Randomness is the spice of Life

My daughter keeps losing her socks. Seriously. She will take them off and then it's almost like they just disappear, like that. Inane things like this make up the majority of my day. Or like I've begun collecting soda can tabs. No reason. Just thought it would make an interesting collection. The things I do to try and stave off depression.

And that is another subject. Yes I am depressed again. Not quite the same as before. this is not a bipolar low kind of depression. This is just a "I lost one of my best friends a year ago" kind of depression. February 7, 2010 I lost someone very dear to me. So yeah I am depressed. But I really dont wanna be. If he was here and saw this he would smack me silly and tell me to get a grip. Well maybe not quite like that but he would be disappointed. He was always so full of life, he would have hated to see anyone mourn him like this. So instead I run around the house looking for lost socks. Or I start collecting soda can tabs.

Randomness truly is the spice of Life.

The Return of the Teeny Bopper

OK so lately been getting back into listening to the music I liked when I was 13.
The reason I find this slightly disturbing is that was my preppy, teeny bopper stage (yes I had one) back when I loved to be girly. Believe it or not folks I used to love to dress up in skirts and dresses and wear makeup. I also loved listening to NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, etc.
So why the nostalgic music I've been listening to lately? I dont know. Maybe Danica's first celebrity crush (God help me) on Justin Bieber has kinda made me want to reminisce about the days when I cared about things like that. Hell the days when I cared about anything. I wish sometimes I was the same person I was then. But too much has changed.

Oddly as I write this I think about stuff more. I realize that I still loved being girly back when I first met Ian. I think that all stopped after the rape. Funny enough the last time we tried to work on our marriage at the end of 2009, one of his complaints was me not dressing girly enough. I say this is funny because it's actually his fault I don't do that anymore. Hmm. Food for thought I guess.

So yeah I actually am enjoying keeping this blog lately. A place to write down all the random shit in my head. And yes I bounce from subject to subject rapidly. It's just who I am.

Until next time......

Insomnia Suckage

Cant sleep. Again. I dont think I've fully slept at night in weeks. It's funny to me how much we need sleep. Honestly, I like the night. It's quiet and free from the pressures of this life. I dont have 5 million people telling me what to do and where to go. I can be whoever I want to be at night. For instance, tonight I kinda feel like a Jedi so I will probably go play KOTOR (Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic) for a bit. Or if I felt like a medieval thief I could attempt some writing. And so on. I dont have to be me is the point. So why instead of doing any of those things am I writing here? Because I can also take the time to truly look inside myself and for once speak my mind about whatever I choose. I just felt like sharing my thoughts on why I like being a night Owl. On the other hand if you have to work at night...Not as much fun. I've done it. Mostly because I still have to be whatever my job wants me to be. And that to me...sucks.....But then again it's life and we just have to keep at it...or something wisdomy like that. I dont know. My ramblings dont always seem coherent at night. So maybe I'll just shut up and go play a game.

Therapy Part 2

So in trying to write part 2 of my therapeutic writing of the abuse and my story I am really having trouble. Partly because I will have to admit the biggest mistakes I made but also because that means I will have to get into the rape. I dont even know how many people I know are aware that I was raped and so if any of them even read this (which I somehow doubt) are going to end up being surprised and possibly horrified/disgusted/disbelieving/saddend. But I have to write the story first. I havent been able to describe what happend since I filed my police report. So maybe I can just get into things here. Seems as good a time as any.

After his arrest in Illinois he wasnt allowed back in the house but we were trying to heal. I was always a big believer in remaining married and that it was forever. Letting go is a hard thing for me because part of me feels guilty. My mom was the one who wouldnt let him move back in. So he moved in with this guy he knew down the street. He even began working for the guy under the table (and he stilled got screwed over). During this time my mom had decided to move to Texas to live with my sister. Being I was pregnant my sister extended the offer to me as well. The only reason I did this was because Ian was still living in his Boss' basement and honestly I didnt know if he would ever be able to take care of us at that point. But our relationship seemed good. We went on dates and spent time together as much as possible. Two months later at the end of May, My mom flew to Texas while I drove with my sister (well she did the driving). The plan was to drive to Texas, unload our belongings at our new rental house, and then my sister and I would drive to California to collect some of our belongings from my dad. When I left Ian and I were on good terms and the plan was he would eventually join me. Somewhere along the line that got skewed (yes I am skipping over the car accident because that has nothing to do with this). I dont even remember what happened to suddenly make us at each others throats again, but I know we were. Unfortuneately I do remember he began to seem uninterested in our child. When I called to tell him the sex of the baby, He sounded like he didnt care. I was barely talking to him by the time I was admitted to the hospital for 2 weeks before our daughter was born. I just know I was mad at him enough to not put his name on the birth certificate and to give our daughter my maiden last name, something he is still angry at me for. But after her birth we made up (again). Around the time she turned 5 months old, He came for a visit. During this time we were once again trying to repair our badly broken relationship and we were on good terms. We were just waiting until after the domestic violence charge was cleared up and he was going to move to Texas permanently and this was just a visit so he could see his daughter. During this time I also got pregnant for a second time with our son. When the trip ended we were ok. 4 months later, I miscarried our son. When I called him to tell him about it, he sounded like he could care less. It didnt seem to affect him. we broke up and then got back together, again. At the end of 2005 he finally moved to Texas permanently. It took him awhile but he found work. A week later, I kicked him out. I will admit my fault for this one. I was hormonal, listening to too many people telling how bad a person he was and emotional because the date our son was supposed to be born on was approaching. It was a cold winter and I was being unreasonably cruel. A few weeks later we made up, again. After that we found a nice little duplex for us. My mom had temporary custody of our daughter so she remained with my mom but I would come see her every day and we'd have her on the weekends. One of my friends would come over every morning after she dropped her kids off at school and we'd have some coffee and talk for a little while. It felt normal. But he began to get moody. My cooking was never good enough, the house was never clean enough. He began demanding I meet him at his job so we could walk back together (he worked just down the street). He grabbed me violently several times. Once I managed to scratch his forearm with the only fingernail that was long. After that I began keeping it long for protection. I wanted to walk away. But I felt so alone and like I had nowhere to go. I was afraid to run back to my mom. She had a way of making me feel like I failed. It was during this time that it happend. February 2,2006. We had been at a Super Bowl party at my mom's neighbors house. He was really really drunk. I had to help him walk home (we lived only a few blocks away). When we got home I put him into bed and was getting ready for bed myself when he started. He was trying to make out with me and I kept pushing him off. When I laid down....well I wont go into the details but that was when he raped me. I dont think I slept at all that night. In the morning, he tried to kiss me and I pulled away. He was confused and I started crying as I told him what happend. He did apologize but the damage was done. When my friend arrived a few minutes later, I was quiet, withdrawn. I rambled off some excuse of having a migraine. After that I didnt leave the house for 2 weeks. Not even to go see our daughter. My mom tried to get me to talk about what was wrong but I wouldnt. Who would believe that a husband raped his wife? We got into a huge blow out fight on February 16,2006. That was the night I packed what I could and walked back to my mom's. I told her the next day and we immediately went to file. They didnt believe me tho. It had been too long and had become a case of he said she said. Since this happend I have made one other attempt to repair my marriage but I believe that the rape completely shattered whatever we had left. Not to say I dont love him. I honestly do. But I have far too many nightmares that I deal with and the memories are far too vivid to forget. I have chosen to forgive him. But I cant forget. I know what I went through isnt nearly as terrifying as what some women go through, but I am a survivor nonetheless. Writing this has made a bit of the burden I walk around with go away. I honestly dont know if it will ever completely go away. But I hold out hope that one day I can fully let it all go and I will find someone who will erase every last horrible this he ever did to me.

I am aware that I stopped at 2006. I am aware that I skipped over alot. I dont find most of what happend between 2006 and 2009 that important. Mostly alot of arguing, false accusations, and finally ending with us being civil with each other.

On a final note....How do you heal a broken heart when the one who broke it is the one who still holds it?

Therapy Part 1

So as part of my therapy, I have been writing my bad memories or experiences down. The obvious place for me to start was with my relationship with Ian. So I started. There will be more to come with this one but for now I want to share the first part of my survival story, For what it is.

He hit me. How could he break the one promise he made to me. I was angry and scared. I wasn’t swinging at him. I wanted to push him away. He was part of the reason I was angry. I was about to lose my job, we just found out I was pregnant. All he could do was lay in bed and watch tv all day while I went out busting my ass at a part time job, while dealing with bad pregnancy symptoms. So how could he hit me. I pushed, he swung. It wasn’t even a punch. He hit me with a fisted slap. That was the beginning. The lost trust. I sat on the bus the whole way home, unable to even look at him. Years later he tells me he wants to forget the past. Well I cant live like that. I have for too long now. This is my side of the story. This is why I can never be with him again even though I love him. Even now I hate myself for loving. I even hate him as much as I love him. The slap was the real beginning. But even then I didn’t make him leave. And even then he still didn’t make any effort to support our growing family. All he cared about was the pot. Or drinking. Or whatever else he did. I don’t know because while he got lazy and didn’t do shit I was busting my ass, walking through the snow to work every day. Helping people who acted better than me because they had better jobs and I was just the person who bagged their groceries. Even before the infamous incident there were moments of rage. I have nightmares even now of him swinging lead pipes at me. He missed but shattered the crystal vase he bought me, just like he shattered my heart. He would throw my phone at me. He would constantly call me names. I told him once of one of my dreams of being a singer. He laughed at me and called me a “fat ass bitch who cant hold a tune”. I began to have doubts of carrying our child. How could I bring a child into this world having someone as violent as him as a father? Me, someone who firmly believes in abortion as murder, actually considered it. If just to protect them. I was terrified to bear his children. My fears and doubts were apparently eveident. I remember the night he held me down on the bed and held a buck knife to my stomach. He said if I didn’t want the baby he would cut it out of my stomach for me. I look at her now, The child I did give birth to and wonder how can I ever tell her that her father threatened her life before she was even born? Or worse, that because of her father, her twin did not survive? That was because of the incident. He claims my mom started it. This is the truth as I remember it, and believe me I can not forget that day no matter how hard I try. As usual he was laying in bed, in the middle of the afternoon. I had already left my job and had been begging him to at least try to find work. The reason he had been let go of his previous job at Bass Pro was for sexual harassment. He claims his innocence. I have many doubts. But anyway I had been begging him to find work. I was having a difficult pregnancy to begin with and since I had lost my ID and was unable to get another one at the time, it would have been pointless for me to do much until I could get my ID. But we were running out of food and money and my dad hadn’t paid the rent in months. My mom was still fighting to get her SSI but was not getting any income. It was 3pm and he was still sleeping. “I” pushed him off the bed. Not my mom. Me. I was pissed. It was the middle of the afternoon, I was pregnant, and he acted like he could care less. So we argued. I told him to leave. As he was packing his stuff (which he left all over the apartment. His philosophy was to just leave things wherever they dropped or he put them down. He acted like no matter what I would clean up after him) He tried to take some of my CDs. I had lost most of my things only months earlier when we left California. I was pissed that he would try to take my things from me. I do realize that arguing over a stupid CD was childish. I never claimed to be perfect. He grabbed one particular CD that I liked and with one hand he crushed it all over the bed. In my childish rage I grabbed his favorite slayer CD. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife to cut the CD (I’m really very weak) He claims he was running in there because he thought I was going to hurt my self. I don’t believe that. I believe he was going to hurt me. My mom stood in the doorway to stop him. Looking back at that moment I truly understood how much my mom loved me. But in his rage the bastard pushed my disabled mother to the side like she was a rag doll. She hit the ground with her arthritic knee. We argued some more while my mom called the cops. Just before the cops arrived he picked up a stack of 36 cds (I counted them later) and threw them. I do not know if he was aiming for me or not, but whatever the intention they hit my stomach like a sack of bricks. He stalked out before the cops arrived. I did press charges but I also agreed to the plea deal. Anger management and some probation. Three days later, I began bleeding. When they checked me out, I had lost amniotic fluid and with that my daughters twin had also died. I am grateful to have her, but I still mourn the loss of the other, along with my other miscarriages. Unfortunately because of my stupid heart and me being too much of a romantic for my own good, Our story was only beginning

To Be continued......

Been a long time

Been awhile since I've written here. I forgot I even had this. Killeen didnt work out. Last year I went to Illinois. That didnt work out. But I am doing better. Twice a week I work voluntarily at The Austin Clubhouse. I love it. I get to get out, be around people who truly understand me and my illnesses, and I dont feel like the odd man out. Danica just turned 6. I still sometimes look at her and am completely amazed that she came from me. Not to say we dont have our difficulties. This past year she was Diagnosed ADHD with ODD (oppositional Defiant Disorder) with Autistic tendancies (basically very mildly autistic). Right now we are dealing with a hearing problem her doctors refuse to acknowledge yet the school is even agreeing there is a problem. She has failed the hearing test in her left ear 4 times and now the school is offering to have a doctor look at it. I am worried about her. We were supposed to go see Ian from christmas but with all her health and mental issues I dont know if she can. I may not but thats because the state currently "owns" me. I am afraid he will think I am trying to keep her from him though if I tell him she cant go. I'm not though. I want him to see her. But I am really worried about her health right now. He has no reason to trust anything I say to him because of all my lies but I just dont know how I can assure him I really am thinking about her....I just dont know what to do.....

Countdown.....3 days

So I have like 3 days and counting until I move out. I am excited, thrilled, exstatic.....and absolutely terrified. But I cant turn back. Once I go, I'm gone. I need to go. If I stay here I will be living with my mama the rest of her life and feel more and more like Norman Bates in Psycho. I dont want or need that. So here's hoping to a new life, a new start, a new everything