I Wish Somebody Would Have Told Me That Some Day, These Will Be The Good Old Days

So I’m going to Kelowna this Thursday.

My boss paid for flights and handled our overnight accommodations, and it’s happening.

We all just decided that we needed to get a better sense of the city and maybe view a couple different houses, see the schools, and just get a better feel of the different neighbourhoods etc before we move further with this. Although at this point it’s pretty much green lights all around.

Like guys. I’m moving to Kelowna. For real. Soon. By this time next year I’ll most likely be in a custom-built home. That I’ve designed from scratch. Every tap and door handle. Each tile and window will have been chosen by me. For me.

And I don’t know how I feel. My boss finally let himself get excited today when we finally made the decision that this was happening. That it was going to work for everyone and be a good move, the right move all around. You could totally tell he was happy, well my coworker, J, too for that matter. But A verbalized it a few times, point-blank saying, I’m getting excited now. And it’s not that I’m not excited. It’s just that I don’t normally show it. I legitimately have googled, on more than one occasion, and read multiple studies on the traits of psychopaths, just to make sure I’m not one, just because of how emotionless I am sometimes. Don’t worry. I’m not a psychopath… I’m pretty sure ūüôā But I definitely wasn’t as excited about the move as either one of them.

Do I want to move? Yes.

Would I be okay to stay? Yes.

Am I happy about moving? Yes.

Is it stressing me out? Yes.

Do I think it would be good to move? Yes.

Do I think it would be easier to stay? Yes.

Soooo, you can see my newest issue.


-Macklemore Ft. Kesha/Good Old Days-

 

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I’ve Got Thick Skin And An Elastic Heart/You Did Not Break Me I’m Still Fighting For Peace

Ok guys. So after spending Monday in a hot mess, and I mean MESS. I was breaking down and crying every time my kids weren’t in the room, and maybe once or twice when they were. I had my epiphany. At least I hope it’s my light bulb moment because if not… well then I’m headed down the wrong¬†path lol.

After what happened with my grandpa, and a few other stressful events that of course just had to happen this weekend involving K, that I’m not ready to get into yet, I just broke on Monday. I was barely functioning, and couldn’t contain my crying, it was bad. But I didn’t realize how bad until my brother-in-law D went to give me a hug goodbye, since they were heading out from my grandpa’s that evening, and after the hug¬†he did that pause where his hand kinda lingered on my back while he said take care or something, I don’t even remember, because everything inside of me was screaming at him to stop touching me.

That’s when I realized how much the night before with my grandpa had affected me. Obviously I had spent the day crying, but I thought maybe I was overly tired and just emotional. But when I literally couldn’t stand the thought of D giving me a hug, I knew I was messed up. Also I did tell N what had happened, just because I wanted to get it off my chest. Now, nothing negative against N, but she kept bringing it up throughout the day again. Here I am trying to get over it and just get back into my regular routine and push it as far from my mind as possible, and every 30 minutes or whatever she’s asking if I’m sure I’ll be OK, or saying just make sure I have my phone close etc. I get that she was trying to ease my worries but to me it was just bringing up the feelings/thoughts/emotions that I had just managed to get out of my head 5 minutes ago.

And it made me understand that N doesn’t get it. She has never been raped. She didn’t understand the fear I was feeling. Or why it came back in huge waves. Or why I haven’t slept since. But I get it. I understand it. I’ve been there.

As I drove home yesterday, I spent the majority of the 11 hour car ride considering why all this shitty stuff keeps going on in my life, and how if possible can I turn it for good. How can I make this work for me? What can I do with this pile of crap I’ve been given to make a positive impact?

So the only idea that came to me, and that is still a huge work in progress, is that I’m going to make my blog more “public” in an effort to help those in my community.

I thought maybe I could use my experiences to help others who have been through similar things. And considering my wide range of¬† experiences… I might be able to relate to many people. In my mind I see myself relating to many women/teens who are struggling with issues that I have gone through and just want someone to talk to. Like how I just wanted someone to tell and so I told N, but because she’s never been through anything like it, she didn’t know how to handle it.

I know that many people just want to talk. Not so that they can be told what to do, or be judged, or feel like they’re at the shrinks office¬†but just to know that they aren’t alone. And that others have survived issues like them, and that there is nothing wrong with them. That it is do-able, getting through this crazy life. That no matter how ridiculous it seems at the time, you can make it through.

So, I’ve decided to make myself vulnerable by slowly kinda revealing myself in a sense to those around me, so that others can learn, or feel comforted by this.

Over the next little while, I’ll be revisiting my posts to edit and review what I’ve written. Freshen up my posts, add all the details I missed in my haste to just get my story out. But from there I haven’t figured out the details of how this plan will play out… only that I feel right in doing this. But… lol forgive how lame this sounds, but last night I actually had dreams of doing public speaking at high schools and stuff. Like motivational speeches. It was weird and crazy, but¬†here’s a quote my grandma had written…

“After all was said and done, A lot was said and not much done.”

So I figured at this point, I’ve said a lot, I should start doing something.

So if you have any suggestions… lol, let me know.


-Sia/Elastic Heart-

I Am Just A Troubled Soul Who’s Weighted To The Ground. Give Me The Strength To Lay This Burden Down

So I went for it.

Today is officially day one of my new “lifestyle”

I stopped pussyfooting around regarding my weight loss and signed up for Jenny Craig. Now don’t laugh (I used to kinda inwardly laugh at people who choose this option, but hear me out). I choose it because after making my standard Pro/Con list in my head about all my different options, I came to realize that food prep¬†is my downfall.

I know myself, I won’t track what I eat, so most “programs” i.e. Weight Watchers were out. I know I wouldn’t hold myself accountable to just a basic app on my phone to¬†monitor my food intake, because common, I’m not that reliable when it comes to writing things down or tracking things, like I just last year starting tracking my period and I’ve had that for like 18 years! I know I won’t make time to go to the gym, because I basically hate it, all the changing/gym clothes/sweaty people/awful music, so that option was out.

Which lead me to Jenny. The go to for middle aged women everywhere lol. (seriously the lady on the phone kept making references to being a middle aged woman and making the choice for yourself after all so many years of failed attempts at other things.. I had to tell her I was only 29 and this was my first choice, and in my head tell myself I’m not going to fail) I choose this option because they prepare your food for you. They prep it for the week, can deliver it to your door, and make up a menu to explain what to eat and when. Seriously it’s the easiest thing for me. I don’t enjoy cooking at all, so after looking at all the options out there, it was a no brainer. I got my first week’s worth delivered last night and (after realizing I had limited freezer space and that it might be an issue from now on), I sorted out my meals for today and, as my kids would say, it was “easy peasy lemon squeasy” I actually felt accomplished and prepared for the day. I also felt a little shocked at the amount of food I’m expected to eat throughout the course of my day. I can 100% confidently say¬†my problem in the past is not that I¬†overeat. I pretty sure my issue is more along the lines of not choosing the “right” foods, as well as my digestion, which thanks to my Naturopath¬†is ever so slowly getting better.

Either way, I’m determined and dedicated to do at least one month on the program, to see how it goes.¬†¬†Then from there since I’m hoping it goes well, I’ll continue it until my Cruise this fall. (WOO cruise lol). Plus, if¬†when I¬†reach my goal weight on Jenny, they give you half your money back, so that’s a win win if I ever saw one.

But I just wanted to let y’all know I’m excited about this. It’s the first time I’ve ever consciously made a choice on my own to do anything positive/healthy long term for my body.

Although I don’t think I ever learned how to properly care for my body and eat super healthy growing up, I don’t blame anyone for my weight, it’s obviously my body, so it’s my responsibility to treat it properly. That being said, I do my best to silently watch what my kids eat, and teach them that food is used as a tool to give our body energy and fuel, the same way we put gas in¬†a car, we put food in our bodies to keep them going. I remind them that when they are full they can stop, but also try to keep the balance so that they aren’t conveniently full when it comes to veggies lol. When they were younger, I used to serve veggie first, and once that was done, they could eat whatever else was for dinner. That way they got used to finishing their vegetables before anything else, and so far it’s been working good. My kids are both healthy and a very suitable weight for their age/height.

Another contribution to my attitude towards weight loss? I once lost a lot of weight… I looked good. Nope scratch that. I looked amazing. And that’s when I got raped (¬†I Don‚Äôt Ever Wanna Feel Like I Did That Day, Take Me to the Place I Love, Take Me All the Way ). So to say that instance¬†also hasn’t made an impact in how much weight I carry now would be a lie. But I’m ready to move on.

From the fear of men using me.

From the fear of being the best me.

Because I’m going to let anything hold me back.


-Annie Lennox/Little Bird-

 

 

 

 



 

While You Laughin’ We’re Passin’ Passin’ Away¬†

Stoic. Heartless. Cold blooded. ¬†Emotionless. Indifferent. Uncaring. Reserved. Nonchalant. Apathetic. Matter of fact. Bitch. All names I’ve been called in the past that make complete sense to me now.

I received the call today. My grandma passed away a couple of hours ago. And I really, unfortunately don’t feel¬†much towards the situation. And that in itself didn’t bother me, because I know myself. I knew I would have little to no reaction to her passing. Like I mentioned before, it’s life we’re living, and with that comes death. What bothered me though, was how little E responded to the news.

I explained it as sensitively as I could, while still not mincing the truth. Grandma was very sick, and in a lot of pain, and her body was no longer strong enough to fight anymore so she has now passed away and has died. That was enough to make little E tear up on the spot.

I guess I wasn’t expecting his reaction only because I wasn’t at all bothered by her death, but I’m learning that not everyone is like me. I’ve spent years learning how to control my emotional response to get it to where it is today, I can’t expect the same from a 6 year old. So it was a learning experience for me as a mom. How can I teach little E to deal with his emotions? And quite honestly… put on the spot like that was challenging.

I tried discussing it with him at first but I could just tell that¬†he wasn’t listening, so I asked him if he wanted me to stop talking for a bit and just let him think it through a little, and he nodded yes. But as I let him sit for maybe 2 minutes, when I would look over I would see him tear up every so often and I knew this solution was not the right one, since he wasn’t getting any better.

I offered first off to give him a hug, which he didn’t want. So I asked him what did he want to do? Did he want to play basketball in his room with me? Thinking that could get some of the emotion/energy out. Nope he didn’t want to. Did he want to break something (willing to offer up a plate or something, since they’re all replaceable) Nope. Did he want to colour a picture and rip it up into a million pieces? Nope. Did he want to turn up the music really loud and dance super silly in the living room? Yep, we had a winner.

So the 3 of us walked to the living room where little E turned on the music and then just sat on the couch. Z and I started dancing and while I tried to encourage little E to join us twice, I knew he would only do it when he was ready. After a song or two he got up and grabbed a drawing board out of the toy bin and started just scribbling the whole thing black and wiping it off repeatedly. Then after about 10 minutes, he wrote out “mom can you guess if I’m happy / sad now” and handed me the board asking me to circle one.

I circled sad, and he nodded his head. I told him it’s completely ok to be sad because someone close to you has died. You shouldn’t be embarrassed because your sad. And it’s ok if these feelings last a little while. That’s ok. Just understand that you will not be sad forever. You are still alive. And even though everyone will die one day, you are still alive today. So be sad for now, because that’s ok. Cry for tonight because your great grandma died. But then remember one day¬†it’s time to be happy again. Because you are still alive.

And he was good with that. It told him his feelings were valid. Because feeling pain is just as important as feeling joy. If you don’t feel your lows, your highs aren’t as impressive. So I felt I had an opportunity to teach him a valuable lesson about that tonight. But that conversation of course led way to everything else that the death conversation brings.

He learned about graveyards, funerals, cremation, ashes, Arizona, Phoenix Coyotes, cancer, chemotherapy, radiation, organ donation, organs in general, what the kidney does, who will take care of them if I have to go and take care of my mom when she’s dying…. it was a long and winding conversation (as they all are when a 3&6 year old are asking the questions). Part of which lead me to say that when we die our soul/spirit is no longer in the body, and we are just skin and bone remaining. To which little E said “so God can take grandma’s soul/spirit and put it into a new little baby!” which caught me off guard.

I¬†recently been trying to tell my kids about as many different religions as possible so that when they have gathered as much information as they think is enough, they can make their informed decision about how they live their life regarding spirituality. I don’t want them to be ignorant, but I also don’t want them believing something, just because someone said it was the best for them. It’s a fine line. For myself, I’m not 100% sure what I believe about the afterlife. Mainly because I’ve never been dead before and so I can’t know for sure what happens when you die. I’d like to think at this point in time there’s a heaven because it sounds pretty enjoyable, better than a black nothingness or the hell option. But I don’t think I believe in reincarnation. Therefore, when little E made his comment, I had to check myself to make sure what I said didn’t influence his choices and growth. So I just¬†nodded at¬†him and said yeah maybe, and then maybe you might see a baby and it could be grandmas spirit. Or maybe in a bird or a flower. You might see grandma anywhere, then you don’t have to be sad about not seeing her until you die (something that had bothered him). Little E though through everything we had discussed and seemed to be much better about it all.

As for myself? I’m still surprised it affected him this much, but that’s just me. The cold-hearted bitch.


-Bone Thugs-N-Harmony/Tha Crossroads-

And If I Don’t Make It, Know That I Loved You All Along

My Grandma is dying. She was diagnosed less than two months ago with lung cancer that has spread like wild-fire into her spine and throughout her body. Chemo was a no go, because the cancer was too far gone, and Radiation has only been recommended to help shrink some of the larger tumours that are causing her so much pain she can’t even sit or stand, but not as a cure. She has deteriorated so quickly that as of this past Monday, she was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance while she had a heart attack, and is now being placed on palliative care.

In the simplest terms, she is waiting to die.

Death brings out the worst in everyone, and my mom has been trying her best to help, but things came to a head yesterday after she returned home from what could be her last time seeing her own mother. She spent the last week in BC, taking my grandma to and from the hospital and lawyers offices and cooking, and cleaning for her, all while watching the woman who raised her wilt away to nothing.

My grandma can’t do anything for more than 5-10 minutes before having to have a nap because she is drained from exerting any energy. So, my sisters, N & R and I figured we should plan a trip, sooner rather than later to go visit her one last time.

R asked me to look into flight costs and find the best price (since I’ve done the most travel and have the best experience with booking flights). BUT because of R’s busy life, she’s only available like 2 out of the next 16 days and she wants to go there and back on the same day. ALSO since she’s on a strict budget, she expects me to find return flights for under $200. Ummmm yeeeeah. Highly doubtful. So then she brings up the fact that she saw some deal for flights to “somewhere in BC for $49 so it should be fine!” Um, the flights you saw go to a city 4 hours from where we need to be?!? So she recommends that we fly there and rent a car and drive the rest of the way.

What? You wanna fly inbound, in the morning, drive 4 hours, visit for 10 minutes, drive back 4 hours, catch another flight and be home in time to put the kids to bed the same night? Like it would just be much simpler to just fly straight to the city we need to be in, even if it means spending a little more money, the PITA factor will more than make up for it.

I told her I would work on it, but in the end I found a flight for $269¬†that she¬†thought was cool. ¬†Either way, I’m good since my boss overheard the tail end of one of my calls with R and so I explained about my grandma and how I might need a day off next week and he was fine with that… SOOO cool in fact, that about 20 minutes later, he came by my desk and told me to let him know before I book my tickets because there might be some “arrangements” he can make. The co-owner of my company lives in the same place I have to go, and he said we can possibly write it off as a work trip saying I have to “meet” with the owner while I’m there for my 3 month review, and probably pay for it with points.¬†So basically he’s willing to pay for my flight as a business expense,¬†woo me!

But as it turns out, after all this arranging back and forth, looking for flights, rental cars, getting free trips from my boss, calls between sisters… turns out my grandma no longer wants to have any visitors.

She has asked that no body else comes to see her, since it’s becoming to overwhelming for her, and she’d rather people remember her as she was instead of how she is now, which I gather from my mom is pretty rough.

Ok, I totally get it. I don’t like people around when I’m sick, didn’t want people around when I gave birth. I don’t like indulging people to make them feel comfortable, I can only imagine how I would feel at that time in my life when I know I basically have nothing left time wise. Maybe I’d want to be surrounded by loved ones… but only if they were silent. I remember I screamed at the doctors to shut up when I gave birth, and then apologized profusely after lol. But sometimes just knowing people are there helps. You don’t need the nervous chitchat. You need peace, and you need people who can bring that peace into your life. And if they can be there with you at the end, then I would welcome them. If they want to try to settle they’re nerves and they’re uncomfortableness with death, then I don’t want them around me while I’m trying to die. Because I’m fine with death and dying. It’s part of life. Or more specifically it’s the end of life, but it’s something EVERYONE on this planet has in common. No matter how you lived, you will die. And I’m fine with that. I have no fear in death. When it’s done, it’s done. And when my grandma dies, I will obviously not be happy, but I will move on with my life, until I die. No, I’m not heartless, I’m just ridiculously practical and probably to logical for my own good.

My mom on the other hand, like most people, is not handling it well. When I called her yesterday to see how her trip went and how she was doing, it was definitely bad timing. When she answered the call I could hear some yelling in the background, and my mom walking into her room.

She’d just been going through a heated¬†exchange with another family member that didn’t end pleasantly at the time.

I had to spend the next hour on the phone with my mom trying to talk to her about it all, explaining where she “might, possibly, slightly” have been wrong. Or actually she was right in her observations about the individual, but had not handled the situation well due to her¬†emotional state.

Like I said, death brings out the worst in people.


-Our Lady Peace/4AM-

I Don’t Ever Wanna Feel Like I Did That Day, Take Me To The Place I Love, Take Me All The Way

*This post contains NSFW material and graphic content which may trigger some people.*

When I was 19, my body was used for the first time in ways that changed me forever.

I was really good friends with this one couple A and M. ¬†We worked together, we went out dancing every weekend together. I was even planning on moving in with A in a few weeks because she wanted a break from living with her boyfriend¬†M for now. So when A went out of town to Big Valley, M joined my boyfriend W and I on Friday night at our go to club and it was dancing like normal. At the end of the night I drove my boyfriend home and then took M to his and A’s place. I had previously planned to spend the night there since we both had a work meeting early the next morning I was going to drive us too.

They lived on the ground floor of an apartment building so when we walked up to the patio doors, his neighbors were out having drinks with the music blaring. We said our hi’s and headed inside. M poured drinks for us and turned something on the tv, I can’t remember what. I just remember sitting on the couch having my first drink of the night, it was about¬†1 in the morning, and thinking I have to be at work at 8:30 and how much it sucks, and also how loud the neighbors music was… I could barely hear myself think.

And then outta nowhere, M leaned over and kissed me. Wooh, no! Oh common C, just a little bit, I’ve been wanting this for so long. Why do you think A is moving out? We’re not doing good. She knows I love you.

Ummm… No! I have a boyfriend, and I’m truly sorry things aren’t working out for you guys but I’m not interested. I should leave. I went to stand up to go and that’s when my life changed. M grabbed me from behind and threw me on the floor before I even knew what he was doing. That’s when I started screaming. And hitting and biting and kicking… anything I could do to try and stop this. But M was bigger. And stronger. And a man who should’ve known better. He was on top of me straddling me in no time. Telling me he loved me, and that it was ok. Trying to kiss me. I kept screaming, but the music from next door was drowning out my calls for help. He dragged me by my elbow and hair down the hall to the spare room, where he literally picked me up like a rag doll, threw me on the bed and locked the door. He ripped my pants off and shoved his fingers in my vagina, talking about how much he loved me, and needed me. I’m frantically screaming and pushing away. He kept trying to kiss me and I threw up on the bed and he didn’t care. He just took his dick and shoved it in me. Over and over while I kicked and screamed and cried.

I had things inside my body that I didn’t want. I was used as a toy and degraded. I was humiliated and felt defeated. I had only had sex with one other man, my current boyfriend before this, and I felt like I had betrayed him. I wanted someone to rush in and save me. I wanted time to stop. I wanted to die.

But instead he finished, and rolled over and slept. I managed to move off the other side of the bed to the floor. I was covered in vomit, blood, tears, snot, and semen. And I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t even cry anymore. All I could do was listen to the music from next door and the stupid sound of the caged mice on the desk. They were like me. Locked in a room. Running on their wheel. We both just wanted to get away. All night. Those mice were the only witnesses to what had happened, and to this day, seeing a mouse brings back every evil moment of that night. To the point I bought a snake so I could feed it live mice every week just to watch them die. Morbid? Yep. Helpful? Very.

I told my boyfriend W about what happened. He handled it so amazingly. He offered advice, but never told me what I should do. He came with me to the clinic to get tested for all those wonderful STI’s. And he held me. He just held me. I never cried about it after the fact, and W understood that. But he still knew that I wanted to be held and feel safe. And he always did that for me. He never got mad when I said I didn’t want to press charges. I told him I didn’t want to have to be dealing with M or the whole situation for however many months/years to come. I basically just wanted to pretend it never happened. Denial at its finest I know, that’s how I operate. And W was ok with whatever I wanted. He recommended certain things that were best for me for sure. But never pushed me into something I wasn’t comfortable with.

Unlike some “men” who think if they say “I love you” then they can fuck you no matter what.


-Red Hot Chili Peppers/Under the Bridge-

This Thing Turned Out so Evil, Don’t Know Why I’m Still Surprised¬†

Filing for divorce was not an easy process. I had some time when I got back to¬†Canada¬†to sort out what I was going to do and how I was going to do it, because E was away at work. He worked at a camp in a remote area so I didn’t have to worry about him for a while. But I knew he wasn’t going to be happy once he was served with papers and so I wanted to make sure the kids and I were safe.

WAY harder than it should’ve been.

I figured I would just explain what had happened in Kenya (and more) and that I wanted to file for divorce and possibly a restraining order and that because of E’s erratic behaviour, I didn’t know how he would respond. My mom offered to watch the kids for a couple hours, while I headed to the court to deal with it.

Common! I was denied at every turn. First, I couldn’t file for divorce because we hadn’t been separated for a year yet. Then, I couldn’t get a restraining order because the abuse had happened not only out of the country, but wasn’t recent enough for them to consider it dangerous for myself and the kids now. I was given a crappy lawyer through a program called legal aid, which helps people who can’t really afford to hire full on lawyers themselves, but the thing is, legal aid lawyers don’t¬†give a shit about your case. They make less money then on their other cases and couldn’t care less about your outcome, so they push it to the bottom of their pile.

My lawyer did nothing unless I called or emailed a minimum 4-5 times per situation and even then I had to do all the research myself to make sure everything was being covered. So many times I found things through my research that I would bring up to my lawyer and he’d be like “oh yeah… I didn’t think you needed that” Ummmm I kinda need a custody order in place among so many other things. Anyways.

After 2.5 months I finally got my statement out with my lawyer and E was served with divorce papers. This whole time he never once asked to see the kids or even talk to them on the phone. He would only call or text me to harass me about money or that we should get back together. And I thought about it often.

Until one day I came back to my parents house after dropping the kids off at the day home to get some things before I headed to school. It seemed fine at first, I walked in the front door as per usual, and no one else was home, like I expected. But then I saw the back patio door was open and my stomach was in my throat so fast. It normally takes a lot to get me scared or rattle me but when I saw that door… I can honestly say there was a fear like I’ve never known that crept in. I knew E had finished his shift up north recently and was in the city now but other than that I didn’t know where he was staying or what he was up to, and in that moment, I thought he had broken into my parents house.

I called my mom to see where she was and why the door was open… but she was sure she had left it closed/locked. Now my heart is pounding. I’m in¬†stealth mode now. I slowly and methodically checked in every closet, behind every door and under all the beds. I even went out to the yard and dug around the bushes. Then back into the house to do it all again. I checked places that I KNEW there was no logical way E could even fit into! But I looked. Behind shower curtains and under stairs, all the while trying to calm my breathing so it wasn’t to loud and slow my heart which I thought would pound right out of my chest at any moment.

He obviously wasn’t anywhere in the house. But my mind was too far gone. I had been having nightmares about him stealing the kids and taking them back to Kenya. Or breaking through¬†my window at night and beating me to death. And in that moment, because of that stupid door, I felt my nightmares were alive.

I realized that day how deep the damage E had caused in me. And even though I had filed for divorce and had been trying to stay strong, keeping the kids away and ignoring all the manipulative texts… a part of me had been considering getting back together with him. Until that day. I realized was scared of him. My body had never reacted so dramatically in fear to anything before this point, and not since.

It was that day I knew it didn’t matter how many years or ridiculous accusations or drawn out conversations it took. I was done with E. Forever.


-Rihanna/Love the Way You Lie Part 2-

‘Cause I’m Only Human After All¬†

There has been a lot going on in my life. Well that’s obvious for everyone who’s been reading my posts so far. ¬†But I’m talking in the here and now life.

It’s getting to the point where I’ve been really questioning life in general, and how it works.

Like when does “God” or “Karma” or “the universe” decide that’s enough struggle for one person. How much can a single human handle before throwing in the towel. What could I have possibly done to send out so much negative energy out there or did I piss off whatever deity is in charge?

For example, the last couple weeks I’ve been going back and forth with my Dr. It was originally going to be just a standard check up and then possibly trying to get off my seizure meds. I’m not a fan of taking medication if it’s not necessary. Well the seizures got put to the back burner when some stuff came back in my blood work about my liver.

Turns out I have an enlarged liver due to an enzyme found in alcohol. My Dr. told me this is mostly found in people who are alcoholics and have been drinking steadily for MANY years. He also said I have to reduce my alcohol intake because this can turn into cancer quite quickly.

Well reducing my alcohol intake will be next to impossible because I don’t drink.

Well I do. Like a glass or two of¬†sangria at Christmas or maybe Easter, and then maybe twice more throughout the year. That’s it.¬†¬†Now how the¬†world do I have a disease that’s associated with alcoholism if I¬†hardly drink?

I’m thoroughly pissed off at this. I feel like what’s the point of not drinking anymore since I’m already practically suffering from liver failure.

I’m honestly just ready to be done. This is just a small example of what’s going on and I feel like I keep pushing through all these struggles… but for what?

I’m still no closer to the end of my divorce. I have no romantic prospects on the horizons. I’ve been yelling at my kids more because of the stress and it’s not their fault. I’m still having raging headaches and seizures once in a while. And now I have cancer on the roster. Like what is the point? For real?

Why can’t I just catch a break. Just one small break. What did I ever do to deserve this. All of this. Any of this.

I’m a decent person. I deserve love and respect and health. Or maybe at least one of them. I dunno maybe I’m being greedy but I feel asking for a few things from “god” “the powers that be”¬†“the universe”¬†or whoever/whatever’s job it is to hand out good stuff… shouldn’t be to much.

Kinda feel like I deserve something for what I’ve been through. Even a damn gold star would be better than cancer at this point. I’m not picky. Just sayin’


-Rag’n’Bone Man/Human-

Nobody Said It Was Easy. No One Ever Said It Would Be This Hard

I’d like to say that once I got back to Canada things got better fast. But that would be a complete lie. It was hard. There were so many stressful factors I didn’t even consider when thinking the whole “leave E” thing through.

My parents let us stay with them for which I am so grateful and my parents were SO happy to have their grandkids back from Kenya for good. We figured out a reasonable rent amount, and each of us had our own room downstairs in the house I grew up in. It was nice to have built in babysitters with my parents but to be honest I never really went out. So most nights it was TV in between my parents on the couch. So cool, I know.

It took us about a week to get settled and over the jet lag. We took many trips to Value Village¬†and Goodwill (thrift shops) to outfit the kids with winter clothes and¬†a few toys. Considering we had just moved from +30 to February in Canada it’s an understatement to say we were underdressed and ill prepared.

I was still officially on maternity leave with Z so that helped financially for a bit, but I had huge credit card bills to pay off mainly from flights, E’s most recent one¬†included, so I had to think about what I was going to do to support my kids. I had 3/4’s of my teaching degree already under my belt, but at this time I really didn’t feel like it was my thing. I figured if I was going to go back to school anyway, I might as well make sure it was something I was really wanting.

So I started taking multiple personality tests to see what kind of traits I had and which jobs they matched well with. I needed to make sure I made the best choice because I couldn’t mess anything up. I had little people looking up to me. After at least a dozen quizzes (no joke) I narrowed my decision down to the area of accounting/HR that I though suited me well. I found a program close to home that offered an accounting degree and payroll certification for across Canada¬†start¬†to finish in¬†10 months. The program was designed to be intense but for a faster finish. Sounded perfect for me, since I needed to be back in the work force ASAP making as much money as possible. I applied, got accepted and started all within a week.

I had to find childcare for my kids which was hard since I didn’t even have a regular babysitter. It took me a little while, but I found the perfect dayhome for them 2 minutes from my parents house and on the way to school. The kids loved it and D was and amazing lady.

Now I had to buy a vehicle. I looked around for a while at second hand ones that I could buy straight out with cash, but couldn’t find one I really liked, and¬†that didn’t have any issues. I didn’t want to be dealing with car troubles with all the other troubles I had going on at the time. I ended up going to a dealership and buying the most beautiful Rogue for myself straight off the lot. It was the nicest thing I had ever owned/done for myself¬†and it made me happy every time I looked at the car. I’ve had to sell it since then to buy my house so I currently drive a¬†bucket of bolts¬†I hate, but one day I’ll get myself¬†a nice car¬†again.

Then, there were the people I had to deal with. OH the people. Where to start.

My mom just kept comparing my divorce to hers like a gazillion years ago and the similarities were few and far between yet I was supposed to do everything how she had done it and all the advice was in her opinion super helpful… It wasn’t. She kept telling me about different laws that were so outdated, or paperwork I should file that didn’t exist anymore. It was frustrating. I just wanted to tell her what was going on without her telling me what to do. I just wanted her to listen. But that’s not my mom.

Then at a family get together about a month¬†after I’d gotten back, my older sister R felt it was a good time to give me her¬†opinion on my life. Now R is very dedicated to her Christian faith (her and her husband J are Pastors) and from her perspective, I shouldn’t divorce E. I should “separate from him. Separate forever, but don’t divorce” Also she felt it was appropriate to then tell me that, if I choose to remarry, her and her family would not be attending my second wedding. Her and her husband didn’t believe in divorce and remarriage and therefore wouldn’t support it. ¬†Unless he had cheated on me. (Apparently physical abuse is ok according to God though) She felt she was being kind by giving me a heads up on this. I hadn’t even officially filed for divorce yet (I hadn’t even decided to get a divorce yet) and you’re already talking about my hypothetical second wedding? It was frustrating and made me feel like no longer discussing E with her.

*Since this time R and I have discussed this moment and I explained how it made me feel, and R has apologized for making that comment at that time and the insensitivity of it all. I have forgiven it and we have moved past it*

Anyways then in April, my little sister’s boyfriend D wanted to propose, and asked for my help. The last thing I wanted to do while dealing with my divorce from an abusive crazy ex is help other people in happy healthy relationships get engaged. Petty? Yes, very. ¬†But I helped. I wanted to cry the whole time, but I helped. I also must’ve subconsciously been pissed because I was supposed to record¬†the whole proposal on my phone, and I honestly thought I was videoing the whole thing, but when we went to watch it after there was no video. I don’t know if I forgot to press record or what, but I honestly felt terrible. Either way, she got a beautiful ring on her finger in a room full of her family and friends and flowers. I know she’ll remember it forever without the video… I hope :/

My dad sort of kept to himself about the whole thing. That was his style though. Mostly just let my mom do her thing.¬† But when my sister got engaged, I’ll always remember he brought up the whole “don’t you dare hurt my daughter, or I’ll kill you speech” And in that moment I¬†was so mad at¬†him. It was the same speech he had given E.¬†I was his daughter. I had been hurt. And Dad… you did nothing. You literally did nothing. In the one moment I NEEDED¬†someone to keep their promise to me, to protect me, to keep me safe. You did nothing. For a few weeks all I could think about when I looked at my Dad was how he let me down. I obviously don’t condone violence, and I didn’t actually expect him to do anything to E. But I did want him to shut his mouth about it. It was so hypocritical and made me feel like maybe I wasn’t worth it to him. It took me a while to get over it, and still bothers me to hear him talk about it. I’d rather hear him say nothing than false promises like that.

Then on top off all this, I had constant calls, emails, Facebook messages, texts you name it, from E and his family. Harassing and threatening me at every turn. I blocked all sorts of numbers and they would just call from other phones. Then, they started bothering my mom on Facebook.

It was no wonder that I became depressed and suicidal by the Fall of 2014.


-Coldplay/Scientist-

 

I Mean This Is Exhausting You Know We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

So today I was back at the airport for the first time since flying back from Kenya 3 years ago.

I felt like a deja vue kinda thing happening. I had to head out there for work to meet some of the guys we’d recruited for work and it was just a causal meet and greet before they headed for their shift up north, but just being in the airport was weird. The last 8 times I have walked through those doors I was either flying to or from Kenya.

People ask if I will ever go back, and I don’t think I’m strong enough for it. I love Africa, and yes I will go back someday. But not to Kakamega. Most likely not even to Kenya. I have a house there that I designed and paid for, every square inch, and I know people, but I can’t go there.¬† I’d love to travel to maybe Egypt to see the pyramids or something if it ever settles down in the area, or back to South Africa and Namibia again as far as Africa goes. But, no. I will not be going back to Kenya. There are too many memories I don’t want to have too deal with. Denial at its finest.

In the same way I will not be going back to E. He actually had the audacity to send me a text last week asking me to forgive him, and that we get the family back together.

UMMMM What?!??! Are you delusional? Ohhhh wait. Yes, you are. Here I am, just wanting this stupid divorce to be done with and finalized. It’s been over 3 years of back and forth and him. And now he wants to get back together. Like are you daft? It’s not the first time he’s asked me to get back with him, but I honestly can’t believe that after everything I went through, he would think I would want to go back.

E pic

So I texted him back¬†and in the most polite and simple way (I’ve learned to use small words with E) explained that, I have forgiven him as best I can, but that doesn’t mean we will be getting back together.¬† A couple days later I got a call from him and I asked if he understood what I wrote. He said sort of, but he just thought we should be done with this divorce and move on. I told him this isn’t some sort of “phase” I’m going through. The only “moving on” I’m doing is without him. 3 years and he still thinks this is a joke or something.

So I asked him if he thought I enjoyed being his wife, if he thought it was nice for me. He actually said yes. So I asked him to name 3 times it was pleasant for me to be his wife. That’s less than one occasion¬†per year of our marriage.

The phone¬†was silent on his end. A good solid 30 seconds go by before he responds with “That’s a tricky question”

That’s the problem E. It shouldn’t be a tricky question. You can’t even think of ONE time where it was somewhat nice to be married to you. And you think I should do it again? This is your last ditch effort to win me back? Hell. No.

I’ve tasted freedom. And however hard and shitty and difficult and sad and lonely it may be sometimes… most times…It’s infinitely better then being with E.


-Taylor Swift/We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together-