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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.
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.
