Learning the ropes of the single life has been...an adventure for me. I don't like to jump from man to man. I'm simply not that person. I'm more focused on finding a truly compatiable person and loving him enough to want to work, if necessary, to maintain the relationship. That said, there are some things I simply CANNOT live without and one of them is warmth. I am so fucking cold tonight, and for the last few nights, that if a man came to me with a cock that was on fire and could only be used a source of actual warmth with zero sexual inclinations, I would be his forever. The female body does a lot of extraordinary things. We grow humans, for Christ's sake. We maintain TWO heart beats for 9 months at a time. Our bodies were built for phenomonal things...so why is it men are so warm ALL. THE. TIME. and our core temp is like, -154 degrees?
Some day, when I'm Queen Sheballs, I will fix that issue.
Showing posts with label she balls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label she balls. Show all posts
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
Willing to Jump...
I've always been someone who lacks clarity and direction. Of course, the times people in my life have attempted to guide me in any direction, I always went the opposite way. I guess I always believed that even in taking the path I chose myself I would end up happy, content and feel an abundance of love and satisfaction with my life. I always believed that living without definity to my expectations would lead me to a place of extreme happiness. This isn't to say that I don't believe life is what we make it and that we possess some control over our destiny. We obviously make certain choices that impact our life in big ways and we all deal with unforseeable strife's the best we know how. What I'm talking about are the things we don't control. The things that just fall into our lives. Things such as friends and love. The place our passions lie in our work and the unexpected ways in which we discover these things.
After racking my brain for quite some time trying to find the words to say what I am really feeling here, I finally found solace in a Randy Pausch quote. (Those of you that don't know who Randy is, I suggest finding out and reading his Last Lecture. Or watching it. It was viral on YouTube some years ago.)
“Follow your passions, believe in karma, and you won't have to chase your dreams, they will come to you.” (Randy Pausch 2007)
I have been struggling to decide what I want to do with my life. Going back to school sits in my head, not because I necessarily WANT to go to school, but because it seems like the right thing to do. The problem is, I hate sitting in class. I hate being lectured. I get bored sooooo quickly in that type of setting. I am definitely a kinesthetic learner. Maybe I suffer from some minor sort of ADD but I go absolutely bonkers if I have to sit in one place too long.
Its a miracle I survived the minor stint I did behind a desk. I was there precisely one winter and the follwing spring before I quit for something more hands on. I made great money there and they offerend all the grown up benefits-full medical, dental, vision, 401k. Shit. They even offered insurance for your dog or cat. I got bonuses each pay check for performing over what was expected of me. I hated the job though. There is nothing more boring that entering information into a computer for 8 hours straight. And forget about the days I worked overtime. I wanted desperately to kill myself on more than one occasion.
I thought once I had kids that being a stay at home mom and wife was going to be the thing that made me happy. And being the mom did and still does. As much as I despise housework, it was a small price to pay for the joy of being home with my kids all day, watching all 3 of them start walking, hearing the first time they said 'momma' and later 'love you'. I got to spend my days outside in the spring, summer and fall. I had a garden. I got to spend time practicing my favorite hobby-cooking. I woke up to their sweet faces every morning, ran to their calls for comfort in the middle of the night and when they were sick, my lap was the only place they wanted to be. That last part is still true. It was the wife part that didn't work out so well. I wanted to be someone's wife. Loved. Partnered with. We all know how that ended.
So now here I am. Back to work. Not wanting to wait tables the rest of my life, but I like my job. I enjoy being there. I despised bartending when I first started it. Now I thouroughly enjoy it and look forward to the one shift a week I get to be back there. I don't know if this is a place where I will move up and better my life. I do know that right now, it's all I have. I feel like this job found me. It's funny, but it's something I WANT to do well at. Something I actually care about when I walk into work everyday. While I know I'll never get rich doing it, that isn't something I ever really needed. I, like most other moms, just want to provide for my family a comfortable and sustaining lifestyle.
As I have opportunites opening up to me, I am petrified. I don't want to fail, but I know that if I don't throw my sheballs out there with the risk of losing them completely, I will never go anywhere. Ever. I definitely don't want that. I don't want my kids to see me the way I see me right now. I want them to respect the choices I've made and see the fight that I know I posess in me somewhere. I just have to find confindence, which is something I lack. It's building, though, with help from the few people that believe in me and my ability to succeed.
I think that a lot of my 'belief that things will work out' mentality comes more from a deep seeded lack of confidence. It's more of a 'fear that I will completely fail and be humiliated' mentality. I think in the past it has kept me from even trying. Fear is a funny thing like that. It can take over who you thought you were and break you down into someone you never knew even lived inside of you. It was real easy to live that way when I had a husband to hide behind. His income to fall back on. I no longer have that, so I need to really man-up here. Even if I fail, I will know it wasn't because I was too afraid to try. Sometimes it's just a leap of faith. But you have to be willing to jump.
After racking my brain for quite some time trying to find the words to say what I am really feeling here, I finally found solace in a Randy Pausch quote. (Those of you that don't know who Randy is, I suggest finding out and reading his Last Lecture. Or watching it. It was viral on YouTube some years ago.)
“Follow your passions, believe in karma, and you won't have to chase your dreams, they will come to you.” (Randy Pausch 2007)
I have been struggling to decide what I want to do with my life. Going back to school sits in my head, not because I necessarily WANT to go to school, but because it seems like the right thing to do. The problem is, I hate sitting in class. I hate being lectured. I get bored sooooo quickly in that type of setting. I am definitely a kinesthetic learner. Maybe I suffer from some minor sort of ADD but I go absolutely bonkers if I have to sit in one place too long.
Its a miracle I survived the minor stint I did behind a desk. I was there precisely one winter and the follwing spring before I quit for something more hands on. I made great money there and they offerend all the grown up benefits-full medical, dental, vision, 401k. Shit. They even offered insurance for your dog or cat. I got bonuses each pay check for performing over what was expected of me. I hated the job though. There is nothing more boring that entering information into a computer for 8 hours straight. And forget about the days I worked overtime. I wanted desperately to kill myself on more than one occasion.
I thought once I had kids that being a stay at home mom and wife was going to be the thing that made me happy. And being the mom did and still does. As much as I despise housework, it was a small price to pay for the joy of being home with my kids all day, watching all 3 of them start walking, hearing the first time they said 'momma' and later 'love you'. I got to spend my days outside in the spring, summer and fall. I had a garden. I got to spend time practicing my favorite hobby-cooking. I woke up to their sweet faces every morning, ran to their calls for comfort in the middle of the night and when they were sick, my lap was the only place they wanted to be. That last part is still true. It was the wife part that didn't work out so well. I wanted to be someone's wife. Loved. Partnered with. We all know how that ended.
So now here I am. Back to work. Not wanting to wait tables the rest of my life, but I like my job. I enjoy being there. I despised bartending when I first started it. Now I thouroughly enjoy it and look forward to the one shift a week I get to be back there. I don't know if this is a place where I will move up and better my life. I do know that right now, it's all I have. I feel like this job found me. It's funny, but it's something I WANT to do well at. Something I actually care about when I walk into work everyday. While I know I'll never get rich doing it, that isn't something I ever really needed. I, like most other moms, just want to provide for my family a comfortable and sustaining lifestyle.
As I have opportunites opening up to me, I am petrified. I don't want to fail, but I know that if I don't throw my sheballs out there with the risk of losing them completely, I will never go anywhere. Ever. I definitely don't want that. I don't want my kids to see me the way I see me right now. I want them to respect the choices I've made and see the fight that I know I posess in me somewhere. I just have to find confindence, which is something I lack. It's building, though, with help from the few people that believe in me and my ability to succeed.
I think that a lot of my 'belief that things will work out' mentality comes more from a deep seeded lack of confidence. It's more of a 'fear that I will completely fail and be humiliated' mentality. I think in the past it has kept me from even trying. Fear is a funny thing like that. It can take over who you thought you were and break you down into someone you never knew even lived inside of you. It was real easy to live that way when I had a husband to hide behind. His income to fall back on. I no longer have that, so I need to really man-up here. Even if I fail, I will know it wasn't because I was too afraid to try. Sometimes it's just a leap of faith. But you have to be willing to jump.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Attitude...
There are all different kinds of people in this world. There are people that know what they want and are satisfied once they have it. Then there are people that think they know what they want, get it, and need more. Their wants change. Or shift. The perpetually unsatisfied, as I call them. I am of the later of the two. I got married, wanted kids, had three, was a stay-at-home-mom for 6 years, decided I had made some mistakes, took the steps to correct those mistakes and move on.
Now I am a single mom of three intelligent, funny, kind, caring, beautiful kids that, even when behaving like total asses, are the center of my universe. I now work 2 jobs outside my home. I have a man that is interested in me (and no, people, I am not ANY where near ready for anything like that. Fuck. I am still married and to a man that despite his complete failure to satisfy my needs as my husband, still holds-and most likely always will-a small piece of my heart). I've gone from being with my kids nearly 24/7, with the exception of the 2 nights a week and every other weekend they're with their daddy, to seeing them only evenings. And yes, that will change in a few weeks. While I finished training for Job1, I started training for Job2. So I am now juggling regular shifts at Job1 with the 6 day, 6 hour days, training schedule at Job2. Once training for Job2 is completed, I will only be working there 1 day a week and then working 5-6 shifts at Job1. Pair all that with the 3 kids' school schedules, finding care between their dad and my mom's work schedules and having time to feel like an individual for 5 minutes is a full time job in itself. Fuck me. Even writing about it all is exhausting.
I knew I needed change. I am happy with the changes I have made in my life. I am, for the first time in my 27+ years, hopeful for the possibility of happiness in my future. I think I now know why. For a long time I was the definition of a 'pessimist'. Then I changed. I am not entirely sure when, or how, or why. I just know I did. I kept my cynical way of viewing the world. I lost the pessimism though. I know that may be confusing. I like to think of myself as a 'cynical optimist' (yeah, I bet you like that. I coined that shit and don't forget it!). There is a sign that hangs at Job2 in 2 different places (I should probably mention that Job2 is a job I held for nearly 2 years from the time I was 18 until I was 20. Also, both of my jobs are serving positions at well known chain restaurants) and the part of this sign that has always stuck out to me reads this, "We cannot change our past. We cannot change that people act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have and that is our attitude." This struck me particularly hard today, for some reason.
I know the life I have chosen is once again the more difficult path. I just think some of us are cut that way. Molded to do better with harder. After all, not every woman (or man) possesses sheballs like mine. Not everyone can adapt to change easily and not everyone craves it like I do. God cut me from a different cloth, I think. And I know, and firmly believe that He will never give me more than I can handle.
Now I am a single mom of three intelligent, funny, kind, caring, beautiful kids that, even when behaving like total asses, are the center of my universe. I now work 2 jobs outside my home. I have a man that is interested in me (and no, people, I am not ANY where near ready for anything like that. Fuck. I am still married and to a man that despite his complete failure to satisfy my needs as my husband, still holds-and most likely always will-a small piece of my heart). I've gone from being with my kids nearly 24/7, with the exception of the 2 nights a week and every other weekend they're with their daddy, to seeing them only evenings. And yes, that will change in a few weeks. While I finished training for Job1, I started training for Job2. So I am now juggling regular shifts at Job1 with the 6 day, 6 hour days, training schedule at Job2. Once training for Job2 is completed, I will only be working there 1 day a week and then working 5-6 shifts at Job1. Pair all that with the 3 kids' school schedules, finding care between their dad and my mom's work schedules and having time to feel like an individual for 5 minutes is a full time job in itself. Fuck me. Even writing about it all is exhausting.
I knew I needed change. I am happy with the changes I have made in my life. I am, for the first time in my 27+ years, hopeful for the possibility of happiness in my future. I think I now know why. For a long time I was the definition of a 'pessimist'. Then I changed. I am not entirely sure when, or how, or why. I just know I did. I kept my cynical way of viewing the world. I lost the pessimism though. I know that may be confusing. I like to think of myself as a 'cynical optimist' (yeah, I bet you like that. I coined that shit and don't forget it!). There is a sign that hangs at Job2 in 2 different places (I should probably mention that Job2 is a job I held for nearly 2 years from the time I was 18 until I was 20. Also, both of my jobs are serving positions at well known chain restaurants) and the part of this sign that has always stuck out to me reads this, "We cannot change our past. We cannot change that people act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have and that is our attitude." This struck me particularly hard today, for some reason.
I know the life I have chosen is once again the more difficult path. I just think some of us are cut that way. Molded to do better with harder. After all, not every woman (or man) possesses sheballs like mine. Not everyone can adapt to change easily and not everyone craves it like I do. God cut me from a different cloth, I think. And I know, and firmly believe that He will never give me more than I can handle.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
An apology...kind of...not really...I don't know. I hate coming up with titles for this shit I post...
"Describe in what ways you expect too much from your significant other. Do they deserve an apology?"
This was the prompt over at Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop that stopped me mid-inspiration-click. I have been thinking a lot about my pending divorce. I recently started remembering all the things I once loved about my husband. While I know this choice, to get a divorce, is whats right for my kids and myself in the long run, I can't help but miss the comfort of our marriage this time of year. Holidays suck for me. I've never been a huge fan anyway, but the last few years have pretty much sealed my loathing of all things traditional. When you feel that way, its nice to have someone to bitch to about it that knows what the hell you're referring to. All that said, I have given my husband a pretty bad ego-bruise. One that I think is most likely deep and scaring. He is not a bad man. By any means. I mean, come on! I am not the Queen of Hell. I am a good person! Therefore, I think it obvious that the man I married and created little people with, hellions as they may be, cannot possibly be THAT bad.
I expected my husband to love me in a way he doesn't know how. I have told him as much over the years. I have said to a few friends recently that I always knew I wasn't being loved in the way I needed. I knew that for whatever reason, he just wasn't right for me. He doesn't understand why I won't give counseling a chance. Its because I know as much as he can change on a surface level, things like behaviors or communication, he isn't ever going to be someone that understands me. He never has. He's the first to admit that. When he doesn't understand something, he won't respond to it. That isn't his fault. Its simply who he is. I spent a long time expecting that to change. For him to change who he is. I can't change who I am. Yet I expected him to. Insanity!
Now here I am, 10 years in and walking away from the only real relationship I have ever known. I am angry with myself that I let it be for as long as I did. I lied to myself. In turn I lied to him. I wanted it to work. I wanted him to be right because we have so much fun. Laughter was never something our marriage lacked. We had a comfortable existence. That is something that I am learning doesn't come natural between two people. That is a gift. He and I had that. At times I still feel it between us, well, when we're getting along that is. When he's mad, he's mean. Callous.
I can only assume how he feels about all this, too. I wouldn't want to be wrong in my assumptions, so don't hold me to them, but I know he is angry. So, so, so very angry with me. I know he is hurt. Deeply. I know he still holds onto a little shred of hope that this isn't over. I have given him no signs that there is anything to hold on to and even when we're getting along well I remind him of the divorce and that, yes, it is what I want.
I certainly expected many things that were not unreasonable that he fell short of for me. Even if he hadn't though, there were certainly expectations I had that he simply had no way of ever meeting. I realize now that that isn't his fault. I owe him an apology for that. I am so, very, truly and honestly sorry for that, Husband.
I wish it could be different, whether he trusts that or not. I don't want to tear apart the life I have known for so long. I don't want to be miserable, either. Staying with him is certainly the easier choice, by far. It isn't the right one. I know life without him is going to be difficult and I find my heart aching deeply.
I don't know how things are going to turn out for us. I hope we can be friends, because we were always really phenomenal at that. There's no one in the world that will ever laugh at the statement, "That Jeep is FUCKED. UP."...but he will. Letting go of those things is hard. I wish he knew this wasn't all easy for me either. Maybe he does. Maybe he likes that this is difficult for me since, while he certainly helped lead into it, I am the one that facilitated the current circumstances. I don't know. I don't know what he thinks or feels because true to form, he won't communicate with me beyond being mean or callous when he's angry with me. I am guessing that is the only way he knows how to cope. I don't know, again, I won't assume to know anything about how he thinks or feels.
Husband, I know you are reading this and I know some of my words hurt. One day I will write you a post that is directed specifically to YOU, not an anonymous audience. Or maybe one day you will actually be able to talk to me, from your heart (which I know exists because I have seen little bits of its love come through a few times in the last decade). Either way, I'm sorry for expecting you to be someone you're not. It wasn't fair. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you that. I'm a bit of a pussy at times, despite my she-balls.
This was the prompt over at Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop that stopped me mid-inspiration-click. I have been thinking a lot about my pending divorce. I recently started remembering all the things I once loved about my husband. While I know this choice, to get a divorce, is whats right for my kids and myself in the long run, I can't help but miss the comfort of our marriage this time of year. Holidays suck for me. I've never been a huge fan anyway, but the last few years have pretty much sealed my loathing of all things traditional. When you feel that way, its nice to have someone to bitch to about it that knows what the hell you're referring to. All that said, I have given my husband a pretty bad ego-bruise. One that I think is most likely deep and scaring. He is not a bad man. By any means. I mean, come on! I am not the Queen of Hell. I am a good person! Therefore, I think it obvious that the man I married and created little people with, hellions as they may be, cannot possibly be THAT bad.
I expected my husband to love me in a way he doesn't know how. I have told him as much over the years. I have said to a few friends recently that I always knew I wasn't being loved in the way I needed. I knew that for whatever reason, he just wasn't right for me. He doesn't understand why I won't give counseling a chance. Its because I know as much as he can change on a surface level, things like behaviors or communication, he isn't ever going to be someone that understands me. He never has. He's the first to admit that. When he doesn't understand something, he won't respond to it. That isn't his fault. Its simply who he is. I spent a long time expecting that to change. For him to change who he is. I can't change who I am. Yet I expected him to. Insanity!
Now here I am, 10 years in and walking away from the only real relationship I have ever known. I am angry with myself that I let it be for as long as I did. I lied to myself. In turn I lied to him. I wanted it to work. I wanted him to be right because we have so much fun. Laughter was never something our marriage lacked. We had a comfortable existence. That is something that I am learning doesn't come natural between two people. That is a gift. He and I had that. At times I still feel it between us, well, when we're getting along that is. When he's mad, he's mean. Callous.
I can only assume how he feels about all this, too. I wouldn't want to be wrong in my assumptions, so don't hold me to them, but I know he is angry. So, so, so very angry with me. I know he is hurt. Deeply. I know he still holds onto a little shred of hope that this isn't over. I have given him no signs that there is anything to hold on to and even when we're getting along well I remind him of the divorce and that, yes, it is what I want.
I certainly expected many things that were not unreasonable that he fell short of for me. Even if he hadn't though, there were certainly expectations I had that he simply had no way of ever meeting. I realize now that that isn't his fault. I owe him an apology for that. I am so, very, truly and honestly sorry for that, Husband.
I wish it could be different, whether he trusts that or not. I don't want to tear apart the life I have known for so long. I don't want to be miserable, either. Staying with him is certainly the easier choice, by far. It isn't the right one. I know life without him is going to be difficult and I find my heart aching deeply.
I don't know how things are going to turn out for us. I hope we can be friends, because we were always really phenomenal at that. There's no one in the world that will ever laugh at the statement, "That Jeep is FUCKED. UP."...but he will. Letting go of those things is hard. I wish he knew this wasn't all easy for me either. Maybe he does. Maybe he likes that this is difficult for me since, while he certainly helped lead into it, I am the one that facilitated the current circumstances. I don't know. I don't know what he thinks or feels because true to form, he won't communicate with me beyond being mean or callous when he's angry with me. I am guessing that is the only way he knows how to cope. I don't know, again, I won't assume to know anything about how he thinks or feels.
Husband, I know you are reading this and I know some of my words hurt. One day I will write you a post that is directed specifically to YOU, not an anonymous audience. Or maybe one day you will actually be able to talk to me, from your heart (which I know exists because I have seen little bits of its love come through a few times in the last decade). Either way, I'm sorry for expecting you to be someone you're not. It wasn't fair. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you that. I'm a bit of a pussy at times, despite my she-balls.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Meanwhile I Keep Searching For A Heart...
"They tell me love requires a little standing in line and I've been waiting for you, lover, for a long, long time. I've been pacing the floor, I've been watching the door. Meanwhile I keep searching for a heart."
Well. Zevon, obviously, was a freaking Genius. Lyrically and possibly definitively. I have heard the lyrics to the above mentioned song on many occasions. I only recently understood (as in, was able to verbally understand, the lyric 'a little standing in line') parts of it and Holy freaking shitsnacks did it happen at a inopportune time. I am at a point in my life where I am divorcing the man I have been with for 10yrs. Ten. Mother. Fucking. YEARS. Time enough to decide what qualities are important in a spouse, or mate. Qualities that...when you are 17 fucking years old you can NOT decide are things you HAVE to have in the future. I have been making a list, mentally, for...years probably, about the qualities I MUST have in a future partner. I have been planning a blog post...pros vs. cons...on this topic for a while as well.
So. Here I am tonight and there is A LOT on my mind. And about 4 sentences prior to this, I received a text from a man I enjoy ALL-too-much. And it just...ugh!!! It is all too freaking annoying, cruel, imperfect and horribly...just...fucking...BULLSHIT. Really. It is. If you knew me, my life, my wants, my desires, my hopes, dreams, lustful thoughts....whatever! You would know. You would be as completely frustrated with life that you want to smack the hell out of anyone that tells you love is real. Tells you happiness exists. Tells you it takes a long time to find the things you want. My friend, that I ADORE, called my life, and only the little he knows about it "twistedly poetic". My response was "Twistedly poetic??? It's a sick fucking joke." This friend has called me "intriguing". He, I think, is insane.
Fuck. I *may* not be thinking entirely clearly. My point is this (I think I have a point but please don't hold me to it): there is apparently a slew of fucking men that seem to think I am exceptional. More than enjoy my company. Love my sense of humor. My love of sports. That I can drink any fucking Irish man under the freaking table. I am not sure how they fail to notice that, as of late, I am cynical, angry and pissed the fuck off at the God damn world. Men that know those things....somehow...none of them...work for me. Because now? Now I have a mother fucking LIST. BITCHES. (I'll do that in another post one day).
I always wanted to be the well educated, gorgeous-in-sweats-with-an-au-natural-glow, looks like a pro while running, cute when angry, special woman men like Hiatt, Joel, Zevon and the others write songs like Feels Like Rain, All About Soul and Mutineer about. I ended up cynical but wonderfully optomistic. I love the rain, I know my soul, I pray for those I love, speak my mind, even when it mean disrespecting the people I love because, God damnit, sometimes it just comes to that. I love the people I hate because that is what Jesus would fucking do. I cry myself to sleep at the end of most days because I cannot believe that I settled for less than any of the surface bullshit qualities I listed above, let alone someone that doesn't set my soul on fire.
I am sick of men wanting the things about myself I hate. Or worse! Seeing things in me that simply aren't there. I'm honestly just annoyed at this point. I am not even divorced yet and the prospect of dating, looking or actively pursueing anyone scare the good and dirty fuck out of me. I have kids already. I have ZERO desire to ever remarry. I want self dependence. My own space. My own bed. A bed that can house my kids and I on a Saturday morning. A bed with pillows soaked in my tears. One that smells of my shampoo and bar soap.
I am sick of men telling me what an interesting, awesome, just-what-I-want-in-a-woman, woman I am. How my personality is exactly what they want. I am sick of being the hypothetical "girl next door". I want to just be me. I want to be me in every way, shape and form and I want for THAT to be enough. I want for that to be "tragically poetic" but in a beautiful way. I want to be all the things I'm not. But I still want the things I am to be enough for the people that need me.
If I weren't so fucking hell bent and giddy on making everyone that enters my life happy, I think it would make ME more happy. I really fucking hate it to shit when the people I think could love the shit out of me, don't have the fucking time of day, or evening, or night-because...of whatever.
Remembering who you are is tough. Being who you are is tougher. Remembering who you are, where you came from and being strong, proud and tough as shit to actually behave in accordance with that is the toughest. Fuck anyone that can't keep up with you and God bless the poor bastards that try like hell. Make Saints of the ones that manage to fill your void without making you hate them, get it and stay with you when you try like the she-devil to try and make them do so.
Well. Zevon, obviously, was a freaking Genius. Lyrically and possibly definitively. I have heard the lyrics to the above mentioned song on many occasions. I only recently understood (as in, was able to verbally understand, the lyric 'a little standing in line') parts of it and Holy freaking shitsnacks did it happen at a inopportune time. I am at a point in my life where I am divorcing the man I have been with for 10yrs. Ten. Mother. Fucking. YEARS. Time enough to decide what qualities are important in a spouse, or mate. Qualities that...when you are 17 fucking years old you can NOT decide are things you HAVE to have in the future. I have been making a list, mentally, for...years probably, about the qualities I MUST have in a future partner. I have been planning a blog post...pros vs. cons...on this topic for a while as well.
So. Here I am tonight and there is A LOT on my mind. And about 4 sentences prior to this, I received a text from a man I enjoy ALL-too-much. And it just...ugh!!! It is all too freaking annoying, cruel, imperfect and horribly...just...fucking...BULLSHIT. Really. It is. If you knew me, my life, my wants, my desires, my hopes, dreams, lustful thoughts....whatever! You would know. You would be as completely frustrated with life that you want to smack the hell out of anyone that tells you love is real. Tells you happiness exists. Tells you it takes a long time to find the things you want. My friend, that I ADORE, called my life, and only the little he knows about it "twistedly poetic". My response was "Twistedly poetic??? It's a sick fucking joke." This friend has called me "intriguing". He, I think, is insane.
Fuck. I *may* not be thinking entirely clearly. My point is this (I think I have a point but please don't hold me to it): there is apparently a slew of fucking men that seem to think I am exceptional. More than enjoy my company. Love my sense of humor. My love of sports. That I can drink any fucking Irish man under the freaking table. I am not sure how they fail to notice that, as of late, I am cynical, angry and pissed the fuck off at the God damn world. Men that know those things....somehow...none of them...work for me. Because now? Now I have a mother fucking LIST. BITCHES. (I'll do that in another post one day).
I always wanted to be the well educated, gorgeous-in-sweats-with-an-au-natural-glow, looks like a pro while running, cute when angry, special woman men like Hiatt, Joel, Zevon and the others write songs like Feels Like Rain, All About Soul and Mutineer about. I ended up cynical but wonderfully optomistic. I love the rain, I know my soul, I pray for those I love, speak my mind, even when it mean disrespecting the people I love because, God damnit, sometimes it just comes to that. I love the people I hate because that is what Jesus would fucking do. I cry myself to sleep at the end of most days because I cannot believe that I settled for less than any of the surface bullshit qualities I listed above, let alone someone that doesn't set my soul on fire.
I am sick of men wanting the things about myself I hate. Or worse! Seeing things in me that simply aren't there. I'm honestly just annoyed at this point. I am not even divorced yet and the prospect of dating, looking or actively pursueing anyone scare the good and dirty fuck out of me. I have kids already. I have ZERO desire to ever remarry. I want self dependence. My own space. My own bed. A bed that can house my kids and I on a Saturday morning. A bed with pillows soaked in my tears. One that smells of my shampoo and bar soap.
I am sick of men telling me what an interesting, awesome, just-what-I-want-in-a-woman, woman I am. How my personality is exactly what they want. I am sick of being the hypothetical "girl next door". I want to just be me. I want to be me in every way, shape and form and I want for THAT to be enough. I want for that to be "tragically poetic" but in a beautiful way. I want to be all the things I'm not. But I still want the things I am to be enough for the people that need me.
If I weren't so fucking hell bent and giddy on making everyone that enters my life happy, I think it would make ME more happy. I really fucking hate it to shit when the people I think could love the shit out of me, don't have the fucking time of day, or evening, or night-because...of whatever.
Remembering who you are is tough. Being who you are is tougher. Remembering who you are, where you came from and being strong, proud and tough as shit to actually behave in accordance with that is the toughest. Fuck anyone that can't keep up with you and God bless the poor bastards that try like hell. Make Saints of the ones that manage to fill your void without making you hate them, get it and stay with you when you try like the she-devil to try and make them do so.
Friday, September 30, 2011
She Balls Make Me Awesome...
So recently I received a phone call from a man I have known since I was probably about 7 or 8 years old. My dad met him when we first moved to IL and had started a new job here. His wife, JMK (whom I always treated me like a 'grown-up' and I love her so very dearly for that) and their 2 kids quickly became family to mine. As a kid I spent A LOT of time at their house with my family. I don't recall what year it was, but they moved about 3 hours away at some point and we saw them less and less until eventually, as often happens, we lost track of each other.
When my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I thought it only right to track his friend, John, down and let him know of dad's diagnosis. We spoke occasionally after that about the truth of dad's condition, as when John would talk to my dad on the phone, there was no doubt in his mind my dad wasn't letting on the full truth of the severity and aggressiveness of his disease. I think John knew I wouldn't bullshit him. When dad's cancer eventually took his life, I think it was me that called to tell John and Joanie, but in all honesty, I don't recall too many details about what happened the week following his death. In any event, John came up for dad's service and gave a speech that moved everyone to tears.
So, what does this sad, sappy, love-filled story have to do with big, brass, balls, you ask? Well, if you knew my dad, and in particular if you watched him suffer through the cancer and not ONCE complain, you would know he had manly cajones. No doubt. Maybe stainless-steel ones at that. If you didn't know my dad, but you know a member of the Patterson clan, you are familiar with the kind of strength and courage I am referring to. We're a tough, badass bunch of m-effers because we have to be. Life hasn't always been kind to us, but like John told me last week, " Life is about taking shit . And learning how to put up with it and know you're better than that." And he's right. Life is definitely about taking shit and learning from it.
Going through the divorce process, trying to be true to myself and trying like hell to be as fair and kind as I can to my husband in the process (because I am first to admit, the last 2 months haven't been at all fair or kind to him and I think he's doing the best he can to deal, though he is currently behavinglike a real ass like a man that's hurt and lashing out) is causing me to question the size, weight and chemical make-up of my female cajones. I am hurting. I have been hurting for a long time. The decision to divorce my husband alleviated a lot of that hurt I had been feeling for so long. This hurt right now is a different kind of hurt and I think unless you have been in a position like mine you can't relate. You won't understand. I really don't expect anyone to understand and as my pastor and friend recently told me, what you or anyone else thinks about me isn't my business. That said...my big brass balls have shrunk a bit.
Knowing I have been a bit of a whiny, sissy, baby as of late, I was delightfully surprised and appreciative when my phone rang last week and I heard John's voice on the other end. Our conversation went something like this, and forgive the language, but us badass m-effers curse like truckers...ya know, cause that's what badass m-effers do and stuff.
Me: Hello?
John: What the hell is going on? Are you going soft on me? Don't go soft on me.
Me: Well, ya know, I'm a little stressed out right now, dude! I know I'm being a whiny bitch!
John: You are hardcore. Don't lose that edge! Stay tough.
Me: I'm trying, I'm trying. This stuff is tough, though and I feel like I am losing it!
John: I'd tell ya to grow a pair, but you've got the biggest ones on any girl I know.
Me >>>laughing boisterously<<<: OK. I'll get my shit together.
We talked for a few more minutes and then hung up. His phone call was exactly what I needed to remember where I get my strength and courage from. And even if I don't like running in the cold, wet, wind and rain, I still have the biggest, heaviest, brassiest she-balls around, damnit.
When my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I thought it only right to track his friend, John, down and let him know of dad's diagnosis. We spoke occasionally after that about the truth of dad's condition, as when John would talk to my dad on the phone, there was no doubt in his mind my dad wasn't letting on the full truth of the severity and aggressiveness of his disease. I think John knew I wouldn't bullshit him. When dad's cancer eventually took his life, I think it was me that called to tell John and Joanie, but in all honesty, I don't recall too many details about what happened the week following his death. In any event, John came up for dad's service and gave a speech that moved everyone to tears.
So, what does this sad, sappy, love-filled story have to do with big, brass, balls, you ask? Well, if you knew my dad, and in particular if you watched him suffer through the cancer and not ONCE complain, you would know he had manly cajones. No doubt. Maybe stainless-steel ones at that. If you didn't know my dad, but you know a member of the Patterson clan, you are familiar with the kind of strength and courage I am referring to. We're a tough, badass bunch of m-effers because we have to be. Life hasn't always been kind to us, but like John told me last week, " Life is about taking shit . And learning how to put up with it and know you're better than that." And he's right. Life is definitely about taking shit and learning from it.
Going through the divorce process, trying to be true to myself and trying like hell to be as fair and kind as I can to my husband in the process (because I am first to admit, the last 2 months haven't been at all fair or kind to him and I think he's doing the best he can to deal, though he is currently behaving
Knowing I have been a bit of a whiny, sissy, baby as of late, I was delightfully surprised and appreciative when my phone rang last week and I heard John's voice on the other end. Our conversation went something like this, and forgive the language, but us badass m-effers curse like truckers...ya know, cause that's what badass m-effers do and stuff.
Me: Hello?
John: What the hell is going on? Are you going soft on me? Don't go soft on me.
Me: Well, ya know, I'm a little stressed out right now, dude! I know I'm being a whiny bitch!
John: You are hardcore. Don't lose that edge! Stay tough.
Me: I'm trying, I'm trying. This stuff is tough, though and I feel like I am losing it!
John: I'd tell ya to grow a pair, but you've got the biggest ones on any girl I know.
Me >>>laughing boisterously<<<: OK. I'll get my shit together.
We talked for a few more minutes and then hung up. His phone call was exactly what I needed to remember where I get my strength and courage from. And even if I don't like running in the cold, wet, wind and rain, I still have the biggest, heaviest, brassiest she-balls around, damnit.
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