So much to say. I doubt there will be much coherence to this post however here I am.

I am leaving my husband. He does not know that yet. I’ve written the words here and I’ve told three of my friends. That’s it. I have the number of a good attorney in hand, I am looking for places to live and planning.

My daughters do not know. I will tell them when I’ve got a place to live. Until then, I am quiet. Saving money. Making plans. Waiting. I am going completely against my usual grain. It feels dishonest not to speak up now. There are circumstances that make it feel necessary to wait.

My husband will receive an accident settlement soon. We will pay off my car. And some of my other bills. It feels wrong to wait until I get this done to speak and yet I know it’s in my best interest to do so. It is in the very best interest of my girls too. So, I am quiet.

When I get too quiet my husband notices and his gears begin turning. He constantly asks me what’s wrong. “Have I done anything wrong?” “Can I do something to help you?” “What can I do to make it better?” I get email after email after email. I get phone call after phone call after phone call. He takes me shopping. He buys me things. He touches me constantly. He is smothering. Until I scream “Enough!”

I call him my very own personal stalker.

That’s what it feels like. He must know every single conversation I have with my daughters. He must know every word they say to me. And every word uttered on the phone. And every word written in email. And every other thing about me there is to know. And he gets mad and what I call pissy when he doesn’t get those things. Then the attitude begins. And then it gets ugly. And often loud. And it scares me. Alot.

He doesn’t know about my blog. Not where it is. Not even that it exists I think. He doesn’t know of the blogs I read. Or where my Facebook page is. Actually he did see my Facebook page. Then I blocked him. Quietly. He never asked again. But I know he looks. He’s sneaky like that.

I’m not allowed a moment of privacy. If I spend too long in the bathroom, he is there knocking on the door. If I’m gone from home too long, he is calling me to see where I am. I left the house a few months ago to run to the store to buy toilet paper. He followed me. He walked up behind me in the check out line and said “You are either crazy or desperately seeking attention!” Of course all the people in line turned to see what was going on. Then I got a lecture about how my journey to buy toilet paper now cost twice as much because we had to take TWO cars to get it.

I was not quiet for that one. He was not pleased.

But then the kindness started again. I got a new iPod. I got new shoes. Expensive shoes. I got new perfume. I got alot of stuff. And now, in return for being quiet just awhile longer, my car will be paid for.

And I will have $400 extra dollars a month to live on when I move my daughters and I out of that place.

I feel guilty. It is hard to keep quiet. I just keep telling myself to shut up for just a bit longer. I have to think of me. And my girls. And what we need.

It’s harder than you’d think.

I am leaving my husband.

For reals.

I am not happy.

Honestly, I’ve forgotten what being happy feels like.

That makes me sad.

I’m going to find my happy again.

Somehow.

can’t I get back into this? First I’m in an ok place, then a not so great place, then a blah place and the cycle continues. I think about blogging but just the thought of it makes the weary I feel bigger. I miss blogging. I miss connecting with others. I miss so many things. I’ll keep trying. Just not tonight. Peace.

It’s been awhile. I think about blogging and then I don’t. I read blogs every single day. I think, I need to write about this or that and then I don’t. I’ve bared so much of myself in this place…I think I got tired. There’s alot of stuff here on this blog and there’s alot of stuff here in my real life. Sometimes I cannot do both. I’d like to be funny and silly like alot of blogs I read. It never feels right to me. I’ve been called genuine and real and alot of other sweet words that mean the same things. I hope I will get back to writing whatever it is that I need to write. I’ve done alot of healing and learning through this place of mine and I’m grateful for it. I’ll keep trying to figure out what I’m doing. And I’m sure I’ll be back. I just don’t necessarily know when. Peace.

It always stuns me to see so many who claim that music is their life. They feel so strongly about it. It’s like they can’t survive without it. I was moved to tears this evening by the realization that the only thing in my life that I’ve ever felt like that about was having children. The lengths I went to in order to get my beautiful daughters amaze even me. I wonder what it would be like to feel that way about something else.

I have much to say. For some reason it’s hard to get it all out. I think it’s finally time to head back to therapy. I’ve acknowledged some things to myself lately that it’s time to face I suppose. I hesitate to write here but there’s no where else to put it. No one in my *real life* knows of this place and that is quite comforting to me. Soon, I think. Soon.

We had so much snow during Christmas. It was completely beautiful and amazing and I was sad to see it go. We were basically snowed in and it was fabulous. To have nothing else to do but read books, watch movies, chat with my daughters, play games and stare at the lovely white stuff out the living room picture window…heaven. Absolute heaven.

I’m back to work now. It’s ok however I was sure enjoying my time off.

I think of writing here on an almost daily basis. I seldom do it however. I used to have lots of blog friends and now almost none. It’s ok. We get out of life what we put into it and gawd knows I haven’t put much into ‘it’ lately. My writing has dwindled. My husband asked me a few days ago why I don’t sing anymore. I told him I just don’t feel it anymore. He said “You don’t feel what?” I replied “Hmmm, the happy, I guess.” He wanted to know what could be done to get my happy back. The answer is I don’t know.

and it triggered some emotional trauma for me this afternoon. Gaahh!

When I was 14, I began my freshman year of high school at a new school. On crutches. With a broken hip.  I had entered puberty two years earlier and my teenager-y hormones were running amuck. I had acne. The. Worst. Acne. Imaginable.

Enter George H, Brad G and Richard B. I’d really like to publish their entire names here and their addresses as well. The truth is, I would hate to have some kind of legal repercussions from doing so and suppose, just suppose, someone were to perform say, a google search or something and find themselves here. That would be No Bueno for sure so I’m not doing it. But let’s be clear. It’s for my safety and feelings of well being and not theirs.

One day during the freshman year from hell, shortly after I’d ditched my crutches, these three boys cornered me in a hallway at our school. Next to the wall of lockers so there was no way out. I was short. They were tall. I was ugly. They were pretty boy jocks. And assholes. On this particular day, these particular boys backed me into a corner and said many horrible things to me. I honestly do not remember most of them. Thank. Gawd.

What I do remember is this. These boys told me that I was too ugly to live. They also informed me that while I was on my way home from school on this particular day, they were going to follow me and kill me because as they’d mentioned, I was simply too ugly to live. They laughed. Loudly. And then. The bell rang. And we all went to class. They went laughing. I went terrified. Terrified to speak. Terrified to move. Terrified to leave school to walk home. Terrified to stay.

Some girls I’d met at the Kingdom Hall and gotten to know since we’d moved to this town my mother had grown up in, saw me and asked what was wrong. I told them. What else was I going to do? I couldn’t walk alone and I could not call my mother to come get me either. Ohgawd, that would have been even more horrifying. My mother. At the school. Grilling me. No flipping way.

These girls walked me home. They stayed so close to me. I was still scared. But they took me all the way home and waited until I got inside. I remember absolutely nothing after that except for a few minutes at the dinner table when my dad asked me what was wrong. I don’t remember what I told him but I do remember that something he said made me tell him he could not come to school. That’s it. That’s all I remember.

Today I said something like “Gah, I have a zit!” My husband came in to tease me and then tell me he couldn’t even see it. I mentioned being “too ugly to live” in high school; he said “who would say that to you?” I replied without even thinking “George H, Brad G and Richard B.” I didn’t realize how close to the surface those boys still are. When I noticed the tears in my eyes, I knew I needed to pay attention.

Is it wrong that after high school, when I heard that Richard B had been in a logging accident and was paralyzed on his right side, I felt nothing except gratitude? I heard once that one of those boys was in jail and I have never heard anything about the other one. Never. One. Word. And yet. I can still see them. Still hear them. Still remember them.

Fuck.

Well, history has been made. I’ll admit, it did give me a chill to witness it. I thought John McCain’s consession speech was eloquent and graceful. I appreciated how he quieted those in the crowd “booing” Obama.

Obama’s speech gave me that tingly down the spine feeling. I am going to admit in this space that I voted for neither main stream candidate. McCain and Palin scared me and there is just something about Obama that creeps me out a bit. That said, it was quite something to have a front seat to history in the making and I sincerely hope Mr Obama can accomplish even half of what he hopes to.

I worry though. For many reasons.

First, I am a worrier. I wonder if, given my history, it’s possible to be anything else. I try not to worry. I really do. My anxiety levels tell me I’m not very good at it. I worry that someone, somewhere will do something to hurt Mr Obama. I mean, think about it. Last night, the news people were comparing him to JFK and talking about Camelot and on and on…it’s a worry.

Second, I grew up in a religious organization that believes certain things in history are destined to happen in a certain way. When those things have all happened, the “end” will come. When I say end, I mean, the lives of all who do not serve the god these people worship will be over. God will kill them. Because they didn’t do what he told them to do and it won’t be unloving either because those people had plenty of warning. Centuries of warning.

During Obama’s speech last night he said something along the lines of “to those looking for peace and security, we will support you”. Those were definite chill inducing words. Examine the tenets of the religion I grew up in and you will have a clearer understanding of my fears.

Third, daughter #2 called last night crying. In relief over the election. And also to tell me she was worried that now she’d have nothing left to protest. How sweet is that? This girl who is nearly 19 touches my heart in ways I can’t explain.

There is more…alot more…but I have to get ready for work. Today I will attempt to marshall my thoughts (and thus my feelings) in a different direction. It is difficult as I’m truly struggling with my depression at this time. Overwhelmed doesn’t begin to cover it. I keep hoping for a miracle. I find myself wondering if I really believe in them…sigh…

So, here I am again. I have no idea what to write but I feel the need to do it anyway. I’m avoiding work right this moment and my boss is gone to a doctor appointment so I can for a bit. I delivered daughter #2 to college a few weeks ago. I can’t believe two of my babies are on their way. Daughter #1 is a senior in college but still has to do her student teaching after this year is over so she won’t graduate until next winter. Still…it’s amazing. Daughter #3 will be 16 in 9 days. She is so excited. Not to be 16, but to have her killer party with her best friends. She’s already started decorating our house. No sweet 16 allowed. You will be momentarily frowned upon by the birthday girl. She put those words on the invitations. Funny, funny girl. What do I want out of my life? It’s a dilemma as usual. I’m afraid. I’m afraid I will become my mother. I see her; feel her in so many things I do. It’s like she’s everywhere and yet nowhere. Sad and comforting at the same time. I managed to keep the heat on this morning. Thank god for that check. It’s getting cold here and it would have been very cold in the house tonight if it hadn’t arrived. Priorities. Pay nothing until absolutely required. Hanging on for dear life. Is anyone else depressed as hell about the election? Does anyone else hear a word I’m saying? I just feel as if it’s all pointless. None of those people, those candidates gives a damn about me or you for that matter. Nothing they do is going to affect me directly. I’m one of the “have nots” don’t you know and the “have nots” don’t matter. Politics is about power. I have no affect on that one way or the other. I got an email from my cousin last week. This cousin in still one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. She told me that she would see my parents when they were resurrected and I wouldn’t. A real, thumb your nose, cruel thing to say if you ask me. How christian and how likely to make me return to the fold right? I purchased cancer insurance two weeks ago. The wonder of payroll deduction. I received my card yesterday and holy…I started crying. I’m working so hard to be responsible and take care of myself and my daughters and yet, I wanted to send that card and that policy straight back where it came from. I thought of my mom again and wondered how it is that she could have spent so much time dying and being terrified and so little time thinking about how it would all affect me…her only child. I think of my children in everything. Even though they are almost grown, I think “How would this have affected me if my mom did it when I was their age?” I think of those things. Why didn’t my mom? It goes around in my head like that quite often. Gah! Enough already. Until next time…peace.