Wait for it

For years I've cried more than any one human should over the frustrations of my circumstances with Don. I've begged and pleaded with God to intervene. When it kept going, I only asked God to soften Don's heart. When it kept going, I asked God to soften my heart but strengthen my spirit. 

When you're not looking, is when God appears. Something has been slowly developing and while I hadn't said anything and have been trying to navigate it alone, Don caught wind of the situation and for the first time ever, Don and I agree on something and are on the same page with parenting. 

I take it for what it is. I won't expect it to stay but I'm grateful that after 11 years, there is some hope in knowing it is possible. 

Tonight I have tears of relief. It's been 4 days, but you have to start somewhere. 

The Lord my God never fails. 

You be mean, I'll be kind

I think it is great for younger generations to have a zero tolerance policy on bullying, especially since it's gone from mostly happening in the schoolyard to social media, cell phones, and everything in between. I vividly remember being bullied as a kid, while in private school. I also remember my best friend being bullied. It sucked, but holding on to the fact that once I went home, I'd only have to deal with it the next day at school. Kids now, it's almost impossible to escape a bully which leads to intense depression and ultimately, unfortunately, in some cases, kids taking their own lives because they don't know how else to escape it. 

My issue is, what do you do as an adult, when another adult or multiple adults, are bullying you? Who stands up for you? Who makes it stop? In your 30's, suicide can't be the only way out; at least I hope that's not the only resolution. 

Most of you know the gist of my story. No one knows the whole thing, and that's mostly because no one can withstand the length of time it takes to fill in all the details. I hope for my sake, to start a book, even if it's just for myself, on being bullied as an adult. 

I left Delila's father when she was 8 months old. We had Delila together and he had a son whom after being born, we found out was his; he's 10 months older than Delila. Dating, I always knew he was a hot head, however, people change or can change when they have kids. He unfortunately did not. 

 

I grew resentful when Delila was hospitalized for 5 days at 3 months old for continual vomiting which led to her losing weight. I stayed by her side, every minute. I wouldn't even use the bathroom without leaving the door open in her hospital room. Her dad continued to go to work and would come by for a little bit at night then go home. I did address it with him after a couple days and his response was that someone had to work. My heart broke. Some for myself, more for Delila. I couldn't understand not putting your child first when she was so sick with no known cause. 

The night I knew I had to leave was in June of 2005. Something was wrong with the vacuum and he, being a mechanic started to look at it and take it apart. His 18 month old sat next to him, and I stood watching with Delila cradled in my arms. The situation went from zero to sixty very quickly. He couldn't get the hose off the vacuum and it enraged him. He started ripping at the hose and yelling about throwing it in the front yard. I seriously questioned the situation with him because it was ridiculous. In that moment, I knew. I knew that if someone could fly off the handle over a vacuum, my future of living under the same roof as him would be bad for me, but horrible for Delila. So one day he left for work, and I gathered our stuff and left. In that moment of driving away, I sealed my fate, to always, probably for the rest of one of our lives, to be his punching bag, to endure his rage, to listen to his abusive tongue; to be stalked and spied on, and to never -ever- find a way out of it. 

In the years to follow, I did my best to protect myself because I lived in fear. On a daily basis I didn't know what would happen. I lived by and made sure those closest to me knew, that if something every happened to me, even by "accident" that he was absolutely behind it. I had him arrested, several times. Harassing phone calls, standing outside my house, looking in my windows, following me; I even had to get a restraining order on him because he threatened my life and those around me. I had hard, physical proof, always, and so this went on for years. 

The restraining order was good, but once it was lifted, he figured out how to harass me, just never to the point where it was enough to get in serious trouble. Now the cops, judges, or attorneys just give him a slap on the hand. Which does absolutely nothing, of course, nothing really did much. He had even violated the restraining order when it was in place. 

So here we are. 10 years later, I'm 32 - he's 36, and everything you just read above about his behavior is still going on. Except now. No one hears my frustrations, no one sees my tears, it's all old news and exhausting for the outside world. For me, for Delila, we live with it. Every day. He has people spy on my social media. He knows when I mow the lawn or who mows it for me. He pumps lies into Delila's head about me, that I'll kidnap her, that I use pipes and needles, that I break her bones when she gets hurt, that I want her to fail, that I don't love her; his hatred is endless. 

The only thing worse than him, is someone else, much like him on his side to back him and to come at me at times he isn't. His mother. 

One would think that after a 1.5 year court battle, to which he finally got 50/50 custody instead of me having sole, things would be better. Things only feel like they're getting worse. And still, it's only me. Only me to process the pain and frustrations, only me to stay strong, only me to hope, pray, and guide my daughter to know that people aren't this way, that men shouldn't treat women like this, and that it's so incredibly important to be kind to people in life. Even if they're mean to you. 

Below is an email I put together to the GAL from our recent court case. I'm sure he'll never read it, and I'm even more sure that nothing will be done about it, but I needed it documented somehow. I needed someone to know that I'm not okay living like this and neither is Delila. 

Mr. Blake,

 

I want you to be aware of some situations that have been going on. Only because it’s in my best interest to somehow have them documented.

 

On 10/20/2015 I picked up Delila, after work at Debbie Baker’s house. I had called Delila to tell her that I was on my way and would be there shortly. When I arrived, Don was there so I stayed in my vehicle and honked for Delila. Don then told Delila that if I came there again and honked he would punch me in the face.

 

Yesterday, on 10/28/2015, I picked up Delila from Debbie Baker’s house after work. Both Don and Debbie are harassing me with texts, phone calls, voicemails, and emails regarding paying her $10 per day to pick up Delila on my days. I used the Wizard to tell Don that I would pay his mom $10 a week since I know personally when I drive 45 minutes to and from her school, it doesn’t take $10 per day and Debbie Baker lives closer to the school then I do.

 

Yesterday before I picked up Delila, I stopped and got Debbie a $25 gas card. When I got there, Debbie followed Delila out to the vehicle; Delila handed her the envelope with the gas card in it and got in the car and shut the door. Debbie opened the envelope, then proceeded to open my car door and yell at me about how she wants $40 and I only gave her $25. I repeatedly asked her to close my car door as I had somewhere to be. She refused and continued to yell at me and demanding more money. I kept asking her to close the door, and because Delila sat in the car and Debbie was yelling at me with Delila between us, Delila was trying to push her away and was also asking her to go away and close the door. I pumped the brake so the car moved slightly but not from position, which further angered Debbie. She then leaned into my car, pointing her finger at me, leaning over Delila, and continued to yell at me. Both Delila and I continued to ask her to close the door. After 15 minutes, I was finally able to leave.

 

Debbie has also been contacting my extended family via Facebook trying to involve them and requesting that they tell me what and when to pay her.

 

Don then text me last night and told me his mom would no longer pick Delila up from school on the days I work and can’t pick up from school. Then he text Delila to tell her that Debbie would pick her up if she needed; causing unnecessary confusion. Don, Debbie, and Don’s girlfriend Liz (who recently moved out again and left him but again moved back in), proceeded to call and text Delila all night but she didn’t want to speak to any of them and as of this morning expresses that she doesn’t want to go over there. Which is okay until his visitation starts tomorrow and then she will go. Last night I did use the Wizard and let Don know that Delila did have her phone and was okay but didn’t want to speak. 

 

I feel like when I talk about it, I become a victim to people and that they pity me. I don't like that. I also feel quite weak and whiny for talking about it. A common phrase from others is, "I don't know how you do it", my response is always, "What other choice do I have?" Life can be challenging, but when people are continually standing behind you, telling you or your child how worthless you are and making up complete lies about you, you begin to wonder what's the best way out of the situation.

 

Framing Our Pain

Getting a handle on grief is like trying to hold on to a stick of butter on a hot summer day. Try as you might, you'll never be able to figure out how to keep it from getting all over the place and making a mess of anything around you. Go ahead, wash your hands. It feels like an endless task that only when you think you're good, you go to grab something that slips from your hand and you realize the residue is still there. That's what happens when you're grieving and you're good, move forward, and drop the grip of goodness because grief's ugly face is still staring right back at you.

Grieving is not a new and developing emotion. We'll probably never know where or when it first happened. Or maybe we do, my Bible scholars. (much love) Everyone, every single person hasn't had a grieving experience just once but probably handfuls of times over and over. What's different is that not only is each grief different because of the connection to the persons we lose or the situation surrounding the death, but grief likes to compound itself. Piling one event on top of the other, death after death, weighing on us while we're still trying to deal with the first one from the age of 8, we're all the sudden finding ourselves dealing with the one from when we were 30 and every single one in between.

That's just one person, one life, and one story. Then you bring in the rest, the news and the grotesque world that we live in. Children playing in their yards, students going to the movies, teachers trying to teach a new generation, and people just doing their jobs trying to protect people who think they have all the solutions; dying. Dying every single day, to no fault of their own, other than that they were just there. We have our stories, our individual lives we're trying to cope with, and then for the empathetic ones, we feel the pain and the grief for those that have to lose, and lose on a highly publicized level.

How is it that grief can take its long and unforgiving fingers and wrap it around our lives without ever letting go. To rebuild your soul, to learn to feel and love again, to trust that life won't end before you fully get to engulf it with your love is laborious, to say the least.

There are apparently five stages to grief; denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. What no one ever tells you, whether it's your first loss or your most significant loss, is that sometimes, if not all the time, those five stages can occur all at the same time. The same time, and for as long as they please. Even if you let them go, put them down, move on; it's not at all your choice because it's grief's choice as to when it will let you go and when it will let you move on.

It's a vortex of five stages that I champion those who quickly find the life raft out of it. For those that are haunted by it, and thrown around in it every single day, you're not alone. It's just people don't want to stand there and say they're stuck somewhere in between either one, several, or all five stages in a stare down with their grieving process and it's a shell that encompasses them.

The 'C' word

I laugh at most vulgar words, it's kind of just a twisted sense of humor I have. I think that if you take the power away from any inappropriate word, it no longer has the same effect nor meaning. Moist, I don't understand the big deal about this word. Are you that filthy of a human being that you can't just use the word without feeling dirty from it? Panties, I've heard this one pop up as bothersome too for people, I just don't know why. That is what women wear after all, or don't, to each their own. Let's also not forget the vast list of derogatory names that are thrown around that should make us all cringe if we are even the least bit of a decent human being. The 'F' word for the homosexual community makes me physically sick when I hear it; whether meant to be mean or used out of ignorance, I hate it. Don't use it, educate yourself with a better vocabulary.

So then there's my dreaded 'C' word that I can't stand. I say "my" because lately it's been used towards me more than once so now I have to address it. It throws me against a wall and frustrates me beyond words. Most the time, I can't even compose myself enough to even give back an appropriate response which isn't like me.  I know I can't be the only one I know that has had people use it in such a sharp tongued manner, I guess I'm still trying to figure out how to not be offended by it, how to take the power out of it, and ultimately how to respond to it. Alright, hold tight because we're diving right in.

If you know me, know anything about me or have been paying the least bit attention, you know I'm not talking about the word 'c*nt' - see, I can be nice for those of you that can't stand that 'C' word. That 'C' word makes me laugh, it's that twisted sense of humor. I laugh because people, men especially, will jump to that word so quick because they want to cut through you like a knife. If you respond with, "Yes! I love that word!", there goes the power, it shuts down men (and women) because there's not usually anything deeper than that word.

My 'C' word is convert. When I ask people to come to church, when I talk about the goodness Christianity could bring to a friend's soul, when I talk about sharing God with family, they always come back with that stupid word of convert.

"I'm not going to convert or anything." - "What if you try to convert them or us?" - "Are you asking me to convert?"

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am very clear on the definition of the word convert, however when you say it, it's like you're saying it with such disgust; like I just asked you to lick a cow on a 90 degree day.

For me, being a Christian is a choice I make, a choice that puts my restless and weary soul at rest, a choice that helps me carry on with days that I know I am a sinner and feel less than worthy, a choice that makes me feel safe, gives me confidence to make smarter decisions, a choice that ultimately makes me happy, and a choice that helps me forgive myself for the wicked past that I try to leave behind. I do not like it when you make me feel wrong for being a Christ follower, for sharing the Word of God, or for believing that there is one true God who is very clearly written throughout the Bible and not throughout bylaws of organized religions. If you attend a church that does not accept someone into their faith without rules, regulations, and bylaws, how do you not see that as being an issue? The church I attend may be a 40 minute drive for me, but I'm home when I'm there, and I know that when I bring someone with me, they're welcomed with open arms and wouldn't be shut out.

My mission isn't to convert anyone, my mission is simply to be able to enjoy my desire to talk about God, to worship God, and to share God. And recently my heart was broken when I was made to feel like I was wrong for believing in the one God who created us all. If while I am sharing my love and joy for the Lord, you find your way there too, my heart will beat ten fold for you. Recently my faith and religion was publicly shamed and brought me to tears, but I'll never forget one very defining moment in my life. My dad, who never really attended church with us, who I have always prayed for, who I never knew where he really stood in his heart with God reminded me while I stood there trying to suppress tears, there is only one God.

Watch me whip .... this party into shape

After Delila's 10th birthday party, I told her we probably weren't doing them anymore because I usually always exceed any budget I set for myself, no matter how much I try to tell myself I'm not going to. I can't help it, I'm a party planning extraordinaire and my ideas flow endlessly. Every year is a theme, and every thing surrounds the theme, from outfits, to food, decorations, gifts, down to the card and wrapping paper I use; and the budget is enough to be considered stupid, and the cake, the cake is the show piece. It's kind of gross how excited I get when someone lets me pick out a cake design.

Prior years, I would start planning for the next year's birthday the days following what birthday had just passed. But I hadn't done that for this upcoming birthday. I didn't want to do a party, I had hoped I could replace a single life moment with several more memorable ones. I've done some fantastic things for her in the last year, two of which was a week road trip out east along side a last minute, over spent, concert she was just "dying" to go to, signed poster and all. She's went to her first Blackhawks game and I drove her to Milwaukee for an Ariana Grande concert she wanted to see. Moments. Moments I hope she loves as much as I have.

So where are we?

We are two weeks away from another birthday, another year behind us (thank goodness because it's had a lot of lows for us), but more importantly heading into another year together ahead of us. And she wants a party. I have learned as she's gotten older to down scale the guest list, which helps, plus as she gets older, now that she's a tween, there's less for the family to do and more for her to do with her friends. All the fault to my own, since I haven't been planning for the last year, I'm putting together a party in less than two weeks time. Fear not, because if you remember from above, I'm a party planning extraordinaire.

I'm not giving out details as to what is going on for it yet, although I will say that this year is slightly less about the party and more about the gifts; that's where I'm putting my heart into this year. I just hope that as my daughter ventures deeper and deeper into the dark side of tween-age and teenage years, she holds tight to the times Mom made her smile vs the times Mom took away her cell phone. I have endured hell for her, I would move mountains for her, and I know she's in a spot in life right now where I'm not a shining star for her, but nothing and no one, can ever take away the love, admiration, and devotion I have for her. She is my one, my only, my absolute beginning and end.

Sorry, I'm at capacity for friendships

I was having a relationship conversation with my cousin today when he said something that I know I've heard before, it's just as I get older it seems more questionable. He said that if he was dating or talking to a girl and she decided that she just wanted to be friends with him, he would tell her no thanks because he has enough friends. I then started to quickly inventory the guys I've said this to and wondered how much of a jerk they thought I was. Even though I really do want to be friends with them. Can you really be at the capacity for friendships?

As my mother would say, I've dated more men then she can count. (Yeah, thanks "mother") Which is true because I don't usually stick around for garbage behavior, I won't allow anyone to cheat on me, and I also will not chase after love that just isn't there. With that being said, at 32, I know exactly what I want, don't want, will accept as quirks, and what I just won't compromise on. I will not date someone who isn't a Christian, who I can't go to church with, talk about God with, grow spiritually with, or have any type of religious conversation with. I won't do it. So when I meet a great guy, my first thought is 'Is this someone I can be friends with?' and then I wonder if there's chemistry. I recently went on several dates with a guy and spent some real time with him; we get along really well and find humor in pretty much most similar things, I started to notice a slight breakdown in communication. But the one occasion that stuck out was a conversation we had about religion, I was telling him about some things that were going on and I was hurt by jokes that were being made at the expense of religion itself. It was one of those disappointing hurts because you had hoped for something different. For being a little sensitive about passions he had, I felt like mine were being mocked.

So I tried to very kindly to say that I really enjoyed time with him but I felt like we might be better off friends. After a few days, we revisited the reasons why. I am not dishonest in who I am or how I feel. We still talk, I still want to hang out, but I date to marry and I can't date nor marry someone who doesn't share my beliefs. So then after my cousin's comments, I wondered, do men view the friendship card differently than women? Can anyone really be at the capacity for friendships or are we just too lazy to cultivate new ones? I, personally, couldn't have too many friends. In fact I don't have enough in life. Each person I know, I can find at least one positive thing about them that they bring to my life. I think that if the guys I've chosen to be friends with decided not to be, I would be disappointed because they are great guys, but it's their decision and I know that they would miss out on at least the one great thing I could bring to their lives.

Be friends people. Be friends, especially to your spouses and save the money on divorces or Ashley Madison accounts. To WANT to come home to someone who you can talk to and share your day with is amazing. I've had glimmers of it, and frankly some of you take each other for grated. Life isn't all glitter dust when you're single in your 30's. Let me tell you about the cheating ex I gave a second chance to, only to find out he ghosted me.... another time. And be kind, always. Someone very close to me has been continually mean to the point they publicly humiliated me and brought me to tears.

Be kind. Be friends. Remember, our kids have to grow up in this world. Romans 12:9, my loves, Romans 12:9.

Guys, When You

• When you, ask me out and then start a serious relationship in the same week - you make me feel like garbage.
• When you, are dating but text me to flirt, sext, and/or whatever you thought might happen - you make me feel like the other woman. Trash to be exact.
• When you, are "happily married" but you tell me that if you weren't you'd marry me - you make me feel like I'm just never good enough. 
• When you, were my friend first, before your girl cheated on you, but stopped talking to me because now she's the insecure one - you make me heartbroken for the past. 
• When you, repeatedly attempt to flirt with me and I don't play along, then allow your woman to attack me like I did something - you make me feel like I never knew who you really were. 
• When you, pop up when I'm in a relationship and act like I'd actually come back to you and your lies and cheating ways - you make me annoyed.  
• When you, use me for an ego boost and then disappear for months - you make me empowered to never do it again.
• When you, have to hide your messages from your girl - you make me relieved that I wasn't the one who ended up with you.
• When you, express how unhappy you are with her because she treats you terrible - you make me shrug my shoulders because you're the one who stays.
• When you, compare her to me and express your wishes - you make me confirmed that I've made the right decisions by not settling. 

Date with the intent to marry.

Date without sacrificing your morals. 

God needs to be first in your life and your relationships or all of the above with forever be your life. But it won't be mine.

I will not date a man who does not have God as a priority. No exceptions, I just won't do it again. It doesn't end well for my soul nor my heart. 

For all the negative ways guys have made me feel thru the above experiences, I've actually put a stop to it some time ago. 95% of women are all the same. No matter how gross I look, no matter how much I prove that I don't play into their guys fantasies or desires, no matter how much I remain platonic, I will always be the blonde hair, blue eye, flashy smile, girl that makes them wonder if I really am the other woman or not. I've even been in group settings where I am just conversant with a guy because he happened to be seated next to me at an event and his woman was so threatened that she was sure to pee in a circle around him and claim her property. I feel sorry for her, for you.

I'm not your run to fantasy. I'm not your old familiar flavor. I'm not a piece of meat. I get it, I was a lot more fun when I drank, but in my sobriety I've found peace, I've found myself, I've found I am an amazing woman to be with and it is in fact you who is missing out.

Ladies, I am sorry for these are your guys. I am sorry because I've been you, I've been with that guy who dates me but does all this behind me. I am sorry but know, I am not your enemy.


My verse for this blog is Joel 2:25