Goodbye Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the day!!!  We fly out of here with a one-way ticket….no return, no changing minds, no turning back….  it’s one-way, baby!  Scary and exhilarating.  I will cry.  Good-byes are in the realm of unbearable for me…literally.  I often find I’d rather be rude and avoid people than ever say good-bye.  I’m not even good at saying good-bye to the people I don’t like!  I just detest good-byes!  Typically, I avoid them like the plague…

There is no avoiding tomorrow…  Which means there will be crying, sobbing, heaving, the embarrassing kind of tears…the “OMG Dave and I broke up” kinda crying probably…ewww! 

I returned DK’s clothes I’ve had for a while.  I wouldn’t want the next ridiculous accusation to be that I’m a thief.  Sadly, that’s not even an absurd or paranoid fear with the way he bashes my character.  Crazy to realize that after hitting the best of the best and the worst of the worst, the man has zero feelings for me at all.  After all the nights he came running to me, crying and sighing, full of words he couldn’t get out, as well as words he never should have let out.  After it all, there is nothing.  Empty.  Void.  Zero.  Nada. 

I thought of keeping his clothes out of spite even, but realized I just don’t want them and he does, so why not take the high road?  It’s not as if keeping a few articles of his favorite clothing would ever compensate for all the cruel damage he’s done anyway…and it would mostly just serve to make me feel petty and small.  So, I dropped them at his house when he wasn’t home..nor was the new “bi-annual flavor of the month” there either. 

Strangely, I don’t wish him ill.  I almost wish I did or could, but I just don’t.  I even sometimes have little prayers and hopes that perhaps this is finally  “the one” for him..this latest strange car parked at his house down the street from my soon-to-be old house.  Perhaps this is the happiness he needed, minus any inconveniences or challenges which I represented to him after all the years and tears?  The mean part of me wants to hope he just gets what he’s dished out to me for so long – cruelty.  But, my heart would ache to think of him hurting even a moment the way he’s hurt me.  I don’t know if that makes me strong or just plain stupid..but  I’m leaning toward the “stupid” answer.

I’ll never know how someone could be and do so much good (and horrible) in my life and then just be absolutely nothing.  The two just contradict themselves.  I feel as though this sets a low-level of importance on anything.  As though the most wondrous of experiences and feelings will always be significantly lessened in my mind and heart because maybe someday that very thing will merely be a void of anything, like this whole experience was.  If anyone had ever tried to tell me that I would be literally nothing to the man who loved me so much he cried, I would have laughed at the ridiculous thought alone and been certain as I’ve been of nothing in my life, but certain that it all meant something significant.

Nope. It all was merely nothing.  Every tear, every effort, every cruelty I allowed hoping it would make things even again, hoping it would open his heart back up, hoping we could at least have a friendship…..all for nothing.  It feels as though I’m so dispensable and worthless that not even a shred of emotion, good OR bad, can be mustered up on behalf of it ALL….that just feels “off” to me…impossible actually…and yet it’s totally possible and realistic today.

And I wonder if I’ll ever bother to waste a tear, an emotion, much less an effort on any other person who claims to love me?  After all, if it’s possible to just mean nothing as though it never was or happened, then why would one ever waste even a moment on such trivial, useless-ness?   Seems pretty silly really…

And I think to myself that either he really IS a sociopath (that’s a hurtful hard thought really) or I am just a crazy person (always a possibility).  All I know is that this feels like I’m having to realize that one plus one does not equal two, macaroni does not go well with cheese, and french fries are not commonly eaten with ketchup.  Feels as though the whole world is not what I once knew; as though nothing at all is what I’ve ever thought.  It’s almost more upside down and confused than the day we broke up.  I knew he cared and I at least knew why we split.  This though…this makes no sense whatsoever.

Radical acceptance here that the grass is orange and the sky is green.  Nothing is was or will be what it seems….  I can only hope that this realization will keep things in perspective for me from here on out and I’m never again tempted  to place value (much less such precious value) on such trifling and trivial matters as this has apparently been.

What a lesson!

Kindness Shmindness

Change my blog title…?  Really thinking about this lately.   Funny, when I log in here and see my title, I’m just filled with sadness and a teensy bit of disgust.

Contemplating the whole “Secret” business recently and the concept of the power of attraction.  I so love the concept!  When I really dig into the idea and the science behind it, it seems so very valid, almost provable on many levels and yet…  Random kindness…kindness as a response to cruelty…giving as the answer to taking…

When I created this blog, I was adamantly optimistic about this theory—thus, the title.  I had myself convinced that if I kept my thoughts, actions, and character upright, then good things would have to come.  I didn’t really have any specific “want” that I didn’t get or anything…I just wanted so much to believe that if I lived by my beliefs then good things had to happen.  I steadfastly chose to send loving vibrations and energy out to everyone and in particular, the nasty people I’ve known and dealt with in recent years and in years gone by. Thinking, believing no one would want to do harm to a person who just keeps on loving and being kind, regardless of what gets thrown at them.  Great in theory…terrific concept…

But, not so much true.  Seems more people then just see you as a weak sucker, vulnerable and ripe to all sorts of abuse and manipulations.  Not to mention, deserving of it all, since it’s so “stupid” in this day and age with these standards of society to believe such a thing and live by it.  I love the saying “Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness”.  I wish I could have incorporated a little more of that into my social experiment of loving kindness, but I’m not all that strong really…except perhaps in my desire to believe.  There I have unlimited quantities of strength it seems.  And it really gets me in trouble and leaves me hurt more often than not!

So, if one lives by loving kindness and responds to hatred and such with just more kindness, at what point do you stop the one-way flow?  If the power of attraction theory is truly believed and practiced, then the moment I get angry or cease the kindness, I bring negative energy into my world and develop the very thing I’d like to avoid…so you just keep being kind and love even harder…

And people recognize this quickly, especially the mean people looking to take advantage and hoping for a sucker just like me and suddenly there is a catch-22 quandary going on  and a snowball effect of bulls**t coming at you like a freight train of stupidity! 

So, I really dislike that I no longer believe in this…I really wanted this to be true with all my heart.  I was prepared to take all the crap and just keep loving…love, love, love….  But after 5 years now of being dumped into a mass of crap, I just can’t continue believing.  And I’m actually embarrassed to confess how ridiculously stupid I’ve been to let this belief/hope persist in spite of the hurt it’s caused, because at the end of the day, I’m the one responsible for allowing it all to happen and continue.  So hard not to feel like a victim when even your best and most beautiful intentions are devoured and devastated by the seemingly innate UNkindness of the majority….but if I let myself feel like a victim, then I’m bringing more victimization energy back to myself.  Arghh…wtf?!  All in all, this little experiment seems to have just left me wide open and vulnerable to abuse and attack, while simultaneously rendering me scared to death to get angry, much less actually fight back!!

I’m deeply sad to admit the death of this inside me.  I didn’t expect all my dreams to come true and nothing but rainbows and butterflies every day by this theory…but I DID truly believe that it would bring more love and happiness not only into my world, but possibly even into the world of many.  And now, I mostly just feel hurt, angry, and embarrassed that I’ve been such a stupid idiot for so very long…and devastated that my best efforts and hugest faith amounted to so little actual good for anyone…to the point that I now have this little wish in my heart to take it all back and just punch those mean people in the mouth for every hurt they caused!

How’s THAT for loving kindness?!  ..hehe…=D

Did John-Boy seem the vengeful type…or was it just me?

She was torn between desperately seeking the stability and love she’d never known and enjoying her relatively new freedom.  She was seeking her own identity, uncomfortable and unsure in her own skin and never quite sure why she warranted so much attention and certainly not at all sure how to handle such attention politely, without hurting anyone’s feelings.  It’s not that she had not been told she was beautiful by boys and men before or wanted by many, it was that she literally could not see that or comprehend the possibility.  She was a dry sponge full of holes, seeking all the love and attention she had never felt before.  She certainly wasn’t a slut in any sexually promiscuous sense, but perhaps she did fit the description of an attention whore. She couldn’t understand how anyone could love her or think her beautiful in any definition of the word. In spite of her need for freedom, she longed with every part of her being to feel loved and to believe she was beautiful in someone’s eyes…to feel accepted just as she was, flaws and holes and all…

Unfortunately, she felt the closest to beautiful and worthy when she was making other people feel good about themselves and this would eventually be her slow demise in satisfying her own deepest hopes, but that’s another story entirely.  There was a supply and demand in effect seemingly at all times.  Men longed for her attention and she longed to make people feel good.  She could spend hours talking to a stranger in a club about his job, his school, his relationships, his dreams, his broken heart, anything…and treat him as if he was the only person on the planet for the duration of that conversation…often to the annoyance of her friends and/or boyfriends.

By her early twenties, she had ended two significant relationships.  The relationships themselves weren’t bad per se, but she was a lost and meandering spirit.  It was almost as if once the relationship reached a mutually satisfying point, she felt her “work there was done” and her attention needed to go to the next soul seeking her heart, time, and attention.   So after ending two serious LTR’s, which did not go quietly, she finally conceded to her long-subdued need for freedom and her completely suppressed  wild at heart nature…  She dreaded the thought of committing to a relationship with a man because it seemed somehow to always eventually end with a hurt man and her feeling as though her effort to make someone feel loved and important always began with the best of intentions and resulted in their broken heart.  This was not at all what she wanted.

So after ending an engagement with a terrific man who loved her in the most beautifully endearing and devoted way and running straight into the arms of an abuser, she resolved to stay free.  In her partying and carousing with friends she only gave a few hours of dedication to anyone and moved on to someone else…until she inadvertently and unintentionally met John.  Strange that she’d caught him watching her quietly on many occasions and took note of him.  She found him truly handsome in the most adorable boy-next-door way, but he never approached except nonchalantly in passing.  After several of these incidents, they finally had an actual conversation.  He was so damned likeable and undeniably adorable.  She loved his eyes – the way they watched her quietly without attempting to connect with her or pick her up (ugh!) and she loved the way he innocently made her laugh without even trying.  She spent several platonic evenings with him, just partying and having fun.

Since this started innocently enough, she felt no warnings that trouble was brewing.  They were both having a blast and neither seemed intent upon choking the other’s freedom, but they enjoyed their time together so much each day would follow into the next.  She even discovered that he was a few years younger than she and it didn’t  matter at all to her. He wasn’t even jealous of her flirty personalityand he gave her total trust and freedom!!!!  She loved this.  Could it be he actually understood her?    It seemed natural that suddenly one day she realized that their affections had grown big and they were spending all of their free time together…and she didn’t even want to change that or run from it…were they falling in love?

Yes, it seemed so.  This realization hit when she received acceptance to the school she’d applied to upon her last release from a relationship.  She had applied in a moment of freedom and need to not be held back from her goals again…a brief respite between obligations.  But against her design and intention, he was now in love and she loved him in return as well. Uh-oh..scary, as this never ended well for her.  Always seemed to end in a flurry of anger, broken hearts and her immersion in guilt which provoked a need in her to run far, far away.

It was a difficult situation, but they were young, confident with one another, and happy…therefore this could still work.  Right?  No one had to get hurt this time.  Long distance relationships could work for truly happy couples.  Besides, she just wanted to go finish her education at the school of her choosing, not date around or get involved in any relationships.  This should be easy.

They missed each other terribly, though.  The connection was difficult to maintain from such a distance.  And she was immersed in the collegiate life while he was in the town he grew up in and working the job he intended to work forever.  She wasn’t dating anyone else, but she had a few study friends whom she enjoyed hanging out with as well.  They had little in common under these circumstances and their phone calls started feeling like a “duty” to her, not an enjoyment.  He planned a visit.

On this visit, he mentioned shopping for a promise ring to cement their relationship and their desire to progress into the next natural step for a happy couple.  Except, his visit, his presence, annoyed her.  She didn’t know why.  She still loved him.  She just couldn’t feel or find that connection to him anymore once she was removed from their little shared town, at least not enough to accept a promise ring or in good conscience, continue the relationship that was stunted for her and clearly still growing stronger for him. After a few days of his visit, she discussed this with him and ended the relationship.  She felt sick to do this, she adored him, but she felt it was the right thing to do in the midst of her confusion confounded and highlighted by his devoted certainty.  It was over.  He left.  She could tell he was very hurt and she hated that, but he didn’t seem angry and for that, she was so grateful that it almost sparked her feelings again…but not quite enough to change her choice in the matter.  She had to be fair to him.  He deserved at least that and her conscience refused to accept less for him.

Fast forward five or six years.

Back in their hometown for a few years now, she was a single mother, scared and still lost.  One night she runs into him at a bar.  They start talking and reconnecting.  Inside she is scared and far more damaged than she was years before.  In her loneliness and fear, he represents something good and safe to her.  She decides to go home with him.  After all, it’s John Boy.  The safest place she’d known at this point.  He’d never gotten angry at her for who she was.  On the contrary, he had always seemed to understand her when no one else could.  Ahhhhhh…safety and sincerity. 

When they woke up the next morning, she felt happy to be next to him.  No it wasn’t the answer to everything of course, but it was a safe and familiar place at last and she had always adored him anyway.

As he was driving her home, he said, “I don’t want you.  I just wanted to pay you back for breaking my heart all those years ago….  How does it feel?”  Her heart ripped as he laughed.

Well done John Boy…very cruel effective.

Why NOT play Kick-the-Carcass?

No consecutive hours of sleep for what seems like weeks, although I can easily remember not so long ago when it had been more like months, so I logically know I can pull through this “short stretch”.  However, when n the midst of the sleeplessness, it feels as though I’ll pass out, die, or just maybe snap into forgettable pieces.  I keep reminding myself that it’s been worse and try to be grateful for the little bits of sleep I do get blessed with.

Stressing the move, finances, the gossip and lies (of course, as usual), THE ex, the children, packing, moving across the entire country from everything I’ve ever known, living out of district for my kids’ school out west, my ex husband, and his motives and choices, and how they’re going to relate and affect our lives out there, so far from the only  home we’ve ever known.

With all of this, I’m struck hard with acute awareness of the severe alteration of my heart, my perspective,  my very essence…  Who I once was is gone, with all that’s happening now and all I am responsible to be and do, with all the fears that are hanging just over my head like a shark’s mouth ready to swallow me whole, I really just want to sit down and bawl myself sick.  Grief hangs all around me like buzzards and flies on a  carcass.  I know, I know…  This is nothing new…I’ve been a barely-breathing carcass for years now, my only traceable movement being the slight shakes and involuntary shuffles and slides  of a dead body that’s being kicked a few extra times for good measure.  Big thanks to Dave and friends for that lovely prompt..without it, the buzzards might literally begin to feast on my mourning flesh, not just the metaphorical feastings of Dave and friends on the leftover remnants of my heart, my soul, my reputation, my freaking character!  After all, at this point, the pickings are so slim and meager that I genuinely can’t understand the interest…surely there’s not enough there to satisfy even a starving soul?

Apparently so, as I can’t even plan my pathetic, late-as-hell “escape” without a kick every once in a while for good measure.  I’m struggling and fighting this damned sense of victimization which I hate so much it makes me sick even to write of these things any more.  Or maybe it’s that burning sense of injustice and flood of unkindness and continued crucification which keeps me from withering up and dying completely.  It’s almost cost me a great degree of my voice and I do not know what I could even be after he’s fully taken my voice and my ability to write.  It just might be my lingering indignance which is holding the shell of my existence together at all, keeping it from crumbling quietly into dust. Perhaps I should stop fighting this victimized-feeling and embrace it, allow it to strengthen me out of my hopeless feeling of being powerless, beaten, and small?   Hmm….

I have comprised a plan of revenge.  In my circumstances, I have no way in which to actually carry it through, but it’s a lovely fantasy nonetheless.  I imagine that many people love me and know the truth of these past five years…the whole down-n-dirty, humiliating truth and they are so outraged and angry they begin a letter-writing campaign on my behalf – no, on the behalf of all people who have gone through emotional and mental abuse.  Upon me leaving my home, he receives hundreds of letters from people who know the truth, faceless people who are not afraid to stand up against this man’s cruel persecution of my spirit.  Each day or week he receives lovely pieces of mail from people who know what he has done and refuse to buy into his lies and bullshit, as a regular reminder that he did not just “get away with it”.  And he, like me, has no chance, opportunity, or method by which to combat the attack.  He would just have to sit in it, regularly reminded of his cruelty, its effects, and his powerlessness!  Then he might have to spend some time in paranoia, looking at every stranger who meets his eye and wondering, does he know?  Does she?  Just as I still worry with every person I meet or pass, “Did he tell them I was crazy?  Did he tell that person I’m a psycho?  A slut?  A lying cheater?  Wonder what story  that person heard?”

For it seems, just when I’ve let the worries go and have convinced myself anyone who believes his garbage at this point is merely a victim of sorts themselves and is entitled to my sympathy, when I finally get to the “I don’t give a damn what he’s said to anyone”, another lovely twisted story of his finds its way to me…piling on top of the huge pile of garbage he’s dumped on me that I’m already trying to climb out from underneath.  And the exhaustion revives itself in me.  The sense of powerlessness and damned victimization I hate SO much, gathers al around my soul to begin feasting again.

I sent him a message asking him just to please SHUT UP.  Leave me alone.   Reminding him he has not a single reason at this point in his game to speak my name even, let alone tarnish it further.  He has won by yards and miles already. The damage done is irreversible even now.  I’m leaving and his story will always stand in my place of absence; not mine, not the truth, but his sick and twisted deviation of my person. I can’t imagine any greater victory for him?  So why continue beating this broken and beaten thing?  Does he really still get that much pleasure and self-satisfaction from it…even NOW?  Why not just SHUT UP?   No, go above and beyond to make everyone always, think the person you’ve victimized is psycho crazy, then you never have to worry about being held accountable for the cruelty you perpetually heaped upon her…  After all, she’s just “crazy”.  Nothing she says will ever account to anything after you’ve told that to enough people ad nauseum.

Why am I so surprised anyway?  Why wouldn’t anyone want to continue kicking and beating the person they’ve already slaughtered?  After all, she’s dead already…. It’s not like anyone will ever find out the truth now…or believe it coming from a crazy-psycho dead girl even if they did!                                 

Ohhh it would be Christmas every day to just imagine this letter-campaign of outraged people, addressing the truth to him which he feels he has sufficiently buried beneath his heavily placed offensive-tactic accusations and insults. He could just laugh away a few letters, but if hundreds came to him long after I’m gone, that would have to make him think maybe he wasn’t really fooling everyone after all.  His mailbox becoming the screaming, lingering Tell-Tale Heart of an Edgar Allen Poe story!  It’s a harmless, but juicy thought in my weak state of stress, fatigue, and hopeless indignation…

(insert evil cackle here)


Was woken at 3:15 this morning to a firm knocking, as though someone knocked exactly three times on my window or door loud enough to wake me.  The sound was so clear and crisp that I got out of bed and went to the door.  No one was there.  So I checked at the windows in my room and my daughters room to see if someone was out there.  No one was there.

This happened a month or so ago…exactly the same…and I felt it was a warning that he was coming soon.  Sure enough, 2 or 3 days later, he showed up standing over my bed at around 2 AM, wanting to “talk”, telling me how much he loved me and couldn’t live without me.  Making up stories about my life to get me to defend myself and declare my undying love for him.  It worked in part, but I told him I was dating someone and would not ever have sex with him again.  He wanted to sleep on my sofa.  He was dropped off by a friend, so I allowed him my sofa.  He tried again to have sex with me and I refused.  Then he asked if I would just stay on the sofa with him.  I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt strong and confident and so I did.  We talked awhile and finally slept until I  had to get up to get my kids ready for school.  He stayed here all day. ..trying to get me to have sex with him.  I wouldn’t.  Then he started with the stories again…

Why were you at my sentencing?  Just to gloat? No Dave!  That’s ridiculous!  I went to support you.  I prayed nothing bad would happen to you and I wanted you to know although I changed my phone number that I supported you and cared. Well, someone heard you say when I was in front of the judge, “Every time I hear his name, I feel sick.” What???  Are you kidding me?  That’s absurd and hateful and if your stupid little friend said I said that, then he’s a lying troublemaker!  I prayed while you were up there.  I prayed that the best outcome for your life would happen.  I prayed with all my power.  I wished nothing bad for you and I certainly said nothing at all, much less something that horrible.  Hmmm…well, someone said they heard you say that.  I’m sorry your friend told you that.  I said no such thing.

Then I hugged him and told him that I loved him completely and wished nothing at all bad for him.  He held on to me as though his life depended on it and started kissing me.  This is about 1 in the afternoon, after his drunken night, so  I’m assuming he’s relatively sober at this point.  I just reassured him how much I loved him and told him I didn’t want to be used for sex anymore that it made me feel dirty and worthless.  He softly touched my face, brushed my hair back and told me, I’m not using you.  I never use you.  I love you.

Of course he was lying.  He’s very sick and I believe addicted to me in a horribly damaging way.  Perhaps as I am to him?  I am fighting this sickness though.  I do not want it in my life.  I don’t want to love him.  I don’t want to care about him.  I don’t want to fall for his tricks and manipulations.  I want him to go away from me forever.  I’ve changed my friends.   Moved three times.  Changed the places I go.  Stopped havng sex with him.  Started having sex with him.  Lock my doors every night.  Drive different ways to get places.  Other than moving to another state, I do not know what else to do to get away from him permanently.

After the warning knocks last night, I am afraid again.  I have no defenses left.  I do not understand the knocking and I’m hoping it’s not what I thought it was (and was!) the last time because I’m just in the tender beginnings of healing.  I am not strong enough to take him on again right now.  I wish I had answers!

Yesterday I threw the I Ching to try to get insight on what’s happening and received 31.  Influence/Attraction.  That was scary.  Then the knocking this morning….

I honestly am starting to think he might actually be the devil.  I still love him, even if he is the devil, but I do not want the devil in my life or in my house anymore.  Must triple check the locks each night before bed…as though that will keep him out…

Concrete Angel

My youngest daughter showed me this video yesterday.  I’ve heard the song plenty, but never had seen this.  I did not cry!  There was a hollow-ness inside where the images and the words just bounced around uncomfortably.  I thought of so many different things all at once, rushing around my mind faster than my ability to feel or process them all…

My mother, my teachers, the abused children I’ve met in my work, my own children, Dave as the little angel boy, Dave as the abuser….

They aren’t supposed to run off to play in heaven where he knows her vulnerabilities and her weaknesses.  She trusts him…and feels so grateful she has someone who loves her and cares for a change.  And then he uses them to further hurt her, without ever “intending” to do so, of course.

I can’t help but think is he wounded too?  Is that why he has become this?  At this point, I can’t afford to let myself care, but I wonder what creates this vast discrepancy in his character?  Annyway, it matters not, as he is so strong and so proud, even he would not admit to himself if it were.  So, he has that blanket of strength to protect him and give him the coldness (the sense of entitlement?) to jump on other people to get what he needs to make himself feel better.  Somehow while standing in the line of vulnerabilty, I wasn’t given one of those self-survival blankets of protection.  Sure wish I could buy one of those!

emotional abuse

My youngest daughter woke my spirit up a little yesterday with the sweetest, most heart warming conversation.  She told me how she doesn’t want to grow up because if she gets older, then I will get older and then someday she’ll be alone because I’ll be in heaven.  So we talked for awhile about the pros and cons of growing up and when the people we love are in heaven.  She told me that she thinks she picked me to be her mom before she was ever born and that she chose me because she wanted the most perfect mom in the whole wide world.  And that she wanted to grow up just like me because I have the most beautiful, purest heart of gold. 

Considering recent events and the past three years of mental hell I’ve been through, as well as my recent overwhelming feelings of giving up on it all, I was choked to tears.  I held them back for awhile, but eventually tears came running out of my eyes.  I told her I was crying because what she said made my heart so happy that tears came out!  Which of course is partially true.  The rest was guilt and shame at what I’ve allowed him to create in our life.  What I’ve allowed to go on for so long that it has become utterly inexcusable and totally unacceptable as a role model of any worth whatsoever to my beautiful children.  And I realized at this point, if my children grow up to be psychological doormats or  have extended relationships with emotional abusers, then I have no one but myself to blame for demonstrating that for three years of their lives.  While I (with his help) simultaneously buried myself further and further in despair and confusion, knocking away the breath of any sense of self respect or feeling wothwhile.  I allowed him to repeatedly knock the wind out of my sails or even steal the wind altogether….in spite of the fact that my daughters are riding in this boat with me!

I feel so frustrated at not being able to define why this is crazy and how it’s changed me so completely.  Psychological, mental, and emotional abuse is so difficult to prove because it makes the victim feel like she is crazy and deserves it.  I have gone crazy.  I have responded completely inappropriately to random situations; looking very much like the psycho crazy girl, while he looks like Mr. Calm-Cool-Collected because no one sees what’s going on behind the scenes. 

Not one to pass the blame, I always have to be sure I accept responsibility.  No he has not held a gun to my head or punched me out or even made any verbal threats.  In fact, it is I who have on a few occasions become physical, although strangely enough I have never before been a physically violent person.  Is it wrong to say he has pushed me, molded me, manipulated me into something other than what I was before?

In the past three years, I have become quite shy and withdrawn in public… painfully insecure and mildly paranoid about being judged.   More characteristics that  are complete opposites of my personality before him.  I could never say this is all his fault, since there was no physical force to accept these circumstances.  No, just lies, manipulations, and guilt tactics.  Not a single other thing was used to mold me into what I am today.  And yet although there was no physical force, I have been changed into something different – someone different.  And I just stand in awe of how this has happened.  I think of all the excuses I made for his behavior when people were telling me how cruel he was and how wrong his behavior was.  I think of actually believing in his deepest soul as a good person who could never be capable of intentionally doing these things…although he has been doing them for three years straight.

Why must I carry the burden of craziness?  He accepts no responsibility at all for any of it, so why must I be worried about  being certain I shoulder my part in it all?  Why can’t I just hate him, blame him, and feel like I’m righteous and justified?

A Woman’s Tears


The Hebrew Talmud says:

“Be very careful if you make a woman cry, because God counts her tears.

The woman came out of a man’s rib.
Not from his feet to be walked on.
Not from his head to be superior.
But from the side to be equal.
Under the arm to be protected,
and next to the heart to be loved.”

I am Dave’s naive boiled frog



Years ago, before children, before college, before Dave, I was in therapy for a physically abusive relationship.  I can remember the insane feeling the “cycle of abuse” created in me.  The conflicting feelings of loyalty and compassion and what felt like “love” (at that time) versus intelligence, self respect, and happiness.  I vividly recall feeling disgusted with myself and embarrassed  that someone “like me” could be in such a relationship.  The very same kind of relationship I had scoffed at.  This didn’t happen to intelligent people.  No one with any self respect would ever get “caught up” in such a ridiculously futile concept and experience of “love”.  Anyone with any sense would know that this was not love and would leave such a relationship regardless of the effort or consequence of doing so.

This kind of thing only happened to other people.  So when I opened my eyes one day to find myself bruised and cut and making excuses, imagine my surprise!  I went to therapy because I felt crazy…  and was certain I was crazy.  As I cried and asked how someone like me could get caught in this web, the therapist told me this story and it stuck in my mind forever.  She said:

Do you know about frogs?  No, I don’t really know very much about frogs.  Well if want to cook a frog,  you boil a pot of water and drop the frog in it.  The very minute the frog hits the boiling water, he jumps out.  So, if you really want to cook this frog, you have to put it into temperature-comfortable water and then  turn on the heat.  This way, the water comes to a boil slowly and the frog just hangs out adjusting to the rising temperature.  By the time he realizes the water is too hot he’s already being cooked and can’t/hasn’t jumped out.   Ahhhh….  That makes sense.  This is how abusive people work.  They increase the heat slowly so that the victim is smack in the middle of being boiled before he/she has even realized it and then jumping out is extremely difficult because the cooking has begun.  The natural mind-set of the frog has already begun being altered.  He no longer thinks clearly or even fully understands the situation he’s in.

Ahhhhhh….I get it.  It really could happen to anyone because abusive people are rarely so stupid as to just start the worst of the physical and psychological horror right of the bat.  They start in small ways until you get used to that and then slowly increase it until you’re being cooked and do not know how to just jump out of the pot anymore.

How did I get here again?   At least, I was young and naive the first time around.  Just having escaped from a lifetime of childhood abuse.  One, I was desperate for love and affection.  Two, I really knew nothing else, so the natural progression would be that I would enter into abusive relationships.

Ummm….okay, so now what?  Now what the hell isw my excuse?  I’ve been to therapy.  I’ve been beaten, manipulated, guilted and taken advantage of.  I’ve been to the magic show and even gone backstage to learn how it works.  How on earth do I find myself captivated and stuck again in the midst of nothing but smoke and mirrors from which I awake to consciousness bruised and beaten.  Maybe not physically, but that makes my scars and chronic painno less.  Although no one can see the abuse anymore, I feel the effects of it on my heart and my self esteem every day.  Every day, without exception.  I do not need people to see it in order to validate its existence.  I feel it myself.  And I’ve been out of that childhood home for long enough and undergone enough therapy that I know my feelings are real without needing someone to acknowledge that I’m feeling  them to make them real and valid.  How in the hell did I get back to this place?!  Making excuses for his behavior and making excuses for my acceptance of his behavior.  HOW IN THE HELL?!

And how did it get HERE?  How on EARTH did this relationship, my God-THIS one, the only purely healthy thing I have EVER known (!) become THIS…the VERY same abusive bullshit I’ve been dealing with since my earliest memory???!!!!???

I want so much to think that it was this from the start but I was unable to see it, but I KNOW it wasn’t!  HELL, that’s WHY I’m stuck in it NOW.  If it had shown signs of ever being ANYTHING like what it has become, I would have run like hell from the start.  I HAVE learned THAT much in 30-some years of tolerating abuse and trying to survive among manipulative abusers.  Wow!  I am good.  I have learned how to turn even the gift of a healthy relationship into straight-up, no messing around, blatant and literal ABUSE.  I am the ultimate masochist. 

Is there any hope for someone like me to allow something healthy?  Even if I’m not fooling myself and it did start out healthy,  then what does that mean for me?  That I can even force THAT to turn into abuse? What’s the best case scenario for me then?  The alternative is that it wasn’t healthy; that after everything I am still that naive little girl refusing to see the flashing red lights warning me that abuse is coming/happening, only I’m not that little girl and I have knowledge and experience of the “boiling pot” method.

Oh my GOD!  Dave Kennedy is as bad or WORSE than any abuser I’ve ever known.  Good Lord, even the worst of my physical abuse came with a honeymoon period afterward/before.  Now, I don’t even have that to keep me involved.  I don’t get that period of sweetness and butt-kissing to keep me allowing this.  I only have my memories of a healthy, happy love from SO LONG AGO….which I am DESPERATELY, PATHETICALLY grasping with ALL my strength, while simultaneously having the life sucked out of me, but refusing to let go. 

WHAT IN THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH ME??!!?!?!  DAVE KENNEDY IS AN MANIPULATIVE, ALCOHOLIC ABUSER AND NOTHING MORE.  Whatever he was three years ago, this is who he is now.  Watever made him into this (IF he wasn’t ALWAYS this) does not matter.  He IS this NOW.  He is a loser who abuses and uses women and doesn’t even have the conscience to feel bad enough to try to be kind afterward.  He just gets crueller and crueller every time I allow him to abuse me.  His abuse grows more when I feed his ego and ALLOW it, while making flimsy excuses about the wonderful man he was THREE YEARS ago…Good God, IF he even ever WAS that..maybe that was manipulation to…maybe that was just an extremely successful “turning on of the heat”?


Big BAD me vs. the wise all knowing Dave… (a venting!)

In a great deal of things which have deeply saddened me to the point of feeling disturbed about them, the greatest one which hit me recently was the basic fact that after everything, the good the bad, the love, the fights, the holding on, letting go, the letters spilling my heart out on everything from my past to my job, he does not know me. 

I was totally myself from the start and I mutated into something else by habit and circumstance.  I understand that probably creates some confusion.  However, in all the events and time prior and after, which is the majority of our time t this point, still, he truly has no idea what I look like on the inside.

His memories are fascinating, the way they are distorted from fact and bent to a certain angle which fits best into the theory he has grasped and insisted was truth.  And I see this as a character of him I never allowed myself to accept before.  I always minimized it or just closed my eyes to it.  Yet, it is very much a part of his perspective; a stubborn and unrelenting aspect, which on point of pride he will not loosen or even entertain other possibilities.  Rather like an 80 year old man worn down by experience. 

Example:  Six years ago I loaned a cellular phone to a friend with children whose phone had been disconnected.  I worried they were not safe with no telephone in the home.  I was not working at the time, but my credit was good to add an additional phone to my plan for her.  She was working and agreed to pay her portion of the phone, which I minimized to the additional monthly charges it cost to have the line.  We didn’t “split” the bill.  She was responsible for the $10 extra line charge plus any amount she went over the minutes.  I even allowed her ¾ of the whole allotted minutes, since that was her primary phone. So, if she stayed under 1200 or so minutes , she only had to pay $10, while I took responsibility for around $100, although she had the majority of usage, I paid the major part of the bill.  I felt I was doing something kind to help out while she got her finances in better order and couldn’t afford the full cost of a phone.  I used my phone on the plan for emergencies only, safely allowing her plenty of minutes on said phone.  From the first month, she went over around $800, which I struggled to pay.  Then she went over around $1,000, which I told her she’d have to help me pay because I didn’t have it due to the previous bill of hers I’d paid.  At the point when the bill was around $3,000 and I was fighting to keep my own phone even turned on from the excess charges, she ended up getting married to someone  who got her a cell phone.  She then gave my cell phone to a friend of hers, who like her, didn’t pay the $10 or any of the $100’s of additional charges her phone use stacked up.  I still wasn’t working and was really struggling to pay these charges down enough each month to keep my phone on, which the company shut off monthly and then added re-connect charges, upping the bill significantly and regularly.  

Shortly before this, I’d been in a similar situation due to allowing a friend and her 3 children move in with me, to which I’d been screwed out of about $1,000.

Well, I was angry about this happening again, angry that she had taken advantage, and angry that she’d given the phone to a person who was a stranger to me.  I couldn’t just turn the phone off because there was a huge disconnect charge for that and I was just stuck for over a year with this situation growing bigger and bigger.  I was angry at myself for trusting someone to appreciate the help I offered and angry that I had allowed this to happen so often in my life.  I was determined not to just let it go and say “that’s okay, I’ll take care of it.”

I took her to small claims court for a portion of the bill (a small portion all things considered at this point) and the price of the actual phone her other friend refused to return to me. (For the last 6 months of this nightmare, I only begged for the phone back and stopped begging them to pay their portion of the bill.  I saw no other way out of it with the contracts, etc. in place)  They wouldn’t even agree to return the phone itself.

In small claims court, although she didn’t show up, I still was made to argue my case to the judge to prove the validity of this.  Although everyone I spoke to said usually if the defendant doesn’t show up, you are automatically granted the claim.  Not me.  I had to prove it.  And cell bills are very confusing to me,  It was difficult, but I did finally win and was granted the small portion of what she owed that I was suing for.

He came with me to the hearing.  He saw all the stress this bill had been putting me under for months and months trying to pay their phone bill just to keep my phone on.

A few weeks ago at his house, I was talking to him about what mattered most in life to me.  I told him that money had never been a driving force for me; that as long as I could feed my children and pay my rent, I didn’t care about money otherwise.

He was definitely in one of his grumpy critical moods at the time and he just argued that wasn’t the “really the case” with me.  I thought about the fact that I had struggled to let him pay for anything while we were together and always returned the favor in kind when I did let him pay, never asked him for help with anything financial in spite of my great challenges with this phone issue, and rarely accepted gifts when he wanted to buy me something.  Although he often tried to do more, I maintained 50 % of the financial cost of our relationship – throughout the entire relationship and in spite of the fact that he made far more money than I and has no children.

So, my guess is that he was referring to this small claims court where I made someone who took advantage of me to the extreme make a small retribution to me.  This being a BIG deal to me mostly out of a sense of standing up for myself.  It was my way of saying “NO more will I let people take advantage and just quietly move on!”  Yes, I did in fact desperately need help getting the bill paid, so the money I won in the case did help out some, but truly it was more a turning point for me in learning how to stand up for myself against this type of person who unfortunately, is often prevalent in my life and I attract like bees to honey.  I walked away from this with a huge bill that wasn’t mine and a very small percentage of money toward it (because that’s all I sued for), but walked away proud of myself that I didn’t just walk away without standing up for how I’d been done wrong by this person.  THAT was the biggest thing I got out of the whole nightmare.

Knowing that he must have been alluding to this incident, since I never let him take more responsibility financially for our relationship than I also placed on myself, I was disgusted at what he took away from the whole thing.  He kept saying, “Well, when I’m dumb enough to loan someone $100 and they don’t pay me back, I don’t take them to court, I just never loan them money again.”  That’s how I deduce he was referring my entire money character on this one incident, which had been literal hell and massive stress for me for 2 years of struggling to “just pay the damn bill”, while they kept the phone and continued to use it excessively without paying anything and while I had no way out of the mess due to my contract with the phone company.

It made me sick that as well as he knows me (or should if he actually opened his eyes at all), he literally has NO clue as to what the principle behind this horrible ordeal was for me.  Learning that it’s okay to stand up for myself when people take advantage.  For me, doing that was HUGE and should have been a “winning” moment; a turning pint for me in not staying the “victim” in these  situations, fighting for what’s right.

No.  To him , it meant only that I was dumb enough to get myself in that situation and then “money oriented” enough to then force someone to pay a portion of their responsibility.  And that’s all it meant.  Nothing could be further from the truth,  As my payments in this situation for one cell phone I couldn’t use because I didn’t have it and another I did have but was too scared to use for fear of how much the other was being used, I paid over and above $5,000.  I was reimbursed approximately $1000 at the end of the situation.  I didn’t even fight to get what was rightfully owed on the bill.  I fought for the principle of getting the message to this person that I wasn’t going to just let it go that they took complete advantage of me (even if it was just my stupidity they took advantage of!).

Marks on my character according to Dave:  “Stupidly innocent, money oriented girl”.


Even this girls husband years later said to me, “You did the right thing.  I don’t blame you at all.  (even though he admitted to me that he of course had ended up paying that small part of her portion on her behalf.  He, who was not at ALL responsible.  And yet still, he agreed with me and supported my cause to take such a stand.  Also, he who barely knows me at all, unlike Dave.

WOW……WOW….WOW….  It’s very sad that this world has become a place where if a victim allows him/herself to be victimized, then she is responsible for her own stupidity because she allowed it.  And if she tries to stand up for herself, she’s  “crazy” or a  “materialistically driven” person.  As with every other situation which involves Dave or that he just knows of as an outsider looking in, I am always at fault.  I am chronically in the no-win “damned if you do; damned if you don’t” position.  Every move, every choice, every thing I do is going to have the extreme negative connotation to it.  If I donate food to the hungry, I probably just want a tax write-off.  If I volunteer for the homeless, I probably just want attention.  If I do kind things no one knows about, I’m probably just a crazy stupid stalker-girl for being so “sneaky”.  If I don’t do any of those things, then I’m a selfish, self centered, money-driven bitch.

Gosh, I love being the bad guy no matter what….  It feels so great to know there’s nothing right or kind I can do in this world.

F%$* him.  That twisted jerk doesn’t even know me at all, yet is ignorant enough to believe he knows me inside and out.  He is such a clueless jerk when it comes to me.  He’s so hell-bent on making me the bad guy at ALL cost!  Ooooohhhhhh big bad me…


Ahhhh….feels good to vent and release.  Don’t know why this has been weighing on my mind so much lately.  It’s no different than every other situation regarding him for the past 2 years, but it was just eating at me ever since we had that discussion.  Feels so good to get it out of my head and in black and white.