Posts Tagged ‘Cutting’

Everybody in my real life knows that I live for music .. it has saved me on more occasions that I probably should admit.

I heard this song for the first time yesterday when I came across it’s video and it made me cry.

This was my life..

For those of you who haven’t read this blog back far enough, I was a cutter. I’m neither embarrassed by it or proud of it.

Although I haven’t habitually cut in a while, being one is part of who I am and helped make me into the person I am.

This video is graphic .. but not gratuitously.

Before posting the video, I thought it would be good to post a message from P!nk explaining the song and the video:

A Personal Note From P!nk:

I’m sure my newest video for “F**kin’ Perfect” will be much like some of my other videos, which basically means I expect it will ruffle some feathers.

My favorite books, art pieces, films, and music, always have something jarring about them. I want art to make me think.
In order to do that, it may piss me off, or make me uncomfortable. That promotes awareness and change, or at least some discussion.
That is my intention.
You can’t move mountains by whispering at them.

Cutting, and suicide, two very different symptoms of the same problem, are gaining on us. (the problem being; alienation and depression. the symptoms; cutting and suicide). I personally don’t know a single person who doesn’t know at least two of these victims personally. A lot of us have seen certain starlets showing off their latest scars on a red carpet somewhere, usually right before they head back to their favorite rehab.

Its a problem, and its something we should talk about.
We can choose to ignore the problem, and therefore ignore this video, but that won’t make it go away.
I don’t support or encourage suicide or cutting.
I support the kids out there that feel so desperate/numb/powerless, that feel unseen and unheard, and can’t see another way.. I want them to know I’m aware. I have been there. I see them.
Sometimes that’s all it takes.

Making this video was a very emotional experience for me, as was writing this song. I have a life inside of me, and I want her or him to know that I will accept him or her with open and loving and welcoming arms. And though I will prepare this little munchkin for a sometimes cruel world, I will also equip this kid to see all the beauty in it as well. There are good people in this world that are open-minded, and loving. There are those that accept us with all of our flaws. I do that with my fans/friends, and I will do that with my child, whoever they decide to be.

If you or someone you know needs help, please visit TWLOHA

If it’s too graphic for you, at least close your eyes and listen to the words. They are ones that need to be shared with everyone in your life.. young.. old.. male.. female..

I wish there was someone who was there to tell me that when I needed to hear it ..


This is the radio friendly version in case you just can’t deal with the original:

WARNING: Content may contain raw and harsh truth that may result in the reader becoming emo.

I’ve wrote about this before but if you’re new here then you may not have been aware that I was a cutter. Not the geeky cool band of bicyclist from Indiana :: if you never saw the movie Breaking Away then do.. it’s an oldie but a goodie :: but some one who cuts themselves when everything internalized needs to find an outlet.

No.. this is not a picture of me

No.. this is not a picture of me

And you know.. just in case you REALLY don’t know anything about cutting or self-mutilation or self abuse or carving into your skin with anything you find hanging around… it’s not an attempt at suicide. It’s just release valve. I never wanted to kill myself.. just wanted the pain to go away. Internal pain needs a way to manifest itself and cutting is a way to make it a physical pain. At least it was for me .. I don’t know if all cutters feel the same way about it. Some people use drugs.. some drink.. I used to cut. Hello, my name is Leese ( Hi Leese! ) and I am a cutter!

I stopped cutting on November 8, 1998.. and yesterday for the first time in almost 11 years I cut myself again.

I tried taking a picture of it but I couldn’t get a good shot because of where it’s at and because it really isn’t deep. Actually, I think paper cuts are deeper but yknow.. that’s not really the point.

So I guess your asking why? Why after all this time? What was so fucking bad THIS time that I had to cut six or seven parallel lines on my arm where most barflies get real bad tattoos?

I’m not sure.

I mean.. I know what happened.. the events leading up to it.. and yea, it was bad but I’ve been through worse so I don’t think it was the actual one event that triggered it.. I just think it was a cumulation of things that’s been building up and building up..

Life beat me up this time.

And yesterday, as soon as I put the utility knife down :: sorry, nothing poetic like a straight razor or soduku knife .. however you spell it :: maybe for an instant I felt that rush of release. I guess that’s how heroin addicts feel. Dunno, I never did heroin but that’s what they all say on Intervention.

But then I felt horrible.. disappointed in myself.. guilty. I never thought I’d do this again… sure there have been A LOT of times when I wanted to but I was always able to talk myself down and not go through with it.

This time, I was so mentally warn out from everything that happened Friday and Saturday morning.. so warn out from feeling like my emotions and feelings were being battered against a brick wall.. so warn out of the screaming LOOK! LISTEN TO WHAT I’M SAYING! LISTEN TO HOW I’M FEELING! silently that I guess I just couldn’t take it anymore.

But the trigger.. the one phrase that Chief said to me that made everything fiber in my being shut down.. grow cold.. and tunnel visioned to the utility knife in his dresser was YOU.SHOULD.KNOW.BETTER.

So let’s back up to Friday morning.

Bubba woke up with his ass transformed into a Hell Mouth. So he stayed home from school. His room was still a mess so I asked him to clean it and told him I wasn’t going to ask again.

He cleaned it right away .. because, yknow, his cell phone bill was due. He then asked if he could mow the lawn or weed wack or “something” around the house.

I remember saying to him, “.. Look, don’t be offended by what do you want? Because the only time you want to help is when you want something.” He said that it was just boredom.. there was nothing to do.. and he knew that we were trying to get the house fixed up.

That’s a crock of shit but ok, I’ll take advantage of it.

So I tell him to paint the hallway downstairs that link our bedroom with theirs.

So he does. Meanwhile, I go about hanging new curtain rods and ironing panels.

He finishes .. well, rather, he stopped painting. The hallway was finished but the bucket of paint was left on the floor.. the brushes were just laid on the newspaper.. I mean, he didn’t finish the job because he didn’t clean up after he was done.

I was hanging the last rod when he says to me, ” .. you’re not going to pay my cell phone are you?”

I said, “.. do you think you deserve me to?”

He said, “.. I guess. I mean, I painted your hallway and cleaned the fridge handles.

What does Judge Judy say? You’re not smarter then me on your dumbest day? Something like that.

I knew that’s why he was acting like SuperKid. So I asked him how many times I had to ask him to clean his room or do whatever? But ok.. my hallway was painted and I’ve been waiting for Chief to do that for EVER so I figured what the hell.. I’ll pay it. But I told him that this was the only free pass he was getting. Next month, no last minute effort to make up for a month of not doing what he’s suppose to do to earn the cell phone priviledge.

Fast foward to later on in the evening.

Spaz was in the bathroom when Bubba came out of his bedroom and turned on the PS3. Spaz comes out of the bathroom and tells Bubba that he was watching tv. Bubba does care. He just wants to do what he wants to do with no concern for anyone else.

It’s starts a argument and then finally Spaz says that he doesn’t care anymore. Let him do what he wants.

I actually thought that that was pretty mature of Spaz.

So then Spaz asks Bubba to take a round on the PS3.

Flat answer: No.

I was like.. you’re kidding me, right? He’s just going to say “no” like it’s his?

So again, an argument ensues with me telling Bubba to let Spaz play and Bubba telling ME “no” this time.. defiant mother fucking bastard.

Something was on the stove in the kitchen so when I went to go tend to it, Spaz followed me. I hear Bubba say, “.. go ahead Spaz. Watch TV” and then went into his bedroom. I tell Spaz to go in the living room and he said that NOW he wanted to play PS3 :: why, of course he did :: but that Bubba took the controller in the bedroom with him.

NOTE: Did I fill you in about the controller? How they broke yet another one and I refused to buy one since they’re 50-something bucks a pop? And then how all of a sudden a controller showed up at the house with Bubba saying that he borrowed it from a friend?

I tell Bubba to give Spaz the controller and he gets all defiant again. MORE defiant then before… SO DEFIANT that he slips up and says that the controller is HIS.. he BOUGHT it.

Ahhhh… so that changes everything now. Because NOW you lied to me.

And when I tell you that I got so TORQUED .. When I tell you that it took all that I had to not wind up and land a square one right in his puddy face.. that, my friends, is an understatement.

Okay boy.. I warned you that the bitch was going to come and here she was.

I grabbed my jacket and keys and told Spaz that I was going to be right back. Bubba.. knowing that something was up.. that he had pushed me way further then his idiot mind could comprehend.. offered up the controller.


Bubba tried to say something and I said I wasn’t listening to anything else he had to say.. no excuses.. no manipulations.. no more lies.

I was going to GameStop to buy another controller WITH the money I was going to use for his cell phone bill. You thought you got away with hood-winking me earlier with painting the hallway and the whatnot? Well guess what? Jokes on you.

So I leave and of course, in my haste, forgot my freakin’ debit card. So I stop at the shop and tell Chief that I need 60 bucks and tell him why. I’m literally bouncing off the walls.

Why did I react this way this time and not all the other times the boys did something? Dunno.. I guess enough was enough, yknow?

Chief agrees with what I’m doing but he doesn’t get as wound up as I am. I wanted him too.. wanted him to feel everything that I was feeling but yknow.. different personalities I guess. Whatever.

We go to GameStop and I buy a blue controller so that I can identify it from Bubba’s and we go home. Chief goes in the bedroom and I go into the kitchen to open the package that was sealed by Satan himself and yell out for Spaz.

You bought me a controller??? he says all excited.

Noooooo… I bought one for the house. Do you UNDERSTAND? This isn’t YOURS

Thank you, Leese! Thank you!

I told him don’t thank me, thank his brother because I used his cell phone bill money to buy it.

I know Bubba heard me. That was the point.

So Spaz goes out to play with the PS3.. Bubba is in the living room on his laptop :: that is now tethered to an ethernet cord because HA! he got a really bad virus from downloading Lime Wire and now the wireless card don’t work! Booyaa! :: and me and Chief sit down in the dinner room to eat dinner.

Chief asks Bubba why he looks all depressed and stuff. Bubba mumbles something.. gets up.. walks into his bedroom.. come out.. walks into the kitchen and says something like “.. people not keeping their word” or something random like that.

I jump in and say something like “.. oh, like you lying about the controller? Like you saying your going to do whatever so you can get what you want and then not doing it after you get it?.. that what you’re talking about?”

He tries to say that the reason he lied is so that Spaz would take care of the controller and I call him out on his bullshit. I had his back up against the wall.. there was no way in hell he was going to get around me this time and when Chief started in on both of them for the way they treat each other, Bubba does what Bubba does best.. he called the Crack Whore and cried foul. Telling her how much of a victim he is and that we’re always picking on him.

She wants to talk to Chief and I hear him tell her, “No.. not this time.” and then he went into what douchebags they are to each other and everything else about them not cleaning up after themselves, yada yada yada .. same old story.

He hangs up the phone and then starts in on Bubba again about how Bubba been treating him [Chief].. and how he looks at him with utter contempt, hatred and distain until he wants something like his laptop fixed and then he’s his best friend.

And then he asks him what his problem is with me.

FINALLY.. I mean.. really. FINALLY.

Bubba says he isn’t going to “.. say it in front of HER” meaning me and I yell out that if he has a problem with ME then he needs to man up and talk to ME because if he doesn’t talk to ME then there is no problem.

Bubba then gets back on the phone with the Crack Whore and basically, conversation over.

Bubba goes in his room.. Chief goes into his room.. and I’m left in the dining room waiting for.. something. Maybe Chief telling me what his conversation was with the Crack Whore?

Spaz asks me to play video games with him and since I’m also waiting for Bird to come over to get the kitten :: she had a vet appointment in the morning :: I go sit out there with him.

But it’s bothering me that Chief isn’t telling me anything.. that he’s not talking to me about what happened or whatever.

So I go in the bedroom and what’s Chief doing? He’s playing Call of Duty. Timing was on my side this time because his round had just ended so I said to him, “.. are you going to tell me about the conversation you had?”

“Oh.. yea. I’ll tell you” and he proceeds to say that she wanted Bubba to sleep over her crack den because he was upset and when Chief said no, she was concerned that Bubba was going to be picked on.

I started saying something.. I don’t know what.. I guess just rehashing what happened and how I’m not going to let a 14 year old play me.. or manipulate me or something.

Chief said not to feed into it and I said I wasn’t. Because if I was, I’d be in Bubba’s bedroom and not ours.

So what does Chief do? Goes back to playing Call of Duty.

I was stunned.


Obviously, the next round was WAY more important then what I was going through. Dumbass me, right?

That room became a little box. A little box with no windows, doors or outside source of light and I had to get out of it. So I went back out to the living room. Spaz is talking non-stop about nonsense and I can feel my face getting numb and teeth clenching and ever muscle in my body getting tight. I’m desperately trying to remain calm for Spaz’s sake. None of this is his fault.. he can’t help if his father is an emotionally void asshole.

But then he starts telling me that he asked his mother to buy him a winter jacket .. and she asked why I wasn’t buying it for him and he told her something like I had to pay bills and I wasn’t getting paid or something like that. Something completely off from what I had told him before.

NOTE: The weather started to turn really bad the week between my unemployment checks so since he was going to her crack den everyday after school, I told him to ask her if she could get him a jacket .. since she was all ghetto rich and everything..

And that he doesn’t live with her so it isn’t her

And then I went off.. telling him that she was just a miserable person who can’t deal with anyone else being happy and it isn’t her place to tell him what she told him.. that she should call his father.

I don’t him that she can’t just be a “mother” when she feels like and when she doesn’t “feel” like it.. she can’t just dump it on me and make it seem like I’m the one who isn’t doing what they’re suppose to be doing.

While I was saying all this.. Chief had walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and then was standing behind me.. but I didn’t acknowledge him. I walked back into the living room.. he into the bedroom and that’s where he remained.

Bird finally got there and I told her the whole story. Being his cousin, having grown up with him and his brothers and staying mostly at their house.. AND having been in therapy for years.. she knows better then anyone why he is the way he is and does what he does. But at least I was able to get what I SHOULD be telling him off my chest.

But. yknow.. Call of Duty is WAY more important.

He never came out of the bedroom and after Bird left, I remained in the living room watching tv until I fell asleep. There was no way in HELL I was going to sleep next to him. I probably would have stuffed a sock down his throat while he was sleeping on his back snoring away. Really though, I didn’t want to be ignored anymore.

I know that the bedroom door was closed because the dogs stayed in the living room with me.. and somewhere in the middle of the night when I got up to roll over :: a feat not unworthy of medal on my couch! :: the dogs weren’t around so I know at some point he woke up and saw me out there and just wasn’t going to deal with whatever it was he thought he was going to have to deal with.

In the morning, he wakes me up because the kids had school and asks me why I was sleeping out there. I told him I was catching up on Project Runway and fell asleep.

My attitude was WAY off so he didn’t buy it but you can tell he SO wanted to.

He leaves for work and I take Bubba to school. Not that I wanted to.. not that HE wanted me to but he’s too fucking lazy to walk so I wasn’t going to be the one responsible for him missing a day. Especially on a Friday.

I came right home instead of my usual stop at the shop. I didn’t have to get him coffee and I had stuff in the house already for Spaz’s lunch. But around 8am he calls me and asks where I was at and sounds SO wounded that I didn’t stop at the shop because he had fixed me a cup of coffee.

“oh” was really all I said.

Spaz gets dropped off at school and I go down to the shop. I’m very low key. Not only is it morning.. not only did I not have my usual caffeine quota in me.. but I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened and the way he acted / reacted … and I’m basically only at the shop out of necessity .. not because I wanted to be there.

He kisses me hello and I ask him if I have to go to the wholesalers.. or the produce place. No to both. I nod my head “cool” and then make my way to the front of the store to glance through the paper.

He’s in the back doing whatever it is he was doing but then he comes up front.. stands opposite me on the other side of the counter and says “.. are you upset with me?”

Only it doesn’t come out as, yknow, “Is there something bothering you, honey?” .. it comes out HOW DARE YOU BE PISSED OFF AT ME

Cuz.. like.. that’s going to make me feel better right?

So I said, “Yeah.. I am”


I told him that I was trying to talk to him last night and he just turned away to play the video game.

And then he went on a rant. And when I say rant.. I mean R-A-N-T!

I can’t even remember everything he said .. but a few things stick out.

He said that I wasn’t trying to have a conversation .. that I was ranting and he wasn’t going to deal with that… I was like, “fine” .. “okay” .. I had no intentions of getting into a scream-fest because we were in the shop and the shop is NEVER the place to talk about anything important because of the interruptions.

He returns to the back of the store and then a few minutes later he comes back out and starts going off again. He said that I was torqued all night and that I was doing nothing but being aggitating so that’s why he went into his room.. and I was like, “.. you ALWAYS go in your room” and you may have thought he swallowed a toad.

No! No! He said.. you’re not going to twist it around and make it seem like I’m doing something bad. I get up early every day and I come home and Im exhausted.

Like I’m not.

He was just going on and on and at one point he said a reason why he was pissed at me but really, he was yelling so much and so loud that I more interested in keeping my sanity. Telling myself that I was not the one who was wrong here.. that I had every right to feel the way I feel..

You know.. that kind of thing.

But then.. then… then he went into how he heard my burst with Spaz and how that kid doesn’t need that.. how the crack whore acts like that all the time and he doesn’t know what I was going off on him about but he doesn’t need that..



I should know better.


Me who does everything I possibly can to keep this kid normal.

And then the curtain in my head came down and I was done. I could literally feel all the warmth in my soul drain. I could feel the emotions ice over. Whatever tears I was fighting back just went away. I was as hard as a rock. And I knew at that point that there was no talking myself down from nothing and the only way to bring me back  was the utility knife in the nightstand.

When I wasn’t responsive anymore, he went into the back again.

I yelled back that I forgot something at home and left.

I drove home.. went into the bedroom and did what I did.

I’m not going to lie… when doing it, it felt good. It felt real.

There’s a song called HURT, written by Trent Reznor of NIN and remade by Johnny Cash. The first two lines pretty much sums it up:

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel

But once I started to “feel” .. then I was mad at myself for getting to that point.. mad at the feelings of disappointment.. of  guilt.. of now having to make up a story if someone asked what happened.

“Life just beat me up” is what I planned on saying. Pretty much sums it up, right?

I go back to the store.. there were a few customers so I just put my game face on and acted almost normal. After they left, he came at me again. But this time I was stronger.. and this time I wasn’t going to pull any punches.

Honestly, I can’t remember verbatim. I usually can but there was so much raw emotion that I think my brain just said, “Nope. You don’t need to hold onto this one.”

I remember saying to him that he puts me on the outside until he wants me in the middle. He wanted examples and I told him that I didn’t have anything specific. I think I said, “.. excuse me for not being prepared but if you give me an hour I’ll go home and get my journals”.

I remember a point when I was screaming at him about his kids.. about how I’m with them more then he is and every single minute it’s nothing but arguing and bickering and fighting and mental gymnastics always having to stay one step a head of them.. but I do it.. and I don’t even tell him half the shit that’s going on because I know he’ll just go off in his own little world because HE doesn’t want to deal with HIS kids and excuse me for getting to a fucking breaking point.

And that’s when the tears started..

And that’s when he was like, “… There! See! That’s what you should have done.”

I have absolutely no fucking clue what he was referring to but I know I answered that why should there be something that I have to do.. if I was so over board last night and you knew it.. then why the hell didn’t you try and calm me down instead of just ignoring it? Why can’t YOU be the rock that I am for you?

That’s when he accused me of twisting things around. “See! You’re doing it! You’re twisting it around!” he was all pointing his finger at me and you know.. I’m from the ghetto.. you SO don’t point your finger at me.

Honest to God if he wasn’t on the other side of the counter I would have swung at him.. that’s how mad that made me. It literally brought me back to when I was married and the Spawn from Satan’s ass would say the same damn thing when he knew I was right and wasn’t going to admit it.

But instead of swinging at him, I shoved the stapler off the counter with such force that if it had hit the fridge door it would have shattered.

That actually geared him down and when there was a break in his yelling at me, I said to him… very calmly.. “Where you ever lied to?” I know he has been and I didn’t wait for him to answer. I said, “.. not a good feeling is it?”. He quietly said no and then I said, “… so not only does your son lie to me but you lie to me to”.

He was all indignant and was like, “.. when did I ever lie to you?” and I had two words for him. Two words that I had tucked up my sleeve waiting to  bust out at the right moment.

Parking Ticket.

I didn’t give him a chance to say ANYTHING .. I just said what I’ve been rehearsing in my head. How he threw me under the bus. How HE may be used to all this but I’M not.. because he didn’t want to get in trouble? Because he didn’t want to pay it? What the fuck, man?

And then while I had the floor and before he could say anything else.. I told him that a piece of me believes that a part of him is just waiting for this relationship to fail.. like all his other relationships failed.. that the crack whore was going to get to me.. that the kids were going to get to me.. and then I’d be gone and THAT’S the reason why when we DO argue, his response is always, “.. you’re going to do what your going to do” where I would fight to the death for this relationship.

He didn’t say anything.. he was quiet and just whispered “no”.

He told me that he wasn’t good with “feelings” .. not even his own. I told him that that was bullshit. He knows how he feels.. he just doesn’t want to.

I wanted to tell him about cutting myself and so I brought up about the last time when I had called him from my job and told him that I was hanging by a thread.. that MY demons were starting to surface and that I wasn’t coming straight home from work because I had found a S.A.F.E (Self Abuse Finally Ends) meeting. When I got home that night, he never asked me ANYTHING about it.. or how I was feeling or anything. It was hard for me to say.. I kept having to pause to regroup.

And then a customer came in.. and he had to go cook them something and then another customer came in and another and another and another and then his father.

Conversation obviously over.

Right before I left, I had to use the bathroom. Up until that point I was trying to avoid him.. not look at him.. not be anywhere near him. I had the game face on for everybody else but I just couldn’t wait to get out of there.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was standing there and when I went to maneuver around him, he said “Stop. Come here.” and just held me like he should have the night before. He said he wanted to go out.. just the two of us. Do dinner and a movie or something.. he didn’t care. Just as long as it was us.

I really don’t remember what I said. But I let him hold me because I wanted to be held.

And then I left. He walked me to the car and hugged me again and said, “I really, really, really do love you.”

Nice to hear but I ‘m not going to say that it made everything go away.

When he came home, I was sitting on the bed playing around with my DSi. I had a tee-shirt on and the cuts on my forearm were puffy and red and very noticable.

When he came into the bedroom and went to kiss me hello, he saw them. I saw his eyes look at them … but he never said anything. Nothing. At all.

But I know he saw them.

.. yesterday was a bad day on a variety of levels.

I’ll post about all that later on because I don’t have the energy to relive everything :: Emails from both the kids teachers, seeing Weed, the house, etc. :: . I’ve had a lot on my mind lately that has just been tucked away deep in my brain.

Last night, there was enough residual drama with Bubba that Chief was actually awake later then 9pm. I was doing something on the laptopn and I guess I had some kind of look on my face. I don’t hide my feelings very well. I might not express them verbally but there’s no mistaken that I’m feeling some kind of way.

Deep down, I want Chief to press me to tell him what’s bothering me. That’s the kind of person I am.. if I know someone is bothered by something but isn’t talking about it, I’ll try to get them to open up. Maybe because I don’t open up right away makes me sensitive to other’s that don’t. Dunno.

But Chief doesn’t do that. He kind of likes to bury his head in the sand sometimes. But to be fair, he’s under the mindset that if I wanted to talk about things then find. If not, then I guess I really don’t need to talk about them.

For instance, after the S.A.F.E meeting I went to he never asked me anything about it.. never asked me what went on.. never asked me what was going on to make me feel like I had to even go.. never asked me why I felt like I needed to start cutting myself again.

He used to be in a 12-step program so maybe that’s part of it, I don’t know.

All I know is that it hurt. But I accepted things for what they were and either understood him and his perspective OR made excuses for the way he didn’t react.

But last night, I thought that I had to try to let Chief know how I felt about the whole Weed situation.

I had been harvesting my cabbages on Farm Town and he said something about me hating to harvest the cabbage.. and I was like “… no, I just have something on my mind that I want to talk to you about but I don’t know how to.”

He said to just say it and I replied that I was afraid that it was going to come out not sounding the right way. Again he said to just tell him.

So I basically told him that whatever is going to happen between him and Weed is what’s going to happen but whenever I see him I just go back to the time he was arrested..  the house being robbed..  me losing things I could never get back.. the stress.. the worry.. everything I wrote about in a previous post.

I told him that I was trying to not harbor things :: not for Weed’s benefit but for mine :: but it’s hard because I have so much animosity and so much GRRR!!

He said that he didn’t trust Weed and that he a douchbag and but there was nothing he could do about that and to just give it time.

Then he went back to watching the History channel.

Needless to say.. that didn’t leave me feeling to great but I just didn’t have the energy to persue it and frankly, I don’t think he was too upset that I didn’t either.

So all night, I couldn’t sleep thinking about where I am at.. what my expectations were.. what I’m giving up and what I’m actually gaining.

And here’s the thing…

I think I wanted it all.. the I wanted to be happy with myself, happy with my job, have a nice house, have a wonderful functional family, have love.

I never did expect things to be perfect.. nobody, no relationship is but after almost two years I thought I would everyone would find their niches and things would get better..

But the only thing that really happened is that I gained an understanding of THEM but they don’t have one of me.

And that’s a harsh reality.

What is my “role” here.. What “really”  is this relationship…

And even though all relationships take work… I am under the firm belief that if you’re ALWAYS working at it then it really ISN’T working and all your doing is trying to shove a round peg in a square hole.

My having it all is unrealistic.. but shouldn’t you try to get at least as close as possible?

Today I didn’t go to work. I needed a day alone… without kids.. not at the store.. not without Chief.

This morning I acted like any other morning but I didn’t think it was fair for me to NOT tell him that I wasn’t at work. I didn’t want it to seem like I was starting to keep secrets or whatever AND he needed to know that I needed to be by myself.

So about 9, I called him at the store and told him. He was surprised but said that he had a feeling I wasn’t going to go in. I told him I just needed to be by myself and he said he understood. He asked if everything :: or if I :: was okay and I said I was.. just needed “nothing” time.

He did mention about having to go to the wholesalers and I did say that if he needed me to watch the store while he went that to just call me.

Ordinarily, I would have either went down there or called by now but I’m not going to. I can’t feel guilty. I’ve come to the realization that I’m the only one who is going to look out for me and my needs.

If that changes the way things are between us :: for better OR for worse :: then there isn’t anything I can do about it because ultimately, I’m responsible for my own happiness.

So I made a few calls and there is a meeting sponsered by S.A.F.E ( Self Abuse Finally Ends ) not to far from here at 5pm so I’m going to head over.

I knew that I would be late getting home so I had to tell Chief.

Well, let me rephrase. I didn’t meant it to sound that way. I want to tell him.. I want to tell him everything it’s just that sometimes the way it comes out of my mouth isn’t the way it’s worded in my head.

So I call him and we make small talk for alittle bit and then I tell him that I’m going to be home late.

He asks why and I told him that I had a meeting after work. I actually don’t remember the way I phrased it but he said that he loves me and he worries about me and this is just going to make him worry more.

I tell him that it’s not physical.. it’s mental.. and that I need a tune up. And I went on to explain tht like his drinking, I have something that I need to control. He said he figured what it was about and that just remember how much he loves me.. if it helps any.

I hope it does.

WARNING: This is going to be a LONG post. I think it’s fair that I should let you know ahead of time in case you wanted an excuse to drink a whole pot of coffee.

“Satan’s Spawn” .. “Mindless Minion” .. “Simple Ass Mother Fucker” .. ”

Those are just SOME of the terms that describe my ex-husband. For the sake of time, we’ll just refer to him as THE JERK from here in.

I usually avoid even remotely thinking about the years that I was shackled to him but in all fairness, I truly believe that everything happens for a reason and while I may not be privy to God’s plan for me I know that He has one and my faith stops me from the TELL ME TELL ME TELLLLLL MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE mentality that would only drive me nuts.

I also firmly believe that I had to go through the bad in order to recognize the good.

I met my ex when I was 22 and looking back, there were enough red flags :: hell, NEON ARROWS! :: and signs that would make any semi-normal woman want to run far far away in the opposite direction.

Things like:

  • calling me at work and staying on the phone with me FOR MY WHOLE SHIFT :: I was managing a dry cleaners then and 2 days a week I worked a 12 hour shift alone ::
  • making sure I called him when I got to the super market
  • when I was leaving the super market. Driving me to work
  • picking me up from work
  • Not liking how my boss interacted with me :: I had a great boss and we had a really comfortable relationship ::.
  • making me feel guilty if I wanted to hang with friends. Especially because I had more guys friends then girl friends

Reading this now, I’m like ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS? but back then all I could thing about was


I really believe that I was “swooning” so much I must have hit my head somewhere because I still can’t believe all I went through.

The thing is .. outwardly I was a strong, take no shit kinda gal. Head strong, independent.. all the Cosmo terms. But the truth is, deep down I just wanted somebody to love me. Somebody to see my value.

There’s always a beginning to everything. Something big or sometimes small that puts us on a particular path. I didn’t have a “bad” childhood. Not like ones you hear about today. I mean, my parents were married until my father died. We had what we needed :: maybe not always what we WANTED :: food on the table, clothes on our backs, blah blah blah.

But the thing is .. there doesn’t have to be DRAMA to cause negative affects.

My brother was born after a series of miscarriages :: 9, I think :: and so my parents were literally over the moon when he was finally born. The other thing is that he was a very sickly baby.. prone to really high fevers and convulsions. He had “spinal-something-or-other” and they were told that if he lived past the age of 5 then he would definately be retarded.

NOTE: Apologies if anyone gets offended by the word “retarded” but get over it. It’s just a word and I’m just relaying the sentiments of 1961.

ANOTHER NOTE: My brother far surpassed anyone’s expectations. Not only did he live past 5 but he’s also very smart. No common sense, but very smart none the less.

Because of this, every little thing he did because cause for celebration. They gave him everything they wanted, bowed to every whim and exhaulted him at every level.

And look.. who’s to say that if I was in their situation I wouldn’t have done the same thing. It was what it was.

Then I came along. The Golden Child cast a big shadow and a very high bar. I always say that the reason why my parents had me was so that the Golden Child would have somebody to blame for the things he did.

I’m only half joking!

But growing up, I always felt that I was second best. Always felt like I was being cheated out of “something” because of my brother. Hell, I was born on my father’s birthday in June. My father who thought HIS birthday should be a national holiday so he got all the fuss and because my birthday is at the END of June there were no parties with my friends because school was out and most of them did the whole go-away vacation thing.

Looking back, I was always fighting. Fighting for attention, fighting to be heard, fighting to seen, fighting to be recognized, fighting for attention… fighting for approval..

Someone said to me years later that a parent will automatically try to protect their weakest child. Looking objectively, that’s exactly what my parents did because they knew that I’d be ok.

So now here comes my ex who wanted to be around me 24-7 .. who worried about me.. who wanted to protect me.. who loved me for who I was and I fell for it :: not necessarily him I think :: hook line and sinker.

My mother always says that when The Jerk was good.. he was very, very good but when he was bad? Watch out.

And through the 18 years that we were married, I suffered the Four Horseman of Abuse :: Mental, Physical, Emotional and Verbal :: there were fights in the beginning where I was so afraid that he would shoot me that I hit under the desk all night.. afraid to even reach for the phone to call for help.

There were times when the tirade was so bad that I would sneak out of the apartment, jump the fence and run home to my mother’s.

There were times of complete and utter selfishness and uncaring. Like the time I was released from the hopsital after a 10 days stay with Hepatitis B and he drove right to Radio Shack so that I could open a line of credit for a 2500.00 computer. This was.. um.. 1991, I believe. OR the time when he was trying to win a bid for a job and I was in the process of having a miscarriage :: I didn’t know I was pregnant :: and he continued to try and find the site of this job while I was doubled over in pain crying my eyes out. Of course, he blamed me for getting lost.

Everything that happened in HIS life, he blamed me for. He’s alot like the Crack Whore in that he believes that the world owes him something.

He never really worked but wanted the best of everything .. he banked on winning the big lottery and moving to the country.. the whole time, I worked. And worked. And cleaned. And worked. And catered to his every need, whim, idea.

When things didn’t go his way or there was some little infraction that he perceived that I did.. he became a monster.

The alcohol and pain pills he popped didn’t help matters… nor did the fact that I honestly and truly believe he is bi-polar. He would get violent.. evil.. say the most horrible things to me that knew would push my insecurity buttons. I’m not going to repeat the things he said to me because that would just give them more life and even now typing this I’m reliving the pain of those feelings.

So why did I stay?

Well.. that’s a deep one. I’m not one to play the victim card :: hate that :: but I believe that on some level, I understood him TOO much.. I knew his childhood was rotten. I knew that he didn’t understand what a “family” really meant.. knew that he was continuing the cycle of abuse that he witnessed as a child.

At one point, HE wanted a divorce. It happened when I reconnected with an old friend :: male :: that I knew from my teenage days. The beauty of the internet. At the time, I didn’t have a computer. I had something called WebTV :: ‘member them? :: and it just so happened that this guy popped up in a chat room I was in. We were never romatically involved.. I just got along better with guys growing up then girls. I was a major tomboy and didn’t get into all the catty-nasty-bitchiness that girls are into. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret but I did because I knew how he would react. He would automatically assume that I was having an affair.. even though this guy lived across the country. He happened to have been in a bad marriage also so we would commiserate over emails and in private chat.

Eventually, The Jerk found out. And began reading my emails. Again, there was nothing in there even REMOTELY sexual or subversive but that didn’t matter. The demons in his head told him otherwise. I didn’t know it then but he would follow me.. had tape recorders hidden in my car.. in my bedroom. Near every phone.

No matter what I said.. no matter what I did.. he believed what he believed and that meant it was the truth.

On top of that, he was in a rage because we were getting divorced .. a divorce HE wanted.

Because of financial reasons, we still lived under the same roof. We had just bought a house that neither of us could afford on our own and for reasons that can never be justified, I stayed under the delusion that we could be and act like adults.

Menatally, I was drowning.. suffocating. No one knew what went on in my house because I was embarassed. I had all this emotion.. all this pain inside of me that I needed to purge.

I couldn’t write in my journal because he would find them and ripped them up. I couldn’t :: or so I thought :: tell anyone and so I began to self-mutilate ( aka: “cutting”).

I’m not going to lie. It tempered my emotions the same way that I imagine drugs and alcohol do for people who need the numbness. My only addiction was a sharp pointy object that would bleed out the pain.

I hid it well. Nothing obvious or nothing that couldn’t be easily explained but when The Jerk found out, he used it against me in a major way.

I’ll never forget the date. November 8, 1998. It as a Saturday and unbelivably, we were getting along in the sense that there had been no long, drawn out fighting. But that happened. I mean, he was always on one side of the spectrum or the other.

Anyway.. a song came on the radio. Aerosmith’s “Don’t Want To Miss A Thing” and he went ape shit because in one of the tapes he had of me talking to my old friend, the video had come on VH1 and I commented on how much I loved it.

In his mind, he took that to me it was me and my friend’s “song”.

I don’t know what switch went off in my head. The term “enough is DAMN enough now” comes to mind. But it what was pivitol is that I started to fight back. Hard.

I matched him word for horrendous word and punch for punch. I hit him as hard as he hit me and pushed his psychological buttons the way he was pushing mine.

And then he got scared. He wasn’t controlling me anymore.. his words didn’t matter anymore.. I didn’t care what he thought of me… so he called the police and told them that I was the police code for a mentally unstable, suicidal person.

NOTE: The important thing to know about this is that he used the actual police code. His oldest brother returned from ‘Nam a mental head and so he had first hand knowledge of the local mental health system. Using the code apparently gave him more leverage of believability.

The cops showed up and asked what happened. I told them my side.. he told them that I was a cutter. At the time, there really wasn’t much known or publicized about cutting. It was automatically assumed that a cutter was suicidal when in fact, the opposite is true.

So they take me to the local crazy house and at this point, I don’t know what’s going on. The cop had said that based on the way HE was acting, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving us in the same house so why didn’t I just take a ride with her to the hospital to talk to someone and maybe set up some outpatient counseling for abused women or something.

I didn’t want to be around him either so I was like “… yea, sure, whatever.”

But when I got there.. and wouldn’t sign admission papers :: Look, I’m not that dumb. I have really good health insurance and because I am in the hosptial field knew that my insurance would pay actual dollars. So yea, I figured I was looking at a good 30 days! :: the floor manager told me that the cops were signing papers saying that I could potentially harm either me or someone else. I had no rights .. at all.

The first thing I thought of .. and it really should have stayed in my head because saying out loud probably didn’t do me any good .. was OH, HE’S SO GETTING HARMED FOR DOING THIS TO ME.

I stayed a week. I’m way over my word limit now so I won’t go into details in this post. Maybe another because really, when you’re the only sane person in a ward of insanity it’s really pretty funny.

Anyway.. to move this along. You would think that after going through all that, I would have never let him back in my life again. But I did. I did because he had already contacted my friends commander :: he was in the military :: told him SO many lies that not only did my friend lose a stripe but was in danger of losing his career. Him losing his career meant he couldn’t provide for his kids.

And like Rock Of Love’s Season 1’s Rodeo says, “.. it’s all about the kids”.

Don’t ask me why I referenced that. Just popped into my head.

Another part of me thinks it’s because I didn’t want to be failure .. because I believed all the negative things he said to me .. because my self esteem was so low that I didn’t think that anyone would love me.. or want to be with me. As much as I inherently knew that it was all bullshit.. that one little cell of self doubt over took common sense and believed him.

Another 8 years go by and by this time, the drinking has increased.. he’s a major alcoholic and chewing valium and percs like M&Ms. My infraction this time is that I had the AUDACITY to go to a major league baseball game with a woman I used to work with.. who brought along her son and nephew. I had been given the tickets which were third row seats on the first base line but because it was a day game it was hard finding people to go with. The Jerk HAAAAAAAAAAAAAATED all sports so he was out of the question. I knew this woman loved baseball so I called her.

Her nephew was in the Coast Guard and when asked if they could give me anything for the tickets, I said no. They pressed and I saw a Coast Guard baseball hat in the back seat of his car and asked him for that.

NOTE: I love baseball hats

When I got home that night and put the cap on my night table :: we slept in different bedrooms :: he basically stuck an electric cattle prod up my ass asking me all these questions and calling me a liar. Funny thing about it is that he KNOWS this woman also.. all he had to do is talk to her. But yknow… when dealing with a psychopath…. !!!

I mean, he even stole the had and brought it to the police station wanting DNA testing on it.

But I was the one in the psyche ward!

So basically, everything started all over again but multiplied by 10 and the night he was so blacked out drunk and held a sword to my throat is the day I walked out of my house.. took the dog and went to my mom’s.

His world crashed and he got desperate.. angry and dangerous. He harassed me. My mother. My 90+ year old GRANDMOTHER.

This time I held to my guns. I knew where it was going and I didn’t want to be a statistic. I had been beaten down SO much.. so so much .. that I had not place to go but up.. so what if I was alone.. so what if I’d never find the love I truly wanted. I was safe.. I had my dog.. my family..

The divorce was final that September and the last piece of business was selling the house.

THAT’s another million word post that involves a 77 day stint in jail for him… forgery charges being brought against me… and a house load of funiture loaded up on my mother’s 3X3 front pavement!

I promise I’ll get to it one day!!