Another Lesson Learned

For the last few months, I've gone through a whirlwind of emotions. At first, things were great. I started dating someone I considered to be a very good friend. Someone I was comfortable around. Someone I knew I could have a good time with. We did fun things together, took trips, experienced things we'd never done before, together. It was an amazing few months.
Along with a new relationship, came new responsibilities. Things others wouldn't allow me to get away with, I now could. And things I had been getting away with in the past, suddenly were halted. I learned new things about what I like and don't like, and what I need and don't need. Important things. Things that made a difference to my happiness.

I began to become unsure about what I wanted and needed from him. I was too set in my ways to accept change, yet knew I needed it. I tried to welcome the changes, but things just unraveled in my mind, and I couldn't undo the feelings I was having. Friends and family tried to encouraged the relationship to continue, because THEY wanted us to be together.

Then, a voice from the past caught up with me. A voice that said, "This isn't really what you want. Your heart isn't into this. Stop before someone gets hurt."

So stop I did. We parted ways, vowing to remain the friends we were before.

Dear Lord, please help me accept these changes for the better. No matter how hard they seem, they are best.

Hatred Is Not A Family Value

I have a lot of hate. A lot. I know exactly where it comes from. I have chosen in the past to not face it, and while I’d like to keep doing that, I just can’t. I can’t carry around this heavy hate anymore.

I know why I am the way I am. It’s the same exact reason that Ryan is the way he is. My mom and dad fought like crazy (solely because dad was always mad). He picked fights on purpose, just because he didn’t know how to show any other emotion but anger. Mike and I fought like crazy (solely because I was always mad). I picked fights on purpose, just because I didn’t know how to show any other emotion but anger. I was fed anger, so angry is what I became.  There was no love between my mom and dad and there was no love between Mike and I. My parents made me a victim, just like I made Ryan a victim. That’s not an emotion one should force on a child.

I’ve spent five years away from Ryan. I’ve missed milestone after milestone. I’ve been able to watch him change into an amazing 10½ year old from a silly 5 year old boy, through pictures and frosted glass.

As I sing along to lyrics of a familiar song, the teardrops fall hard.

(familiar song)

A day might come and you'll realize
That if you could see through my eyes
There was no other way to work it out
And a part of you might hate me
But son please don't mistake me
For a man that didn’t care at all

The teardrops are soon replaced with streams and before I know it, I’m face down in a pillow just wishing I could fall asleep so I wasn’t thinking about it anymore.

I’ve become a bit more observant about the parenting skills of those around me. I shake my head at some, yet nod in agreement with others. I’m much more confident about my own parenting skills today, than I was 11 years ago and I long for the days when I am given another chance at doing what I think is the greatest thing in the world…helping a child full of dreams , hopes and imaginations, become an amazing adult.

I miss Ryan. I miss him a lot. If I let the overwhelming pain of not being a part of his life get to me, it would consume me entirely and I would never get out of bed. I have pictures of Ryan hung on walls in my bedroom. I have one of my favorite photos of Ryan and I, framed in my bathroom. I have something hanging from the rear view mirror of my car that he made for me 5 years ago. I write to him often (in a blog since he doesn’t have an email). I never stop thinking about him. He’s on my mind more than anything else. I bet my dad can’t say that.

I Give Up.

I never, ever, in a million, bazillion years, thought I’d ever say those words to him. Never. Never thought I’d even THINK those words, let alone say them and actually MEAN them. Even as I sit here typing them, I wish I didn’t have to say them. But, I live in reality, and just have to be honest with myself. He’s asked me to leave, so I will. I may leave with my tail between my legs, my head down like a cowered dog, and whimpering, but I’ll leave knowing I did the best I could with what I am. After all, I’m just Val.

I gave it the best shot *I* knew how, but it wasn’t good enough for his high standards. Oh well. I’m not going to be someone I’m not. I’m not going to be someone he wishes I’d be like. I hate the people he wants me to be like, so I’m not for one second going to even entertain the idea of it.

Pictures and anything that will trigger a tear, have come down and been put away. <insert teardrop> Tucked away with all the other ‘lost and forgotten’ stuff. It’ll collect dust, and eventually I’ll run across it and say “I don’t need this stuff anymore”, just like I’ve done with so many other things from my past over the last year, and toss it all.

Time to stop burying myself in the false hope that by some chance or miracle of God, he’ll come swoop me off my feet, and tell me how much he can’t live without me and all my flaws. Truth is, he wouldn’t “swoop” anyway, so it ain’t happening regardless.

I’ve finally thrown my hands up, turned around, and taken a few steps. I glanced over my shoulder to see if there was a slight chance I read him wrong, and he didn’t want me to leave, but the sharpness of his finger, as he pointed “away”, said it all. There’s nothing more I can do. He’s asked me to leave.

I.Give.Up.   :’-(

Reassurance in mankind. For now.

A few days ago, I was feeling pretty down in the dumps. Financial issues, ex husband issues, roommate issues, and relationship issues, can bring one down faster than one is prepared for. At least that's how it works for me in my little bubble. I was struggling with reality and whether or not life was worth getting up every day, when I finally called JK. Help. Need a bit of reassurance that life doesn't totally suck. He came through and offered up some sound advice. *Thank you JK*

Being the skeptic I am, I couldn't just go off one persons word. I got on my knees in my backyard and prayed. I didn't care who saw. I was at a point where I needed the kind of reassurance that only a higher power could give me.

After spending eight long years going to catholic school when I was younger, and even after going to church three times a week, this was the first time I actually saw the answers. It was amazing. I woke up the next morning with a different outlook on my day. Things happened throughout the day that proved to me that life wasn't anywhere near sucking. Today, same thing. It's just one positive thing after another.

Weird how things work out. :-)

My faith in humanity has been restored. At least until the next idiot pisses me off. ;-)

Today I learned…

…that no matter how much trouble I’m in, or how much danger I’m in, or how stressed I am, or how sad or unsure of something I am, he will no longer come running. The knight I thought I once had, turned out to be just my imagination. Just something and someone I longed to have.

How disappointing

Today I Learned…

…that when someone tells me “Maybe”, it more times than not, means “No”.

…not to get excited about anything, until you know for certain it’s going to happen.

…that I love less and less every day.

…that no matter what someone tells you, they will at some point, let you down.

…that even when they say “I understand” or “I accept you”, they don’t.

 

May you never have to experience these lessons first hand. They can be painful. Especially with an already fragile state of mind.

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah, Zip-A-Dee-Ay

“OHMYGOD! I WANT A PICTURE OF THAT LICENSE PLATE. CAN YOU TAKE ONE FOR ME WITH YOUR PHONE, PLEASE?.” Picture taken and sent. Ha. Ha. Success! She loved it.

 

Okay. Let me start at the beginning. As I was growing up, I had some hard times as my parents got divorced. I know, I know. Who doesn’t. I get that. Divorce is hard, especially on the kids. I’m not saying it isn’t, I’m just saying it was hard for me. Moving on …

It was the typical divorced parent/child setup. Saw dad every other weekend, whether I wanted to or not, starting at the age of 7. As I grew up, I felt like I needed daddy there for me, but he wasn’t. Or was he, and I just didn’t initiate the contact?

Contrary to popular belief, and what I’ve lead others to believe in the past, not ALL the times I spent with my dad were bad. Some, but not all. I remember going to a city bbq and pigging out on ribs and potato salad and helping my grandparents hand out rosaries, and Halloween parties at the local park, restaurants that had fun trains bringing us our food, places that taught about God and about how drinking alcohol and/or doing drugs ruined their lives, going camping and seeing my first skunk , laughing at silly jokes that I probably shouldn’t have been allowed to hear at such a young age, going on one weekend vacation where my sister left her baby blanket in the sheets-maid had already changed the sheets by the time we got back and they said they didn’t find it. I remember going to restaurants and laughing at people for making grammatically incorrect sentences, and playing darts at a local landmark that was one of the first buildings in my home town, and singing songs in the truck as we drove the freeway on a Friday night, and praying with him at night before bed-he’d always make sure to mention Mom & Frank’s names, no matter how much it hurt to bite his tongue. I remember going to the fish hatchery in Ventura and learning about how that whole thing works. I remember going to the beach and swimming out so far that it worried everyone but dad-he knew i enjoyed the excitement of being out so far and under the wave, so he let me enjoy it. I remember going to Jack In The Box and being able to get whatever we wanted, but only as a special treat. I remember going to family functions before everyone hated everyone else and being proud to say to the new member of the family I was meeting, “Hi. I’m TK’s oldest daughter.” I remember dancing with him at a birthday party for one of his friends and another time at a party for a family members birthday. I remember him taking us to church, even if we didn’t want to go because he thought it was important.

I can hear the question rambling around in your head right now. Don’t lie. You’re asking yourself, “How can she hate the man she describes here?” Because I also remember… the yelling, the screaming, the accusations, the hate, more yelling, the being called names,  the fist-in-the-face “almost” punch he thinks is so funny, the throwing of things, more yelling, and the black & white way life had to be. I remember the anger I would get in return if my opinion was different than his. If I caught him in a bad mood, and I needed to say something on any subject, it was 9.5 out of 10 times, a negative statement I’d get in return. With a 28 year age difference, we are guaranteed to not have things in common. His interest in guns, women, politics and star trek, didn’t appeal to me as a 15 year old teenage girl. My interest in NASCAR, country music, boys and cars, didn’t appeal to him…and still don’t…and he lets me know, sarcastically and angrily. I remember him going to one basketball game of mine, and after we lost the game, his comment was, “It’s okay. You don’t need to be Amazon Woman to get boys to like you.”

One of the most wonderful memories I have is of my dad teaching my sister and I the song “Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah”. We’d sing it all the time. When things were tough at Mom’s, and I would call dad, he’d tell me to just sing our song and things would be fine. I can remember times during high school when I’d secretly sing it to myself, only to have Dad ask me the next time I saw him, if I had in fact sang our song lately. It was sort of a strange connection. Perhaps the only connection. Or was it just coincidence? Was I desperately searching for a positive connection with him? I don’t know. He took my sister and I to see the movie “Song of the South” and I can remember being so happy and cheerful as I sang that song out loud every time it played during the movie.

         

Almost every day on my way to work, I see the same exact car (color and all) my dad has, going in the opposite direction as I, at the same part of my drive. Every time I see it, I think to myself, “Stop! Stop thinking about him.” But… you know, you just can’t sometimes. I had to be given a ride home a few days ago by a guy I work with, and he has the same car only a different color. As I was riding in it, I couldn’t help but think about all the fun stories we shared driving to/from the store or meetings, up/down the freeway, and then the times I’d be sitting in the backseat because I just couldn’t bear the thought of sitting next to him in the front seat, or afraid he’d put his arm very quickly in front of my face as if he was going to hit me but doesn’t, or the times he’d be yelling at me because I hadn’t done something he thinks I should have. I hated every moment of the ride, and couldn’t wait to be dropped off at JK’s house that day. It brings back more bad than good vibes, so I will think twice before asking him for a ride in the future, even though he lives a few streets from me.

So today, as I sit here and ponder what has become of my life and where it will go, I now see, very clearly, that I will, one day, be the person sitting on the cream colored recliner, playing on my laptop and watching my favorite TV shows. No friends to call, no family to visit. Just the company of a dedicated dog, a prissy cat and the occasional drop by of my son, if I’m lucky. This, is not who I want to be. This is the result of an unhappy life, and I have way too many things to be happy about, to let myself fall this far and fail in life. I’m happy when I’m happy, and I’m unhappy when I’m unhappy. Why in the hell would I want to be unhappy? It’s not fun. It’s not something I look forward to every day. WTF?

What I Learned Today:

“If the truth hurts, then it’s working.”