Memory Lane and Journal Entries. Circa 2002.

I have spent the last several hours of my life reading my journal from the year 2002.  I couldn't seem to fall directly asleep, as happens many mornings after I've worked all day, into the night; or all night..... my brain does not like to automatically go from "we have a code red, please bring the jaws of life," or "when I entered the patient's room, he was standing in front of the mirror butt naked," or if if I've had an oh-so-crappy evening of "I love you, but I wish things were different, blah blah blah bibbity bobbity eff you," to "ah, my bed, it's so comfy, quiet and all nicey nice to sleep in."  I have to have some kind of in between.  Early this morning I spent some time reading old experiences and personal moments.  Here are some excerpts from the summer of 2002:

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May 25, 2002  Saturday
It's been a nice and lazy day.  No kids, just peace and quiet around the house.  I decided that I needed a real break from being a full time, single mom, and all I did was the dishes in the sink and that's it!  I didn't walk around the apartment cleaning every little thing like I usually do when the kids are gone.  I didn't sit in front of my computer or do homework all day long.  I slept and watched TV, prayed and did some scrapbooking.  Mostly just sorted through stuff that I haven't put in there yet.  The day was nice just relaxing like that!  I've been thinking about Brian a lot since my therapy session with Garrett.  About how he was when we met.  I find it nearly impossible to believe that it was all an act.  It hurts too much to think that I was living in some fantasy world where I was merely a player.  What a horrible game for someone to make up.  I just can't believe that.  There are times when I think about it and I just want to begin laughing hysterically and run my fingers through my hair while pulling it in this wild and crazy gesture.  Just like a lunatic.  I still feel a little crazy when I think about it.  I still feel like there is something wrong with me.  Why couldn't he love me for me?  I thought he did, and then suddenly everything I did was wrong in his eyes. 

June 16, 2002  Sunday
I just feel like both my body and my mind, my total being if you will, are being pulled in a million different directions.  My body feels as though it is falling apart just as much as my van is.  Pieces aren't falling off, of course, but they may as well be, because they just don't seem to work properly.  Sometimes I just ache all over and can't seem to move.  Other times I just feel so completely exhausted that I would be perfectly content to lie around on the futon all damn day long and do nothing.  I notice my cramping and pains on my sides and lower stomach more often now, so I guess the endometriosis is spreading.  My surgery is in the process of being scheduled, hopefully for the month of July some time.  I asked to have the dates of July 3-15 looked at since I won't have my kids during that time period since they'll be vacationing with their dad, but naturally there is no guarantee I'll get the surgery date I desire.  I'd just like to have to polyps removed before I have full-blown cancer if the surgeon can fit me into his schedule! I'm irritated with Bev over my surgery situation, because I feel like she is really belittling it.  All she can really say is that surgeries today aren't what they used to be and don't hurt as much, blah blah blah.  I just feel like she is pretty much telling me that this just isn't a big deal at all and that I'm going to be just fine and won't need any help.  Like I'm going to walk out of the hospital pain free and completely relieved.  It makes me mad and sad at the same time that she is viewing my hysterectomy like I'm going to have my tonsils removed or something.  I think I'm entitled to be angry, sad, disappointed and frustrated over this surgery, and once I have it done I'm entitled to be in pain, cry, scream, and whatever else I want to feel or do!!!  I didn't ask for pre-cancerous polyps, I didn't ask for endometriosis or adenomyosis, I didn't ask to have my ability to have any more children to be taken away. 

July 17, 2002  Wednesday
I grow a little more capable of being okay every day, but this week has been so hard for me.  Now that I've had major surgery, it has been nice spending time with Bev, since she has opened her home and taken care of me since I have not been able to take care of myself, and being able to sit here and read, and journal, and take time to heal.  But I REALLY miss my kids and my heart is hurting.  I'm used to having them every day of my life, and I've never been away from them except when they go with their dad every other weekend.  Aspen has been really sick the past couple of days and I hear him crying on the phone saying in his 2-year-old voice that he wants his mommy and I just start to cry.  It turns me into an emotional wreck hearing my baby so upset and I'm completely helpless to take care of him.  I can't pick him up, can't risk getting a fever or ulcers in my throat like Aspen has right now.  I'm so thankful to Debra for taking care of him, but I feel like such a burden right now with the kids spread out all over the place because no one could take all of them at once for a week.  I know they miss each other, too.  

July 27, 2002  Saturday
Oh my Lord.  I got really sick a few days ago, have been getting worse, and yesterday fainted from pain, collapsing on my bedroom floor.  I was rushed to the hospital by ambulance since I just had major surgery a couple of weeks ago.  They immediately went in surgically because of the pain I was having, but it was only supposed to be an inch long incision.  I woke up this morning with a row of 20 staples across my abdomen.  I never expected to wake up in so much pain.  Morphine is a wonderful, wonderful thing.  As soon as I opened my eyes I immediately started crying.  I was in so much pain, it was unbearable.  I had been cut open from hip bone to hip bone.  I had an infection and an abscess on my colon that had to clean out.  The kids brought pictures that they made for me to the hospital.  Karah cried.  I cried. I can't even see my journal because of the medication, I have to stop writing.
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Oh how I miss my children. Reading the things I wrote 12 years ago - TWELVE YEARS AGO - has brought forth so many feelings I didn't even realize I still had. First of all, I can see the bipolar disorder in me just from the first entry. I knew there was something going on with me even then. Ironically, I was in therapy, and still wasn't diagnosed. Brian is my first husband, and children's father, by the way. It's also ironic the way I spoke about the situation. I feel the same way about my current situation with Ron. Was I merely a player once again? What is it about me that makes the men I love, and who supposedly love me, erase me from their lives? Do I just have a knack for choosing hidden exhibitions of uncoded narcissism and I want to be loved so badly that I fall for the initial charm, only to be shocked into unpleasant reality once they know "they have me?" Do I just love too much and it's not enough? Or maybe I love too much and it's too much to handle? How effing codependent am I, really? The reminder that I can have no more children was surprisingly a little harsh, as well. I don't know why; I'm 40 years old and why would I want another child anyway? My youngest is 14 and my oldest is 21. I think it's the fact that I missed out on everything a woman who is expecting a child, whether it's their first or tenth, should be able to experience. Call me a fool, but I would have loved to have had someone with me at all my appointments, someone who would lay his head on my stomach and talk to the baby, someone who would rub my belly, someone who would cherish every single moment along with me, someone who wouldn't jerk their hand away if the baby moved because it was weird to them, someone who got excited about sonogram pictures, someone who would hold my hand all the way through labor and delivery and stroke my hair telling me it was going to be okay instead of letting nurses and other relatives to "the job." I loved being pregnant, and I loved expecting; but I miss the love of pregnancy with the person who helped create it. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. My girls are 18 and soon-to-be 17. My 18-year-old WANTS me to have another baby. She has encouraged me to adopt many, many times in the last year. That was before my fiance decided he didn't want to marry me, of course. She recently remarked, "you should have a baby anyway." I love her so much. If I were to have a baby, she is definitely one person I know who would be there through thick and thin. My own child. Imagine that. My soon-to-be-17-year-old. That's such the opposite end of the spectrum, that the last entry brought me to tears. "Karah cried." How I miss my Karah, so very, very much. I pray every day that she will give me another chance in her life. I've stopped trying to figure out why I've been cut completely out of it. Does she even miss me at all? Has my daughter really stopped loving her mom? The girl who just 4 years ago would still insist on sleeping in my bed with me and would fight her little brother over the spot next me, and lay her head on my shoulder? I can't bear the thought. It reminded me that her birthday is soon. She will be 17 in just a couple of weeks, and it will officially mark 1 year of her ceasing communication with me, as it was just after her birthday last year that the texts, calls, and emails just stopped. She was there - and then she wasn't. So what do I do this year? Do I try like I did last year to get her to go to lunch with me or something? That's what started it, I believe. She had already started putting me off a bit, and I pushed too hard and ended up telling her that when she was ready to spend time with me, she would. It's almost like I made up her mind for her, and I wish I'd never said it. I feel like it somehow triggered her decision, as if she was saying, "then I won't......... in your face!" I've been working on letting go; but how can I ignore her birthday? I can't. I will send her a card that I hand make for her, along with something else that I make for her; because that is our thing. I make things for her. She got a lot of her creativity in art and writing from me, and it's a passion we share. I hope that I can find something to do for her that will make her at least smile, even if I don't get a chance to witness it. I know it's usually the birthday girl that makes the wish, but I have a wish of my own for her birthday this year. A wish for just one hug. I just want to hug my daughter.

Final thought: I REALLY MISS MY KIDS. I never thought, in 2002, that there would be a day when I DIDN'T have them every day. As a matter of fact, the thought never crossed my mind.

Cherish the moments you have. You never, ever know when life will change dramatically on you.

No More Hook.

I threw myself out there again today for the last time. The ball is in his court. I'm tired of games. I'm tired of excuses. I'm tired of being bound by conditions being set on me, but not him, in order for the relationship to ever be again. It's a double-standard, and if there is one thing I passionately dislike, it is a double-standard. If you are going to set expectations for me and expect me to change for you, which by the way... I'M NOT... I will only change for myself; then you better believe I am going to have expectations of you! The problem with that statement, is I don't go into relationships with unreasonable expectations. It only sets you up for disappointment. I will, from this day forward, go in with specific boundaries, however. So, I obviously have a dilemma and suppose I will have to rephrase this.

His conditions: To see me as a self-reliable person who never depends on anyone for anything ever, and be proud of myself because I can take care of myself. You got it, bud! After you threw me out of the house for my own good, I have been practicing self-care for some time now and love myself, honestly, for the first time ever. I have self-confidence, I have self-worth that is dependent on NO ONE. I have goals and a future that is positive, regardless of who it is with or not with, and wherever I am. I know this because I choose positivity. The part I have a problem with - never depending on anyone else.. EVER. We should be able to depend on each other. Not be dependent on each other, but depend on each other. Isn't there a difference? Yes, that's a rhetorical question. Oh, and I need to grow up and not use my bipolar disorder as an excuse (I'm not sure for what), stop manipulating people, stop making stuff up (I used to do that.. addict and abuse survivor behavior.. that behavior is GONE, thank you very much), and stop seeking attention. I am completely transparent. There is a difference between transparency and attention-seeking. I don't care about your attention. I only choose to share so that others may be potentially helped, while helping myself overcome my life at the same time.

My conditions, if I were to actually give them to him: Stop talking about me. Stop telling me what I need to do to fix myself, and work on fixing yourself. You are more broken than I am. Stop drinking. You may think you don't have a problem with alcohol, but you were once a self-proclaimed recovering alcoholic, suddenly saying that people were your problem instead, yet a beer a night went to 2 then 4 then 6 then possibly even 12, you decide to scream obscenities in my face for 45 minutes, throw things, and I'm forced to clean up your vomit the next morning... it's a problem. Not to mention the fact that if I was really your "problem, and now that you aren't here anymore, problem solved.", you wouldn't have needed to continue drinking anymore or felt the need to. Just sayin'. Your anger issues would have also disappeared since I was the problem; but they haven't. In a nutshell, stop blaming me, because even though you say you don't - you do. Do not talk down to me about my mental illness. I have no control over the fact I have bipolar disorder, but I do have control over how I treat it, and it's being treated very well. I'm not talking about popping pills, either. There is this thing called behavioral therapy that actually works quite well, in addition to medication. You see, you take your thoughts captive (imagine that), and those thoughts that turn into feelings can be altered. Your reactions and actions then change, therefore making your behavior different. It's a magnificent concept! Stop bringing up my past. I don't live there anymore. If I wanted to do the same to you, I could have made you feel less than scum in 0.98 seconds; fortunately, I'm not that person anymore. Take an anger management course. Putting holes in doors and throwing things only helps temporarily because of a surge in adrenalin, and hurts you, and other people, in the process. Get some help. The things that have happened to you in the past are holding you hostage and consequently turning you into a resentful, bitter, and ugly person; nothing like the person I fell in love with. Lastly, don't ever say anything about me not being the person you thought I was when we met, fell in love, and subsequently got together (again) 2 years later, because the only thing that changed that person was the fact that I allowed you, certain lifestyle behaviors, and not standing up for myself, change me.

At the risk of sounding like a combination of Jack Nicholson and Arnold Schwarzenegger, from The Shining and Terminator, respectively... "Heeeeeerrre's Barbara!" and "I'm baaaack!"


I will never let another person, or their lack of respect for my boundaries, change me again. I have a voice. I HAVE A VOICE. And I will never refrain from using it again, either. I have the ability to say, "Even though I asked you not to buy all that, and you did anyway, I can still say I don't want it."  I have the ability to say, "I don't want to do that, I'm not comfortable with it."  I have the ability to say, "You are really hurting my feelings right now and I would appreciate it if you would just listen for once instead of turning things around on me and mentioning something I have done. If you want to talk about that, we can do it another time, but right now this is what we are talking about." I have the ability to say, "You don't have the right to treat me like that or talk to me that way. I don't do that to you!"  I have a voice, dammit.

I am not a fish on a line and today I am taking the hook out of my mouth. The bait is no longer there. I will not be strung along under the assumptive presumption that there is a possibility that everything will just be peachy keen one day and we'll both be handy dandy, and we'll get back together, go live in the country on a farm with my horse that I will probably never get to hug again, and be a normal couple that works through their problems together, instead of apart - because I have been given no indication of that, whatsoever. All I get are "It's not that I don't love you...."'s and "It's not that I don't miss you..."'s, BUT..... There are no buts. We are either working this out while working on ourselves.. or we aren't working this out while working on ourselves. And he can't even answer that question. So, I am answering my own question.

Do you want to spend every day of your life wondering whether or not you will have a relationship with your ex-fiance of 3 years again, wondering if he misses or loves you for real, wondering what he is really thinking, worrying about him, and STILL trying to think of a way to fix his life for him, instead of moving on with your own life, taking care of yourself, caring about yourself, learning how to be alone again and being perfectly okay with that again, and loving the world around you completely, without feeling like part of your insides wants to throw itself up?

"NO."

I'm letting go.

God, you can have it.

I apologize if the tone of this ended up sounding bitter. I'm not bitter at all. I'm just tired. Extremely, vastly tired, and this was the end of the rope that I just let go of. The frayed edges are waving above my head, swaying in the calming wind and getting further and further away. I wish nothing but the best for him; pray nothing but the best for him. I just can't help him. By letting go, I think essentially I will be helping both of us. At least, that is my hope.

Something I have again.  H.O.P.E.

Torn.

Every once in a while, I will express myself in poetry. It's a huge part of who I am and that part has been lost for many years. Just recently, someone I used to participate in poetry challenges and collaborate with posted something from those days (circa 2008, I believe) that really made me miss writing. It sparked that old flame of desire to pour my random thoughts into some sort of pattern. My patterns don't also rhyme, but if you know anything at all about poetry, you'll know not all poems rhyme. If you need everything to rhyme for you, I can recommend a Dr. Seuss book or two. ;)


I've had a recent break-up that, while I am healing, it is still pretty fresh and I have my moments.  I am, in fact, slightly broken. Busted. Defective. Ruptured. Hurt. Slivered. Collapsed. Demolished. Severed. Pulverized. Split. Cracked. Fractured. Shattered. Rent. Fragmentary. Crippled. Smashed. Riven. Burst. Separated. Crushed. Mangled. Disintegrate. Shivered. Dismantled. Damaged. Mutilated. Shredded.


In pieces.


Mostly, though.. I'm just torn.

TORN

my sadness overwhelms me
like a butterfly without wings
a page torn in two
shattered glass and broken dreams.

i take a look around me
and all i really see
is lost hope, wandering souls
stormy clouds.

i am dying inside without you
heart and soul screaming for pain relief.
to hold you in my arms again,
kiss you, hug you, touch you
i long for you each night i sleep.

original ©2007   ©2014 Barbara F. O'Dell (the little b.)