This series is published no less than once a week on Thursday’s. Or you can start at the beginning here
A timeline can be found here.
This post could also be titled, Living well is the best revenge.
Let’s see where were we? Oh yes, darkness to day. It’s August 25 2010 and I am numb with grief. Life must go on as it always does when things come to an end, and as I stumble through it my mind is racing with thoughts of PJ. Realizations are hitting me both in a slow creep and a massive stab to the heart. My body has been trained to melt with lust when it thinks of him and my heart was so hopeful that things were going to be ok. It’s a combination of; Ok then, let’s pick ourselves up and move on, who was that masked man, and OMG WTF just happened to me. My soul needs to make sense of this, but as Tab told me, Sociopaths don’t make sense. I am alternating waiting for the other shoe to drop in his return and explanation and knowing that he is never ever ever ever ever ever coming back. Yep, mission accomplished, I am thoroughly mind fucked. I go through all the stages of grief, sometimes weaving in and out of one to the other and back again. I can only assume since he is choosing not to prove his innocence as quickly as possible that he is indeed guilty. But of what? Which things were lies and which things were truth? And then the hits start coming, sometimes it’s many in a day, sometimes it’s not for a few days.
The first hit: He owns a hand gun. He knows where I live. He has talked about putting me in his pit and joked on more than one occasion about chloroform. I don’t feel safe. That is such a great feeling to have when you are sleeping alone in a 5 bedroom house. At least I had benefit of an alarm system, a dog and good friends. Nothing like the first thought of your ex being concern that he is going to actually harm you. That felt great.
My previously mentioned emergency counseling session with Tab yields the following nuggets and to do’s.
- I have to create an answer I can live with
- I need to remember what I know about me, just because he did this doesn’t mean I’m not who I am.
- I have been violated and it is simply just not fair
- Suffering tempers us, ruin paves the way for transformation. In hind sight this is absolutely true and I would not be where I am in this moment, if PJ hadn’t done what he did. I am a better woman with a better marriage.
- My wondering=he wins.
- Maybe he truly was just that afraid. I have to find the pieces that fit.
So a few short days after he is gone I sit down one night and put on the BGP. I have spent 48 hours spinning and in reviewing the last few weeks before he vanished it is clear to me that the end was near and he was leaving clues. It is clear even that short time later that he is a sociopath and is likely married or at the very least has a girlfriend. So many little things all fit together and make sense now. My heart was in ruins, I wondered if I would have to go back to my husband simply because I would never be able to trust another man again. That sure sounded like a solid plan to reconciliation. That last sentence is sarcasm in case you people haven’t figured out when I’m kidding yet. I was pissed because I have more work to do and I’m fucking tired of doing work on myself. It is hard and exhausting. Some part of me promptly rejects the sociopath explanation because I don’t want it to be true. I know now that it is. I’ve come to that conclusion and acceptance of the conclusion. I have forgiven myself and Paul Jay Mathis.
By the third or so day the reality of the situation and what it may have cost starts to set in. I haven’t asked my ex if he is still interested in reconciliation because we were HOURS away from divorce when all of this went down. He may not agree to go back to marriage counseling, he may not agree to anything. I could be looking at a zero sum game here and I don’t even know what I want to do yet.
Here are some things I learned about Sociopaths based on my internet reading and one book I checked out of the library. I want to say the premier author on this subject is Martha White, but I’m not writing a term paper so I’m not bothering to look it up again. The information I found was very enlightening and helpful. And also very scary. I have an real life PJ example I could give you for almost every one of these things. Many of these are direct quotes from my reading.
- 1 out of every 25 people are Sociopaths, scary isn’t it.
- Sociopaths have no conscience, they cannot distinguish between right and wrong.
- They don’t EVER actually feel remorse or bad about what they do, they learn to fake it along with faking other emotions like sadness or love.
- They are often VERY good at faking it, often enigmatic, beautiful, sexy, successful people.
- They know when they are doing it that they do not love you, they are incapable of love.
- They are certified monsters, once their magic has had its effect there is only you and GOD left to pull out of that hole. TRUE DAT.
- They are not working with all their marbles, but often you feel like to admit such is to admit you are missing marbles too. This one totally explained why I felt CRAZY all the time when I was with him. He once told me, Oh i’m crazy doll, you know that. It was August when he told me that.
- Knowing that you will always return to them is what gives them a kick.
- They keep asking for another chance
- Control is their drug, it drives them it is like cocaine in their system and they need a victim.
- They are pathological liars, who are impulsive and tend to be alcoholics or drug abusers
- They claim crying
- In the back of your mind you know something is wrong, very wrong
- Do you think you’re in a never ending cycle of pain, where you feel as if you can’t free yourself of the relationship? Why yes, thank you very much I do!!!!
- You love him, can’t live without him, but being with him is one of the greatest tortures you’ve ever known.
- Vulnerable, single or divorcing/ed women are their PRIME TARGETS!!!!!!!!
- They have antisocial tendencies
- They can’t hold down a steady job.
- They suffer from low self esteem.
- They have been the victim of many situations, if not all
- They want you to feel as low as they feel about themselves and worse
- Being with them is mental horror and abuse
- If you are lonely and needy you are a big target, you are the only one who udnerstands him now
- Seldom admits they have a problem
- Low grade sociopaths start around age 15
So here is the deal. I am going to finish up this post about PJ and then we are not talking about him again. At least not in detail. We are going to focus on my reconciliation and then we will be done with this story.
I cried and thought my way through September, October, and November about him. The first Tuesday in December 2010, I was walking into or out of work, and I was having a conversation with God. As my feet hit the pavement I was demanding that GOD bring him back and make him look me in the eye and give me an explanation. I got home from picking MiniMe up from Girl Scouts that night to an IM informing me that PJ had shown up in Skype. I almost puked, but I held it together long enough to have a knee jerk reaction and request him as a contact, with a simple It is about time comment. Roughly 3 days later he accepted that contact request and then NEVER HAD ANYTHING TO SAY. I was told, but did not see that he actually went into chat one day and cammed up. I was told he was given a less than friendly reception from those that knew him. I had told more than a few people what happened. I started my 2nd chat career out of chasing PJ into chat that December. And I didn’t get out again until right before Memorial Day 2011. I thought about him every single one of those days and wondered if he was lurking in chat and watching me. The Big Guy happened in that time space and he was my rebound online relationship. As in replacing old memories with new ones, rebound relationship. I will not be giving any details about The Big Guy or any insight into that relationship or my feeling about it or him. I will simply tell you that my 2nd chat career ended when I….recognized that I wanted to be done with all of the bullshit and actually start some serious work to heal properly, decided to end it with The Big Guy when it became apparent that he didn’t understand no meant no and didn’t care to bother owning his actions. The same night I ended it, The Husband found out about him, but he understood that The Big Guy was merely a symptom of chasing after Paul. We came away from that set back and that part of our story in is our past. I’m a very lucky, very grateful woman. I could be in dead in a pit right now. Instead I am very much alive and writing this blog for your entertainment and education.
Living well is the best revenge and I am most certainly choosing to live well
More to come soon Lovies.
- Psychopath Vs Sociopath (mademan.com)
- Sociopaths and Psychopaths: Can They Be Cured? (robertlindsay.wordpress.com)
- Sociopath – are you one? (insideasanemind.com)
- Love and Illusion: You Could be Dating or Married to a “Social Sociopath”: How Would you Know? (prweb.com)
This series is published no less than once a week on Thursday’s. Or you can start at the beginning here
A timeline can be found here.
Sunday night arrives and I’m finally able to get out of bed for more than a few minutes. I notice that I miss him less and less with the limited contact we have. I quit smoking the week prior, something he hates that I do and he has declared as his first project once he is “here”. I’ll quit when you show up is what I always told him. I decided to just go ahead and do it on my own. I know he is back at school, he is still pretending that its BSU, but I’ve been searching the database daily and he isn’t showing up. If he is there he isn’t enrolled in classes. All I want to do is get over him and have my heart back, I still don’t know if I want to put my family back together. It seems easier to simply proceed with the plan at this point. All wheels are in motion for my divorce to be final by the 28th, it is the 22nd. I’ve got 6 days to get the final changes we have discussed into the Divorce Decree, have him meet me at a bank to get it notarized, then all I have to do is drop it off at the courthouse anytime after the 28th and within a few days or so I will be divorced. After I put the kids in bed the big wet rolling can’t stop crying tears come. My stomach hurts, my head hurts, and sleep is only gained from glorious drugs and exhaustion from being sick.
Monday the 23rd comes. In the morning he is green on g-chat but not talking to me, I realize I told him not to, but still it pissed me off. I remember sitting there and using my two fingers to pretend to squish his little green light between them like a bug, wishing it was his head. Later than day he emails me, hope you had a good weekend and are keeping up with the quitting. I resist the urge to reply then he chat me and I cave but not much is said. It sucks being in a place where you know shit is about to get very real and all you can do is buckle in for the ride. I had no idea the crash I was in for within a few short days.
Tuesday the 24th comes, I have plans to meet the husband at the bank on Wednesday at noon to sign the final papers. I respond shortly to his email I did. I am. Are you enrolled in school? At this point he has to know the noose is closing around his neck. I don’t hear back until later in the day and I use my day wisely. I check the BSU database again and he isn’t there. So I call the school. The current year’s info isn’t reported to The National Student Clearinghouse’s Degree Verify yet and so I get the registrar guy to do some manual look ups for me. I have a first name, middle name, last name, DOB, years he should of been there and what he is supposedly studying. The guy spends some time on the phone with me but comes up with nothing. Nobody with that last name at all. A few with the first name but no last name match. I decide it is time to tighten the belt on the BGP and I put two inquiries into Degree Verify, one for Notre Dame as undergrad and one to Ball State University for grad school. $6.50 per inquiry and the best $13 I ever spent. Why didn’t I think of this much, much sooner I don’t know, I was in a haze of love struck stupidity and obstinate hanging on. all I can do now is wait and see what happens, it is out of my control. I have God on my side so I know whatever happens I will be ok, and I already knew what the answer was going to be in my heart. I also knew HE was never going to tell me he was lying. I had no concept of the far reaching consequences discovering this lie would have on my soul, but I knew I was ready for whatever. I was in battle form, bring it mother fucker. He replies to me email on Tuesday night that not yet I’m sitting in on some classes this week to see what I want to do. Uhhuh, sure you are. I see red, give it about 4 minutes and respond. Trying out a few classes my ass, how stupid does he think I still am? You do realize how bad that looks. Why don’t you not contact me again util you have your shit toegther. And once upon a time when that happens you can do so by verifying your identity in a concrete way. I really don’t think that is too unreasonable on my part at this point in the game. Good luck on your journey.
I am feeling strong and confident, almost smug even. I may have finally won this game. This sick little twisted game I’d been a willing participant in for almost 5 months. I wake up on Wednesday with plans to head to the bank at noon, then the Notre Dame results come in first at 10:11am, an excerpt.
Status: Unable to confirm by the information you provided
Because the information you provided did not match any records in our database, we asked the school to research your request. The school was unable to locate either a degree or enrollment record for the subject of your verification request.
I feel shock, awe, incredulity, anger. I am simply shell shocked and stupefied. I call The Husband and give him the news, I tell him I am not up to the bank today, I need to figure out WTF is going on and I am waiting for BSU response to come in. The next 5 or so hours are some of the longest in my life. I am suspended in mid air, just waiting. Maybe only Notre Dame is a lie I bargain with myself, mayb eit will all be ok. I know it won’t be. 3:46 PM the nail in his coffin arrives. He doesn’t exist at BSU in any capcity either. Same deal.
Status: Unable to confirm by the information you provided
Because the information you provided did not match any records in our database, we asked the school to research your request. The school was unable to locate either an enrollment record for the subject of your verification request.
The good news is while I was waiting for the nail in the coffin I crafted the why did you pick my life to ruin and how could you be so evil for NOTHING email. One last thing was the title. I shoot it off within 3 minutes of getting the BSU results. I suppose I could of slept on it, tried to be more cunning and play the game or fuck with him some, but that wasn’t what I asked God for and it wasn’t what I wanted or needed. Here is what I know, I asked and prayed and God delivered swiftly and with force. There would be no wiggle room in this end.
I’m going to leave this here for now. If this was the movie it would be the part where everything gets really really quiet, then goes black because the world is about to suck into a vortex and spit back out in a catastrophic mess. I sit here now in this moment writing this with very little emotion other than smug satisfaction of a job well done while Mike Doughty plays His Truth is Marching On, randomly and in perfect timing on my itunes.
THANK YOU GOD!
More to come soon Lovies, thanks for sticking with me as the ride has its final crash, the only left to write about is the sorting through the wreckage and pick up the pieces of my life and put it back together.
PS. The next song was Brittney’s Criminal. LOL for real!
This series is published no less than once a week on Thursday’s. Or you can start at the beginning here
A timeline can be found here.
So I started my journal, and used it to write down what I was feeling. The more I wrote, the better I started to feel. Monday night after PJ returned from his trip I found myself in chat and we started talking. We spent over 2 hours that night, just the two of us alone and chatting. It was 8/9/10 and we spent 11:12 together during that conversation. He was all <3’s and I adore you’s. I asked him what kind of a man he was, I told him God had been talking to me and shared some of my revelations from those summer showers. It was a great night, with good open honest adult conversation and PJ re-iterated that “something about you always brings me back”. We weren’t having any sexy time, it was all words from here on out until the end. The week progressed in a interesting manner. School was starting for MiniMe and I knew PJ was headed back to school as well. I logged into GWP on Wednesday and cammed up just to hang and talk to some of my friends. While I was in there PJ was cammed up, but not on camera. Instead was a view of some suitcases and him walking around packing. He saw me on cam before I could close it, but we did well and did not talk. On Thursday morning I was told he watched the meteor showers all night and missed me in the morning. Friday came, his last weekend home before heading back to school. The morning chat was no good, but by the afternoon when we talked we spent time reminiscing about our first e-date so many months ago. PJ was headed to the pond that night. There was a pond near his house that was good for swimming and reflecting, it was one of our created places of escape in the beginning. We often talked about being at the pond alone and together. Pond dreams was often a code word to symbolize that happy safe place when we were struggling. He was headed there to spend some alone time, I assumed before he went back to school. Saturday we spent time chatting and we were having a pretty great conversation. HE said it was n’t the happy place of escape he had hoped it would be. I imagine not when your life has been one lie after another for 5 solid months. I made a comment about we hadn’t had a Saturday where we talked and spent time together in forever, he ended the chat abruptly with “It’s sad too, because I’m going now” . I had long since stopped grabbing at bait like that, I said nothing and let it be. I wanted to scream, where are you going? But I don’t. 3:13 in the morning I got this simple message “do want”.
Sunday night I get a call from The Husband, we needs Mini Me’s lunchbox for school the next week. I run it over to his apartment, I’ve made that night drive more than a handful of times to sneak in, spend some time alone answering his numerous booty calls and then sneak back out. In all of those times I’ve never been caught there by my kids. I knock and he answers, I hand him the lunch box and out of n o where The Destroyer appears at the door. He looks up at me with those sweet brown eyes and says “I want to go home Mommy”. He is clinging to me and crying, he wants to come home and sleep. I’m floored as it hits me, I have banished my children to an apartment for half of their lives. I did this, with help, to my family, to my sweet innocent children. I mutter something as I back away from the doorstep and run to my car. I don’t know how I made the short drive home that night because the breakthrough breakdown was in full progress. I did this to my children, for what? There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow I was chasing, there is no PJ coming into my life, there is no happy ending here. I honestly think I moved from denial that night. I was healthier, I was stronger, I was ready for the pain I asked God to bring and get me through. That pain was coming in waves and waves of screaming and crying and frustrated ranting. As soon as I get home I only tkae notice of how very very empty and alone this huge house feels with only me in it. I start writing. I am alone and my soul is black, my heart is hard and angry and the cracks are starting to rupture. I am alone and I can finally start to see all of the crappy, shitty, douchebag dick moves PJ has pulled since we began. My heart is breaking for my kids, my heart is breaking for me. It is breaking because of what PJ has done to me, but I fucked this up myself. That night it hit me how very much NOT WORTH it the whole journey with him has been. I am still trying to figure out how I feel about PJ, I am trying to give myself permission to let him go, to walk away, to run away as far and fast as I can and never look back. That night for the first time in many, many weeks I think about the possibility of going back to my husband. He has started going to his own counseling, he is still willing and asking to work with me on repairing our marriage and make us a whole family again. I don’t know if I can love him again, I don’t know if he can ever forgive me. The sobbing and crying and keening goes on for what seems like hours.
Monday comes and my mind starts to focus. I am tired of feeling this way. I am tired of being this person, it just isn’t me. I hate feeling weak, sad and taken advantage of. I write ” It’s time to let this go and turn it over to GOD b/c he is probably the only one who can fix it at this point”. I get down on my knees in my home office, my chair is my altar and I pray.
PJ is still saying and doing things like he wants to be with me, even going as far as to make a big deal about noting what kind of flowers I like to be sent, pink roses or peonies. When he says, duly noted, my response is something along the lines of Yeah right, you can’t even call but you want to send flowers?
I started reading Eat, Pray, Love late that summer. That book couldn’t of come at a better time in my life. At first reading it was a little sickening and scary, this woman left her husband for the younger man and it didn’t even remotely work out. Everything I am reading is like she is sitting with me telling me her personal story and it all sounds like warnings and I told you so’s. Many many pages of that book talked to me and it was all perfect timing. There is a part in the story where she realizes that a friend she is trying to help is fucking with her. She writes about coming to that realization. I am going to see the movie by myself on Thursday, but it is Tuesday and I have an appointment with Tab. I’m down to bi-weekly and we discuss the current situation. She suggests that I ask PJ what kind of relationship he wants. So later that day I do exactly that. He has already returned to school and should already be in classes, but he isn’t showing up in the student or staff databases yet. He had to know I would be checking. His answer….I want you in my life in some way. I’m not htinking of the future. I can’t handle much more than just what we have right now. This floors me, I don’t know what we have right now, to me it feels like nothing. he follows with, The future kind of blows my mind at the moment. I’m mostly focusing on the past. He is getting dismissive and distant again, only this time I start to see it for the game that it is. All sorts of memory flashbacks throughout my life start to hit me. Men I’ve been in similar situations with, men I gave and gave and gave to only to continually get nothing in return. Men who just weren’t into me but either took advantage of me because they were d-bags or lied to try to make it easier on themselves. I am growing bored and tired of his games and at the same I I am upset he is pulling away again and so I start to chase him just a little with pictures. They get zero response. Wed night he is in GWP, but he isn’t green on g-chat and he has nothing to say to me. I’ve sent emails and he isn’t responding, even though in the last week he has said to me that he wants to be better about that.
On Thursday I go and watch Eat, Pray, Love alone. This is for the best because I cry through a good portion of it, during that movie it hits me. I AM BEING FUCKED WITH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I start to wrestle with what has been so obvious to everyone but me. PJ isn’t going to be calling, he isn’t going to be visiting on weeks I don’t have kids. I need to leave that be, I need to let go, I need to be free of his games and his lies. If I let go and move on I can have my heart back, just like that curly haired stick figure wanted all those weeks ago. I need to stop being so ate up over this mere child I had no business even talking to in the first place. It is Thursday the 19th of August and I am finally “there”. He is nice guying me, he has no balls to admit to me that he doesn’t see me in his future. WTF is “some way”? I am the back-up plan, he is hedging his bets, he is optioning me, he is FUCKING WITH ME!!!!!!! I cry myself to sleep that night.
Friday morning I wake up early because I have a go-live to prep for. It is still crystal clear for me. Everyone can see I am being fucked with but me. I see it now. He pops up on g-chat with some lame shit about “yeah we made it to Friday”. I don’t bite, I’m busy prepping for ago-live I tell him, if you have something to say then talk, otherwise I have things to get done. He isn’t exactly engaged in the conversation HE started. By Friday night I am sicker than a dog with a horrible cold/flu and pretty much confined to bed all weekend only rising to check on the kids and make sure they haven’t hurt themselves or anything else. I don’t know how single parents do it. I had my breakdown less than a week ago on the 16th and God is working furiously and quickly in me.
More to come soon Lovies.
A timeline can be found here.
That weekend with PJ was nice, We even spend most of the rest of the week talking. It is the last week he will be home before he heads back to school, and closer to me. I’ll get to that but first something bigger has to be covered.
I’m going to talk about God for awhile. I believe in Him. To be honest I’m not really keen on the whole Jesus is the only one true way to heaven thing. I’m sorry if that make some of you sad, but I assure you I am good with it. I am also good with God. He came into my life at a very early age when people I refer to as my god parents helped take care of me after my Mom died until my Dad remarried when I was 3. He was a Nazarene minister and she was a true woman of God. She taught me about unconditional love and no matter how bad things are at home I needed to remember that Jesus/God loved me. God has worked and been present in my life. He has taken care of me and allowed me to be. Learning and knowing and feeling like God loved me was probably one of the things that got me through my childhood and early adulthood. When I was going through this I stopped going to church at some point and didn’t start again until after Mother’s Day. When I started again the Husband was not going with me. I was going alone and taking the kids. Part of our Divorce Decree was that I be allowed to take the kids to church with me on any Sunday even if I didn’t have custody of them that week. When I started back we had been gone so long we no longer had name tags. I remember telling PJ and him asking how big my church was. I needed God and I loved my church. I’ve written about how when they found out about this blog they decided I wasn’t worthy to serve in any capacity and least of all in the preschool room. I decided I didn’t need to go there anymore. But during this time period the church was really helping me. I started volunteering to fill some of my empty weekends. It seemed that every week there was a great sermon on something I needed to hear and gave me the strength to ponder on how I might apply it to my life and my actions. Isn’t that the spiritual goal churches are going for, other than getting your money. It costs money to properly worship the Lord you know. The last I checked the only thing it took to properly worship the Lord was me and HIM. I’m not saying I am a spiritual adviser and I’m not bragging but I really think God walked and talked with me more once I stepped into my mud room that awful evening and begged him to help me get through the night until I could put the kids to bed and then break down. I walked through the rest of that first evening The Husband moved out in kind of an eerie calm. It was the first time I understood the difference between me calm and God calm. When you are God calm in spite of the roiling turmoil right under the surface you can still be a good enough Mom to get your kids bathed and in bed for that first night alone with only Mommy. In the several months I slept alone I woke up with a little Destroyer next to me in bed probably 5 mornings a week. It was such a habit he didn’t even ask or wake me up anymore, he just climbed onto his Daddy’s old spot and went back to sleep. He did the same thing at his Dad’s house. I often woke up with a furry monster on his Daddy’s old side of the bed too. I honestly don’t know how I did it if God wasn’t there. I called on Him to carry me through often during this journey. As I let Him in my inner thoughts more and started making God part of my healing and learning process sometimes I would feel like he sent me thoughts or signs or helped me solve problems. Usually this happened in the shower and usually while I was crying. These epiphanies would come out of the blue, sort of like thoughts that would pop into my head. I don’t know if God has ever talked to you, but the very same pastor who sent me packing was the one who described God talking to you like that one Sunday. and I knew exactly what he meant. I would enter those showers and just sob under the water. Then I would just get quiet and start doing whatever it was I had to do in there. Then a thought would pop into my head, and it would come out of no where and make TOTAL sense. So I would grab onto it and start working through what it could mean. I’m not saying my own inner wants didn’t influence this interpretation, it is not like GOD wrote on my mirror. I started using my 3×5 cards to journal them and then posting them up on my dream board where I could see them every minute I was in the Home Office if I needed to. I added to the board over the summer as I journaled on the cards more and more, I started paying more attention to where that Godly advice led me. What I could do with it to better my situation and my emotional state. I also spent a lot of time on my back patio smoking, reading, listening to music and drinking wine or beer. I’d spend my last few minutes before going to bed at night looking up at that same sky Pj and I were under and checking out the moon. I never saw any Godly signs in those stars, but I started noticing something repetitive in the cloud watching game. Clouds that looked like doves. Sometimes there would be just one, sometimes two, sometimes a really big one. But the more I noticed the more they were there and I took them as a universal heavenly sign from God to me. All I wanted was peace, peace in my soul, my heart, my homes, my life. I wanted peace and closure. I wanted to stop acting ten different ways but I just wanted to STOP feeling THIS way. I didn’t really share this God talking to me thing with anyone. I was already questioning my sanity enough with what I was going through. But I did my best to take the advice.
Some of it was:
It’s Not your turn:
I used this one to try not to communicate so quickly or in rapid succession. My friends will tell you I must of lost that skill in transition because rapid succession texts are probably my trade mark. This works fine with people who know you very well, but not so much with dudes you aren’t trying to think you are clingy and needy. I have a tendency to chase attention when I see it waning. It’s an old habit and a bad one. When I would do this I would usually continually up the effort until it got to the point I had had to ask myself the “is this creepy” question. The bad thing about that is by the time you have to ask yourself that question it is WAY past creepy already. If I reminded myself that it wasn’t my turn. If I chose to live with the uncomfortable feeling not getting said attention was causing. If I just breathed and waited and taught myself to turn my attention to together things. Then if the guy cared about me and was a good guy, that attention was coming and it would get here as soon as it id. I could not set the tone and pace and control it. I would have to learn to change myself and my thinking and action in order to learn to wait my turn. Hello my name is Lola and I learned to wait my turn when I was 39. Thanks God!
Take My Time:
I didn’t have to make all decisions so quickly or act upon every impulse immediately. I could apply that same choosing to live with crappy feeling while searching for a better way logic to this area too. I’m sorry if this is turning into a self help book on how to work on yourself, but more than a few of you have asked me questions personally that amount to ” explain the true meaning of working on yourself, what is the magic bullet to solving the issue”. I have tried to explain it but never really in a well spoken version until the other day in the car when my bestie Baker and I took a long night drive and spent some quality time together. I think has been coming out in all the writing I’ve been doing in the last 10 days.
God talked to me about PJ too:
- Love Him
- Let Go
- Give yourself permission to let go
In retrospect those first two were probably about GOD, not Paul. I wasn’t really ready to read it that way yet though. I always like to think that ” I got this”.
After I made my 8 week proclamation and after I had my Go Radio conversation with PJ I sat down the next a Sunday afternoon and started a written journal. Why not a blog? Because I needed to be off the internet. A written journal gave me something tangible to hold onto, a written journal gave my hands something to do beside d click mouse buttons, it gave me somewhere to focus my eyes besides my computer monitor. I wrote in that thing sitting in the same place I would of been sitting had I been on line. In my chair in the home office. I spent the whole next few weeks and then months writing in that thing. When I started it I literally had to write the time of day next to my notations. That way I could see when the last time I’d needed to get it out and write it our instead of communicate with PJ online. I also started writing more about the communications we did have those last few weeks. It was like I had already started documenting when I didn’t know it was coming. I’m a PMP, we create documents to make sense of things. God allowed me to start working it out myself as I was ready to handle what the truth was going to bring. I don’t think I realized what i was doing when I started writing that very first afternoon., but on page 3 I wrote
So God please help me. Please help me to deal and go through the pain now so I can release it and be strong enough to take it in the future. I don’t think I recognized it at the time I was doing it. I was just in the alone place bubble trying to work on me without the chaos and God was there too. I haven’t read the journal in many many months. I sat and read it tonight as this was just about finished. It is pretty amazing to read myself more than a year later on this topic. That poor girl was a hot damn mess.
More to come Lovies.
A timeline can be found here.
I progressed through the summer in this surreal dance of becoming myself again. Around me was a whirlwind of holding on, spinning and weaving as I tried to find that centered path to somewhere worthwhile.
Side bar: Seeing my old stick figures actually has me thinking I may draw this one. Just consider me your special friend who draws like a 4 year old. Don’t laugh so when I start my Dancing with the Stars is the pinnacle of my fame world dominance in motion with a self-published .99 cent e-book of a collection of drawings I don’t have to hate you! And for the record starting world dominance with a 99 cent e-book wasn’t even MY idea, I totally stole it from People I want to punch in the throat’s blog. Her posts about the Duggar’s and the Elf on the Shelf are awesome. Just think of what DWTS would do for my new year goal of a tighter ass and leaner legs. I didn’t have 8 asian kids with a pudgy spineless loser or get a TLC sponsored tummy tuck, but I have personality! My little curly haired stick figured girl could be famous some….nah really the drawing is just kind of cool to do during and see later. Plus, who doesn’t like to draw? Which is another conundrum, because how is an artist a sociopath? Don’t you need to feel to be any good at art? I’ll admit I never saw anything he ever created, I think that is interesting considering most artists love to show their work. In his defense I never once asked.
The whirlwhinds around me were The Husband holding on, Match.com spinning, PJM weaving. All around me was chaos, even my own personal path was rocky. I was a divorcing single mother. My emotions were all over the place and I had no lasting way to control it. I was learning to identify issue driven behavior, observe when I was doing it, live with the uncomfortable feelings that drove me to do it while simultaneously NOT doing it for as long as I could, observing my choices in behavior and observe the reactions from others and inside myself after making a choice, use that data to learn and modify my behavior, rinse, repeat, repeat repeat until the range of behaviors and emotions surrounding whatever “it” was started to pull in from the sides of dichotomy and form a new tighter range. This new tighter range would then be lived in for a while, and the process of observance, living with the yucky feelings while trying to work through what changes in MY behavior could lead to changes in my FEELINGS about my behavior and therefore, about myself as a person. That is the best way I can describe what working on yourself feels like while you are doing it. You are in your own world because your brain is over engaged on observing and molding you, while trying to keep the beast of your emotions at bay long enough to let the positive changes stick and the lessons settle in. It sucks, those feelings are awful, the failures are frustrating but the victories, how ever small at the time are the fuel that kept me moving along that path. It was through working on myself and finding an excellent therapist in Tab that I learned that I could create another place in my world, a bubble I could step into that refused to allow the chaos inside of it. That place is where I could step and choose to work on me, not control the events going on outside of me. It was the place where I could mold my behavior, pick my battles. It was inside that bubble that I was finding my grey. I don’t think we have a line inside of us that we do or don’t cross. I used to think life was like that but I have learned that it isn’t. There is no black and white, there are only shades of grey. In order to be able to love myself I had to define my grey, sometimes I stumbled through that badly but this was when I was first learning to actually do it. I don’t know that I think of my soul or personality as a morphing bubble but for point illustration purposes it seems to work. It was in creating that bubble that I was able to learn that I could choose when to step out into the chaos and how to deal with it when I did. who or what was allowed into the bubble with me. God was in that bubble and He had been waiting for me. I will get to more of that later. For now let’s talk about the forces of chaos holding onto my heart between two lungs. I just love Florence and The Machine.
The Husband Holding On:
The Husband was still holding on. We were still having sex, going on dates. He was still choosing to start fights about PJ and was still occasionally pushing me on why it couldn’t work between us. The thing was, I was no longer in love with my husband. I hand’t been in some time, that is part of what got us to this place. I could remember a time when I was falling in love with him. I was still critically questioning if I’d settled while that was happening. But we had 12 years of being a couple under us. We had been together in a time spans almost as large as the age gap between PJ and I. We had two children who were unwilling victims in this. We built a life together and it was full of promises we made to each other. I honestly didn’t know if I could ever fall in love with him again. This was a question I asked myself often, I am a PM, Risk Mitigation is part of my job. I would ask myself, If I end up without PJ, am I going to want him back? Each time I pondered this question I could never imagine a place where my Sweet Babu and I were ever going to be able to be ok for long. I could see an initial reconciliation poisoned by the pain and issues of trust and forgiveness. I could see bitter, hateful people married to each other feeling trapped because there is no way we could do this to the kids twice. Even though we went on to reconcile and have remained together our reconciliation process had hints of those things. Amazingly by the grace of GOD we work through them to land where we are today. But when PJ was accusing me of using him to fill a hole left b y The Husband I did not agree, because I honestly felt that there was no hole left by The Husband. I still feel like The Husband won’t let go and that he doesn’t have my heart. I’m more eager about option C- none of the above than choosing between he and PJ. I hadn’t started to mourn the almost divorce yet. That hits in early August and my little 4 year old Destroyer sets it off. The Husband was the thing trying to hold me back from moving forward. He was blocking my escape.
The Match.com dudes were culled into two categories, young and old. There were very few my age that even remotely interested me.
Hints for Dudes on Match.com and some for girls too….
- If you put a picture of yourself on a dating site please do yourself and everyone else a favor and put a face and full body recent picture, not something from college. This will allow you to not look like an insecure douche bag and will probably get you more dates. I am not a skinny girl, so I made sure that the whole package was displayed, take it or leave it dude I have plenty to keep me busy. You should love yourself to put who you really are on display, you only want those who are attracted to the real you right?
- This does not mean unpack all your crazy on the phone before you ask me out on a date.
- Most girls prefer to actually meet you in person prior to receiving a picture of your privates, no matter how fabulous you think they are.
- Every girl know that ” No one has ever complained” is code for my dick is small, because dudes with large penis know they have them so you know you have a small one. We really don’t care how big it is, sure all girls have preferences but the most important thing is that you can get it hard to something other than porn and last longer than the time it takes for Chasey to do her thing. We aren’t Chasey, slow the fuck down and enjoy it for a minute. No one likes to fuck a rabid monkey.
- No you cannot stay at her house after the first date because it will be late and you work early and you live “so far away”. You should probably not ask her this before the date actually occurs, or it won’t happen.
- We know what kind of guy you are by the bars you tell us you frequent. So don’t try to tell us you are looking for an eventual relationship when we can see the only bar you go to is MILF town. Just say, I’m into fucking MILF’s and I’d like to fuck you.
- The truth with the right girl will get you so much more than lies with the wrong girl.
I was lucky enough to make one actual friend. A guy a little bit older than me that as it turns out also had some online experiences to share. Though we have not been nor do not go to the same online circles. Dr. Kink and I went go carting for our first meet up and then occasionally out to do stuff. Mostly we have come over and play cards time while we talk about whatever drama I am currently experiencing and he tells me about all of the adventures going on in his life. We became pretty good friends. I had to stop talking to him last Spring after the chat round 2. The husband requested I cull my male friends list, he provided a few suggestions that were not negotiable and he was one of the victims. I also had Sunshine and VinD as platonic friends and they were both doing their part to teach me what kind of man I should be seeking. The other boys were simply spinning devices. There to take up time and energy, but not really going anywhere on either side. One I spend a lot of time sexting with, and even sample the grass and move into phone sexing him. I do the phone sex thing simply to purge my memories of shouting out PJ’s name while recording it, with new memories. I’ve often subscribed to the quickest way over someone is under someone else theory. I didn’t say it was a good solution, but it is one I was used to. The thing about match.com is it is a lot of work. Keeping up with it is a huge time suck and there are a lot of weirdo’s out there. One of my final match boys teaches me some more about what boys are really thinking when they choose not to call. Turns out they just don’t’ want to call, they assume you know this by their act of not calling you. The silence is the message. He tells me this while he is talking about another girl he met once, but I know what to think later when the replies stop. It is easy to take note and move along because a- he already honestly spelled out for me what it means when he doesn’t call b- having sex with that dude was like being fucked by a rabid monkey. I was so ready to go to bed alone when that was over. The last match.com guy is a borderline psycho. I never let him get past g-chatting me and sending me some pics. As August approaches I am winding even that down. I think it is probably best to quit dating for a while as the divorce gets finalized and then figure out what to do. I do not wind down match.com in PJ’s mind though. I make sure to keep the idea of other guys working their way into my life very fresh. I regret that game a little bit. I was more hinting than lying and even though we now know he was lying the entire time, I’d still like my Karma to be a little cleaner in that arena. These diversions were little or large spinning forces, just sort of buffering me about as I fought to learn to be able to engage them in healthy manners. It was within those experiences that I was able to find those uncomfortable feelings I needed to work on and give new behaviors a shot. I was so very bad at it in the beginning too. But between staying in the fray and talking more and more with Sunshine I got better and better. The match.com boys were fun and funny, but they kept my focus scattered. Thanks Match.com dudes! It was a fun couple of months.
Lastly there is the weaving of PJ. The way we climbed this last hill. I refused to run to it, so he lured me slowly. He worked for it, took his time saying all of the right things. He dug the hole of his identity deeper. He attached himself further to me. I allowed myself hope, I willingly went along for the ride. I had my doubts, but a very large part of me still wanted to be there. I was just getting healthier and smarter and closer to me. Instead of running from PJ and the pit of despair, I was always running back to it, looking around, opening it up, peeking inside, shouting Hello in there? Pj? Are you going to come out yet?. I don’t what the hell is is about that boy but something would not let me let him go. Instead I just wove around like little Billy in Family Circus when he is supposed to just go get the mail and instead he is all over the hood. Even as I was pulling away from him I was investing more emotion in wanting to know who he really was. In my mind all of the things that came with the identity were real and the details would be validated once we were actually around each other. PJ once told me “something always brings me back to you” and ” we have something we just have to figure it out“. I could say he was pulling me through his little mind fuck, but that would not be 100% of the truth. I was letting him, but I was tired of how it made me feel.
Getting to that somewhere worthwhile involved letting go of PJ and running toward whatever was going to happen instead. Apparently I was just about to queue that up.
More to come soon Lovies.
Yeah I hit send too early… it’s coming. Happy NEW YEAR.. Lola
11:00 Note to self, remember to hit save draft NOT publish!!!
I found this in my journal, It is basically a pictorial of how I was different. I did this kind of 3×5 card journaling before I started my PJ journal in early August. All of the cards I made myself and posted on my big silver dream board are in that journal. All of the pics PJ sent me are in the journal, there are a lot of tears in that journal and at once it sustained a few puncture wounds with my garden pruners. God is in that journal and I am getting excited that we are coming towards that part of the story.
I am not an artist or an art critic but I took a really good look at this today. It caught my eye when I went to look at when I started the journal. At the time I was just drawing my heart out and trying to make the point to myself that I wanted my heart back and a smile on my face. I don’t really know when I drew this but either way it is the perfect visual representation, and it is kind of funny.
Today I see a few more things. That is PJ in the pit of despair, his heart is broken. He only moves side to side in that thing, never up though you’ll notice there are ladder rungs. He also has extra legs and silky shit coming out of his hands because I always felt like a bug trapped in this web of little sticky ties he had all over me. It was like he infiltrated everything I had of myself and attached himself to it in some way. I also come to think of him as poison, which fits with the whole spider thing too. I have an even worse drawing of PJ as an actual spider and I’m all wrapped up in the black webs from him. Hey I was drunk a lot, bite me :-). My art skills never progressed past the one picture of grass, flowers, and a house I repeatedly draw, stick figures, and this kind of donkey horse looking thing with usually about 3.5 but never quite 4 legs. Thank God I’m good at Project Management. Oh I can also kind of draw hearts and turtles and some flowers. I enjoy drawing, I’m just no good at it.
The curly headed skinny goddess spewing tears and throwing heart after heart into that pit is me. There are stepping stones across the pit and the exit is a door, which is shut and the door knob is on the outside. On the right the curly haired girl is holding her heart and moving away from that damn pit. She puts her back inside her and smiles while she hugs herself, then heads off the page. That was one of my big goals of the summer, to quit throwing time and emotional energy into PJ and his pit of despair, to walk off and take my heart back for ME. Then I could take my time deciding who to give it to next. The problem was that I always ran back to that door, opened it and took a look so be sure he was still there. I was basically still waiting out side the door. It took a while to start wanting to move away from it.
When I am driving I am often mentally transported. I don’t know if this overworked inner mind of mine is natural to everyone, or a product of my personality and repeated summers spent grounded to my room unable to leave it except for meals and to shower to pee for weeks and a weeks and weeks on end while my friends and people I would of liked to be my friends got to play and enjoy themselves. But I was lucky enough to have a bedroom that also served as the family library. It was wall to wall, floor to ceiling shelves of books along one whole wall. And that wasn’t the full extent of the books in our home. I was pretty much rendered unable to do anything but read and daydream. So I did just that.. a lot… It may also explain why sometimes I can be so easily deluded. But I do know it gave me a very rich imagination and a large ( and sometimes misused) vocabulary as well as the need for copious amounts of alone time. It’s funny the things that shape us and how isn’t it?
I love driving alone, specifically driving with the sunroof open, windows down, wind in my hair, music up loud. I’m blessed to live in a state I could choose to drive that way about 7-8 months out of the year. And so very lucky that after a cold and nasty spell that today was a PERFECT fall day for driving. When I get in the car and close the doors, choose the music and then back out of the garage, I am not just driving to work or to MNO or BGC. I am giving my mind a chance to relax and process. In order to actively work through things of the day, plans of the future, problems to solve. I need my mind to check out, go on a journey if you will, take a trip. I little mind trip. I have found that if I want the best answers and ideas then I need to stop ACTIVELY thinking about the topic and just allow myself to listen to God and/ or all the parts of me while waiting for the answer or a new perspective that changes the question or erases the need for it altogether to pop into my head. It’s kind of like the mental state I often achieve on a run, doing my best thinking and non-thinking all at once. If there was a closeness to God or meditation state of mind for me it would be in the Zen of my car, left to my own thoughts, only the music and the air and the scenery to guide me. There is something about the feel of the air swirling around my skin and whipping my curls all over the place. How the light is hitting the air and the trees, where the sun is in the sky or the moon and clouds in the night. It’s my own little mind trip. I have often felt God there in those spaces, places in between memories or overlaid onto the drive and the problem itself.
Sometimes while ensconced in that Zen state of pure driving joy and thoughtfulness a song will come on, or the air and light will be hitting me a certain way and it transports me to someplace else, some other time. It is always away from the problem or issue at hand. These memories weave me all over my past, spanning memories from early childhood to this mornings shower. I get to have a few minutes with my memory before I’m lead to the next one. If I’m really lucky I land on something that proves useful to the intent of my musings and allows for some gentle or vigorous untangling of the issue. But if not then I just enjoyed a really kick-ass drive and it still feels like a win to me. Just like the one I took today on the way home from work.