone’s ex. Someone’s “sloppy seconds”. Well…that’s what I was told I was doing by someone’s ex. Oh…the stories I could write about all the assholes in this town and what they say about their exes.
Does that make anyone feel better to call their ex “sloppy seconds”? I think anyone who dates my ex husband is getting a gem of a man. I can only hope she loves him for him and not his address nor his money. Seems like everyone has an ulterior motive. Can’t we just like someone because of who they are in the inside and not what material bullshit they bring to the table? Why does anyone refer to their exes as “sloppy seconds”? Does that make them feel better? Feel superior to you? Ummm…isn’t one man’s trash another man’s gold? Errr…women’s ex? So you dumped him. You were done. I get it. Doesn’t make him trash or sloppy seconds. Does it? Read More
Apparently, my tooth.
Had no idea it was my badge of courage until…
Some asshole pointed out that it was a flaw of mine and, thus, a deal killer. I kid you not. Years of braces and brushing evidently weren’t enough.
Online dating is fucked up. We swipe right. We swipe left. We instantly judge by this pic or that pic. We get bored. The inventory our there is dismal. And clearly judgmental. You find one whom you find attractive. You banter. You engage. You inquire. And. You judge. 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