Nothing to say...blah.

I'm in love with this Blog. Kirsten Erickson I'm going antiquing this weekend and picking up some sterling silver silverware and making these rings for everyone.

Pinterest is my favorite place to go online as of late. I love finding crafty things and new tattoo ideas. I love finding sentimental quotes, wedding stuff and different fashion ideas. It's like a journal of pictures.
 
I really don't have much to say today. The Bears lost like bitches yesterday, it happens. They played terrible. I work all weekend-which is a good thing. Plus I start at R's school today as a lunch monitor. Not sure how well I'm going to do in the winter. I HATE the cold. I'm gonna have to buy some boots and gloves and a hat. Ech.

Therapy...

So I’m reading Bad Childhood, Good Life by Dr. Laura. Now, I think she’s slightly crazy in the general sense, but the FACTS in this book really do apply to me.

            I didn’t have a horrid childhood. My mother was an alcoholic, my father a heroin addict. I relied on my Grandparents a lot. They were my home base, my foundation. I know my mother loved me. I think my dad loved me as much as he knew how. He was in jail from right after I was born until I was 4? So there wasn’t a lot of time for us to bond. I had 11 cousins that I grew up with, who, while I’m sure their homes weren’t perfect, I can only hope were better than what I saw, heard and experienced.

            Anyway, there’s a paragraph early on in the book:

            …A typical example is the reasonable reaction of not trusting a parent who made promises that were never realized. Coping mechanisms range from being clingy to finding reasons to keep a safe emotional distance. When in adulthood this once-betrayed individual is constantly testing, confronting, and/or accusing everyone who tries to get close as though they were untrustworthy, without any evidence to support that claim, clearly this person is generalizing from the disappointing parent to all potential intimates—ultimately avoiding closeness for fear of hurt.

            I read this and immediately sent it to 44. He was like ‘Dead on.’ I’m re-evaluating everything because of this paragraph. Every relationship I’ve had, every friendship, every job. I know it’ll probably drive me crazy and it’s not healthy, but it’s crazy to think about.

            Anyway, I dropped R off at school today. It’s his 2^nd week of 2^nd grade. He’s getting so freaking big, he’s almost as tall as I am. He won’t let me kiss him good-bye in front of his friendsL, but I do get to have breakfast with him every day and then get a kiss before he gets out of the car. So that’s something.

            K, who’s in her 2^nd week of 6^th grade, middle school, lets me drive her to her friend’s house and I get to say, “I love you”, and she’s on her way. My babies are growing up. Not sure that I’m ok with it, but they’re so smart and funny and wonderful. I really am lucky. I know that it wasn’t all me, but their dad and our families, and their friends molding their minds and thoughts and personalities as well and I’m so very thankful for that.

            I’m on 2 anti-depressants/anti-anxiety meds. That’s part of the reason that I started this Blog. I want to see how I change over the next few months, years…whatever. I want to know that the meds are working, that this wasn’t all waste of time and money. I have my 1^st counseling session today. My dr. recommended that I see someone to get some coping mechanisms in addition to the meds. We’ll see how it goes.

Adios amigos!

Engagement and the lack there of.

Day 3.

I asked 44 why we’re not engaged yet.

Over a text.

Yeah, most definitely something that should have been done in person. He got upset because I do this all the time. We’ll be together for hours and I won’t say a word about my feelings or a question I have, but as soon as I leave him the texts start.

I know he hates it. I hate that I do it. I think that writing is the only way I can effectively communicate with him. Which, really, isn’t a good thing. I mean we can talk, but as soon as something serious comes up, I shut down and I hate it.

I know why we’re not engaged.

Neither of us is in the financial position to do so. We both have enough baggage for 5 airplanes full of people. Plus stand-by.  We both have kids and we have to do what’s right for them as well as ourselves.

We have completely different parenting mind sets. I believe that my kids should be raised to be independent, contributing members of society. Not to say that the way he and his ex are raising their son is wrong, by any means. His kiddo is an amazing, sensitive, sweet kid.

He’s just…I don’t want to make this sound negative, coddled? I guess is the right word. I’m the opposite. I don’t want my children to rely on me for everything. They can make their own breakfast, they know to take a shower every day, and they can get dressed without me standing over them, even my baby, who is 7. 44’s son still has to be helped in the morning from waking up to getting out the door. And he’s the same age as my oldest.

I know that his son is going to be an amazing adult, I truly do. But can the 5 of us live under the same roof and raise our kids completely different?

That’s what I think is holding us back the most. We have an immense love for each other. He’s amazing to me, to my kids, to his kid and family. He loves me, for the most part, just the way I am. Sometimes the crazy comes out a little wacky, but he deals with it.

I don’t even think I want to be ‘ENGAGED’, all I want is something to signify that he wants to spend his life together. Doesn’t have to be an engagement ring. But something that’s solid and will last. So, a metal ring. Metal ie. Silver, gold, titanium, so that it’s meant to last through time. And a ring because it’s a circle, he whole circle of love, blah, blah, blah.

Later loves!

Where to go...

I want to move. I want to get away from the city that I love. Oh, Chicago. I love the city. I can walk for hours, see the most amazing architecture, go to the beach and do a billion other things, and yet, I want to leave.

Seattle has called my name since the Grunge Scene became “The Thing”.  Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Hole. I’m not into that as much as I was in high school. Now it’s Brother Ali, Murs, Atmosphere, and Outkast. They speak to me like Nirvana and Sublime did in my youth.

I have 2 amazingly beautiful and wonderful children. But I can’t stay here. I need to be on the move. I had to stop college; I work 2 jobs just too barely make it. My ex is never going to give up the kids willingly, nor will he pay me child support directly.

I feel like I’ve already lost them. They love me, I know that. I love them and they know that. They crave my attention like I do theirs.

The lovely LiLi at work told me to definitely visit before thinking about going, which is something I thought of, but probably wouldn’t do.  As much as I like planning things, I don’t think I’d have the balls to visit and then move, I have to just go.

Maybe Colorado? I want a chill place. Somewhere that the worries and stress and anxiety is gone. Part of me thinks that it’s just wishful thinking. I am who I am. My personality is already defined according to my dr. I’m 32, I don’t think my actual personality is going to change. Maybe how I approach and react to things, but now who I am.

 

Who wants that anyway?!

Numero Uno. Here it goes.

Today is the day. The first day of the rest of my life. I’m going to get my shit together. Start writing, start running, and make a home for my kids and me. Take back the control that I’ve lost because of depression, anxiety and my emotions.

I have a picture I cut out of a magazine that says:

“Don’t let your emotions make you their bitch.”

This is how I need to think. I internalized a lot. Especially what my ex-husband says to me. The way he acts and his emotional state affect me in ways I despise.

Why? Because we still live together.

Why? Because I’m afraid to take responsibility.

Why? Because being an adult scares me.

Why? No Idea.

I have a great, emotionally supportive boyfriend, who, unfortunately, is no better off than I am. He lives at home with his parents and brother. He was married and divorced. Has a great son. He has a job. But has no desire to change anything. He pays no bills for the house. Just his car payment and child support.

We’ve been together for a year. There’s no engagement in my near future, no move out date, no plans.

I like plans. I grew up with an alcoholic mother and heroin addicted father. I may thrive on chaos, but I like plans. I like knowing that there’s something to look forward to.  

The boyfriend, who will go by 44, isn’t 44, but whatever, makes no plans. He’s Mexican and Puerto Rican and apparently they all live by the seat of their respective pants and just let life happen.

I was married once. I never thought that, 1.  That I’d be divorced & 2.  That I’d want to get married again. He makes me want to spend the rest of my life in his arms, with his family, with our own family. Making our own plans.

Is it going to happen? I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. Here’s to day 1.