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Last week, I moved out of my little single mama world. I have so many memories of that place, even though I was there only a year. I remember moving her bunk bed up the stairs, all by myself. My body ached and I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care because I did it myself, just to prove that I could. I remember going to pick out a new couch, and I felt absolutely bewildered because I knew I could get whatever one I wanted, and I didn’t know what to do. I had never picked out furniture all by myself before. I remember feeling so proud of myself and feeling so strong an independent, yet feeling so glad when my best friend arrived to hold my hand, hug me, and help me talk trash about my ex-husband. Lastly, I remember how it felt to lock the front door for the first time on the first place that was ever just MINE.
During my time there, I also learned a lot of lessons. I learned that I am a kick-ass mom, but I still have the right to enjoy a good margarita from time to time if I want to. I learned that it is possible to work, go to school, and raise a child alone because a woman can do amazing things when she puts her mind to it. I learned that I am still sexy and desirable, no matter how insignificant someone else tries to make me feel. I learned that not depending on someone else can be terrifying, yet incredibly liberating.
Although I learned a lot in the past year, I am not sad to leave that life behind. My path has made another turn, and I am so excited about the next part of my journey. Right now, I’m looking at a photograph of a man that I love so deeply. He drives me crazy sometimes, but he has changed my life in so many incredible ways. He’s introduced me to new people and new experiences, and he’s taught me to appreciate things that I never thought I would. On one of our first dates, he talked a lot about hunting and fishing. Apparently, I announced that I would “never have dead animals hanging in my house.” Yet, in the new home that I share with him, there are two in my living room. They are hanging near his camouflage recliner. Those things are part of who he is, and they are part of the things he has taught me to appreciate. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t know what it felt like to wear hunter orange in the middle of a quiet forest on a cold autumn morning.
There are still moments that snap me back to reality… When we have an argument, there has been a time or two when I felt like that startled animal in the woods that I wrote about a few months ago. I get quiet, and I proceed with extreme caution because I am afraid…I’m not so afraid of being left alone. I know I can handle that. I am afraid of being broken again, because I know that if it happens again, I don’t think I will ever be able to trust another man with my heart. (After all, it took me 6 months to give it to him!) Even more than that, though, I know I couldn’t handle seeing my daughter be heartbroken again.
I sat with her in the therapist’s office yesterday, and she was showing off the journal she was writing about. The therapist noted that she wrote a lot about her daddy, but she wrote a lot about her “dad” too, and she took note that Jayna calls this man in my life “dad.” I said yes, and I smiled…then Jayna said “I wrote about him because this way, if he leaves, I have something to remember him by.” It made me acutely aware that although I knew that she was hurt and confused and sad, I don’t think I realized that she has a degree of fear, just like I do, that she’ll be left by the man in her life again. I wish I knew a way to make her feel safe and to reassure her that she doesn’t have to worry every day about that, but how can I teach her something that I am still learning to accept myself? The point is that I am learning it…I have learned to trust, and I have learned to feel secure. All I can do is stay close to her and hope that a little of that rubs off on her precious little heart.
My life is a work in progress, and I love it (and the people in it) so very, very much. Yesterday, I hung a purple heart made of lavender on the front door of my new home. It’s a place of love, it’s a place of hope, and it’s a place where my dreams come true every single day when I walk through that door and come home to a man that loves me because he chooses to, not because he feels obligated to. I can’t wait to marry him…
Today is my Independence Day. Jeremy left on January 26, 2009. I remember because it was Jayna’s due date- a date that was permanently etched in my mind because, 5 years before, I had repeated it hundreds of times. “When are you due?” someone would ask. “January 26,” I would say with a smile. He left on her due date. 13 days after her 5th birthday, and 13 days before what would have been our 6th wedding anniversary.
One year ago today, I remember coming to work. Shaking, wide eyed, and terrified about how in the hell I was going to do this by myself. I remember looking at the numbers through my tears, trying to figure out how I was going to survive and raise a child alone on my state employee salary. I remember trying to decide if I was going to continue my education, or if I was going to take a break because I was unsure of whether or not I could handle the stress of life as a single mom, full-time employee, and full-time student. My fears of how to handle my life alone were cut short because I couldn’t afford to be afraid. There was an ice storm coming, and I didn’t have any back-up heat. My firewood was in a pile in the yard, getting rained on. There was nobody to depend on but myself. There was no time for self-pity. There was only time to grow my backbone, stand up, and be the kind of woman I want my daughter to be. Strong. Confident. Independent. And now, here I am, standing on my own. I survived the first year, and it wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. It was better!
I found out a lot about myself. I grew as a person, and I became a woman I can be proud of. I also found someone who DOES want to come home to me every night. He’s made all the difference in the world, whether or not he knows it. He gives me a reason to smile every day, and he reminds me every day that I don’t have to be afraid. He’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.
So yeah, I promised to update my blog and I’ve been a monumental failure at it, because I have THE. BIGGEST. NEWS. EVER. I have had for 6 days, and I haven’t even written about it yet! Yes, I know some of you have been bitching for details. Gimme a break. I'm trying. So, in a last-ditch effort to share my little slice of HELL YES MY LIFE ROCKS, here goes.
So New Years Eve…me and Mr. P headed out to a little get-together at a friend’s house. It was a full moon (a BLUE moon, mind you) and we were both excited to have some kid-free time to enjoy each other. We had some questionable burgers (love ya dude, but really. Burgers first, Jager second) and had a great time laughing at said friend for his fraidy-cat antics. (don’t ask. It’s too stupid to even bother explaining.)
After all the silliness of the night, we gathered in the living room. We watched the ball drop, my wonderful man kissed me, and then immediately became noticeably nervous. He kicked 2009 to the curb, and then announced “well, now that that’s over, I want to start 2010 off the right way.” He dropped to one knee, pulled out a beautiful diamond solitaire, and asked me to marry him. Yes, fo’ serious. Of course I said yes, or else it would be totally retarded for me to proclaim this as BIGGEST. NEWS. EVER. I mean, who would do that. (Shaun says I still would because I’m a female, and female=mean, but I disagree.) Anyway, yes. The Southern Single Mama isn’t really so much single anymore. The woman who vowed to not make vows is shopping for wedding bands, beach wedding packages, and other “forever paraphernalia.” Hmm. Go figure… Told ya, strange things happen under full moons!
I remember riding in the car with my mother several years ago. It was just the two of us and we were traveling on the winding road heading down to the Buffalo River, where I spent most my summers during my childhood. The windows were down, the wind was blowing our hair all around, and Nanci Griffith was blaring on the stereo. The meaning of the song wasn’t particularly important, but the chorus was “once in a very blue moon.” I remember asking my mother what that meant, and she told me that it was a rare, special occasion. I learned later that it was really nothing more than a second full moon in a month. Either way, I grew up hearing my mother echo the phrase “once in a blue moon.”
Tomorrow is the last day of 2009. This year began with me being broken down to the very center of my soul. I rebuilt my life. I survived the absolute worst thing that has ever happened to me, and I’m a better person for having gone through it. Now, I will spend the last night of this year- and the first night of the next year- with a man who made me believe something that I had turned my back on. When I met him, I didn’t want to be in love. Not then, not ever again. I was determined to stay standing on my own 2 feet. But then, he walked into my life. He made me believe that I could be in love again. He made me believe that I could rely on someone to be there, and to stay. He’s proven it, too. I’ve shoved him away twice now. Each time was because I had the potential to be hurt badly. I figured that if I pushed him away, he couldn’t just walk away from me and leave me behind brokenhearted. But something strange happened. Both times, he came back. He came back and he didn’t leave. And now, I’ll be ringing in the New Year with him tomorrow night. And this year, something rare and special will happen. The New Year will be born under a blue moon. So, cheers! Here’s to faith, love, and hope.
I survived my first Christmas as a single mom. Although, really, I’m not sure how much of a single mom I am anymore. I guess a more appropriate description is “unmarried mother” because I’m not alone anymore. Truth be told, I haven’t been for a while. He’s there. He’s been there almost every day and every night for almost 3 months. Even before he was physically there, he was still there. I could call him any time of the day or night, and if he could, he would stop whatever he was doing just to listen to me when I needed to talk. But now, he’s really “for real” there. I used to go to bed alone and lay there for hours until I fell asleep. Now, I snuggle up next to him, with a huge dog lying at the foot of my bed, and I fall asleep feeling loved and cherished. I don’t know the last time I felt that….or actually, if I have ever felt that at all.
I still have my moments, though. Sometimes, something is said, or a word catches my attention, and I feel myself snapping back to reality. I feel kind of like an animal in the woods when they hear a sound that startles them. Their head pops up, they look all around them, and every step they take is taken with purpose. They keep going, but they do so with extreme caution, and they continue in that manner until they feel safe again. That’s what happens to me. My focus sharpens, I make no moves or sounds without purpose, and I hear that voice in my head that says “be careful, because this could be monumentally painful.” I have another voice, though. That voice says “It’s ok. He loves you, and like he’s told you, love is giving someone the power to destroy you, and trusting them not to.” And I trust him- and love him- completely. Eventually my fear subsides and I slip back into that comfortable feeling, and I have the courage to look into his eyes and see how he loves me...and then all is right in my world once again.
I suck balls. Not because I mean to. (I mean, this is all figurative, of course. If you are literally sucking balls, generally you DO mean to. But, in this case, I don’t mean to.) Yeah, so I haven’t written anything meaningful in, like, months. Whatthefuckever. Get over it. I don’t mean to suck balls. I have excuses, I’m just too lazy to bust them all out at the moment, so, deal. Mmmmkay? Grrreat. Thanks. Anyway, anyone who read and knows my life knows what’s up. Boyfriend, in love, shitty non-child-support-paying ex-husband, school sucks, that’s about as much of a recap as I can manage at the moment. I’ll do better, I promise. In the meantime, pet a kitten or something to make yourself feel better. Loves ya. Fo’ reals. (And yes, a lot of old posts were deleted. Some stuff I just wanted to leave alone for a while. So, fresh start and all that junk. Peace, foo's.)
I recently relived my first single mom survival story for a fellow blogger. I told her about how my husband left, and one day later, I watched the weather report in horror as an ice storm made its way to our area. I knew that I had firewood, although it was in the yard and wet from the rain. I told her about how I took off work early that day, picked up J and then went home, spending the next 2 hours hauling firewood by myself in the ice rain. I don't know what that selfish bastard was thinking, but my daughter would be safe and warm, period.
Many of my friends have commented on what an incredibly huge fucktard Tha Ex was for leaving me in that situation. (yes, I said fucktard. More on that in a moment.) I could be angry at him for being so selfish, but if you’re at the point that you’re willing to walk out on your family, what’s just a little more icing on your cake, right? You might as well leave them high and dry too. (well, not so dry, but you get the point.) One thing that I take pride on is learning from my experiences. What I learned from that experience is this- I CAN. Yes, by myself. I learned that I can be successfully independent, and out of that, my mantra was born. “FUCK YOU, I CAN DO IT MYSELF! I DON’T NEED YOU!” The past 8 months have taught me that the power of the F word is UH-MAY-ZING. There is truly nothing that satisfies me more in my time of anger and frustration than pulling out the good ol’ F-word, or any variation thereof. (Such as fucktard, fucker, fuckin’ A, fuckity fuck, or, when little ears are around and you must edit out of necessity, you can substitute with “FAAAARKLE!!!”) It’s all part of letting it out. It’s like a fart (another F word. Coincidence? I think not.) Anyway, as I was saying, it's like a fart. You have to let it out, or eventually, you will literally explode.
