Tag Archives: gratitude

Please hold while I put on my broken record.

The other day I had to yell at myself.  This yelling consisted of several poorly written pages in my journal.  The topic, self-sabotage.

Losing weight and getting in shape has been on my “To Do” list for as long as I can remember.  My track record hasn’t been too good…a few good days here and there, but always back to square one.  Recently I had been rather busy doing shit around the house, which has been moving along pretty well.  That week, with no work and lots of chores/projects I managed to lose 6 lbs.  What I learned, and probably already know but sometimes refuse to accept, is that food is my biggest problem with weight.  I eat too much.  I eat too much bad, and I eat too much good.  I just eat too damn much.  After seeing that 6 lbs weight loss and feeling fucking elated, I spent the next four days putting it all back on…plus two more.

I got on the scale at then I lost it. The journal was filled page after page with…

What the hell is your problem?

Why do you keep sabotaging yourself?

You eat like you’re a starving child who has no idea when or where her next meal is coming from?

What the fuck??

It continued for 6 pages.  There was a lot of self-bashing and a lot of “pull your head out of your ass.”  I didn’t give myself too much of a break because I know this is all bullshit. I am more than capable of doing this. It’s not like I have 50 lbs to lose, I have 20 at most.  After completing my written beat down, I went back through my journal…and would you believe, I have had this same damn conversation on more than a few occasions. Surprise! OMG why the hell would anyone want to listen to a broken record year after year? What I can’t wrap my head around is the WHY.  Why the fuck do I do this? Why do I get going strong only to throw myself back down the damn hill and lay there is a pathetic heap of “I just can’t”.

I hate complaining.  I hate complaining about myself because in my experience nobody really gives a shit.  Ok, not nobody, but for a large part of my life, the people who were supposed to be my greatest support system didn’t give a shit about my problems.  They always had worse problems…mine were just pathetic.  I hate when other people complain because most often they just complain, there is rarely little action.  So, when I start to complain about not fitting into any of my clothes comfortably, or I feel fat and uncomfortable, I keep it to myself, and I don’t usually complain for long. It is a cycle that repeats itself over and over and over…. all the damn fucking time.  One week I bitch, I get focused and start to see results, pat myself on the back and then in the blink of an eye all my hard work is washed down the drain and there I am whining about how I can’t wear this or that cause it’s too uncomfortable.  Oh my fucking lord, please make it stop.

When you look up the meaning behind self-sabotage, it usually centers on self-worth. You fail because in the end you don’t think you are worthy of the reward.  Is this my reason?  After all the work I have done, the years of therapy, the books, tapes, videos that I have engulfed, in the end do I still feel unworthy? Something harming is hiding inside of me and I can’t find it.  It’s deep…real deep.

I have subscribed to several Instagram feeds about health, fitness and nutrition.  This is my passion.  This is where my heart goes every single time.  Yet, for me, my own personal journey, looking at all of this is just a reminder that I am a failure.  You are never going to make it. You are never going to be good enough. Funny, as I type that I can hear my mother’s voice.  She has said those exact same words to me on several occasions.  At 16 when I was trying to find my own identity, I believed her.  At 24, when I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be married or not, I believed her.  At 32, when I was a stay at home mother of two and feeling overwhelmed by life, I believed her.  I can remember several instances over my life where I was in a place of accomplishments, feeling like I was coming into my own, and she would “put me in my place” and point out what a failure I really was.  Every time I agreed, and went back to settling for meritocracy.

Alright alright alright…did I just get this shit figured out? I did!!!  It’s all my mother’s fault.  Whew!!! Now I don’t have to take responsibility, I can just sit back and blame her.  Except….no, I can’t.  Now I understand where the core of this self-destruction comes from, and, I also understand, by no fault of my mothers, that this is what she knew, so I have to be responsible for myself.  It is time to take the little girl inside of me, who has always believed that she would never be anything more than a failure, wrap my arms around her and allow her to forgive that life.  I need to tell her that those are the stories that her mother feels she was told, and she repeated them, nothing more. It doesn’t now, nor has it ever had anything to do with ME.  Now I can hug that little girl tight and let her know that she isn’t a failure, she never was a failure, and the woman she has become is strong, capable and empowered.

Honestly people, I just floored myself.  I have tried for sooooo fucking long to figure out why I do this to myself repeatedly, always coming up short on the answer.  It is because of you, because I share my stories, that I finally found the answer.  Thank you.

Now the work begins.  How do you break down a lifetime of stories that were never true?  Where do you start repairing the damage that is buried deep in your bones and start to heal them?  You start with on small step. One step towards the goal, and when you hear that voice, or when you see yourself slipping, you give yourself a little reminder that….

This is no longer my story.

A letter to my Mother

You can’t have a Mother’s day right around the corner and NOT think about your mother. If you have read my blog for more than 5 mins (ok 1 year and 5 mins since I took some time off), then you know I don’t have the best relationship with my mother.

It’s so sad (to quote POTUS)

Have I tried to talk to her?  Yes.  Did it help? No.

The problem is not that I don’t love my mother.  It’s also not that she doesn’t love me.  We love each other very much…Love is not the problem. It is not the solution either.

See, my mother does not believe that I love her. She does not believe that I have forgiven her the abuse from the past. She thinks that I am an angry, bitter adult who refuses to let go of the past.  This my sweet readers is what projection looks like.

She will bring up things from the past, to make a point.  I will inevitably address her “point” and she will close with “you never let anything go”.  Hmmm, wait a second, weren’t you the one who brought that up.  That is completely beside the point, and it always is.

I have fantasies…of a better relationship with my mother.  I imagine us going out to lunch and have good conversations, laughing and thoroughly enjoying each others company.  I imagine family holiday dinners with good music, good food and fun.  There are times that I think it is possible.  Seriously, I know what I’m dealing with. I understand her pain and where it comes from, surely our love for each other can overcome all the negativity.  Prince said it…Love is the answer.

It is with great sadness I have to inform you that Love cannot save everything.

My mother, deep down, has a good heart.  I have told her this.  With everything she has said and done, underneath it all she has good intentions.  She means well, I know this.  I think that is why I still fantasize about our relationship being better.  There is some part of me that hopes that the better parts of her…the goodness, the well-meaning, the love will one day take the wheel and all the pain will take a back seat.  Sometimes I see a glimmer…and then with one blink of an eye the pain rears up its ugly head and knocks me back down.  Usually it’s with a back handed passive aggressive comment, sometimes it’s a full in your face insult.

She wants to help.  I want to let her help.  Her help comes with conditions, strict hard core “my way or no way” conditions.  My acceptance of her help also comes with conditions…to not give her ultimate control.  There are boundaries.  She out right refuses to accept or respect my boundaries.  She’s even said “what is a boundary?”.  Not sure if there is a way to get through to someone like that.  I’m still going to hold on to just a little tiny bit of hope.

So, to the strangers out there who read my stuff, let me say to you…

Mom, I love you. I miss you. Happy Mother’s Day.  You have made me a better mother, if not always for the right reasons. I have learned to love and appreciate the lessons I have received from you.  I see you in my little girl and somewhere in me feels like if I can love her through it, maybe I’m loving you a little too.  If I had a chance to hand pick my mother out, knowing what I know now, there are times I would have picked someone who was more loving, caring and nurturing.  Then I think that if I had that, I would not be the person I am today.  I would not know the things I know, love the way I do, and be graced with the two beautiful children that I have.  So, if I had a chance to choose, I would choose you.  If there was only one thing I could change it would be to help you to let go of all the pain and let the love in.  We are all missing out on some special relationships and we all suffer for it.  I wish you love and peace and thank you. Happy Mother’s day.

 

On to the next chapter

So, let’s recap the recent adventures of my fucking life.

After years of searching I finally found a job to get me out of the grasps of a psychopath.  Walking away from that job and starting the new one gave me the courage to finally put my house on the market and find a place of my own.  It’s like I was riding the mother of all waves, flipping up my hang loose sign, sticking out my tongue and telling the world that this was totally rad dude.

I was settling in to the new place, planning out all the projects to do when shit starting hitting the fan at work.  At this point, I’m not sure if I was purposely ignoring the signs or if I was just being overly positive that everything was going to be fine.  People were getting laid off.  People were quitting.  I think in one week 3 people were gone.  I remember texting my girls and having them all say “get out girl…time to find something new.” The AP manager, who had put in her notice, told me that I should protect myself and find something new. Still…I honestly believed that this place would fine in the end, although a little leaner. This is where I was supposed to be.  I knew it in my gut.

On Friday, the few of us left in the office were brought in by the owner to discuss what had been happening and where they were headed.  They were in trouble, but they had a plan and wanted to know if they would have a staff to help get that plan in motion.  I was all in!!  It was going to be bumpy but I had faith that the company would come out strong in the end.  On Monday the boss gave me his CC to make a purchase for him and told me I should probably have that number so to be sure to keep it somewhere safe.  I did.  At 4 pm that afternoon we were all told they were closing their doors.

How the fuck could I have been so wrong???  Did I see this coming and ignore it?  Was I totally blindsided???  To make matters even worse it was the day before my birthday!  I was numb a little, trying to be strong…finding every bit of strength to not break down.

I did not want to cry.  I really didn’t even want to acknowledge it.  What the hell was I going to do???

After shedding a few tears, having a minor panic attack and coming clean with my daughter, I decided that this was going to be just fine.  I mean, come on, if this had happened just 3 months earlier I would have been totally screwed.  I would have most definitely lost my house because I did not have enough money in the bank. I would have been stuck there for way longer cause I would not be able to get approved for any new loan at that point.  It would have been a disaster.  BUT…it happened when it did and it was perfect.

I got to take my birthday off!  Who doesn’t love to have their birthday off!!  I was able to have a completely delightful morning make out session with the hunky stallion because…well, I didn’t have anywhere to go.  I was in a good place financially because with selling the old house I had equity so I had plenty of money in the bank.  Since I am a smart chick I was also putting mortgage payment money away even though I did not have a mortgage payment for 2 months during this process, so there was that.  Looking over my situation I realized I could go at least 3-4 months without having to touch any of the money from the house sell, and still be ok, still be able to do the things to the house that I wanted, just not all of them.  I was going to be ok, really, this could not have happened at a better time.

So….having faith paid off.  Things did not pan out like I had hoped…but that’s fucking life.  That’s why you have to stop with the expectation that life is only good if it happens like “this”.  You must be willing to let life unfold the way it is intended and believe that you will be ok.  That, my friends, if the god damn story of my whole fucking life.  Where once something like this would have put me in a complete state of dread and panic (or the people in my life, ie: my ex husband who is soooo damn dramatic) I was now able to have a (brief) moment of uncertainty and then turn my focus to acceptance and peace.

Now I have the time to work on getting the house settled.  I was going to take the time off to do all those things that would have eaten up every weekend for the next 6 months. Boxes unpacked.  Drawers and cabinets organized.  I was going to look for the right job, not just settle, while getting my house done the way I wanted.  This time is was going to be used wisely.  Come on, this was going to be great.  So far, it has been.

I have tackled some major shit that I would have dreaded doing after a long work week.  Ugly kitchen cabinets GONE! New sparkly wall, hell yeah!  Unpack boxes and get rid of more shit…bring it on.  I’ve been a beast when it comes to working on the shit here…I remind myself all the time about how bad it felt not doing the things I really wanted to do at the old house only to have to do them in record time for someone else to enjoy.  This is MY house! I will do with it what I please and it will be wonderful.

Being rejected is not fun.  Being rejected over and over and over and over….again and again totally sucks.  It’s easy to sit back and feel like a failure.  This is testing my faith. Faith in myself. Faith in my abilities. Faith in the Universe.  I’ve been up and down, and up again with feeling defeated by this circumstance.  Still, I continue to bring myself back to accepting that in the end, everything will be ok.

Accepting and gratitude is the fucking key.

At an appointment with my financial adviser to discuss my accounts and see how I was doing, I told her I had lost my job.  She asked what kind of job I was looking for…and we discussed my “qualifications”.  Then she said they were looking for a part time on call person and would I be interested.  Why yes I would be interested…yes the fuck I would!  Finding out about the specific position and the perks and the potential was just what I needed.  That along with the fact that my financial adviser thinks I’m fantastic and is already looking out for where I can be placed full time and permanently was just the confirmation I needed that, yes…everything was going to be just fine. I will be fine, even better perhaps.

Now I am focusing on training part time, while continuing to get my shit finished at the house.  I believe that once I that full time position opens up to me I will be done with most of the major work on the house which will be a lot less stressful and take less of my free time.  It’s all working out.  Every damn bit of it.

Am I lucky? Maybe, but I believe in my soul that things work out for me because I am willing to keep my faith.  I roll with the bad instead of screaming and yelling about how unfair life is.  Ok, sometimes I yell, but what I don’t do is stay there in a pool of self-pity and whine that I am a victim and life isn’t fair. I appreciate and show gratitude for the good things because I know that things could be worse.  I live the life I speak about…I practice it every fucking day.  Faith in something out there that is so much bigger than me has a plan…and it is a way better plan than I will ever dream of.

Life not going the way you wanted??? Think about how that could change if you just look at all the setbacks and bullshit in a different light.  I’m not letting the shit part of life drag me down…cause if you think about it, shit is the fertilizer. Gardeners and anyone who has a dog that shits in their yard will know what I mean. If you accept the shit, things will assuredly come out better that you dreamed.

Life is a little weird…but so am I

Wouldn’t it be nice if things just worked out like they were supposed to?

Well…actually they do.  What they don’t always do it work out the way WE think they are supposed to.

That is exactly what trips most of us up.  The expectation of how something is supposed to be.  Like for instance…you put your house on the market after 10 long agonizing years and 60 days of blood, sweat and tears just to get an offer within less than 48 hours with a 6 week closing date.  You feel so good knowing that by Christmas you will be in your new place, or at the very least out of this one.  You say a little thank you, panic just a little and start trying to figure out where the fuck you are going to live in 6 weeks.  Then shit happens.  There is a problem with the buyers loan, no biggie just a set back. Then there is another set back.  Now instead of being out before Christmas, you’ll be out before the end of the year.  Woot….a new year and a new place!! Honestly it’s like all the rainbows and sunshine are filling my world.

During all this we searched for a place to land.  I was not going to settle for just anything that I could afford…it was going to have to be the right place.  Being a person of faith and gut I knew that when we found it…we would know.  My daughter was not so sure.  She was starting to settle, “This one is ok.” “I could live with this.” “I don’t need to have…”.  There was no fucking way that I had waited this long only to jump into something that I was going to regret, or that would make me feel like I didn’t belong, again.  Just have faith…it’s coming. As the closing date grew closer I have to admit, I started to worry myself.  I made arrangements to rent so that we wouldn’t feel rushed to find a place.  My realtor was getting to know my preferences and we saw a lot of cute places that just were not fitting as a whole.  One had NO yard for the dog. One was out of the school district.  One didn’t have space for the boy.  So on and so on.

Every week I would send a list of potentials to the realtor and we would visit…always coming up a little short.  One day I sent her a listing that had been on the market for a little over a month, “why haven’t we looked at this one?”. Neither of us had a clue.  It was in the school district, two bedroom duplex with a basement, two baths, small yard and super clean.  Almost as soon as we got in the door I knew I would be making an offer.  My daughter joined us shortly after and when asked what she thought she said “IT’S A 10”.  That meant, make an offer.  Now…just because I think everyone needs to understand why I believe the things I do, I’m going to tell you what I was telling my realtor the whole time.  “Carmen, I’ll find it a week before the closing.”  She laughed, but as it got closer she would tell me that she was beginning to believe me.  I put the offer in on the house and after 2 days of negotiating the offer was accepted and they were willing and able to close the same day as mine.  This was one week before the closing on my house.  Don’t doubt me people, I know my shit.

Everything was a go…until the buyers had more issues with their loan.  Now we were looking at somewhere in January.  Fuck. I’m going to have to spend another Christmas if this fucking house.  I’m going to have to spend New Years in this fucking house.  Ugh….I’m going to lose MY house.  This is where it get’s tough, and where you have got to have fucking faith that things will work out exactly the way they are supposed to…and not the way you want them too.

Not only were my sellers cooperative, but everything was FINALLY falling into place.  We had a REAL closing date, both scheduled on the same day.  Even though we did not get to spend Christmas in the new place, or New Years…there was a sweet perk to closing after the first of the year.  Apparently when a home is held by a senior, they get a lock on their taxes so they don’t go up. This is assessed every year.  Every January.  Even though I am NOT a senior I get to benefit from that for the whole year.  My taxes will stay the same as the previous owner for the first year.  See…that’s how this fucking shit works.

This was going to turn out to an even bigger blessing than I originally thought, because after just one month in my new home I found myself unemployed. Jesus grab the wheel cause this girl is going to crash hard.

I guess this is where I should have been committed to the psych ward, because just when I was feeling like it was ok to exhale and relax, it wasn’t. Not even fucking close.

****More hokey shit****

When we bought our first home waaaaay back when I was just a baby (ok l I was 22), I said we would be in that house for 5 years.

Year 5 we moved and bought a bigger place just in time to find out I was preggers with baby blessing number one.  I said we would be in that house for 10 years.

At the 10 year mark I was settled into it and thought it would be ok to stay longer. The place fit, I felt relaxed (sort of anyway, for someone who was depressed and failing at marriage).  That was when the In Laws decided to move away and sell their house and when the hubs thought it was a brilliant idea to fucking buy his childhood home.  Fuck.

After the months and months of crying over moving into this house I was starting to feel like I had to embrace this hole as a stepping stone to a better life, I said 7 years.

3 years later I was divorced.  At year 7 I had been divorced for 4 years, in a shitty job, in a not so good relationship and there was no way I was getting out of there.  WTF??? Where did this 7 year commitment come from??? How the fuck can I be right soooo often only to come up short this time???

By the time I moved out I realized that I had been in that house as a single parent for exactly 7 years.

BOOM.  That’s insane right???? Hahaha…yeah, I told you to trust me.

So I’m sure you are wondering…how long in this new house?  As of today I still don’t have a clue.  Nothing is coming to me, not a single nudge.  I have a few theories on why that is, but right now, this post is long as shit.

What a beautiful world this can be

May is almost over…and so is (almost) all the shit that has been driving me crazy lately.  My son graduated high school last weekend.  Seriously, I still look at him and remember when he graduated preschool.  Oh my has he grown.  What was most beautiful about his graduation was his joy.  He had a smile that just lights me up…I want to see more of that.

His graduation party was a success….again, too see a young man who was happy and smiling.  I couldn’t ask for more.  However, I was grateful to have a house full of wonderful people.  Former coworkers, new coworker, old friends, new friends, family I haven’t seen in way to long.  The day was beautiful, and the house was filled with laughter and joy.  There is a long standing joke with my friends about how the weather always goes south when I plan out-door events.  Not this time.  I’m going to say that my shift in attitude may have played a huge role in that…for had I stayed in the darkness, the rain would undoubtedly come.

A few weeks ago I was reminded that I needed (desperately) to let go of doubt and worry.  So I did.  What happened was that the little twitch in my eye went away, and good things started falling into place.  Things were finally aligning in a good way….because I was able to embrace the good and let go of the bad thoughts.  What you think about, you bring about.  I was tired of waking up every morning filled with doubt and gloom.  That is a choice, just like choosing to wake up with a grateful heart.

It isn’t as though the next few months are not going to come with challenges.  In just a few short weeks we will be on the fast track to  getting my son ready to go away to college.  There is no way for me to truly express how excited I am for him…and how hard it is for me to grasp this new phase of his life, and mine.  No matter what, I will bring to this coming “adventure” (my son tells me I use that word incorrectly too much, ha!) with a positive and grateful attitude.  He has opportunities ahead of him I wish I had taken advantage of when I was 18, but then if I had, he may not have been one of my greatest blessings.  I’m not sure how I’m going to handle not being able to see his face everyday.  Knowing that he’s not just behind his bedroom door…annoyed at me for popping in.  I am blessed, elated and trying to manage the little bit of fear and loss that will surly stir once he is gone.

Even though I attribute May to having been a busy and highly emotional month for me….there is still a lot of work to be done over these next few months.  Time to buckle down and get my ass back in alignment with my plans.   I gave myself a break in order to deal with the self inflicted emotional rollercoaster I was on, and now it’s time to get back to the real work.  Cleaning up and clearing out.  That includes fear, doubt, worry as well as physical clutter.  It also means focusing more on moving to a better place for work and relationships.

The challenges are not over…and it is a blessing that they never will be.  What is over is allowing negative emotions and thoughts to overshadow those challenges.  I’m moving forward with a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude….and that is how I will face each new challenge.  Even if that challenge is simply to NOT give in to the pesky dark voices that whisper in my ear “You’re not going to make it.”

Yes I am, asshole.  Yes I am.

Don’t Stop Believing…Hold on to that fe-e-eling

Gratitude! Finally…Things are starting to look a little better. Honestly, what is really happening is that I am looking at things a little better.

I am a firm believer that you get what you expect from life, even if you don’t want to think you do.  When you walk around bemoaning life and circumstances, you get more things to keep you down.  If  you are willing  to look at life in an optimistic way, truly be optimistic to your core, see the good that is around you, you will have more good things to see.  Even if it’s as simple as being grateful for matching socks.

It’s not that I had forgotten that. I did allow myself to succumb to the less that pleasant moments and circumstances.  Yesterday I came across two videos that reminded me that I have more control over my life than I’m sometimes willing to admit.  I cannot control the asshole who thinks only of himself and is unable to appreciate what I am doing.  I do not have any control over anything or anyone outside of me.  What I do have control of is what is inside of me and how I feel about those things outside of me.  As much as I would love for there to be peace, love and compassion with everyone is my life…I can only create those things within myself.  I can show them peace, love and compassion and not expect to receive it in return.

Since I’ve loosened up my grip on all the unpleasant shit that’s been going on, things have started to show up to reaffirm my better attitude.  Little things, but each and every one of them has been acknowledged and accepted with a full and grateful heart.  This is how I keep that ball rolling.  Gratitude, for even the little things.  Case in point, thinking the item I was returning was the $9.95 item when in fact it was the $34.95 one (yes I should know what each item was, but whatever)!  Having warm weather and no rain on my son’s graduation…and allowing me to wear the kick ass dress I bought.  Finding just the right outfit for the boy, and him finding the dress shoes he already had.

These are not life altering events…or at least not on the surface.  Feeling grateful for each of these little things helps to align yourself with more things to be grateful for.  Which in turn, can most definitely be life altering.  This lesson has been shown to me over and over and over again, I’ve mentioned it before…and I know it is truth.  So much so, that those videos I watched reaffirm these truths, because when you ask to be shown, it will be shown to you.  Your truth…not what you hope to be true.  That’s a point too many of us fail to accept.

There is an underlying deep belief in me that everything will work out.  When I hold on to that, redirect myself to that truth when I’m feeling overwhelmed, the Universe delivers.  I know there are a lot of people out there that do not believe this, and I’m sure I can’t convince a lot of them with just my words…but that’s ok, my life and the “luck” some people think I have, is tied directly to this truth.

So, next time I’m lying awake feeling overwhelmed and broken…I will bring myself back to gratitude for all the little things that are right.  I will embrace it with every fiber of my being.  This, and this alone, will pull me out of the darkness and back on the path to the life I am blessed to have.

 

 

No matter what…I’ll be just fine

Yesterday I learned, that no matter what, my mother would rather hold on to her painful feelings than hold on to me.  Seriously, it’s not a surprise.  This is not something that I hadn’t already learned many years ago…and over and over again over the last few years.  Yesterday, she drove it home, once and for all.

During my divorce, she told my soon to be ex husband, she was not going to help me out “she needs to suffer”.  When I brought this up to her, she denied it, as she always has denied the ugly things she says about me to others.  At that moment, I decided, I wasn’t going to ask for help.  I was going to have to do this without her.  So I did.  I managed to keep my head above water without her support, without her financial assistance.  She told me, all I needed to do was ask, but until recently, I chose not to.

A few weeks ago I decided it was time to ask for some assistance.  I could use a little financial help to fix some things on the house.  Big things.  Do I NEED the help, not really.  Could I use it, most definitely.  So, I swallowed my pride, and reached out.  She was happy to discuss what was going on.  Lunch was scheduled…and I went on about my life.  As, I stated previously, I am not a stupid person, so I knew exactly what I was walking into with this request, but ultimately I decided it was finally time to see if she was willing to back up all her offers and help the only child she will ever have.

Turns out, the kids would be off the day of our scheduled lunch.  That would mean I would have a little emotional buffer.  She wouldn’t be nearly as ugly with her words if the kids were there to witness it.  That was a curve she wasn’t expecting.  When I told her that the kids were coming, she was taken aback, and chose to purchase her own lunch, and leave me and the kids to fend for ourselves.  Ok.

We all made a lot of small talk, and it was about time to “get down to business”.  She asked what I needed the money for.  I told her, she offered to have her own people come check it out. I didn’t turn down the offer, but assured her, I had people too who were willing to help.  Then it got personal.  Honestly, even after less than 24 hours I can’t remember how exactly it started…but it turned into a battle of why would I ask her for money when clearly I have the money to do the work.  So why would she help me if I didn’t really need the money, I just didn’t want to use my own money.  I had my reasons, valid reasons, and I did for a min try to convey that.  As it got more and more personal, with my daughter sitting beside me, I stopped and said “You are right, I don’t NEED the money, but I don’t have a lot left and it’s all that I have.  I decided to ask, if you could help, if you wanted to help, great.  If not, I would take care of it on my own.  I had to ask, or else I wouldn’t know.”

There were more personal attacks.  Did I ask anyone else for money? Why don’t I ask my father, he didn’t pay child support (I’m 44, I think it’s too late to ask for back child support don’t ya think?).  Did they give me money?  I told her, they have given me some money, and I never had to ask.  However, I don’t have the same relationship with him that I do with her.  Her reply, “we don’t have a relationship. We don’t have anything.”  She’s right.  I guess 44 years of being her daughter, 40 years of being her only supporter.  30+ years of being her personal verbal and emotional punching bag, didn’t earn me any credits.  There were more personal attacks, and finally I had enough.  I told her I hope she could appreciate how difficult it was for me to even ask.  I told her she didn’t have to justify herself for not wanting to help, and I wasn’t going to justify myself for asking.

She reminded me of how I kicked her out of my house, yelled at her and told her never to return.  I reminded her that even so, I still reached out to her time and time again and let her in. Why would I do that?  Her response, obviously because you want something. She said that she knew what I thought of her. I said “do you? Do you really know?  What do I think of you?”  She replied “I don’t have to tell you.”  I told her she was right, and I left.

When we were walking out my daughter said “I was getting so angry.  I don’t like when she says things about you that aren’t true.”  I told her “to her, they are true.”  We talked about what happened.  We talked about my feelings about why I don’t want her around her and her borther.  I just don’t want her to do the same thing to them that she has done to me.  She told me, she was glad I wasn’t like her.

I’m sad, a little.  It would be nice if she could put aside all her pain and anger and just be grateful that she has a daughter that would still be willing to let her into her life.  She isn’t.  I fear she won’t ever see things that way.  Her pain is too much ingrained in her to be able to see past it.  IT is more important for her to hold on to, than to let go of any of it, and reach out to me.

With all of it, I’m still grateful for what she has given me. She makes me a better person…a better mother.  Her attitude and behavior remind me of how never to be to my children.

They say the best revenge towards those who wish you ill, is to live a good life.  It’s unfortunate that she will never see, but I do indeed have a pretty damn good life.  No matter what, I know I will be just fine.