Tag: divorce

Superheroes

Superheroes

18 May 2017

A superhero demonstrates powers beyond human. Not everyone can have superpowers.  In my mind, these are the following qualities:

  • Overcome immense adversity (my Wasband doesn’t count. Nor does the whore)
  • Find a way to rise above (see parentheses above)
  • Portray a human characteristic
  • Use powers for the betterment of humanity (can’t do this if you don’t possess any powers. Again, see parentheses above)
  • Thinking you’re a king and queen. Imposters don’t belong.  This does not fit into the super hero dynamic.  Wasbands and whores who address each other as a king and queen need a reality check and get out of Fantasyland. They don’t belong there either.

I belong with the superheroes.  I am Wonder Woman.  No, really.  She was my idol growing up. I even had WW Underoos, but they stayed hidden because superheroes only transform during cries for help; then they’re true selves are shown.  Plus, Underoos were glorified underwear.  Today, I don’t even think they could pass for a costume; they were that skimpy.

Wonder Woman’s background is interesting.  She is part Amazon with a Greek history in her lineage.  She is smart and beautiful.  She has an aura about her.  She could deflect anything with her gold bracelets.

I have managed to survive a cruise ship, nine days in Chile, 2 ½ months living under the same roof, getting through 2 ¾ terms of school, work, and a pending divorce.  If I was still sharing a residence, I know I would not be where I am today…at all.  I sat still, furiously fidgeting, for four months, cleaned up some clutter, made the house my own, and still trying to make the perfect lemonade drink.   I created boundaries (deflecting things that could bring harm) and have said ‘no more.’

I have always embraced my independence.  It’s who I am.  I am a strong woman and welcoming the liberation a life that was tossed away (not my choice).  I still stumble, but I also stopped trying once I recognized I wasn’t wanted.  I bargained for a brief, dark moment at the onset of the Wasband’s confession, but I quickly dropped it once I saw his true colors floating in front of my eyes.  There was no fix to this.  At least not on my end.  The damage from the battlefield added to more things irreparable.

Wonder Woman is a warrior.  I am a warrior.  There is an acute degree of strength within myself, and it really comes out after dark moments and even a few bad days.  I possess power and grace.  I belong to an elite group.  I am confident.  I am a role model.  I am paving my own path to become my own special super heroine.  I am.

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Damage and Control

Damage and Control

17 May 2017

 

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Today I dressed up to attend a wedding and funeral.  There was no celebration in a (re)birth.  In a classic black and white outfit, wearing nice jewelry; tresses lightly curled (using a brush and hairdryer), free flowing with my white streak standing out against the sun-kissed blonde.  I donned some comfy sandals, with my pedicured toes peeking out.  SNHU colors, the graduation cap prominently showing on my big toe.  I felt good, and I looked good─tan, rocking my outfit, showing my 45 pound-lighter frame. Bold green eyes.

I was ready to face the day.  Focused, I went in not to seek revenge, but to demand responsibility and what is right.  Responsibility for me (the taking care of myself plan), and making someone accountable for their actions. The funny thing with a narcissist is that they believe everything they’re doing is the right thing.  They don’t care about the damage, pain and scars they’ve caused.

Instead, I walked into a battlefield.

There are such things as compromises.  What I saw was another attempt to maintain control over me.  Another take, take, take scenario.  Another narrative where my inheritance benefits someone who took all my money, never let me have any money ($160 cash/month, that’s it), and felt insecure if I had a few hundred dollars.  Someone who lied and took away an agreement, a vacation (three), and so much more.

I am the disposable one.  I am the one who gets an expiration date.  I am the one being forced and chased away.  I am the one everyone wants to keep, but nobody’s fighting for me.  There are some battles one person cannot fight alone.  I may be strong, but I somehow got knocked back again.  My “little rock” is a bit concerned about me and watches me from the lawn tonight as I sit outside, with a glass of bourbon trying to make sense of what played out in the field today.

I am on this battlefield alone.  I am not one to give up.  I am a fighter.  I am the one who stood up at the beginning, shouting out to the world that I was not going to be controlled, manipulated, dragged through the muddy trenches, disrespected, and undeserving of everything someone wanted to put me through.  Did put me through.  Continues to put me through.

Somehow, I have to pound out the last 5,000 words of my thesis, and do some major revisions this week/early next week.  I cancelled my wine tasting trip to California because life is too much to handle and my school work is insurmountable.

Natalie has to learn from trial and error.  Nick is cocky, believes he’s untouchable, thinks everything should be his way; he leaves Natalie to take care of everything, including leaving her to a train wreck that runs through their home.  He thinks he’s God’s gift to the world as he tries to juggle an engagement and an affair.  My readers do not like him.  Hell, I don’t even like him!  There is no justice served to him; only pain and regret.  Seems like life mimics all that is happening, but nobody admonishes his behavior.

I wonder if I have some special powers (Wonder Woman post coming soon!) because I sense things before they happen.  Or maybe it’s just women’s intuition.  I know my gut instinct is pretty darn strong and rarely steers me in the opposite direction.

Guns were fired.  The battle began.  Bullets grazed the skin, the mind, the heart.  Scars began to form.  An anger fueling the battle was more subdued than it should have been, but wouldn’t have done any good.  The opposing party seemed impermeable.  Take, take, take.  The OP wanted me to pay, pay, pay.  For what?  For an affair that I was not involved with?  For all the money spent from the community?  Because it was the “right thing to do”?  This is still unacceptable behavior.  I need to be the voice of abuse.  I need to be vocal about being disrespected, and how I respect myself too much to let disrespect continue.

I sustained a bullet wound that is too painful to speak about.  The wound is going to produce yet another scar to the many appearing in a short amount of time.  It’s so unfair that I get zero in return.  That an inheritance can be taken away so fast and never returned─more broken promises.  The OP made it very easy to return to a life recently left, at a future date, and being able to move back in, as I am driven out and away.  I will not waste another ounce of energy or time on something that I was told was mine “until sold.”  Sold, my ass.  It’s being taken back.

I have to muddle through the negative to reach the positive.  Nobody walked away unscathed.  Nobody was happy with the outcome.  Battlefield injuries were sustained; the magnitude of those are amplified by OP actions.  I’m sure the OP thinks there was another successful win.  I approached the battlefield thinking there wasn’t going to be a winner and loser.  I was right, but the approach is just wrong, wrong, wrong.

How does a wrong get righted?  How is punishment avoided?  Live in New Mexico and you will learn all about this bullshit.

I am not done on the battlefield. I have retreated to the tent to think of the next tactic.  I will not give up.  I will approach the front line with the intention to be feared.  Again, not revenge, but a super strength to say enough is enough.  I sense the violent crimson rage running through my veins.  I will harness that energy to make bolder statements.  Somehow, I am going to rise above this whole fucking mess.

Pictured below: Duke looks concerned, don’t you think…

Duke

 

 

 

 

Taking a Leap and Enduring

Taking a Leap and Enduring

14 May 2017

 

Happy Mother’s Day to any mothers reading this.  Happy Mother’s-to be Day!  My sister is a MTB, and they are equally important because they are still caring for a child.

I was at graduation on Saturday.  It was a day to me, for me, and all about me.  Prior to leaving for the ceremony, I was unwrapping my stole, cords, and charms to add to my cap and gown ensemble.  I was thinking about these next four weeks.  What I told myself was that I am finishing as a Hellinger.  This lead to taking another leap on Saturday.  It was time.  I took my last ring off.  A rush of liberation overwhelmed me.  I felt a little bit of freedom; a little because I’m not completely free yet, but it’s coming.  This was a giant leap because it meant that I am ready.  Ready for: new things, changes (big and small); and a new life.  However, I still feel a little disjointed.  There are scattered thoughts.   I am not my normal self.  In fact, normal doesn’t exist.  Eventually, there will be a new normal, but I’m not there yet.  These were thoughts running amok yesterday as I sat in my seat feeling the ridges on my left ring finger.  I hid my hand under my program to avoid thinking about things that were not the focus of me and my day.

I was sitting on the arena floor with peers in the MA Liberal Arts program at SNHU.  There were some dynamic speakers.  The keynote speaker for our school (COCE and CFA) spoke about where she’s been, how she got there and what she went through during her time as a student, a single mother, and working full-time.  The University President said he loved speaking to this particular school because students are from all over the world (one student was from Tuscany, Italy).  We are the ones who are studying late hours, after work, after families; we are the students sacrificing “small and big moments” to better ourselves.  Importantly, we arrived at this point because we have family and friends to support us.  I’ve been saying this all along.  My family and friends have supported me in various aspects of my life and my education.  I have sacrificed evening gatherings, and more to stay at home and get my assignments turned in.  I have sacrificed weekends on the golf course.  I have sacrificed dinners, lunches, and more because I needed to read a novel in 24 hours, write 5,000 words within a week; or had to do some research that kept me in the virtual library hours after work.  This sacrifice is priceless.  Family, friends, activities, events, and the golf course will still be there once I am done.

The speaker understands what it means for all of us to endure; she spoke about this.  We are functioning beyond.  I have no choice but to endure this chaos while finishing my education.  I can smile and laugh through the deep pain, tremendous hurt and invisible scars (already forming), and many would not even know how out of control (literally and figuratively) my life is currently.

Natalie has to endure trial and error to realize why she can’t wake up from her coma.  How does she do it?  You’ll have to read the book.   I have to finish the last 5,000 words week 7!  That’s it!  The last 5,000 words.  Then it will be time to edit once again, and prepare for my thesis completion.

Thinking ahead, I am determined to endure numerous rejections when I begin to submit my manuscript to agents/editors/publishers.  Empowerment and enduring are just two themes in my thesis.  I have endured some of the worst storms and darkest of days and nights.  I have grown more resilient through this mess.  I will be okay once I move beyond a few more obstacles.  I know I am not done taking small and giant leaps.  This is the power of positive thinking.

Both the University President and the speaker told us, as graduates, to take time to “soak it all in.”  I have been, and even reminded myself today to soak it all in.  Those smiles, laughs and memories I spoke about in my post the other day?  They happened because I let them. I embraced the moments.  I can’t seem to get enough, but it’s good enough for now.  Leaping, soaking, enduring, and embracing.

 

it's not about you anymore

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The Journey-Not Over Yet

The Journey-Not Over Yet

11 May 2017

 

Back to traveling again.  Seems like my May and June calendar has filled up, without being fully aware it happened.  I’m embracing it.  I have to.  It’s the freedom to move around, not being chained to anything or anyone; but I still have Duke-puppy in my care, so he’s my only other priority.  If the end is near, it’s so far away.  Plus, I still have to continue moving forward.  I am, literally, one month away from finishing this third degree.  I am on a plane, headed east for graduation.  My third degree and I have decorated my cap…there’s a first time for everything.

I think about dates.  My dad’s birthday is tomorrow.  We both were born on the 12th.  He would have been 66, and I can’t help but think what he, and my mom, would think of this ridiculous mess I’m in.  Would they have asked me to go home?  Questions.  So many questions, and I have to stop asking them because they won’t do me any good.

This fucking mess.  I’ve been in hell since January?  No.  December?  No.  November.  That sounds about right.  This fucked up mess has sapped my energy, motivation, appetite, and ability to sleep.  My clothing continues to fall off my frame, getting leaner with each passing week.  I recently saw photos of myself; someone had hijacked my phone at a committee dinner and I stared at the image on the screen.  That’s me?  Wow.  Catching up with friends after and I know everyone notices.  It’s hard not to.

So…I’m smack-dab in the middle of week 6.  I’m waiting for a chardonnay on this bird.  I’m letting the Wasband buy me a drink or two…or three… Running on another standard 3 hours 20 minutes of sleep and the adrenaline keeps pushing me.  I dread the day it stops pumping through my veins and mind; it’s going to be a hard crash, or I can head it off by doing something epic.

Graduation.  Usually signifies the end, but I am able to walk even though I’m a month away from being done.  I’ll take it.  Family is arriving from NY and IN to help me celebrate.  I fear what my Aunt Fabulous is doing at the ceremony.  Last year, for my niece and nephew’s high school graduation, she had their faces blown up and put on large sticks.  Think Big Head meets a popsicle stick.  From photographs, it looks like the heads are floating!  Whatever happens is sure to bring a smile to my face and a large, guttural laugh.  If you hear about a family that makes New Hampshire news, or even the news at Southern New Hampshire University, chances are it’s mine.  Haha

Natalie’s journey has begun.  She’s floating out in some familiar, yet unfamiliar place.  It’s all about the journey, and I am a firm believer in this. Heck, I look at where I am in this moment, this time, and in my life.  Never in a million years did I ever think I would have three degrees; would be married and now in the middle of a divorce.  Whore.  Adulterer.  Let me reign my anger back in.  I’ve lost the one outlet I could really shout at.  Bastard.  Bitch.

I will not let any of this define me.  It can mold, shape, soften me into self-discovery, but I am not the victim.  It took several months to bring myself to say this, and not because I am broken, but because I was torn down slowly.  It took space, a vast amount of space, distance and boundaries to shift my feet through the numbing waters to begin to see more clearly.  I began to see true colors.  I began to sort of find me, randomly wandering.  What I found was an old me, who wasn’t afraid to be her true self.  She busted out of that shell, and I’m still not convinced the world is ready for the phoenix emerging.

This journey is far from over.  Four weeks still remain.  A small period of taking a break is to follow (once I’m done) where I will enjoy my own company and get lost in a world I can’t wait to escape into.  Then I will begin to think about the shift in this blog.  Post-education.  Post-divorce.  Into the depths of healing.

In the meantime, I am going to accept all of the hugs, smiles, laughter and memories that will be created this weekend.  #SNHU2017.  It’s here!

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