The Club To Which I Belong

I am a person of feeling. It seeps out of my pores. I lose my train of thought, I tell stories within stories, and I cry often. I feel. To have a marriage, have children, and then have it end in such a manner, without reason, leaves a person like me hollow in the spaces where all the meaning should have been but never was.

We met on Valentine’s Day of all days. So cliché. I met who I thought would be the love of my life on Valentine’s Day, love day (eye roll). He was the man I would marry and have a family with and live happily ever after. Except none of it was true. It was all as fake as a mirage in the desert. It never existed. I saw it. I even thought I felt it but it was never there. It was just me building a family, having children, and feeling each and every moment alone with you right beside me. Alone when we made love. Alone when we said our I do’s. I was alone in the delivery room as we welcomed our children into the world. I was alone.

There was never support, only jealously and rivalry…competition. There were criticisms and betrayals. The loneliest times I’ve ever felt were in spaces with you. I attempted to bond us and make us closer. I wanted to be closer to you. I needed it. I thought you had a wall up and needed time but you didn’t. The wall I imagined being up never existed. You were never more than who you were. You were shallow and empty. You were self serving and secretive. You were focused on your needs and resented the love I had for our children.

From moment one of our lives as parents you try to dictate how I parented. You criticized the way I breastfed, the foods I ate, how much water I had to drink. You stormed out when I refused to let our baby girl, in leg braces, cry it out. When you asked me to turn off the monitor and ignore our infant crying I didn’t so you pushed me with your feet out of our bed. You were annoyed with me every time either of our babies cried or pulled me away from you.

When our son needed more from me as a toddler you said I was making him weak. When he needed to get in bed with us during the night you made me take him back to his crib every time. Even when he woke up 15 times a night to be close to me. Even when it would have meant we both would have gotten a little sleep. You blamed me for his waking.

Our marriage ended but it really never began. You were always a fraud. I was something you wanted for a reason and never for love. You need me for that reason until I wasn’t needed anymore because I gave my love to our children too. You were so jealous of it. Resented it. It was much worse with our son. He was your competition. The thought of it is just so insane.

Now I am a member of this club. The club where you had a marriage that was never real. A club where you allowed yourself to fall in love with an empty man and had children with him believing you were building a family together. It wasn’t true. Everything you believed you had never existed. It was just something you were doing alone. Your feeling and emotions and moments were real and his…his were all an act. He played the part until it wasn’t fun to play anymore. Until the attention and love wasn’t just his. Then he turned into a beast. A scary, evil, shadow of a man that you thought was real.

I belong to a club where every memory wasn’t what I felt or believed it to be and I don’t know what to do with that. For me to finally grasp that there was never a reason why, doesn’t make sense even though it is true, was life changing. I believe there is a reason for most everything. That is unless you married a narcissist. Then everything you believed about humanity shifted. I believed everyone had feelings. I believed that everyone could love and have empathy. I was wrong. Everything changed inside of me. I’m a person who feels and there is nothing to feel about any of that.


Not The Same

I’m not the same as I use to be. I’m a lot more of some and less of others. I’m a lot stronger in lots of ways and weaker in a few. I’m a lot braver than before but still afraid at times, with certain things…but I’m ok. Ok. I’m at peace with ok.

This life we are all living can be good and it can be bad but it’s the only life we have. When I dig down deep to figure out what’s important in mine it all comes down to very simple things. I need to give love, to be loved, to help others when I can, I need to laugh, hug lots, listen to music and enjoy the breeze on warm days. I need to watch the sun set and continuously be amazed by how beautiful it is. Simple things are my life blood. Keeping up with others is not.

I’m not the same as I use to be, I’m better. I’m better for understanding what matters and what doesn’t. Love the ones that love you and stop chasing after people that don’t.



I’ve abandoned my site for a long time and I’m not back. Sometimes writing is therapeutic and others it is only a place for negativity. I needed and need not to record all of the bad…fears, regrets, anxiety. You know. I realized something recently and I wanted to put it here. At this age and time in life, to really know someone and to let them know you you must admit and share the hardest moments of your life, the ones that made you who you are, and the happiest ones. Those are the things that really define who we are. Daily life can be shuffled through, good deeds and doing things for others can just happen but they don’t tell our real story. They may make us appear to be good people, and we might be, but it doesn’t say who we are. There’s a risk, letting someone in like this, as they can use the information to hurt you, as I know well, but until you take a risk you’ll always be alone. Alone even in a relationship, Alone even with friends.

Life lesson. Trust is scary.

Not Living Yet Living, PTSD

Time waits for no one.

It’s sobering.

How one human being could turn my life on it’s head and I wafer between strong and weak year after year after year. Not moving forward. Not falling backwards. Nothing ever easy but not always hard….just not easy.

I have purposely taken a break from this…this writing about life, this existence. My existence because I just became tired of hearing myself or my words as I typed them down. My inner voice out loud. So over me. I just wanted to live and not talk about it. Good or bad, just exist. So that’s what I’ve been doing but what does it even mean. I feel like I’m just letting time pass by and now, at my age, I feel it more and more with every sunrise and sunset. I feel myself losing chances to be more, to be brave, and to be everything I want to be but can’t. I don’t need a pep talk or atta girl. I don’t need anything but everything and that just doesn’t mesh. Always circles. Constant cycles. Pros and cons. Too much thought yet too much pain compartmentalized to not have to think just to be able to live. Wtf.

I need.

I want.

But I’m good…enough.

Contradictions. Constant contradictions. Surrounds by such bravery…nerve.


Wasting life yet living.

Afraid to want more. I’m such a coward but not. Contradictions. Constant contradictions.

Just it’s all so fulfilling, so exhausting, and so empty all the time. So afraid of living while living. Aways twists and turns. Always triggers.


Must be.

Why one person? How? One. Did so much damage without permission. There no love there anymore. Zero. The hasn’t been any in years. So how do the triggers still affect me. How does it still control me.

I’m too funny to be so afraid. The bottom always falls out. That’s why I’m standing still in. To afraid to move and fall off the edge.

PTSD, what a bitch you are.

Disappearing & Reappearing

As I got out of my car tonight, I decided to take a quick pic of my daffodils before he rain returns tomorrow. It’s been raining so much lately and the temperature has been up and down so much I’m not sure I can identify any season. I feel it is mirroring my life. Always changing yet always staying the same. Finding predictability in so much uncertainty is at its best….blind, crazy, undeserved, optimism. How I hold on to any, I have no idea. Non. Zero. Zip. Some days I don’t. Some days overwhelm me. Self doubt blankets over me yet I keep karate chopping it off, hoping for more…dreaming dreams filled with passion.


How does one person face so many challenges and still choose to see her glass 1/2 full even on days when it’s empty? I even kept my chin up refusing to fully let my skin absorb all the abusive and mean words thrown at me during my marriage. They hurt but I didn’t believe them…not really. It hurt worse that someone who was suppose to love me didn’t.

The daffodils caught my eye tonight and I felt like they represented me. They popped out of the ground during all this rain and continued to stand tall. They’ll probably find a way to survive if it briefly snows this week but if they don’t….they’ll come back and be stronger next time. Like me. Stronger every step of the way even when I have a day or week of doubt. I always return, glass 1/2 full.

Finding My Way

It’s been a life long struggle, trying to find my way. I have so much passion in so many areas. I have so much heart. I have talent in areas I often outwardly deny, but I do. The problem isn’t doing but how to do and how to find the confidence in myself to push forward without feeling selfish.

I’m going through something lately that I can’t quite explain because I don’t understand it myself. The day to day on this changes as I fight the beast of depression. Some days it wins and I feel time just slipping away. That feeling for sure is new. I miss the naiveté of the movement of time I had years before. I don’t know how or when it began to speed up but it was somewhere in between my multiple life changes; joys and tragedies. I see the footprints of it on my face where once a could see beauty, I now see age dominate. It’s quite humbling.

Seeing lines forming on my face I feel panic viewing the movement of the clock arms, how fast the sun rises and sets, and how it isn’t concerned with me. It just happens. My life, my desires, my loves and passions all should just happen too but they don’t. Is it because I feel tied….restrained due to the nasty words and emotions others have unfairly thrown at me? Is it because I accepted them/believe them?

Mental health isn’t a privilege that only the wealthiest can afford. Mental health is an equalization of sound and touch. It’s a temperature to maintain in the harshest conditions. It’s fragility and strength intertwine making it a type of enigma. One that is incredible difficult to hold but one we all fight for…that is if we are aware the scales inside us are unbalanced. Then there are times when the darkness inside grows and blocks the light. The light that is needed to fight.

Finding my way is a daily battle controlling darkness and grasping to my light. Knowing in the brightest part of me I have so much to give. I’ve always felt it and I think every one of us has that same pull to our reason for being. Our purpose whether big or small.

If only mental health was respected as much as physical diseases. If it was protected. If only our secrets didn’t require being hidden. Our pain judged and forced to be boxed away to survive. Maybe the world around us wouldn’t be crumbling all the time. Maybe these enormous hearts, like mine, so full of pain could heal and then put that big love out in the world through life long passions weighted under so much sadness.

We could all be finding our way to a better day. We could be showing love and appreciating each other. You judges of everyone around you, your judgements are transparent. I can still see your pain. Let’s stop hiding together and start healing so we can all find our ways.