Friday, April 28, 2017

The next venture

In case you're looking for me, the real me, the next venture is up:
This will be my last post here. Thank you for following along. On to better days
The Elitist

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

I think this is goodbye...for now

I hate that this thought has been popping into my head almost as much as I hate the fact that I'm actually going to listen to it and follow through.  I think I need to stop writing here. 
Let me start by telling you when has been keeping me up until 2am every night, because let me tell you: my brain never lies in the middle of the night.  I've been thinking about all of the ways I screwed up my last marriage.  Yes, the one to my son's father--the one who was awful to me and caused me to have panic attacks and nearly a nervous breakdown through our marriage and traumatic divorce.  Still.  Nobody is innocent and I can always find something to learn from the worst of situations.  But I feel like I need to back up a little bit for this to make sense.  Let me try again.
I started this version of this blog when my daughter's dad had left me.  Way back then (Feb 2011?) my heart and my brain were broken. Everything I though I knew about love and relationships was gone. Obliterated. I was certain that crazy love didn't exist more than once and I had rolled those dice and lost.  All of the very important things that I'd learned in that relationship were hurled into the trash alone with all of those beautiful glass xmas ornaments that I smashed on the ground in the garage.  I threw it all out and never looked back. I was wrong to do that. 
When I had agreed to marry my son's father, I believed that I had healed. I honestly did. I thought I was ready to commit myself to a man who would be a good father to our child and my daughter.  And to be fair he was. He's great with kids. It was me he did not do well with.  I'm going to come right out and say that I had no business marrying him.  I was an idiot to not take myself into account when entering into a relationship.  I should've said no. I loved him, but I was not in love with him.  Not like I was with my daughter's husband. Not like I am now.  I used to tell myself all sorts of stupid things, like I didn't respect him because nobody has my memory, or him earning money was good enough, or that we matched in attractiveness so that should count for something.  So we have a good looking kid with a lot of nice stuff and a mother and father who are not married.  Fail.  I didn't show him the respect that he or our marriage deserved and I am sincerely sorry for that.  I didn't treat him like an equal adult in the house. I put my daughter first.  It was us against him.  I would talk bad about him when he was mean to me instead of keeping it between us. I know better.  Maybe I couldn't see it then. Maybe I didn't want to. I don't know.
The fact of the matter is that I've been with a man who I've fallen madly in love with since. As in knock my socks off and scare me half to death in love.  The kind of in love that makes you want to scream at them then cry when they leave the room because you think you'll die without them.  The stuff that makes my blood pressure drop when they leave the state because all of a sudden they've become my favorite face and I can't live without them.  Those are the things that make you get married secretly in Vegas and get a vasectomy with a prenup. Because we may be madly in love, but please, we are not kids anymore.
And just like that, I'm a family of 6 now.  I have a mermaid tattoo on my arm with one little seahorse and 3 little fishies for our kids because that's how my heart feels and it doesn't have anything to do with legal documents.  This condo of mine became our home and I know that if he were to leave me I would have to move because he's in every inch of every room.  I'm in that relationship with family dinner and family trips to the park and family walks where we get ice cream. I feel like I live in a fucking sitcom, including the part where the kids draw on my walls with marker and everyone laughs because the baby is spoiled by his three big sisters just as much as mom and dad.  I am the melting pot: persian, white, hispanic, and black, but with no colors seen or discussed.  Just family.
I've come to realize that all of those scars I thought were healed from my divorce from my daughter's dad were not healed at all.  They were patched.  The pain from having these resurface has been unreal.  So I've tried to talk about them with my partner and tackle each head on.  I'm grateful I can just say I'm scared and cry or say I'm being defensive but it doesn't have to do with you and get some space. I am finally feeling some peace.  I'm finally feeling some trust again.  I've said over and over that I don't believe in relationships and that they are a farce.  That was most certainly the damage talking, but it wouldn't make me back down.  After six very long years, my heart is softening. 
To be honest, I don't really want to have a secret, anonymous blog anymore.  I think I want to just write.  I want him to be able to read it.  I want my kids to be able to read it one day without me getting nervous.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not ashamed of anything in these pages.  I'm very proud of the person I've become and everything that I've been through. But I don't think my journey continues past this point any longer.  Not here.  I think that after some sort of break, my heart will lead me down a new, more transparent path.  I want to say that I'm going to miss this space, but honestly, I don't think that I will.  How could anyone miss a place of pain and despair and darkness?  My brother called these years the Dark Years.  I just didn't realize they had gone on so long. I do believe I'm ready to pack my things and move on.
Thank you to everyone who has shared this journey with me with this entry or any of the 160+ before it.  As always, there is another adventure on the horizon calling my name.
The Elitist