I'm watching a movie called The Shunning on Netflix. It's about a girl raised in an Amish household and community who finds out that she was adopted.
As I watched this, I happened to be cutting pictures out of October's issue of Vogue and stumbled across an article about a couple who pursued domestic adoption. The woman writing it explained the very difficult path they had walked after finding out about their infertility and the choices they made, the profile they filled out which listed the races, ages and conditions they would accept... No drug or alcohol use, any races, newborns.... And, despite the fact that I knew this woman was so much like me, a mother at heart, someone who could not bear children, to all appearances at least reasonably stable and responsible financially, I found myself so angry at this woman.... So angry. It's not her fault she didn't spend time in the foster care system, it's not her fault she didn't grow up knowing anyone with Downs syndrome, or in a wheel chair.... These things aren't her fault, and, really, her life is better for the lack of those struggles. Yet, to a woman who's been there, but doesn't have the financial ability to pay for adoption, turning a child away.... even a child with Downs syndrome... a child who struggles to live is the strongest of children, and children with Downs... there are no happier people on this planet than those who live with this syndrome. The love of a child, taking a child home and knowing that this child will not face the wrath of foster homes, or the misery of abuse at the hands of their parents, what more can you really want? Your child will love you whether or not you struggle for money, whether or not you're bloated, tired, cranky,if you have zits or a perfect complexion, whether you're a dog person, a cat person or don't particularly care for animals at all.... They won't judge you for the things potential dates might judge you on, or employers--- well, at least not until they hit their teens.
I am looking forward to becoming a foster mother. I know too well that it will be challenging, but I also know that, no matter what challenges I face in this experience, the children who aren't wanted, aren't loved or simply can't be taken care of by their biological families are those who are most in need of a home, of love, and of anything else I can give them.
So, as I transition, all-too-slowly, out of the US Army, I know that this path is the right one for me. The path of loving children who, like I have, believe themselves to be unlovable, or who's families cannot care for them, or who have already survived the unsurvivable... that's where I will come in.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
On Rape And Predator Personalities
I've had several experiences over the last few days that really made my understanding of boundaries and predatory behavior explode into a new sort of real for me.
I had someone I'd already identified as a possible predator (your gut instinct and your close friends' opinions and/or instincts are incredibly important to trust!!!!) decide that, while I was alone, walking my service dog, he would whistle at me as he drove by. For those familiar with boundaries, and the pushing thereof, this might be a simple or obvious testing of boundaries with a passing acquaintance. For me, it was a slap in the face- a total wake up call. I refuse to take responsibility for someone else's actions, but I have learned one thing about predator's patterns: they will push any boundaries that aren't clearly enforced by the other person. I had not made my boundaries clear enough for him to respect them.
I stormed into the building, saw him standing near the entrance and, loudly, and without stopping to actually discuss anything or give him any play, I told him not to EVER whistle at me. The next day, he approached me, asking to talk. I told him we could talk right where I was standing, in front of several people I knew and trusted from group. That's when he apologized.
I don't doubt I was labeled a "bitch" that day.
To quote a picture I came across (and can't seem to track down now) the other day, bitch beats stupid m----- f----- every time.
A gentleman, for lack of other term, who I'd had to listen to my gut instinct scream "THIS IS WRONG!" about every single time we were in the same room- and we have never been alone, I promise you- admitted to, among other things, being a sexual abuser of children as a teenager the other day. I tell you, people, when my gut says something, I will listen every time.
Today, I ran across this article on recognizing a creepy dominant. It is written for the BDSM community, but, as I read it (it was linked in the survivor/anti-rape/pro-sexuality blog Yes Means Yes) it was blindingly obvious that, though these were rules set for that community, they applied to a much wider range of people.
The red flags listed in this article (and PLEASE feel free to read the original! I can't say enough good things about it!) are: He comes on too strong too fast, He's consentuality challenged, He has "connections" and is "experienced", He "essentializes" dominance and submission, He manipulates your desire to be a good bottom, and He's usually doing something wrong.
For non-BDSM purposes, the wording changes, but the overall concepts are, more surprising to me than I would have expected, very much the same.
While I'm using this other post as an outline, I want to remind everyone these are just my experiences, and my opinions may vary some. Also, males are not, by any means, the only exploiters or abusers out there, so please forgive gender pronouns, and take them as non-gender generalizations, not accusations.
He Comes On Too Strong: This is an easy one. The guy/gal that is your new best friend, is all about changing your entire life/perspective/experience, etc. from the very first moment you speak to them. They deserve-and demand- all of your attention, and expect you to swoon from their advances. They aren't always loud when they approach- sometimes divide and conquer is the most effective, and dangerous, tactic for these guys. To be honest, more often than not, you never see it coming. This guy used to be the nicest/coolest/funniest guy you ever met. One of the best bosses I ever worked for was sent to trial for raping- with use of drugs- thirteen young women that he knew from work.
He's Consenuality Challenged: Oh, he didn't mean anything by it, it was just a joke. He starts with things you or a friend can blow off, but it's something that is pushing a boundary that you have. He makes a sexist, racist or dirty joke, often indirectly at your expense, to see if you'll object. Playing it cool might seem like the "nice" thing to do, and it is- but he has to start somewhere. The longer you take to put your foot down- to look them in the face and say "that's not okay" and walk away, the longer it takes you to not be flexible or give someone who is testing boundaries that second or third or fourth chance, the farther he'll go. You know what you're okay with- no touching, no inappropriate jokes, no anything YOU aren't COMPLETELY comfortable with, end of story.
He Has Connections And Is Experienced: The guy who knows the owner/bouncer/bartender, etc at this great little bar/club/whatever. He's moving in, making you feel like you should be bragging about even having met him, because, hey, this guy knows everyone! That's not to say the connections are real or fake- that can vary, though, often, they seem to be falsified. This one is key to making you feel inadequate, less than the predator, like you don't deserve the attention you're getting- weak and insecure.
He Essentializes Dominance And Submission: This one, at first, doesn't sound like it applies to non-BDSM'ers. However, the behavior is very typical of this type of person. He knows it all, because he generalizes in order to label and manipulate. Good girlfriends/boyfriends/etc do this, and behave this way- you're clearly not one of those or you wouldn't be dressed like that. Generalized statements that belittle those who do not behave as she/he expects.
He Manipulates Your Desire To Be A Good Bottom: Another one that some might not see as being applicable, this one is VERY important to watch out for, no matter who you might be or what you might be into. Anyone who uses your wants or intentions against you, especially in terms of twisting previously stated/expressed boundaries, is a predator, in one sense of the word or another. Like a good salesman might use your interest in one vehicle to get you to "see" why you really "need" this one that's priced $5000 higher, this guy uses your interests, intentions, and any other "bait" you give him/her as a vice to twist your arm.
He's Usually Doing Something Wrong: I can't restate this one enough: TRUST YOUR GUT. Whether he's violating a clearly-expressed limit or giving you that pushy-guy vibe, don't hand over the digits, or give this guy just five more minutes so you don't seem rude. Manners and self-image are easily preyed upon in these scenarios, and, when you're no longer comfortable, you're no longer safe. If you trust your gut and get away from this guy, the worst that's going to happen is you find out he didn't rape anyone. Seriously, though, what if your gut is right?
Now, I'm not, by any means, saying that all men even have the potential to be rapists. I truly believe there's a number of them who could never bring themselves to even be involved with something that could appear unsafe- these are usually the guys who are "too nice" for the record. If you haven't kept up, I am married to White And Nerdy aka Mr Nice Guy. About the only time he doesn't seem quite so nice is when his passive-aggressive side comes out while he's driving. That aside, there are good guys out there. Ladies and gentleman, folks of every shape, size, gender and sexual identity known and unknown, the folks who are most likely to hurt you are the ones you already know. One article on Yes Means Yes says that the figure of stranger-rapes lingers at about 15%. The guy in the bushes is more likely to have lost his watch than be looking for someone to rape. The guy who calls you in the middle of the night, and shows up on your doorstep when he knows you're alone, even though you asked him not to, he's the guy you need to be keeping an eye on.
I hope this helps someone- anyone.
I was recently thanked by a barely-20 year old local girl who I'd given some advice to on a stalker issue she had with an ex. She'd been raped when she was younger, which caused conflict within her very close family, and she was scared to bring this new situation to her parents, though she lived under their roof. I explained to her that, by going to her parents BEFORE this boy was showing acts of violence, she would be showing them she could, in fact, be trusted to handle herself, and, if that failed, play the daddy's little girl card.
A restraining order has been filed, her parents are aware of the situation, and they aren't upset with her for "getting herself into" this situation. I helped someone avoid the situation I found myself in. What more can you really want out of life?
I had someone I'd already identified as a possible predator (your gut instinct and your close friends' opinions and/or instincts are incredibly important to trust!!!!) decide that, while I was alone, walking my service dog, he would whistle at me as he drove by. For those familiar with boundaries, and the pushing thereof, this might be a simple or obvious testing of boundaries with a passing acquaintance. For me, it was a slap in the face- a total wake up call. I refuse to take responsibility for someone else's actions, but I have learned one thing about predator's patterns: they will push any boundaries that aren't clearly enforced by the other person. I had not made my boundaries clear enough for him to respect them.
I stormed into the building, saw him standing near the entrance and, loudly, and without stopping to actually discuss anything or give him any play, I told him not to EVER whistle at me. The next day, he approached me, asking to talk. I told him we could talk right where I was standing, in front of several people I knew and trusted from group. That's when he apologized.
I don't doubt I was labeled a "bitch" that day.
To quote a picture I came across (and can't seem to track down now) the other day, bitch beats stupid m----- f----- every time.
A gentleman, for lack of other term, who I'd had to listen to my gut instinct scream "THIS IS WRONG!" about every single time we were in the same room- and we have never been alone, I promise you- admitted to, among other things, being a sexual abuser of children as a teenager the other day. I tell you, people, when my gut says something, I will listen every time.
Today, I ran across this article on recognizing a creepy dominant. It is written for the BDSM community, but, as I read it (it was linked in the survivor/anti-rape/pro-sexuality blog Yes Means Yes) it was blindingly obvious that, though these were rules set for that community, they applied to a much wider range of people.
The red flags listed in this article (and PLEASE feel free to read the original! I can't say enough good things about it!) are: He comes on too strong too fast, He's consentuality challenged, He has "connections" and is "experienced", He "essentializes" dominance and submission, He manipulates your desire to be a good bottom, and He's usually doing something wrong.
For non-BDSM purposes, the wording changes, but the overall concepts are, more surprising to me than I would have expected, very much the same.
While I'm using this other post as an outline, I want to remind everyone these are just my experiences, and my opinions may vary some. Also, males are not, by any means, the only exploiters or abusers out there, so please forgive gender pronouns, and take them as non-gender generalizations, not accusations.
He Comes On Too Strong: This is an easy one. The guy/gal that is your new best friend, is all about changing your entire life/perspective/experience, etc. from the very first moment you speak to them. They deserve-and demand- all of your attention, and expect you to swoon from their advances. They aren't always loud when they approach- sometimes divide and conquer is the most effective, and dangerous, tactic for these guys. To be honest, more often than not, you never see it coming. This guy used to be the nicest/coolest/funniest guy you ever met. One of the best bosses I ever worked for was sent to trial for raping- with use of drugs- thirteen young women that he knew from work.
He's Consenuality Challenged: Oh, he didn't mean anything by it, it was just a joke. He starts with things you or a friend can blow off, but it's something that is pushing a boundary that you have. He makes a sexist, racist or dirty joke, often indirectly at your expense, to see if you'll object. Playing it cool might seem like the "nice" thing to do, and it is- but he has to start somewhere. The longer you take to put your foot down- to look them in the face and say "that's not okay" and walk away, the longer it takes you to not be flexible or give someone who is testing boundaries that second or third or fourth chance, the farther he'll go. You know what you're okay with- no touching, no inappropriate jokes, no anything YOU aren't COMPLETELY comfortable with, end of story.
He Has Connections And Is Experienced: The guy who knows the owner/bouncer/bartender, etc at this great little bar/club/whatever. He's moving in, making you feel like you should be bragging about even having met him, because, hey, this guy knows everyone! That's not to say the connections are real or fake- that can vary, though, often, they seem to be falsified. This one is key to making you feel inadequate, less than the predator, like you don't deserve the attention you're getting- weak and insecure.
He Essentializes Dominance And Submission: This one, at first, doesn't sound like it applies to non-BDSM'ers. However, the behavior is very typical of this type of person. He knows it all, because he generalizes in order to label and manipulate. Good girlfriends/boyfriends/etc do this, and behave this way- you're clearly not one of those or you wouldn't be dressed like that. Generalized statements that belittle those who do not behave as she/he expects.
He Manipulates Your Desire To Be A Good Bottom: Another one that some might not see as being applicable, this one is VERY important to watch out for, no matter who you might be or what you might be into. Anyone who uses your wants or intentions against you, especially in terms of twisting previously stated/expressed boundaries, is a predator, in one sense of the word or another. Like a good salesman might use your interest in one vehicle to get you to "see" why you really "need" this one that's priced $5000 higher, this guy uses your interests, intentions, and any other "bait" you give him/her as a vice to twist your arm.
He's Usually Doing Something Wrong: I can't restate this one enough: TRUST YOUR GUT. Whether he's violating a clearly-expressed limit or giving you that pushy-guy vibe, don't hand over the digits, or give this guy just five more minutes so you don't seem rude. Manners and self-image are easily preyed upon in these scenarios, and, when you're no longer comfortable, you're no longer safe. If you trust your gut and get away from this guy, the worst that's going to happen is you find out he didn't rape anyone. Seriously, though, what if your gut is right?
Now, I'm not, by any means, saying that all men even have the potential to be rapists. I truly believe there's a number of them who could never bring themselves to even be involved with something that could appear unsafe- these are usually the guys who are "too nice" for the record. If you haven't kept up, I am married to White And Nerdy aka Mr Nice Guy. About the only time he doesn't seem quite so nice is when his passive-aggressive side comes out while he's driving. That aside, there are good guys out there. Ladies and gentleman, folks of every shape, size, gender and sexual identity known and unknown, the folks who are most likely to hurt you are the ones you already know. One article on Yes Means Yes says that the figure of stranger-rapes lingers at about 15%. The guy in the bushes is more likely to have lost his watch than be looking for someone to rape. The guy who calls you in the middle of the night, and shows up on your doorstep when he knows you're alone, even though you asked him not to, he's the guy you need to be keeping an eye on.
I hope this helps someone- anyone.
I was recently thanked by a barely-20 year old local girl who I'd given some advice to on a stalker issue she had with an ex. She'd been raped when she was younger, which caused conflict within her very close family, and she was scared to bring this new situation to her parents, though she lived under their roof. I explained to her that, by going to her parents BEFORE this boy was showing acts of violence, she would be showing them she could, in fact, be trusted to handle herself, and, if that failed, play the daddy's little girl card.
A restraining order has been filed, her parents are aware of the situation, and they aren't upset with her for "getting herself into" this situation. I helped someone avoid the situation I found myself in. What more can you really want out of life?
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Decision
I have made a decision.
I don't want to have biological children.
I'm sure it helps that it's not as easy for me as it is for most, and that my (sorry-excuse-for-a) mother convinced me to tie my tubes at eighteen years old, so I couldn't pass on my "issues" to any biological children. However, something inside me is shifting, fast and hard, and I'm barely managing to keep up with it all.
First, I think I'm finally accepting the idea of life with Post-Traumatic Stress and some BPD symptoms. Despite these issues, and maybe in some ways because of them- and the fact that neither are considered uniformly genetic- I am coming to terms with the fact that my past frigging SUCKS. My mother, another child, two different adult men and a 13 year old boy changed the path of my life, and took away a lot of happiness for me- but where they tried to leave a void, something else has begun to grow. It's big, it's tough and it's real scary, but I think it's a future.
I don't want to spend another minute obsessing over in-vitro fertilization or birth plans. I have spent so much energy hating that I wouldn't just find out that I was pregnant some day, when, all that time, the woman that looked back at me in the mirror was a child born of that situation. I was, if you ask my mother, an "oops" baby, although she said that about my younger sister at one point then changed her mind. I was a baby born to two married parents who had been together for over a decade. A DECADE!! That's unheard of these days! Two years later, they divorced, and it got worse from there. Why, why WHY HAVE I BEEN SO STUCK on having a child the same way my mother did? Giving birth does not make a mother, let alone a fit one! It's so cliche to say that there are so many kids out there who are unwanted and why not give one a home.... but, dude, I was one of them!!! My mother put me in foster care at one point, and that was the least abuse I underwent!
Why should I do it her way? Why should I work so hard to undo what my mother imposed on me, when I could keep someone else out of that situation? The two biggest positive influences on my childhood were my stepdad, who never had biological children, but was quick to take care of my sister and I as his own, and my babysitter, Grandma Vera, who was- you got it- a foster mother. She adopted two of her foster children- at least two. The two people who made it possible for me to be as happy as I was when I was little were people who took care of OTHER people's children.
How did I miss this all this time?!
I was talking to my friend C who's teenage sister is pregnant with an unwanted child right now in another state, and I started talking to my husband, and considering the possibility of interracial, open adoption. Then I stumbled across a blog post titled Teenage Boys Aren't Meant To Live At Home and, at about the point the author says that everyone, if they're honest, wishes they could have the easier life of a biological child, it hit me: I don't do anything the easy way, and that's what I've been trying to do here- and, go figure, it hasn't worked. Yes, it WOULD be easier (and probably cheaper) to go through in-vitro, and have "our own" child, but a child who has never known abandonment, who has never known contempt and abuse and who only knows unconditional love.... Can I handle that? Unconditional love is a foreign language to me in so many ways. I still demand my husband explain why he loves me and why he stays with me some days. What about having a child "naturally" would be right in this situation? When all I've known is abuse, when all I can relate to is fear, would I really do more good than harm for a son or daughter who didn't know that life?
I work best under pressure- and I think I've finally found the challenge I've been craving my entire life- loving an unloved, unwanted child. What took me so long?
I don't want to have biological children.
I'm sure it helps that it's not as easy for me as it is for most, and that my (sorry-excuse-for-a) mother convinced me to tie my tubes at eighteen years old, so I couldn't pass on my "issues" to any biological children. However, something inside me is shifting, fast and hard, and I'm barely managing to keep up with it all.
First, I think I'm finally accepting the idea of life with Post-Traumatic Stress and some BPD symptoms. Despite these issues, and maybe in some ways because of them- and the fact that neither are considered uniformly genetic- I am coming to terms with the fact that my past frigging SUCKS. My mother, another child, two different adult men and a 13 year old boy changed the path of my life, and took away a lot of happiness for me- but where they tried to leave a void, something else has begun to grow. It's big, it's tough and it's real scary, but I think it's a future.
I don't want to spend another minute obsessing over in-vitro fertilization or birth plans. I have spent so much energy hating that I wouldn't just find out that I was pregnant some day, when, all that time, the woman that looked back at me in the mirror was a child born of that situation. I was, if you ask my mother, an "oops" baby, although she said that about my younger sister at one point then changed her mind. I was a baby born to two married parents who had been together for over a decade. A DECADE!! That's unheard of these days! Two years later, they divorced, and it got worse from there. Why, why WHY HAVE I BEEN SO STUCK on having a child the same way my mother did? Giving birth does not make a mother, let alone a fit one! It's so cliche to say that there are so many kids out there who are unwanted and why not give one a home.... but, dude, I was one of them!!! My mother put me in foster care at one point, and that was the least abuse I underwent!
Why should I do it her way? Why should I work so hard to undo what my mother imposed on me, when I could keep someone else out of that situation? The two biggest positive influences on my childhood were my stepdad, who never had biological children, but was quick to take care of my sister and I as his own, and my babysitter, Grandma Vera, who was- you got it- a foster mother. She adopted two of her foster children- at least two. The two people who made it possible for me to be as happy as I was when I was little were people who took care of OTHER people's children.
How did I miss this all this time?!
I was talking to my friend C who's teenage sister is pregnant with an unwanted child right now in another state, and I started talking to my husband, and considering the possibility of interracial, open adoption. Then I stumbled across a blog post titled Teenage Boys Aren't Meant To Live At Home and, at about the point the author says that everyone, if they're honest, wishes they could have the easier life of a biological child, it hit me: I don't do anything the easy way, and that's what I've been trying to do here- and, go figure, it hasn't worked. Yes, it WOULD be easier (and probably cheaper) to go through in-vitro, and have "our own" child, but a child who has never known abandonment, who has never known contempt and abuse and who only knows unconditional love.... Can I handle that? Unconditional love is a foreign language to me in so many ways. I still demand my husband explain why he loves me and why he stays with me some days. What about having a child "naturally" would be right in this situation? When all I've known is abuse, when all I can relate to is fear, would I really do more good than harm for a son or daughter who didn't know that life?
I work best under pressure- and I think I've finally found the challenge I've been craving my entire life- loving an unloved, unwanted child. What took me so long?
God And Community
We went to the Unitarian Universalist service this morning, and it felt like home- so much so that I filled out a membership card. Of course, I didn't remember that we have a unit marriage retreat with hubby's unit this next weekend, so we'll miss a week, but I intend to continue going, every weekend I'm able- with or without friends or my husband there.
It made me realize that I need a community, and one I'm honest with. My husband and Buffalo Boy are the only ones who know the full story of what happened on Friday. I'm ashamed of what I did, but it has changed my life and opened my eyes in a way that scares me, but also gives me hope.
I need to pray again, daily, I need to start attending church every week, I need to pull those people I trust in closer- which means asking for help. You cannot be part of a community without equal give and take, as well as communication, which means I need to start speaking up because I am not only depriving myself of that sense of community, but others, as I refuse to allow others to help me when I need them most.
I'm scared, and I'm worried, but the only way out is up, and it's time to start climbing.
It made me realize that I need a community, and one I'm honest with. My husband and Buffalo Boy are the only ones who know the full story of what happened on Friday. I'm ashamed of what I did, but it has changed my life and opened my eyes in a way that scares me, but also gives me hope.
I need to pray again, daily, I need to start attending church every week, I need to pull those people I trust in closer- which means asking for help. You cannot be part of a community without equal give and take, as well as communication, which means I need to start speaking up because I am not only depriving myself of that sense of community, but others, as I refuse to allow others to help me when I need them most.
I'm scared, and I'm worried, but the only way out is up, and it's time to start climbing.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Major Small Victories
Yesterday was a definite life-altering event.
Today, hubby and I did a lot- and almost all of it public. We got up early and went to the mall, where I got a pedicure and my hair touched-up, the latter of which almost ended with me freaking out... almost. I get why having my back turned to anyone freaks me out, but I can't comprehend how every other person on the PLANET seems to WANT their back to EVERYONE. My wonderful service dog even started getting upset at one point. The stylist had me sit at the back of the salon, while she had several other clients, right next to several people I didn't know, while multiple people walked back and forth in front of me. I had left Sugar with the husband, thinking it would be quick and easy- he had to bring her over to me, for which I got a great deal of dirty looks from said stylist.
Anyway, we went to see Buffalo Boy briefly after that, then lunch- at a restaurant. And then my husband took me to two different stores, and bought me a new pair of cowboy boots, a new straw hat, and a really cute necklace-earring angel wing combo.
I haven't been out in public nearly this much in.... I don't know- a really long time.
Granted, it's Saint Patrick's Day, and everything was relatively quiet (due to pre-gaming, I assume) but I did it- and without meds. I'm really, really happy. It wasn't as easy as I wish it had been, but I'm so thrilled I managed it all.
I may never be happy in the same way as I used to be, but I'm getting better, even if it's never the same... and it won't be.
Today, hubby and I did a lot- and almost all of it public. We got up early and went to the mall, where I got a pedicure and my hair touched-up, the latter of which almost ended with me freaking out... almost. I get why having my back turned to anyone freaks me out, but I can't comprehend how every other person on the PLANET seems to WANT their back to EVERYONE. My wonderful service dog even started getting upset at one point. The stylist had me sit at the back of the salon, while she had several other clients, right next to several people I didn't know, while multiple people walked back and forth in front of me. I had left Sugar with the husband, thinking it would be quick and easy- he had to bring her over to me, for which I got a great deal of dirty looks from said stylist.
Anyway, we went to see Buffalo Boy briefly after that, then lunch- at a restaurant. And then my husband took me to two different stores, and bought me a new pair of cowboy boots, a new straw hat, and a really cute necklace-earring angel wing combo.
I haven't been out in public nearly this much in.... I don't know- a really long time.
Granted, it's Saint Patrick's Day, and everything was relatively quiet (due to pre-gaming, I assume) but I did it- and without meds. I'm really, really happy. It wasn't as easy as I wish it had been, but I'm so thrilled I managed it all.
I may never be happy in the same way as I used to be, but I'm getting better, even if it's never the same... and it won't be.
Happy
Have you ever noticed how people only say that they are "happy to be alive" shortly after something nearly fatal has happened to them?
Well, friends, I'm not sure how much I'm willing to detail my stupidity on the world wide web, but I can tell you that, this morning, I am happy to be alive.
I had a serious wake-up call yesterday, in the form of a line of a song I've listened to a million times. I never caught or noticed the one line in this particular song before. I'll never know how I managed that, but, yesterday, it stopped me in my tracks, made me realize that what I was doing was wrong in a very big sort of way, and made me work very hard to attempt to correct my blunder. Naturally, my husband popped up at exactly the moment that would force me to explain to him what I'd done, and I did.
You know what the crazy part is? He still loves me anyway.
I don't know exactly how I'm going to move forward from here. The only thing I'm sure of is that I need to fix things, and I need to work harder than I've thought I was able, and I need to change a whole lot more than I believed I did before yesterday afternoon.
White And Nerdy and I talked some yesterday, and we think that our best long-term plan is to put off having our own biological children- maybe permanently, but we will revisit that when my health is more stable. We are going to look into becoming foster parents when we move to Tucson. I am going to go to school to be a mechanic, and my husband will go to school to become an engineer- which branch of engineering, he has yet to completely decide. Being a mechanic will give me a number of opportunities and possibilities I may not otherwise find all within one career/skill set. It will allow me to do one of the few things that's held my interest for any period of time, despite what some might consider a lack of natural ability, it will put me in the only career field in the United States in which women are nearly guaranteed to make more money than men (true story!) and it will allow me a great deal of flexibility in my work, as it's something that, under the right conditions, I can do from home or on almost any street in town. It will give me an outlet for my tomboy behavior and attitude without restricting my options as much as the military life has done.
So far as foster care goes, I believe becoming a foster mother will give me more of an opportunity to impact the future than having a child naturally- or as naturally as I'm physically capable, I suppose. I was put into foster care at one point in my childhood- for how long, exactly, I'm not sure- and I know the fear and horror that so many of those children feel. I know what abuse is, personally, on many levels. I understand the "lost boys" mentality of children who have grown up without adults they can really trust. I know full well that being a foster mother is going to be the hardest thing I ever do in my life, but I also know that, if I make a difference to one of those children, I've saved a life and changed the world for the better. We will have a three-bedroom house. It's really not that hard to make one of those a room for one foster child at a time or a set of siblings trying to stay together. I know that being a foster mother means I will have to, at some points, give up a child that I have started to love as my own. The fact is, maternal instinct is something I have almost too much of. I believe in my heart that I can do this, and that I can help children who's own families are, for whatever reason, incapable of caring for them. I expect I'll end up adopting one of my foster children eventually, and maybe that's what I'm meant to do. Maybe that's all I'm meant to do, so far as parenting goes. There's been more than one child I've loved as my own, despite my lack of children, already. I cared for two little girls for many years, Raven and Haley, who I still love dearly, but have no way of contacting. There is a precious little girl named Reyna who I hope someday is able to forgive me for and understand why I wasn't able to stay in her life in the role I wanted. She is a special, beautiful little girl, who is so smart and so loved and I really hope she grows up to understand that. I also hope she grows up to understand that what other people say to us, teach us, and do to or around us doesn't define who we are in the long run- that we are the only ones in charge of ourselves, and that we make the choices to throw out the bad and keep the good from anyone and everyone we come in contact with, even the women who gave birth to us. I wish I knew how to stay a part of her life without feeling like I was hurting her by being unable to see her, but I understand the pain that comes with separation, and reminders of someone's existence without their presence can make that pain so much worse.
Then there was Pyper, who I know will never read this or hear about it, but whom my heart still aches for. I knew her less than a month, but she told me she loved me the first day she met me, and, Lord knows, I felt the same then and I still do. I hope she's able to break the cycle her parents have created, and become the person I know she can be.
I think that's more than enough emotion for 4:30 in the morning.
Have a good day, everybody, and, please, be happy to be alive today- because, without a doubt, you are meant to be here if you are, so it must beat the alternative. I'm glad you're on this earth with me, no matter who else isn't.
Well, friends, I'm not sure how much I'm willing to detail my stupidity on the world wide web, but I can tell you that, this morning, I am happy to be alive.
I had a serious wake-up call yesterday, in the form of a line of a song I've listened to a million times. I never caught or noticed the one line in this particular song before. I'll never know how I managed that, but, yesterday, it stopped me in my tracks, made me realize that what I was doing was wrong in a very big sort of way, and made me work very hard to attempt to correct my blunder. Naturally, my husband popped up at exactly the moment that would force me to explain to him what I'd done, and I did.
You know what the crazy part is? He still loves me anyway.
I don't know exactly how I'm going to move forward from here. The only thing I'm sure of is that I need to fix things, and I need to work harder than I've thought I was able, and I need to change a whole lot more than I believed I did before yesterday afternoon.
White And Nerdy and I talked some yesterday, and we think that our best long-term plan is to put off having our own biological children- maybe permanently, but we will revisit that when my health is more stable. We are going to look into becoming foster parents when we move to Tucson. I am going to go to school to be a mechanic, and my husband will go to school to become an engineer- which branch of engineering, he has yet to completely decide. Being a mechanic will give me a number of opportunities and possibilities I may not otherwise find all within one career/skill set. It will allow me to do one of the few things that's held my interest for any period of time, despite what some might consider a lack of natural ability, it will put me in the only career field in the United States in which women are nearly guaranteed to make more money than men (true story!) and it will allow me a great deal of flexibility in my work, as it's something that, under the right conditions, I can do from home or on almost any street in town. It will give me an outlet for my tomboy behavior and attitude without restricting my options as much as the military life has done.
So far as foster care goes, I believe becoming a foster mother will give me more of an opportunity to impact the future than having a child naturally- or as naturally as I'm physically capable, I suppose. I was put into foster care at one point in my childhood- for how long, exactly, I'm not sure- and I know the fear and horror that so many of those children feel. I know what abuse is, personally, on many levels. I understand the "lost boys" mentality of children who have grown up without adults they can really trust. I know full well that being a foster mother is going to be the hardest thing I ever do in my life, but I also know that, if I make a difference to one of those children, I've saved a life and changed the world for the better. We will have a three-bedroom house. It's really not that hard to make one of those a room for one foster child at a time or a set of siblings trying to stay together. I know that being a foster mother means I will have to, at some points, give up a child that I have started to love as my own. The fact is, maternal instinct is something I have almost too much of. I believe in my heart that I can do this, and that I can help children who's own families are, for whatever reason, incapable of caring for them. I expect I'll end up adopting one of my foster children eventually, and maybe that's what I'm meant to do. Maybe that's all I'm meant to do, so far as parenting goes. There's been more than one child I've loved as my own, despite my lack of children, already. I cared for two little girls for many years, Raven and Haley, who I still love dearly, but have no way of contacting. There is a precious little girl named Reyna who I hope someday is able to forgive me for and understand why I wasn't able to stay in her life in the role I wanted. She is a special, beautiful little girl, who is so smart and so loved and I really hope she grows up to understand that. I also hope she grows up to understand that what other people say to us, teach us, and do to or around us doesn't define who we are in the long run- that we are the only ones in charge of ourselves, and that we make the choices to throw out the bad and keep the good from anyone and everyone we come in contact with, even the women who gave birth to us. I wish I knew how to stay a part of her life without feeling like I was hurting her by being unable to see her, but I understand the pain that comes with separation, and reminders of someone's existence without their presence can make that pain so much worse.
Then there was Pyper, who I know will never read this or hear about it, but whom my heart still aches for. I knew her less than a month, but she told me she loved me the first day she met me, and, Lord knows, I felt the same then and I still do. I hope she's able to break the cycle her parents have created, and become the person I know she can be.
I think that's more than enough emotion for 4:30 in the morning.
Have a good day, everybody, and, please, be happy to be alive today- because, without a doubt, you are meant to be here if you are, so it must beat the alternative. I'm glad you're on this earth with me, no matter who else isn't.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
When I Say Husband...
When I say "husband", I mean best friend.
When I complain about him not doing the dishes, it's because I love him enough that I spent an hour or two cooking him a homemade dinner myself, rather than just throwing something in the microwave or ordering in.
When I get irritated because he left the top off the Aquafor AGAIN, it's because I know that, even if his tattoo is peeling, he can rattle off statistics and facts about what that kind of singing where they change their pitch repeatedly is called (he told me last night, I don't remember), he can do serious math in his head in five seconds flat and explain things like calculus and trigonometry.
When I talk about my husband, I'm talking about the man who can stop everything, no matter how I've treated him, no matter what mood I've been in or what I've promised him, and hold me through the time-traveling, talking to me and reminding me to stay with him. I'm talking about the man who teases me at dinner because he caught the waiter checking me out, and start playing Ms Tattoo Girl every time I get embarrassed because I know I stand out and people are looking at me.
When I talk about my husband, I'm talking about the man who has taught me that unconditional love isn't some theory or myth, or something that only God and some animals are capable of. This is the man who has seen me so angry I've thrown things, hit things and people, he's seen me cry, he's seen me at my absolute worst, and this man still puts his arms around me every single day and tells me I'm beautiful and that he loves me. He's seen me lose control of my emotions in really embarrassing situations and he still tells me he's never giving up on me or leaving me.
This is my second marriage. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I've hurt a lot of people. I don't understand why God or my husband believe I'm worth this kind of love, but I know that I've met the man that I want to argue over baby names with, and the man I want to yell at for letting the kids eat junk food and the man I want to drag out onto the dance floor on our 50th wedding anniversary.
There are men in this world who get what I've been through and/or who I am better than my husband, that's the truth. There is nobody else, though, that will be open to both me getting a Nightster (you know, when I win a few million bucks in the lottery) AND vegan meals, or who is totally okay with me putting up Buddhist statues (yes, I own that one) in our living room, listening to Kick It In The Sticks on repeat for days (okay, he's not really a huge fan of that repeat thing) and for not threatening to kill me for talking about dressing our dog up in costumes.
I love my husband with all my heart. I'm not perfect, I'll never claim to be, but I am so grateful for this man.
When I complain about him not doing the dishes, it's because I love him enough that I spent an hour or two cooking him a homemade dinner myself, rather than just throwing something in the microwave or ordering in.
When I get irritated because he left the top off the Aquafor AGAIN, it's because I know that, even if his tattoo is peeling, he can rattle off statistics and facts about what that kind of singing where they change their pitch repeatedly is called (he told me last night, I don't remember), he can do serious math in his head in five seconds flat and explain things like calculus and trigonometry.
When I talk about my husband, I'm talking about the man who can stop everything, no matter how I've treated him, no matter what mood I've been in or what I've promised him, and hold me through the time-traveling, talking to me and reminding me to stay with him. I'm talking about the man who teases me at dinner because he caught the waiter checking me out, and start playing Ms Tattoo Girl every time I get embarrassed because I know I stand out and people are looking at me.
When I talk about my husband, I'm talking about the man who has taught me that unconditional love isn't some theory or myth, or something that only God and some animals are capable of. This is the man who has seen me so angry I've thrown things, hit things and people, he's seen me cry, he's seen me at my absolute worst, and this man still puts his arms around me every single day and tells me I'm beautiful and that he loves me. He's seen me lose control of my emotions in really embarrassing situations and he still tells me he's never giving up on me or leaving me.
This is my second marriage. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I've hurt a lot of people. I don't understand why God or my husband believe I'm worth this kind of love, but I know that I've met the man that I want to argue over baby names with, and the man I want to yell at for letting the kids eat junk food and the man I want to drag out onto the dance floor on our 50th wedding anniversary.
There are men in this world who get what I've been through and/or who I am better than my husband, that's the truth. There is nobody else, though, that will be open to both me getting a Nightster (you know, when I win a few million bucks in the lottery) AND vegan meals, or who is totally okay with me putting up Buddhist statues (yes, I own that one) in our living room, listening to Kick It In The Sticks on repeat for days (okay, he's not really a huge fan of that repeat thing) and for not threatening to kill me for talking about dressing our dog up in costumes.
I love my husband with all my heart. I'm not perfect, I'll never claim to be, but I am so grateful for this man.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Guide
I listened to a guided meditation podcast the other night, and, though it was very vague and open ended, I was still both very happy and surprised to see where it led me.
The podcast discussed going down somewhere dark- a hole in the ground or a tree trunk, stairs, etc., and seeing a light in front of you, leading to "your sacred place". Once you got there, you found a box with a present for you inside.
This is how mine went:
I'm walking down a hill in Lincoln Park in Tucson, walking toward the forest. The sun is setting behind me, fast and beautiful. The sky is on fire with many colors, even as they slip farther and farther from the opposite horizon. I continue walking down the hill, and slip between trees to find a barely-there path that I know very, very well. Just as the last of the sunlight begins to fade from sight, I see light from a bonfire up ahead.
I am close- I can hear the drums and singing now. As I move still closer, I begin to recognize voices and identify guitars, tambourines and the bells some of the dancers like to wear. I hear hands clapping and feet stomping in time with the music. I'm almost there!
I step out of the trees and into the clearing. I get many nods and smiles of acknowledgment and recognition, but the music continues. I find a box in my usual seat on a boulder- it is a carved, unpainted wooden box with the zia sun symbol on it's lid. Opening it up, I realize the music has paused, as my friends watch me open my gift. It is a pair of beautiful silver earrings, with large silver spirals hanging from french-style hooks. Spirals are considered to be a symbol of life and of the sun, and I understand immediately the message both the box and the earrings are meant to send: This too shall pass, it is neither the beginning nor the end. This is their gift to me, the gift of friendship, love, and a constant reminder that I will never be alone in my trials, nor forgotten in my triumphs.
This place, with it's drums, music, dancing and friends, this is my sacred place. This is my heart.
The podcast discussed going down somewhere dark- a hole in the ground or a tree trunk, stairs, etc., and seeing a light in front of you, leading to "your sacred place". Once you got there, you found a box with a present for you inside.
This is how mine went:
I'm walking down a hill in Lincoln Park in Tucson, walking toward the forest. The sun is setting behind me, fast and beautiful. The sky is on fire with many colors, even as they slip farther and farther from the opposite horizon. I continue walking down the hill, and slip between trees to find a barely-there path that I know very, very well. Just as the last of the sunlight begins to fade from sight, I see light from a bonfire up ahead.
I am close- I can hear the drums and singing now. As I move still closer, I begin to recognize voices and identify guitars, tambourines and the bells some of the dancers like to wear. I hear hands clapping and feet stomping in time with the music. I'm almost there!
I step out of the trees and into the clearing. I get many nods and smiles of acknowledgment and recognition, but the music continues. I find a box in my usual seat on a boulder- it is a carved, unpainted wooden box with the zia sun symbol on it's lid. Opening it up, I realize the music has paused, as my friends watch me open my gift. It is a pair of beautiful silver earrings, with large silver spirals hanging from french-style hooks. Spirals are considered to be a symbol of life and of the sun, and I understand immediately the message both the box and the earrings are meant to send: This too shall pass, it is neither the beginning nor the end. This is their gift to me, the gift of friendship, love, and a constant reminder that I will never be alone in my trials, nor forgotten in my triumphs.
This place, with it's drums, music, dancing and friends, this is my sacred place. This is my heart.
Monday, February 13, 2012
The Empty Mirror
I am being medically discharged from the US Army.
I am incapable of conceiving children without paying a middle-class fortune ($4,000-$20,000 per cycle depending on the timing and what the doctors decide) to some doctor with medications and big needles.
I am no longer the Soldier I was, let alone ever having become the Soldier I hoped to become.
I am not the mother I wanted to be, and there is no light at the end of that tunnel, either.
What is left of me?
I'm not a soldier.
I'm not a mother.
Most days, I'm not even much of a wife.
I am a walking void.
Men traditionally hold down the jobs: I was proud to be able to support myself and not need anyone else.
I've lost that.
Women traditionally bear children, raise them, and keep house. I'm not capable of any of the above- I can't even manage grocery shopping.
There
Is
Nothing
Left
I am incapable of conceiving children without paying a middle-class fortune ($4,000-$20,000 per cycle depending on the timing and what the doctors decide) to some doctor with medications and big needles.
I am no longer the Soldier I was, let alone ever having become the Soldier I hoped to become.
I am not the mother I wanted to be, and there is no light at the end of that tunnel, either.
What is left of me?
I'm not a soldier.
I'm not a mother.
Most days, I'm not even much of a wife.
I am a walking void.
Men traditionally hold down the jobs: I was proud to be able to support myself and not need anyone else.
I've lost that.
Women traditionally bear children, raise them, and keep house. I'm not capable of any of the above- I can't even manage grocery shopping.
There
Is
Nothing
Left
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Recovery?
Being in outpatient therapy is scary.
Scary.
I said it.
It drudges up so much, and makes you look at every. single. emotion.
It's like everything you've felt is suddenly under a microscope and you can't avoid looking at every detail of it now.
Today, our group moved through three different rooms. I was surprised when I realized it was stirring up anxiety in me. I was shocked when I found out I wasn't the only one.
Anxiety.
So much anxiety.
Soooo much anxiety.
Sunday night, my roommate came home very drunk and very angry.
He started yelling at me about my dog, and just kept yelling. I started to black out, and left the room. I spent three hours in an anxiety attack. Three hours. Three HOURS!!!
So, the boyfriend and I are moving out of the house and back into the barracks, and taking our dog to his dad's house.
I hate the thought of not being able to live with him, but I know it's the right choice right now.
That night brought up so much for me, and made me understand so much more about myself. Once I started to come down from the anxiety a little bit, I started talking to my boyfriend about how much I hate it when my home is taken away from me, and how it's always happened. I never had a home I felt really safe in, and even the better ones were taken from me, one way or another. I've never really had a true home. As he and I talked about that, I realized this was also the reason I was so eager to get married. I wanted a home. I wanted a place I felt safe and that wouldn't get taken away from me. I told him that, and he promised me we would have it.
I love this man. He stayed by my side the entire time I was going through that anxiety attack. He did everything he knew how to comfort me, but never once questioned my emotions or my reaction to it all. My dad thinks he's a saint. He said that.
I keep thinking about my fiance- the one that died over a year ago. The one I broke up with only months before he died of an asthma attack. The one I hadn't seen in years (I was stationed in Korea when we got engaged, and were in a long-distance relationship the entire time, but had been friends for years before) and who I hadn't come to see when I first came back to the states. The one who I still have so many questions about... I loved him, and I still do. My gut told me something was wrong though, and I never have gotten any real information on anything he told me. I don't know if everything he told me was a lie, or if all of it was true. All I know is that he promised me the world, and I believe he loved me, even if I don't know what he believed. I had loved him for so long, and had wanted to be with him for so many years. When it finally happened, I was practically blinded with happiness. When I started questioning things, I don't know if it was fear of commitment or just that something didn't feel right... I don't know what to believe, and I can't ask him. I have never felt more guilty than I do about him. There are so many pieces that just don't fit, and so many things he told me that other people know nothing about... It hurts so bad to think of how I might have hurt him... and it hurts even worse thinking that it all might have been a lie...
I don't know how to get past this...
Rest in peace, no matter what the truth is....
Scary.
I said it.
It drudges up so much, and makes you look at every. single. emotion.
It's like everything you've felt is suddenly under a microscope and you can't avoid looking at every detail of it now.
Today, our group moved through three different rooms. I was surprised when I realized it was stirring up anxiety in me. I was shocked when I found out I wasn't the only one.
Anxiety.
So much anxiety.
Soooo much anxiety.
Sunday night, my roommate came home very drunk and very angry.
He started yelling at me about my dog, and just kept yelling. I started to black out, and left the room. I spent three hours in an anxiety attack. Three hours. Three HOURS!!!
So, the boyfriend and I are moving out of the house and back into the barracks, and taking our dog to his dad's house.
I hate the thought of not being able to live with him, but I know it's the right choice right now.
That night brought up so much for me, and made me understand so much more about myself. Once I started to come down from the anxiety a little bit, I started talking to my boyfriend about how much I hate it when my home is taken away from me, and how it's always happened. I never had a home I felt really safe in, and even the better ones were taken from me, one way or another. I've never really had a true home. As he and I talked about that, I realized this was also the reason I was so eager to get married. I wanted a home. I wanted a place I felt safe and that wouldn't get taken away from me. I told him that, and he promised me we would have it.
I love this man. He stayed by my side the entire time I was going through that anxiety attack. He did everything he knew how to comfort me, but never once questioned my emotions or my reaction to it all. My dad thinks he's a saint. He said that.
I keep thinking about my fiance- the one that died over a year ago. The one I broke up with only months before he died of an asthma attack. The one I hadn't seen in years (I was stationed in Korea when we got engaged, and were in a long-distance relationship the entire time, but had been friends for years before) and who I hadn't come to see when I first came back to the states. The one who I still have so many questions about... I loved him, and I still do. My gut told me something was wrong though, and I never have gotten any real information on anything he told me. I don't know if everything he told me was a lie, or if all of it was true. All I know is that he promised me the world, and I believe he loved me, even if I don't know what he believed. I had loved him for so long, and had wanted to be with him for so many years. When it finally happened, I was practically blinded with happiness. When I started questioning things, I don't know if it was fear of commitment or just that something didn't feel right... I don't know what to believe, and I can't ask him. I have never felt more guilty than I do about him. There are so many pieces that just don't fit, and so many things he told me that other people know nothing about... It hurts so bad to think of how I might have hurt him... and it hurts even worse thinking that it all might have been a lie...
I don't know how to get past this...
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