2.37. In All Honesty

Spring is near…hell it’s Kansas so Spring may show up in August for all we know, but the overall symbolism of the season has set into full blast…kinda. Actually, it should be the opposite…the beginning of Winter. When life is ending, things die, everything is cold, quiet, and gloomy.

People say divorce is comparable to a death. And it is. The death of something you thought would last forever. Now, don’t have me mistaken with someone else; I chose to go through with my divorce…I asked for it. But I imagined it would be a rebirth. An opportunity for two miserable people to find their happiness again. What has manifested is a full blown war…a spiteful display of tyranny and a chaotic concert with nothing but hate blasting through the speakers.

 

I recently attended a class called FOCIS. Focus On Children In Separation. Sadly, that hasn’t been the case in the demise of my union. It has been an icy exchange. Something embedded with vengeance. Something VERY hard to deal with.

Before I go any further, let me make it very clear that I have no clue what I’m doing. That I’m making tons of mistakes. I am emotionally screwed right now. I have no idea how to have friendships, family ties, interactions with the adult species. The epitome of my understanding is with that of a three year old (my son) and even then…I get lost sometimes and just wish he would understand that I want to cry, to hide, to fade and not deal with the agony of breathing. But he will not understand my pain. He shouldn’t have to. He didn’t choose this. He sure as shit didn’t choose me.

During that FOCIS class, the instructor went over the 5 stages of grief, first really introduced by Elsabeth Kubler-Ross in her 1969 book “On Death and Dying.”

  1. Denial and Isolation
  2. Anger
  3. Bargaining
  4. Depression/Guilt
  5. Acceptance

According to the instructor, the journey through these stages…on average…can be between 18 months and 4 years. 4 YEARS!!!! I slip into each one of these stages, depending on the day.

I have isolated myself despite playing the open book. I have walked away from friendships without so much as a tear. Because these people will leave sooner or later. It always happens. It always will happen. So fuck it. There is no use in holding on to people who will throw me away like garbage.

I become so angry, it’s sickening. I hate people who are happy. I hate people who complain about petty shit. I hate people who have it all figured out. I hate people who have no emotional understanding. I hate people who assume I should just deal. I hate people who pass judgement on my every fucking move. I hate people who think, for one second, they could deal with this pain. I hate people who have never been single a day in their adult life telling me to not feel completely lost. I hate people who have no courage to be alone telling me to stay strong…ALONE. I hate people who use that bullshit line, “you think you’re the only one in the world who…” No shit I’m not the only one going through shit. But I’m living my life. Is a rape victim supposed to think, “well, someone else went through this and worse so I should just get over it.” UM, NO! I hate the bullshit optimism and then the continuous “whatever” mentality when everything doesn’t go as fucking wonderfully as you’ve tried to convince me it would. You were wrong. Accept it. Admit that being a part of my life was a mistake and walk away. I’m giving you the option. Because I hate, more than anything, anyone who will stay in my life and is miserable because of that connection. Just walk.

I have bargained. I will do anything. I will die if it means peace for my son. For people around me. I will shut up and take it. I will forget. I will forgive. I will pretend to be happy when I’m not. I will do whatever…if only…

I have fallen into depression. I feel guilt every fucking day for existing. For just being alive. Wouldn’t people be so much better off if I were gone? Wouldn’t they all just be happier if I never existed? I have cried myself to sleep and screamed to a God I don’t believe in. I have begged for mercy. I have prayed on the phone. I have called hotlines. I have puked out the remnants of an empty bottle. I have lost myself in the pure feeling of being a mistake. I have been ashamed of my feelings because I have a child and I should never think of my own end. What kind of mother am I if I don’t want to jump out of bed every day to look at my beautiful boy? I feel guilt that he got such a pathetic ass excuse of a mother as me. I feel guilt that I am not better. That I don’t even know how to be better.

Acceptance is supposed to be that one when things make sense and there is a sense of peace and clarity. But in my acceptance, I have come to an understanding that none of this pain will EVER go away. My life is meant to be shit. And it will never change. It will always be this hard. It will always be this dark. It will always hurt this much.

Feel free to have a rolling of the eyes session, a “this bitch swears” moment…I seriously don’t fucking care. These are my emotions. These are my thoughts. This is my life. It is not and does not have to be a part of yours.

In all honesty, there is only ONE thing I am certain about…just one…but it is the most important thing for me to know – I love my son. I love my baby boy with every ounce of my being. I do not care if not one single person on this planet cares about me as long as my son knows I love him and I live ONLY for him.

In all honesty, my son is the ONLY thing I’ve done right in my life. The ONLY thing I am proud to be a part of. The ONLY reason I have the tiniest glimmer of hope in my heart that this life can be beautiful. As hard as the days get, I know this life has possibility…for happiness, for love, for laughter, for growth, for beauty…ONLY because he is in it.

I am a flawed human being. I am struggling to find peace in this battle. I am lost, scared, uncertain, feeling broken…

BUT I am willing to continue my journey, no matter what, because my son will always know I kept going…despite it all…FOR HIM. Here’s to healing, to growing, to figuring me out. To fixing me. One stage at a time.

Advertisements

1.185 – The First Day of The Rest of My Life

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a little girl. Born to the Queen of Tyranny and the King of The Disappearing Act; the girl was made to be the Princess of Ruins.

Surrounded by soldiers of war, the princess traveled through the tainted land in search of the unseen. The lands greatest fairies and demonic elves surrounded the land in which the girl had been born…waiting on the outskirts…waiting for their moment to strike.

The princess, guided by a rare light of intuition, escaped the land through an underground tunnel, a tunnel which led her to a foreign place. Although the new world was covered in light, the darkness lived in the hearts of men.

The princess spent years in a whirlwind of turmoil, anger, and despair. That is, until the moment when she realized that anger and hate could only be carried for those who had once been given a drink of love. The potion that connected souls. The elixir that promised tomorrows.

The moon kissed the sun goodnight and gave the princess a new outlook. Because those that held hate were merely souls shattered by the rejection of their potion.

I am the princess. I hate no one. To hate would mean to care for loss and it is not in me to mourn what was meant to die. I am the princess. I know I am hated. For not giving what was expected of me. For not drinking the elixir. For many things.

And I, the princess, am finally okay with it all. You cannot hate what you do not love. I hope, for the sake of others, past potions can be laid to rest where they belong. So new lives may begin. So happiness may reign in kingdoms to come.

I am the princess. I used to be angry. I used to hate. And then, I didn’t. And the joy of letting such burdens die are as beautiful as the releasing of doves through a darkened land. Under the shadow of night, someone will see and someone will know…peace lives here.

Once upon a time, there was a princess. But now, there is a queen. A queen prepared to build her empire from the ground up.

And so, my story begins.

1.159 – Where I Live

The sadness in their voices – the tears in their eyes
and you should be so thankful I am not your God.
This belt used for continuous punishment
a reminder delivered from feeble minds

how quickly judgment can be cast
it is easy for an idiot to be hateful.
Just as the spider spins its web and the bumblebee hovers
fountains of hate flood from the gaps in teeth dangling within an incestuous orifice.

1.151 – Film in Life

This post is a lot harder to write than I thought. So I’ll just start at the beginning.

I watched a movie tonight, under the recommendation of someone I know. The movie had many odd moments and an intense racial moment about midway through. I actually stopped the film at its halfway point…unsure if I could carry on.

I’ve seen some harsh movies dealing with race, gender, orientation, etc. I’m always hesitant on whether I can view certain images. However, I wasn’t prepared for the ending of this film. Something told me it wasn’t going to end well. But I pressed play. Mind you, I’ve seen much more graphic scenes (the curb check in American History X to name just one). But this one still struck me.

It wasn’t the brutal beating of the Jamaican character. It wasn’t the use of “Nigger” or “Coon.” It wasn’t the kid crying in the hallway while the Jamaican man remained still. It was the moment the kid helped the attacker move the Jamaican mans body and the attacker kept saying, through his tears and the childs sobs, “don’t look at his face.”

As if not looking erases the fact.

As if me not watching this movie will turn such hate into make believe.

And I rewind to eleven years ago when I moved to Kansas. When I enrolled in my senior year of high school. When I was met with questions of “have you ever been shot at?” “Do you own a beeper?” ” You smoke weed, right?” “Are you legal?” “Do you have a green card?” “What exactly is Puerto Rican? Is that some kind of black?”

I rewind to eleven years ago when I stood at a gas station and watched a car drive by as the passengers screamed “Nigger.”  I rewind to all of the nights when I could hear people throwing bottles and garbage at my house. I rewind to the morning I scrubbed the word “Nigger” off my front porch.

I rewind to the moment I witnessed a group of ten year old white boys gang up on a little Mexican boy and hit him in the face repeatedly with a basketball. To the moment when I stood up for him. To the moment after when one of the other boys went and got his mother. To the moment after that when this woman stood in front of me and justified her sons actions with someone I considered family. When that supposed family member admitted to using “wetbacks” in her everyday speech.

I rewind to the moment I sat at a dining room table and awkwardly tried to explain what a Puerto Rican was. To explain politics and geography to a table of ignorant people so they could understand what commonwealth means.

I rewind back to the moment when I was forced to hide in a backyard so my ex-mother-in-law could explain to her mother that her son was dating a “colored girl.”

I rewind to every moment I had to fight to nullify a dead end conversation in which every Spanish person is responsible for the fact that “real union workers can’t keep work.”

I rewind to the moment he said “well, I thought that’s what spics did – suck dick and eat sardines.”

I rewind to the moment in the hair salon when the woman repeatedly questioned the texture of my hair because she mistook me for being black and thought my hair was relaxed despite me explaining I’ve never had to.

I rewind to every moment I have been put in that awkward, uncomfortable situation in which my race is a punchline.

I rewind to the moment when a 16 year old snob gets away with calling me by my race instead of my name and I didn’t take the opportunity to knock his fucking teeth in.

I rewind to the moment I had to reprimand someone I thought to be a friend for playing the race card when he was losing an argument against some guy I didn’t even know.

I fast forward and hope that my son doesn’t have to know what I’ve known. I fast forward and hope that my son will never see what I’ve seen. Because I’ve seen the face of evil. In so many forms. In those that spew hate in ignorance. In those that spew hate with conviction. In those that spew hate under the name of their god. In those that equate pride of their own with hatred of others.

I want to shield my son from the reality that is much more horrific than any film. No matter how much I say “don’t look at his face,” the face of hatred will always loom in the shadows…waiting for the moment to stick it’s venomous fangs into the innocence of my boy. I can’t say “don’t look into his face…don’t look into her face,” because in this sad world…you never know where the hate will come from.

I can turn the film off. Sadly, the same cannot be said for the flaws of man.