Building the Muse

Message from the Universe

2010-11-18T09:49:00.000-08:00

My most vivid dreams happen in the early hours of the morning. This morning I had a particularly poignant one - I figure it was a brick thrown at my head by the Universe. For the past several weeks, I have been walking the precarious edge of depression again. I have tried to reason it out, to figure out what is causing it. It could have been a number of things: me not working as much as I was led to believe when I was hired, the whole situation with my ex, being worried about Payton and what will become of him in Kindergarten next year, living paycheck to paycheck. You get the idea.

I have been patient for a long time. Well... really not. I feel like I have been dealt an obnoxious number of hardship cards and I have been scrambling to make the best of them and find the positive lessons hidden within. Some days are easier than others and my self-confidence is getting better, but damn it! I would really like to have some peace in my life and to have some easy flow to it. I swear I will not take anything for granted! Promise!

I know that help comes when it is most needed. When we are really short on cash, something comes along and we are OK. We get by. When Payton is having a really difficult time, he surprises us at the last minute. When things look their bleakest, a light will shine.

The dream I had last night went deeper than that. It was a message from the Universe telling me that the struggles are nearly over. I have had such a great personal struggle for the better part of 16 years. So much loss and hurt. It's almost over. I just need to trust my own strength, but the key to it is relying on those who love me and surround me on a daily basis. I do not have to go it alone.

I was at a huge Thanksgiving dinner. My mother was in charge and finishing up the last of the cooking. There were about 40 or 50 people there - all my friends and family. People from college and high school. All the people who love me unconditionally. Tony was next to me. My brother was there - everyone. We were all seated at a huge, high wooden table in some sort of an open barn or pavilion. We were all on tall high-back chairs with wheels on the bottom. Over to the right of the table area, there was a very steep, long country road that was leading away from my family. It was so pretty: tree-lined and fragrant, it led past horse pastures and a pond with ducks.

My mother gave me a glass of red wine and wanted me to give a toast before we started the dinner. She was only serving white wine with dinner, but I had asked for the red. She found a half bottle and uncorked it for me and filled my glass. I remember it being sweet.

I was being drawn to the road, so I scooted my wheeled chair and went flying down the hill. Green and flowers and dogs running and the horses. I lost myself in the steep slide down. I finally stopped at the bottom of the hill. I looked up. Oh my. So far away and the hill looked impossibly steep and long. I got back on my chair and did my best to scoot back up the hill. I made it most of the way. Then the rutted dirt road became slippery grass. I remember seeing the dew drops and feeling it in my hands. I tried to climb the last few yards, but the road became steeper and steeper. I had to let the chair go. I was so concerned that I would never get it back, but I decided that I was more important than the chair - it was slowing me down and getting heavier and heavier by the minute. It was all wet and muddy and my hands were slipping. So away it went.

Even without the chair, the climb was still perilous. I would gain a couple of feet, only to slide back a few more. I remember feeling helpless and hopeless. The ground would give way and I would slip again and again. Then there were tree roots. I would grab hold. Rest. I could finally peek over the top of the hill ridge. I could see my family around the table - they were waiting patiently for me and having a good time. I tired to climb up the tree roots, only to have the branches get in my face. I was so incredibly frustrated. I could see my goal, but the tiny thicket of sharp branches was in my way.

I finally got down on my belly and slid under the branches leaving them behind. I had made it back to the top of the hill! I laid on my stomach and just breathed in the warm smells of Thanksgiving and happiness. Something caught my eye. A gentle sparkle just beyond my reach. I sat up and looked. There in the wet grass were my wedding bands. I hadn't even realized that I had lost them before I had slid down the hill. As soon as I picked up the rings, I woke up.

So, thank you Universe. Thank you for your message. I get it.

Making this easier.

2010-11-08T09:24:00.000-08:00

I need to put names to labels.

The Ex will now be known as Ryan. His fiancee (now EX fiancee) will be Shay.

Tony will be Tony until the end of days and always in my heart. Payton is Payton is Payton. Love that kiddo.

I have two step-children. Because they are not my own flesh and blood, I need to really watch my bounds when writing about them. My step-daughter is 7 and for the purposes of this blog, her name will be Belle. My step-son is 11 and I'll call him Brady. I don't anticipate writing much about them anytime soon. They are awesome kids and I'm very very glad they are in my life.

So much has changed.

2010-11-08T07:19:00.000-08:00

Why did I not blog about it as it was happening? A combination of things, I'm sure. I just read through my last entry from August 2nd and whoa boy! That is like last year's Thanksgiving leftovers! Here's a brief list:

- The court date was just plain awful. I was made a fool in front of the judge by my ex and his lawyer with what I knew were lies. I just wanted to scream. It turned out well enough with Payton's schedule, but as of today, he is already deviating from what is written in the court order. Looks like we'll be going back to court soon enough.

- My "I told you so" moment came so much quicker than I ever imagined. I figured it would come after the ex and his fiancee were married and had added another child to the mix. Not so much. My moment came on September 18th in the form of an e-mail from Shay saying that she had moved out of his apartment after only three months of living there. She and I have been talking and e-mailing since. Oh my, there is so much I know now it makes my hair stand on end. I am infinitely glad that she was able to get out before she became permanently enmeshed with the ex by having another child. Getting married would have been a bad move as well.

- I have a new job at a high-end spa as a Massage Therapist. I love my job. I just wish I had more clients! The paychecks have been a little lean due to me being the low man on the totem pole. One of the more senior girls is thinking of moving on. I have to say that even though she is a great gal, I hope she finds greener pastures elsewhere. I need more bookings!

- With Shay and I speaking on a regular basis, it has dredged up the last of the crap from the bottom of the PTSD barrel. I have enlisted the help of a therapist who specializes in situations like mine. She has really helped me to let things go and to realize that even though he will never change, I can still function with the chaos going on on the other side of the wall without it affecting my life so dramatically. Anxiety has been my constant unwanted companion for the past few months (years) and I'm hoping to be able to cut it loose soon. Some days are better than others. I'm also working on my self-esteem and body image. That's a post in and of itself!

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There is so much more, but it's not relevant to the topic at hand. I'm sure I'll touch on some goodies here and there.

Items 1 and 2

2010-08-09T15:42:00.000-07:00

I need to get this out of my head. My ex is being the classic crazy-maker and I need to see how completely ridiculous all of this is before I drive myself nuts.

Item 1:

Apparently, his fiancee's mother was a an early education teacher that has retired recently. She has seen Payton on several occasions now and has expressed to my ex that she is extremely worried about Payton being ready for kindergarten in the fall of 2011. She does not feel that in any way shape or form is a half day of preschool enough for him to be prepared to succeed in kindergarten. I have to say here that I don't completely disagree with her. I am worried myself. No doubt. However - I do feel that Payton is in the best possible environment at the current preschool he is going to. He attends the local public elementary school where all of the teachers are trained Special Education teacher and therapists. Payton receives Occupational Therapy, Speech Therapy and Adaptive P.E. right there in the school. It's all there. He will attend the afternoon kindergarten-prep class this coming school year.

His soon to be mother-in-law thinks that he needs to attend a full day of preschool to be completely prepared. Again - I do not completely disagree with this statement. However... full day preschools are crazy expensive and he will not be getting early intervention services like he does in the public schools. The smallest child to teacher ratio I found was about 12:1. Payton is currently getting attention at a ratio of 3:1. Preschools start at $600.00 a month on up to $1,200.00 a month plus a $450.00 supply fee, a $150.00 application fee and a down payment of two months of classes. There is no way I can swing that financially and if my ex is telling the truth, there is no way he can swing that, either.

Payton also attends a fully accredited and licensed mainstream preschool right now. I use it as a daycare for when I work. The learning environment is much more lax in the summer and they are gearing up for this next academic year. The kids who attend this preschool are amazing. They are way ahead of Payton though they are roughly the same age. Payton loves this place and is doing well there. My ex has flat-out refused to pay for half of it as I am using it on my parenting time, yet he wants to put him in a costly full-time program that rips him away from the services he's getting for free from the city and a preschool environment that he is already accustomed to.

All of this based on his future mother-in-law's recommendation and I have no idea what it is in detail.

Now keep in mind that I am forbidden to speak to his fiancee - or more like she was given strict orders never to converse with me ever again, so I am going to assume here that I will be forbidden to speak with her mother as well. So my ex wants me to pay out the nose for a preschool based on the recommendation by someone I have never met nor be allowed to converse with. Right. Gotcha, ex-hole.

The other kicker in this is that I have been doing research on local preschools including Montessori schools and sending the ex links and asking questions as to what this woman has said exactly and he has given me nothing in response. No return e-mails, no texts, no ideas, no thoughts, nothing except telling me that he wants him in a full day preschool. AND... if he follows his logic on refusing to pay for the preschool Payton is in now, he will refuse to pay for the uber-expensive one. Killer. Rock on. Good times.

All of this is not to say that I am completely opposed to the idea (save the monster tuition). I just need to be shown that it is all in Payton's best interest. So far I have zero input from the other camp and what I have found on my side is no better than the schooling setup Payton currently has at a fraction of the cost. I also want to hear what the teachers and therapists at his current Special Needs preschool have to say about the curriculum for the upcoming school year and what Payton's goals are to be. Beyond that, I want to know what the process is for kindergarten in 2011. We do not have all the information we can get from the sources in the know with our current situation. I think we need to give them a fair shake before we go changing everything and spending so much money on something that will get us to a similar or lesser result.

The ex had expressed that he did not want to "lawyer this out" and that we needed to deal with this on our own. Well guess what. Not happening. It may be a moot point once we hit our court date in a few weeks, but my lawyer has been kept informed of everything that has transpired.

Item 2:

The second item on the agenda is Payton's schedule. From the get-go Tony and I have been more than willing to sit down with my ex and come up with a schedule that works for all parties involved that transfers Payton around as few times as possible, that keeps the 60/40 timeshare agreement, that gives both households good quality time and that keeps Payton calm and well. Every time the topic of schedule comes up, the ex freaks out and shuts it down saying that I am not wanting to discuss it. It got thrown back at me so often that finally a judge had to decide. What the judge decided on sucks. I lost weekends with Payton and it's been a bear for during the week. There is a great solution and it just needs to be discussed. I have never ever refused to talk about it. It's all in e-mails. Every singe time the ex pulls the plug on negotiations and blames me. Every time.

So last night I got an e-mail asking for a small change. Sure. You know what? I really want to change this up without a judge involved and I would love my every other weekend back. I wrote up a plan and I think it is settling out at 60/40 (it's at 61/39 with our current schedule, so he would get a percentage back - generous, right??). I'm sending it to my lawyer to check if the percentages are correct as I am calculating blindly then I will show it to you and we can be flexible with it shifting it one way or the other.

The response? None. Today? Still none.

Ugh.

I have no idea what to think, other than to know deep down in my gut never to trust this man again. I have no idea what he is scheming if anything at all, but you can bet that my lawyer has everything and will deal with it. I have found in the past that if the ex asks that a lawyer not be involved, it means some sort of manipulation of me. It's just not going to happen again.

The giant ring

2010-07-30T09:50:00.000-07:00

Remember this girl? I can't remember if I blogged about it, but within about a month of this post she got back together with my ex.

When I had agreed to speak with her, I had told her that the only way I would do so, would be if she was done. Like done done. Stick a fork in it - done. Well... that wasn't the case. And then the lies that were told? Yikes. My ex told me a few of the things that she recounted to him from our conversation and they were way off. Grossly distorted and twisted about. I was made out to be a lying monster who was desperately trying to destroy my ex husband. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Now I know EXACTLY the position she was in. She was trying to save her own skin because she got caught speaking to her abusive boyfriend's ex wife. I get it. She wanted so desperately to be in a relationship with him and she was clawing and scraping and had to toss someone to the wolves to save herself and thereby the relationship. She had been left by past fiances several times and very much wanted this relationship to work. She wanted to fix him. Was I angry? For a little bit. I think I felt more like I was betrayed. That unspoken girl rule was broken and left in the dust.

For some time, I carried around quite a bit of guilt about speaking with her. I wavered between feeling flat-out stupid about it and being glad I did it because I was asked for the advice. She wanted to know. She had specific questions. Not one word out of my mouth was a lie. The words were from my experiences. They were my accounts of events as they happened and she wanted to know. I did what I had to do to help keep another woman from going through the same exact things I did. It came from the purest of places.

Back in April, I had met with a court-ordered Vocational Evaluator. After we were done, the conversation was steered towards why I was sitting in her office and my conversation with my ex's girlfriend came up. Deirdre (the evaluator, who was also a family councilor in the past) said that I had nothing to feel guilty about. I was asked for advice and guidance based on my experiences and I should not feel apologetic, guilty or embarrassed about it in the least. I did what I had to do at the time.

I was very grateful to be validated by a professional and I have never apologized for it, nor will I ever apologize for it. The guilt is gone.

So now the other day, there it was. The Giant Ring. Blasting me in the face with the glare off of the at least 1.5 karat diamond resting in a platinum setting. It's huge. My ring was less than 1/3 of a karat on a simple yellow gold band. He was even pushed to purchase that. That's not what bothers me. What does bother me is that his relationship with this woman is so completely superficial and empty. I have a gut feeling that this ring is a recycle from one of her past engagements that was possibly reset and has nothing to do with what love really is and what an engagement ring and wedding band are supposed to stand for. It's all for show. That is all my ex was capable of. He was and still is willing to let everyone do all of the work so he looks like he is the super-fiance, the super-husband, the super-dad.

About 5 years into our marriage, I was so embarrassed by my ring that I purchased a fake one from QVC to make it look like he really cared about me. My ex told me repeatedly that he would never ever purchase a piece of jewelry for a woman and what little he did purchase for my wedding band set was more than enough. I know this man has not changed in the least bit given his current interactions with me and I don't for one second think that the ring on that woman's finger means anything that it is supposed to. The one on my finger sure didn't. What it represents is empty promises, lies, anger and a veneer so thin that everyone can see through it.

Why am I tweaked? Because this is spilling over into Payton's life. Payton has recently gotten into telling me that he wants to go to daddy's house because he can go to Gepetto's Toy Shop. That he wants to see daddy because he will get a present. Things are no substitute for love - but preschoolers do not see that. I am not able to buy $79.00 scooters and designer clothing and new bedroom sets and purchase $50.00 shoes for Payton. What Payton also tells me is that there is a lot of angry at his father's house. She yells at daddy at the car. She was angry and daddy was angry and they yelled. So much for a loving relationship. What I can give is time, patience, understanding and an endless supply of love. I can give a solid and soft place to land and a calm household. I can show him what real love looks like and how a man should treat a woman at all times. I can teach him respect, kindness and what family is truly supposed to be like.

I hope that in time that Payton will see who has his back no matter what.

I have the right to choose

2010-06-01T10:22:00.000-07:00

What a concept.

The ex has been trying to control, manipulate and belittle me. He has been condescending, rude, thoughtless and disgustingly unkind. He has now brought Tony into the mix by calling him names and questioning his manhood. Abuse at its finest. And guess what? It's now all in writing. He has flat-out refused to speak to me by phone and I get only short answers in person. He wants it all in writing. No problem. Now I have glaring proof of the nonsense that he would always keep behind closed doors for only his twisted mouth to utter and my tired ears to hear.

I know it's the PTSD rearing its ugly head when the adrenaline rushes through my veins when I see an e-mail from him in my in-box. It sits there like a growling, angry dog with sharp teeth. My initial reaction is fear. Straight up fight or flight fear. From an e-mail. Yep. Electronic words on my computer screen are enough to send me into a state of near panic. For nearly ten years, those words cut and slashed and hurt so badly and now they are infiltrating into my peaceful home to attempt to cause more chaos and that makes me angry.

There is a local radio show that I listen to in the morning. The main DJ has a saying that he uses to describe anger: The emotion of anger is a combination of hurt, sadness and fear. Yes. Yes it is. I feel hurt because he is continuing to be blind to the big picture of what is the best for our son: consistency and calmness. I also feel hurt because I had believed that he was so much more than the abusive man that he is. I feel sadness because my beautiful boy is in the middle of all of this and his father won't stop ripping the wounds open. I am continually left picking up the pieces and calming my baby down when he comes back to my home. I feel fear from the remnants of the past decade of abuse.

But here is the beauty of the situation.

I can choose. He is not in my face. He is not standing in front of me screaming obscenities in my ear. He does not control me anymore. He is not my problem anymore. I can choose to take his cutting words and threats to heart or not. I can choose to walk away from the barking, angry dog - he is chained and cannot get directly to me.

I can also choose to forward all of his horrible e-mails directly to my lawyer for his reading enjoyment.

And THAT is what keeps the anger at bay.

The Special Mother

2010-05-17T13:05:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook. It really hit home with me because of everything I have been through with Payton, so I thought I would share it here.

Her nursing instructor sent it to her. She had just graduated before she gave birth to her beautiful son. At four months old, he had a heart transplant and has been struggling with cancer ever since. My friend is such a strong woman. I think of her and her son nearly every day.

The Special Mother

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressure and a couple by habit. This year nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children.

Did you ever wonder how these women are chosen? Somehow I visualize God hovering over Earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.

"Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint, Matthew."
"Forrest, Marjorie, daughter. Patron Saint, Celia."
"Rutledge, Carrie, twins. Patron Saint... giver her Gerald. He's used to profanity."

Finally he passes a name to the angels and smiles. "Giver her a handicapped child."

The angel is curious. "Why this one, God? She's so happy."

"Exactly," smiles God. "Could I give a handicapped child to a mother who knows no laughter? That would be cruel."

"But does she know patience?" asks the angel.

"I don't want her to have too much patience, or she'll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off she'll handle it. I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has a world of its own. She has to make it live in her world, and that's not going to be easy."

"But Lord, I don't think she even believes in you."

God smiles. "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just enough selfishness."

The angel gasps, "Selfishness? Is that a virtue?"

God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn't know it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary. When her child says mama for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it. I will permit her to see clearly the things I see -- ignorance, cruelty, prejudice -- and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."

"And what about her Patron Saint?"

God smiles. "A mirror will suffice."

Yikes.

2010-05-17T13:00:00.000-07:00

Time flies and I've been really really bad about posting daily pictures.

I have decided that I'm not going to beat myself up about it. So much on the outside of the computer screen has been changing and I can barely keep up with that.

So it is what it is.

When I have them, I have them. When I don't, I don't. C'est la vie. I wonder how many I will post in a years time. I have to say that it will be considerably more that I would have if it were not for Project 365! So that is a step in the right direction.

More to follow today...

Day 21: Project 365

2010-04-26T09:28:00.000-07:00

So I did it. I bought the Crocs. I needed a pair of clogs for work that will work with the scrubs that I will be wearing. I need closed-toe shoes for around the office that will be easy to kick off because I like to work bare-footed.

Work starts Saturday.

Day 20: Project 365

2010-04-26T09:16:00.000-07:00

In February of last year, I was invited to create a table setting for the annual gala given by Mainly Mozart. There were about 30 designers in San Diego who were invited to do this. The theme was simply "Love, Music, Mozart" as it was the week before Valentines Day.

Here's a close-up shot:

I used around 100 locally grown roses of various varieties, feathers and other greenery on a wrought iron stand. The favors were hand-made chocolates from Chuao Chocolatier.

Day 19: Project 365

2010-04-26T09:05:00.000-07:00

This is what love looks like.

I adore this photo. Tony and I got married on 09.09.09, but we had a small ceremony for friends and family at my mom's house the following Saturday. My mom's dear friend took this shot of us after dinner.

I was watching "Platinum Weddings" last night after the kids went to bed. The featured couple put on a lavish wedding to the tune of over $800,000.00. My first question is, what the hell do these people do that they can afford to throw away that kind of money on one evening? The second question in my mind is, who are they trying to impress?? Even if we had the money, I don't think we would even dream of spending that kind of cash on our wedding. That could buy a house for all three kids.

Tony asked me if I wished that we had had a big wedding with all of the trimmings. My reply was simply this: No. What we did was perfect for us and our family. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Day 18: Project 365

2010-04-26T08:59:00.000-07:00

My iPhone is being monopolized by a certain little four year old who has been hit with the creeping crud, so I thought I would post some images that Tony and I have taken over the past year or so. Tip: toddlers love the "Talking Carl" application for iPhone.

This bamboo grove is happily thriving away at the San Diego Botanic Gardens. Tony and I took a walk there last spring. He got some other amazing shots that we have hanging in our bedroom. I had them framed for his birthday last month.

Day 17: Project 365

2010-04-22T15:41:00.000-07:00

Bonsai seems to think that the bed is his. Especially on lazy Sunday mornings. I'm just glad that he matches my duvet cover.

Day 16: Project 365

2010-04-21T13:13:00.000-07:00

This is my amazing husband with his Tai Chi student, Dewey. Dewey is all legs and good intentions and he is doing amazingly well! I think he's finally through the entire form and they are working on refining and perfecting.

It may look simple and easy, but when I workout with the two of them my legs are shaking about 30 minutes in. Tai Chi takes patience, persistence, a calm mind and a strong body. When a person is used to multi-tasking day after day in a hectic office, it is very difficult to completely switch gears, switch off the mind and let the Chi flow.

Tony started learning Tai Chi from his Chinese grandmother when he was 4. He also teaches Gung Fu and used to run a studio. Part of our five year plan is to open up a Wellness Center that will incorporate Chinese Martial Arts, yoga, massage and body work as well as offer various applicable clothing, organic products and a selection of whole leaf teas.

Took a break.

2010-04-20T16:18:00.000-07:00

I had to walk away for a little bit. I feel badly because I was doing so well with the Project 365 thingy.

So I think it has been about two weeks and I logged in today and saw I had TWO followers!!! How frickin' cool is that! I'm just all kinds of tickled and warmy-fuzzy inside.

It's been an interesting few weeks to say the least. Can I just say that kidney stones are the worst? My entire life was basically put on hold for a 4mm crystallized spiky mass that had lodged itself in my urinary tract. I don't think I have ever drank as much water as I do now. Ever. I'm considering purchasing stock in some cranberry juice maker, too. Ceeeripes. At least it passed. I'll post the gory picture of the prickly unshaven beast later.

The ex has been... the ex. He will never see eye to eye with me and that is OK. I had a dream about him the other morning. I'll write about that in more detail later. This post is too superficial to do it justice. I will say however, that it was incredibly enlightening. I feel freer for it.

I got a job! Again - more about that in a later post - probably on Friday. The details will be hammered out this Thursday. I will be an independent contractor and we both need to be on the same page. I don't like surprises and I'm sure they don't either.

As far as the Project 365... I have been taking pictures and I'm going to start back up with one a day where I left off.

So I'm back. I missed blogging. I have a lot rolling about in my brain that needs to get out.

How I was finally able to leave

2010-04-01T15:54:00.000-07:00

My marriage lasted 8 years, 7 months and 11 days. He wanted a divorce after just 72 days. So for 8 years, 5 months and 1 day, I fought like hell for what I thought was going to be the perfect marriage. We said out vows, didn't we? I thought those words were supposed to mean something. Apparently, he didn't. In just under three months, he broke so many of those vows: love, honor, cherish, respect, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I would say that's pretty much all of them.

Looking back, there were red flags everywhere. The snide remark here, the callous dig there. Blaming me for his alcohol abuse, putting me dead last behind golf or being at the bar with the boys. It would all rise to a head, explode in an epic fight, the apology would happen - and when I say that, I mean me apologizing to him when I knew he was in the wrong - he would bring me flowers and promises to do better next time and then all would be well. The "honeymoon phase" would last up to about three months and then it would spiral downward again. I began to think I was the one who was nuts. Heck, I was told that so often. There were so many instances when I questioned my sanity and mental stability. I have written about it at length here.

For years I saw this pattern, but I couldn't get up enough confidence and courage to leave. I just didn't have the strength. When I would get up the guts to even attempt to try, he would sense that and be on his best behavior so I would stay. The real beginning of the end in my mind was after the birth of Payton. Our little man was born about a month early and he was sick right off the bat. He was diagnosed with severe Gastro-Esophageal Reflux Disease by the time he was three weeks old. He was labeled as Failure to Thrive and he was in and out of the hospital for nearly a year. When Payton was in the hospital, that meant I was in the hospital, too. There were days when Payton's father didn't even call or show up. I never felt more alone in a sea of people. Everyday. I was forced to be a single mother when I was married. I was told I was being selfish when I emphatically said I needed a break, I was told that I needed to go back to work, I was told that I wasn't doing my job as a mother because Payton wasn't gaining weight. Huh? What? That completely contradicts itself. Why yes it does. See what I mean? Add in post-pregnancy hormones and a screaming child and I'll show you one broken woman. Broken right down to the core.

After Payton was doing much better and he was growing with the aid of a major surgery and a G-Tube, I began to truly think about leaving. My husband had shown me his true colors time and time again. He was giving me no reason to doubt who he really was. Now, I truly believe in things happening for a reason and one day when I was driving, I heard the most amazing conversation on the radio:

There was a relationship councilor on this particular morning show. She was talking about divorced parents. She was giving a lecture to a room full of adults. She asked the question: "How many of you have divorced parents?" About 30% of the people raised their hands. She then asked the question: "How many of you wished that your parents had gotten a divorce?" Another 30% of the audience raised their hands. When she asked, "Why?" The answer given by one of the men was this: "I watched my mother give up who she was and suffer to stay together with my father for us. I felt like it was my fault that she stayed together with him for the kids." Holy crap. Here I was giving up who I KNEW I was at my center. I had pushed my true self down and away for 8 years. I didn't recognize who I was when I looked in the mirror anymore. I had no freedom, I was being treated like a dirty doormat, I had to compromise who I was just to avoid a fight that was going to happen anyway. There was no happiness in my home or marriage, there was no trust, no honor, no respect. How in the would would it be fair to let Payton see me like this as he grew up. I would be dammed if Payton was to EVER treat a woman like his father was treating me.

I knew at that moment that I had to leave. The plans went into motion. I called my mother and set a date to temporarily move to her home as the apartment I had found wouldn't be ready for a month or so. I did a mental inventory of what I would take, what I would leave and how I would go about doing this.

A few weeks after I started making the plans, I was still a bit wishy-washy. However, he managed to seal the deal by playing this card: he said that he didn't want me taking Payton around my parents because he didn't want his son to get to know "people like them". The "people like them" part is in reference to their being overweight. Really? Just because they were overweight made them bad people in his mind. These people have the biggest kindest hearts and they love children. Their lives focus on children in what they do for a job every day. And here was my soon-to-be ex husband attempting to isolate me from my family. He had already done this with my friends which in and of itself is awful, but this is my family. He even went on and said that he didn't want Payton around my brother and sister-in-law either. I remember sitting on the floor in the hallway with my chin in my lap unable to speak. I sat there for about 15 minutes with my mouth open in disbelief while he sat on the couch with a smug gloating look on his face going about his business and channel surfing like nothing was wrong. I simply got up, walked up the stairs and called my mother. I was definitely leaving and I needed some help.

About two weeks later, he left on a business trip and that weekend, I left. I packed up my things, Payton's things and moved into my mom's house. I lived out of boxes in the living room and it was beyond difficult, but I was happier than I had been in a long time. A new volume in my life had just begun and I was ready. It wasn't all smooth sailing - not by a long shot - but I was moving to my OWN music and the cage door had finally opened enough for me to see the light through it.

Day 15: Project 365

2010-04-01T14:47:00.000-07:00

Uh oh... My dork is showing. It's a beautiful spring day - I should be outside enjoying it, but what am I doing??? At least the dog got to go on a couple of long walks.

This is the girl baby blanket I'm working on. It's all garter stitch in a bulky weight yarn: Bernat Softee Chunky with size 10 bamboo circular knitting needles. Each stripe is 10 rows of knit stitch. The stripe pattern is A-B-C-B-A across the width of the blanket. I'm going to do a simple crochet border in pink all the way around it once I'm done with the stripes. I think I have about 4 left.

Day 14: Project 365

2010-03-31T13:49:00.000-07:00

I just started a new project - again. I can just picture the look on Tony's face when he gets home and sees yet another pile of yarn in the house! I have to chuckle. I'm starting this for a baby gift for my cousin's wife who is due in the next few days. Thank goodness it's working up quicker than I thought! She doesn't know if she's having a boy or a girl yet. If the baby is a girl, I'll finish off the bunny with a pink bow and a tiny flower at her ear, if it's a boy, I have some great brown and light blue ribbon to tie around it's neck. I also have another half-finished baby blanket that is green, beige and pink that will finish up quickly if the baby is a girl - she may get that instead. I'm sure I'll figure it out!

My tall order

2010-03-30T13:41:00.000-07:00

In July of 2007, I had been on my own for a few months and was starting to settle into my new single life. My confidence was beginning to peep through my rock-hard shell and I felt that I could possibly start dating a bit. The idea at first was to see if there were any truly kind men out there. I had a lot of baggage and I needed to pick the right one this time. I promised myself that unless I had a crystal clear picture of who this man was that I would NOT introduce Payton to him. He would get grilled and roasted over the fire before I would let him near my beautiful baby.

At first, I thought I would tap back into the potentially safe and familiar and went out with my college sweetheart a few times. It was crazy fun and probably what I needed at the time, but I ended up getting hurt again in my discovery of why exes should remain exes. This is not to say he is a bad person, it was simply that we were not in the same place in our minds and mannerisms because of the life experiences we had in the fifteen years since we had last been dating. I needed much more than he was able to give emotionally and Payton was just too much for him. He couldn't accept the fact that I had a child from another relationship. There were a lot of "if only" statements that flew through our conversations. I couldn't be there for him to figure it out, so it was time to move on. I truly do wish him well. He deserves to be happy and I hope he will be able to find it.

I tried a few other dates, but wasn't having any luck. At all. Remind me sometime to tell you my Match.com horror stories! Raw Internet dating like that is NOT the place to look for a serious relationship when you have a gaping wound hanging about for the world to see. In fact, I finally did decide to take a break from dating. My psyche just could not take any more nibbly, shallow, horny fish in that vast dating pond. Done.

So at the suggestion of a dear friend, I made a wish list in early November 2007. I made a no-holds barred list of the 101 things I wanted in a man. It was a purging of all of my desires and needs and wants for what I went without for over a decade. I decided that I wasn't going to compromise on ANYTHING. Not one single thing. I pulled from my heart using my brain as a guide. What kind of a man would be best for me and my child? What kind of man would I like to grow old with? What kind of man do I want to share my life with? It's a HUGE deal to get it right. I didn't want to mess up yet again.

So I formulated him on paper. I became the architect of my future. This was MY list. MY desires and needs and wants that best fit what I felt was the best relationship possible for Payton and I. This person would never be taken for granted and I would tell him every single day how much I appreciated him for being who he is. I wanted everything out on the table. Nothing hidden or colored or made up to be prettier than what it was.

The interesting thing is that it took me less than an hour to do this. I knew where I had been and I knew where I wanted to go. So I put it all out there and sent it off into the great beyond.

I have to add that Tony meets every single one of these criteria and then some. It took less than three months for me to find him. Actually - he found me. I think that's pretty amazing.

Here is my list. This list is specific to me and my own life experiences, no one else's.

1. Mutual respect.
2. Sense of humor, but not sarcastic.
3. Can cook.
4. Is understanding.
5. Realizes that I have feelings and they are important.
6. Supports me in my endeavors.
7. Is my cheerleader.
8. Is a great sounding board.
9. Does not try to "fix" me.
10. Lets me make my own mistakes and still loves me.
11. Can just be quiet with me.
12. Loves my child.
13. Sees himself as an equal to me.
14. Can take charge when I need him to.
15. Understands my sense of humor.
16. Is OK with the fact that i do not want to give birth to any more children.
17. Has an open mind.
18. Is willing to talk - even about painful things in the past.
19. Makes me smile.
20. Knows what the hell they are doing in bed.
21. Keeps me interested in what is going on in that bed.
22. Will rub my back.
23. Lets me baby him a bit.
24. Appreciates the things I do for him.
25. Opens my door.
26. Tells me I'm beautiful.
27. He needs to be a man I can see myself with 50, 60, 70 years from now.
28. Has similar interests to mine.
29. Does not poo poo alternative medicine.
30. Believes in the power of a calm mind and a strong body.
31. Makes me laugh.
32. Lets me cry on his shoulder when I need to.
33. Doesn't judge me for doing so.
34. Tells me everything will be OK.
35. Likes sushi.
36. Doesn't drive a sports car.
37. Has no desire to.
38. Puts more value on the mind and body than on material things.
39. Has a great relationship with his family.
40. No drugs. This includes tobacco of any kind.
41. Little or no alcohol.
42. No desire to sky-dive or drive a crotch-rocket.
43. Doesn't think my choice of music is strange.
44. Is patient.
45. Is kind.
46. Is attractive - I don't care what color hair or eyes - just that he can be attractive in all aspects including personality.
47. Has a personality.
48. Is well liked by his peers.
49. He is not a frat boy in his 30s or his 40s.
50. Likes chocolate.
51. Can sit and talk about nothing and everything over coffee.
52. If he has kids that they are a top priority for him.
53. Likes dogs.
54. He can like cats, but more than one is too many.
55. He is fun to travel with from weekend road trips to serious travel abroad.
56. NO GOLF.
57. Must be creative.
58. Must appreciate food as art and is able to linger over it.
59. Is not afraid of commitment.
60. Is willing to own his own faults.
61. is willing to say "I'm sorry" when it is warranted.
62. Is not impulsive but still can be spontaneous.
63. Values my opinion.
64. Will make decisions with me.
65. Is not foolish with money.
66. Balances my Yin.
67. Likes that I am a brunette.
68. Doesn't want to change that.
69. Loves every inch of me.
70. Can play.
71. Can calm me when I get frustrated.
72. Helps with housework and doesn't think that it is a woman's place to do it all.
73. I like his friends too.
74. Is genuinely happy for me when I do well.
75. I need a Zen type man.
76. Not a police officer, fireman or military man - nothing in a uniform with a badge or stripes. No way.
77. Is proud to be with me.
78. I am proud to be with him.
79. Does not use his past as a sorry-ass excuse for his behavior today.
80. Can branch out beyond mid-west meat and potatoes.
81. Has patience enough for a Costco run on a Saturday afternoon.
82. He is man enough to hold my purse for me when necessary.
83. NO World of Warcraft. No no no no no no.
84. We are excited to see each other at the end of the day.
85. Loves Hawaii.
86. He will listen to me and respect my opinion.
87. Has a stable job.
88. Is not afraid to act like an idiot or look silly for a laugh.
89. Is secure and self-confident.
90. And that is not measured by the size of his wallet, car, portfolio or job description.
91. Has to sleep in bed and not on the couch.
92. Appreciates a good snuggle session.
93. Great kisser.
94. Is unique in his own way and is proud of it.
95. Puts me first and allows me to put him first.
96. Can spend a day strolling through museums and shops.
97. Isn't afraid to try new things.
98. Loves the rain.
99. He must be able to let me mean as much to him as he means to me.
100. He has to pass the "mom" test.
101. He needs to be able to let me be me. Period.

Day 13: Project 365

2010-03-30T10:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, again. Same settings in Hipstamatic. I love how this app can make even the most mundane of things look all artsy-fartsy.

This past Saturday, my oldest step-baby was in his mother's production of "The Importance of Being Earnest". The productions take place in a warehouse where part of it has been converted into a makeshift theatre. The image is of some of the backdrop and lighting rigging that has been hung from the structure above.

This particular play is near and dear to my heart and one of my favorites. G did a wonderful job as did the other kids in the production.

Day 12: Project 365

2010-03-30T09:56:00.000-07:00

My favorite guy.

Little pinches

2010-03-29T09:15:00.000-07:00

How does one co-parent with an ass?

This is a question that I'm working on answering, not that there is necessarily a good answer. The thing is that no matter what I do or say or how much I ignore him or attempt to be relatively kind to him, he will always find fault, he will never apologize, he will always be petty, he will constantly try to put me on the defense and try to make me miserable, he will pick and criticize and show his backside no matter what. This is what I know. If I give in to it, he is winning.

I guess the best way to describe it is to picture yourself sitting in a bright, sunny garden. You are happy, laughing, calm, peaceful. You can hear a gentle breeze and the birds twittering outside. A fountain bubbles. All is well with the world. And then you hear something. It starts as a nagging buzz from a distance. You know something is coming. You can't quite see it, but you know something is there on the other side of the wall. Muffled, subdued, but angry nonetheless. You try to ignore it and whatever it is senses that you are and it decides to get louder. Then the sound changes to a naggy, plucky gray twang. Your teeth start to vibrate. You move your chair to the other side of the garden, but it follows. It follows, wanting you to come seek it out, to pay attention to it. You know better than to do that, but it's very hard not to. Finally, you go and look over the wall and scan the ground. Nothing. But out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of a leopard tail with those same damn spots that were there before. Or sometimes you see a clown. All dressed up with the red nose and the big floppy collar and shoes with the tiny car pulling up behind. Finger pointing, the sick grin on his face.

So the solution? Build a higher wall? I don't know if that's the best way to deal with the leopard and the three ring circus. It's not fair to Payton and all that achieves is blocking out my own light. I have to keep an open line of communication with his father. I can only imagine the future ramifications for our child if I do not. Build a cage? A jail cell? That won't work either. Then I'm the bad guy again. I could keep looking for a new garden, but that would mean that I need to uproot myself to accommodate him and that goes completely against what I am trying to achieve here. Armour would be hot and hard to move about in, a big hammer is out of the question. A fly swatter?

Maybe earmuffs. Selective earmuffs. Or turn myself into a duck in my mind on such occasions and let all of the BS just roll off.

Right now there is just not a good answer other than the knowledge that Payton loves me and now his schedule is more consistent and that he is happy. That is what matters.

In cases of abuse, it is so hard to maintain the level of vulnerability necessary to achieve successful co-parenting. It was that same vulnerability that opened the door to the nightmare in the past. I want to be able to communicate with him for Payton's sake, but I then risk having my good will twisted around my neck and becoming the noose that he tries to hang me with. It's already happened on several occasions. He picks and pinches and pokes. I try to step away and avoid it, and it still comes back to bite. Some days it hurts more than others. Sometimes I can laugh and shrug and let him be the leopard and the clown without it affecting me, but other days I can feel my skin boil.

Hopefully over time this will get easier. He will do what he does and I need to keep moving forward, kicking off the mud and picking up the pieces as I go.

Day 11: Project 365

2010-03-29T08:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my beloved's 36th birthday. I made him a super duper amazing dark chocolate cake with dark chocolate buttercream icing all from scratch! No box job here...

Again: Hipstamatic app with John S lens and Ina 1969 film.

Day 10: Project 365

2010-03-27T21:06:00.000-07:00

Hooray for the iPhone! This is a shot of our headboard and bedding. I used the Hipstamatic application: John S lens and Ina's 1969 film. This bedding was the first purchase I made after I left my ex. Golden yellow and cool blue gray paisley.

Day 9: Project 365

2010-03-26T14:23:00.000-07:00

Enjoying the sun after ball chasing at the local tennis courts.

A little anxiety

2010-03-25T15:30:00.000-07:00

In my ex's attempt to continue to control me, he requested that I undergo a Court Ordered Vocational Evaluation. (Insert eerie music here...)

February 29th, 2008 was the last day of my employment at the Interior Design firm that I had worked at for seven years. I was terminated because I was "circling the toilet" and that I would do better "working part-time at Ethan Allen". Nice. This, after busting my ass for this company for years. I was a single mom who had to drive an hour in rush hour traffic both ways to pick up and drop off at daycare and that was not acceptable even with working from home after hours. But OK. No problem. I had several interviews set up and I was in the process of trying to start my own interior design company. Unfortunately, this was the beginning of the recession and it turned out the the construction and interior design industries were really the sorry lumps circling the toilet. The jobs in interior design were few and far between and either I was over-qualified, the job was not in my area of expertise and every single one had a stack of 50 resumes in the file with more coming in every day. They were not interested in hiring a single mom of a special needs child who needed to come and go to drop off and pick up from preschool four days a week. They wanted fresh new meat that they could work until bleeding and would accept an annual salary of $27,000.00 with no over-time.

So. Time for PLAN B.

I have always wanted to be a nurse. I looked into nursing schools, but the time commitment and the tuition were just too great. I looked at getting my Master's Degree in Oriental Medicine & Acupuncture. Again - the costs were astronomical and it would be three years of my life that I really needed to dedicate to my then two year old, developmentally delayed little boy. Brainstorm. What could I do that would earn a respectable and responsible wage that I could schedule around Payton's preschool and his schedule? What could I do that would bring my insanely high stress level down so I could be a functional happy parent to my baby? I chose Massage Therapy. I could get my license and get to work making around $40.00 to $60.00 an hour plus tips and commission or I could work on my own for substantially more. I could bring home enough money to pay the bills, save up for a home and still have the freedom of scheduling to benefit Payton. Perfect.

Unfortunately, the ex does not think so. He feels that since I have a degree in Interior Design that that is the field that I need to be working in. I have a little bit of news for him. There are ZERO interior design jobs available in the San Diego area. Can I just say that again? Z. E. R. O. Big zilch. None. Nada. Nothing. Not on CalJOBS.com, not on Monster.com, not on InteriorDesignJobs.com, not on Craigslist.com. But guess what??? My last search for Massage Therapy positions revealed 140 of them. Let me spell that out. One hundred and forty Massage Therapy positions are available. I'm sorry. I made the right choice.

So back to this Court Ordered Vocational Evaluation...

It's scheduled for April 27th. I have to go meet with an evaluator who is supposedly this amazing guru of the job search. I have no doubt that is the case and I will walk in to that appointment with my head held high and an open mind. My lawyer is actually stoked for me to go. He said to be as honest as possible.

So what's the hang up here, you ask? What's the deal? Why the anxiety?

There are pages and pages of forms to fill out. I need to give her copies of my resumes and my tax returns. I need to turn in my job search records. I have to give her a picture? Huh? I have to list what my "standard of living" was when I was married and I have to say what I think I can do to make my standard of living the same now as it was then.

Fine. I have perfectly poised and professional resumes for both Interior Design and Massage Therapy and all of my completed marketing collateral and my Menu of Services. I have my job searches and contacts. I have a stellar photo of myself. I have my school transcripts and the contacts where I have been working on a shift basis in Massage Therapy. Tax returns? No problem. The sticking point comes with this "standard of living" thing. Really?

What defines a Standard of Living? I think it is a completely personal choice. For my ex, everything is about "looking good". The nice car with the GPS and leather interior, the $1,900.00 a month apartment, spending over $1000.00 a month on food, eating out and entertainment, the designer clothing, rounds of golf at the best courses, sending your child to full-time daycare and having a stranger raise him instead of his mother. It's all a veneer to cover up the mess behind it.

For me, not so much. I prefer a more simple approach. I am able to budget and live within my means. My wealth is not measured by dollars in the bank. It's measured in my ability to clip coupons, to feed a family of five for under $300.00 a month, to find the best deals and to live without the material excess. I drive a used Volvo. I have three payments left and I'm proud of that. I buy off the sale rack at Target and shop at the outlet malls for the kids. I love Costco. My wealth comes from seeing Payton blossom and thrive and grow within the circle of his FAMILY. To see his anxiety level drop by volumes over the past few weeks when he doesn't have to go to the sitter's house. To see him excited to spend time with mama and be happy to see daddy.

Do I want to work? The answer to that question is a resounding YES!!! I sure as hell do. I love having the feeling of happiness when I am able to coax the knots out of a first time mama's shoulders, to ease away the stiffness from a 80 year old great-grandmother's hands, to teach a wonderfully amazing handicapped woman some arm stretches so they don't hurt when she is helping her mother bake cookies, to work the legs of a dancer, to calm the addict, to ease the CEO. I love what I do!

But Payton will always come first. What in the world is wrong with that? He needs his mama. He's insanely sensitive and his biggest hangup and cause for his anxiety is being left behind. He obsesses about it. I can't even express how much it kills me to see him rage when I tell him he has to go to the baby sitter's house after a busy day at school.

My ex will never see it like that. He just sees that he has to pay me more Child Support. He intimidated and threatened me into accepting less than half of guideline support per month when I was making $64,000.00 a year. Now he's paying me more than before and he's Pissed. Oh... and that Pissed with a capital P. So this is why he wants me to do the Vocational Evaluation. His hope is that the evaluator will deem that I am able to earn $64,000.00 a year and that the child-support amount will be re-figured with me earning over $5000.00 a month rather than what I am currently earning on Unemployment. He even paid for the evaluation without and expectation of a reimbursement from me. He has gotten away with paying a laughable sum for over two years and it's time it stopped, but he's going to try one more time.

I just hate that I feel like I have to defend myself yet again. If the payment amount changes some, I'm OK with that, but he will pay guideline support. Even if it is re-figured with a higher potential salary for me, the Child Support payment will still more than double what it is now. Money was never my motivation, but I do feel that he needs to step up and do the right thing for Payton. My motivation has always been to provide a stable and consistent environment for Payton during the school week. No more ping-pong ball with up to four transfers a day. Our new Child Sharing percentage is 61/39 and it was 60/40 before. He's acting as if I'm "tearing his son away from him". Please.

Day 8: Project 365

2010-03-25T09:13:00.000-07:00

Just something fun in stockinette stitch. Eventually it will be a long many-colored wrap. After blocking, I'm guessing it will be about 24" wide by hopefully 66" long or so. I'm working with Berroco Ultra Alpaca on size 8 bamboo knitting needles. Love it. Right now I have a great vibrant eggplant color, a refreshing variegated green and a killer pumpkin orange. The goal is to have about seven colors in total - I'm buying a new skein every few weeks or so. I would like to add a golden yellow, a deep red, a rich teal blue and a bright acid green - all great autumn colors. All the stripes are random in width. I think the orange stripe I'm working on will be much wider than the green. The goal of this wrap is to be simple in shape, but fun and unpredictable in the pattern. The edges will remain curled after blocking which is what I want. It will look smashing with jeans, boots and a simple cream sweater in the fall, which is probably when I will have it finished!

Day 7: Project 365

2010-03-24T13:00:00.000-07:00

Today after school, we went for a walk in the eucalyptus grove that is just down the street from our home. Such a beautiful sunny day.

Apparently, this piece of property is a hot ticket at city council meetings. For decades, the local people have been walking here with their children and dogs. Thousands of memories have been made. About a year ago, a company from Nevada came and bought it up, put up a big black fence around it and now rumor has it that they are planning on either building a church or an adult day-care center here. Many folks are up in arms about it and there have been public protests. It remains to be seen what the fate of this beautiful and peaceful place will be.

Breaking the Silence

2010-03-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

Monday after I wrote my post on abuse, I decided to Google "verbal abuse blogs". In the past ten years I had never done this - even if I had, I don't think I would have been ready to take in what the Internet had to offer up. What I found just about blew me out of my chair. Right there. On my screen. My words, but from another woman's mind. My eyes were opened wide and my mouth hung open. To say that I was dumbfounded is quite the understatement.

Blog entry after blog entry was filled with the conversations I had had with my abuser. Near verbatim. Every lie, every put-down, every back-handed slash to the spirit. Even down to the merry-go-round tactics of manipulation and twisting words into making their prey feel crazy and cornered. Everything.

The biggest thing that got me was this quote from You are Not Crazy, which is unfortunately not active anymore.

This website is wholly, compassionately dedicated to the women

who have fought to love and understand

in total solitude

the men that

rage at them, call them names, criticise their mistakes, joke about their insecurities, mock their interests, trivialize their pain, yell at them suddenly, threaten them with their deepest fears and tell them that they deserve it.

Then to top it all off,

he steadfastly denies it all,

as he masterfully charms everyone he meets,
just like he did to her when they first met.

Wow. Just wow.

In reading blog entries from other women over the past few days, I have found it was extremely liberating and calming to know that there are many more out there like me who have endured the cycle of abuse and have broken free. To read about their lives in such a raw fashion was definitely an eye-opening experience. So in the hopes that I will be able to help another woman find some peace - even if it is just one - I will reveal some of my experiences here on my own blog. I don't want this to be the focus of Building the Muse, but it will definitely be a significant part. All posts on abuse will be labeled with "Ghosts" for an easy search.

Again and again I read that silence is the best way to support an abuser. So gloves off. I will never name him for his own privacy, but many readers who know me will know.

Day 6: Project 365

2010-03-23T10:36:00.000-07:00

The boy has requested an orange octopus. Three legs down and five to go. Lion Brand Vanna's Choice #134 Terracotta, Size G hook. I still have to figure out what I would like to do for the eyes. Hopefully I can finish the last five legs during his nap today.

Day 5-A: Project 365

2010-03-22T16:54:00.000-07:00

OK. I figured out how to transfer my photos from my iPhone to my computer. And I did it without tangling up my system in the process.

After I picked Payton up from school today, we took a little trip to the beach. It was rather chilly and windy, so we stayed clear of the ocean. The booty for the day included a flat grey rock, a hand full of colorful striped seashells and the perfect sand-digging stick that Payton is so artfully playing with above.

Oh... Surfers are crazy. Just sayin'.

Wherein I speak about abuse

2010-03-22T12:30:00.001-07:00

Emotionally, mentally, verbally, physically, sexually.

For years I hid it. I know what happened to me was just a fraction of what other women suffer, but it was enough to turn me inside out, upside down and twist me all around to a point where I did not recognize myself anymore. Some days I wished he would just haul off and hit me. It would have been easier to leave.

Verbal abuse is an odd one. It can be covered up as a joke and it can be hidden from public view. It becomes his word against yours. It does not show itself in big ugly bruises on the skin and it cannot be treated in the Emergency Room. It is next to impossible to file for a restraining order because no one ever witnesses it. It's easy to cover up for a while. It can have you feeling like it is all your fault. You blame yourself. I sure did. If only I tried harder. If I only woke him up the right way. If I could do the dishes like he wants me to do or fold his laundry with the creases in the right place.

The first time it happened, I was completely shocked. It cut so deep and so quick that I didn't know how to react. After the initial shock wore off, I was able to question what happened, but that's when the game started. The reason for his outburst was caused by me. It was my fault. Now never having been spoken to that way in my LIFE, of course I questioned it. I didn't want to keep bringing it up with him because I was only perpetuating the problem... making it go around and around in circles. So I learned to keep my mouth shut and sweep it all under the rug. I then bent over backwards and walked on eggshells so that it wouldn't ever happen again.

The hook had been cast.

There would be about a three month honeymoon period and then it would happen again. This time worse. Again my fault. Again. And again. And again. After it happens enough, you start to believe it. You start to think that you are worthless, selfish, self-centered, smug, fat, a liar, rude, stupid, a cunt, a bitch, disgusting, a whore. And then I was chastised for not doing enough for him. Really? I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I learned to keep my distance to keep the abuse from happening. But it still did. And it was still my fault.

And then I was punished for it. He would go out and drink. He knew I hated it. He isolated me. He used his abusive nature to shove his own alcohol problem down my throat. My fault. What I did or didn't do made him go and drink. Nice. And what did I do? I covered for him. I would drive him places for him to drink. I would push my plans aside. I would pick him up from strip clubs and bars in the middle of the night. I even picked him from from a hotel when I was sick with pneumonia. I broke plans with my family because I was embarrassed to have him at family functions and holiday gatherings. I never brought him around my friends. I even lost friends because of him.

Verbal abuse then branches out. It takes a toll on you emotionally and physically. You begin to isolate yourself beyond what he is doing to you. You begin to get sick. The toll that it takes on your body is just unbearable. That is where the physical abuse and sexual abuse take a step into the picture. By this time you are so worn down to a pulp that you do not want to even bear the thought of getting into bed with your "husband". He gets angry. He blames his impotence on you when you know full well it's the alcohol and his own mental issues. He can jack off to porn on the computer, but when he tries to have sex with you, he can't get it up. He makes darn sure that you know that and leaves the lotion and the rag out for you to see. Again - your fault. You get pushed, shoved and forced. Of course it's never enough for you to go to the police over. Just below the threshold. He reminds you that he can pass a lie detector test if he has to take one. He reminds you that he is capable of killing you. He reminds you that he is a sniper and can shoot someone in the skull from over 500 yards away.

Afraid to go to the police? Yep. Absolutely. Afraid to tell anyone? Yeah.

For the better part of my marriage, nobody knew what was going on. My mother had an inkling and I spoke to my best friend about it. All I could do at that point was rationalize it and make excuses. I believed in my marriage vows. Never mind that he had broken them almost from the get-go, but I didn't see that until much later. I didn't want to check the "Divorced" box on applications. I didn't want to raise my son alone.

But I did get out.

It took a long time to be able to recognize the woman in the mirror again, but I can see myself again. And that is for another entry.

Day 5: Project 365

2010-03-22T09:54:00.000-07:00

Our big dog. He went to the vet yesterday because his back feet are a mess. They are red and swollen and itchy. The vet took skin scrapings and determined that it was most likely some sort of contact allergy. He now on 14 days of antibiotics and an antihistamine. Poor thing. His insides are going to be all wonky. Sadness.

Sorry - again. Didn't take this photo today - nor did I take the photo! This one is Tony's but is very appropriate for today so I thought I would use it. For some reason when I e-mail photos from my iPhone, they can only be saved as "Scrap". That doesn't do me any good! Tony is the technical wizard in our household and hopefully he can teach me how to download them through iTunes. I'm clueless and afraid I'm going to mess something up that can't be fixed.

Day 4: Project 365

2010-03-22T09:39:00.000-07:00

I know. I didn't take this picture yesterday. It's from a few weeks ago, but I had to share. Tony and I packed up the kids and the dog and headed to Julian for a picnic and some snow. Bonsai had a blast.

Day 3: Project 365

2010-03-21T14:21:00.000-07:00

Cool, dry weather means much static.

Day 2: Project 365

2010-03-21T13:57:00.000-07:00

This is a few days late. I was experiencing technical difficulties getting the image off of my iPhone.

This lovely dino pile is from Friday. Payton loves to "play with animals". This usually ends up in the mountain of plastic that I snapped the photo of. Friday was a rough day for me health-wise, but we managed to have a good time despite the kidney stones.

Really, life?

2010-03-19T09:41:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I know. Things could be a lot worse. A lot. I get it. But kidney stones SUCK.

I was diagnosed as having kidney stones during an ER visit in the wee hours of Thursday morning last week. Apparently, there is only one left and it's around 4mm in diameter. So here it is over a week later and I'm still trying to pass this darn thing. Since it's only (only) 4mm, the docs can't do anything and it should pass within two week. Great. So at this point I have to be hemorrhaging or have a raging kidney infection to get any additional help beyond painkillers and advice to drink tons of water. OK. Great. So my life is on hold until this tiny ball of calcified pee plaque passes.

Helpful ER tip: if you go between the hours of 3 and 4 AM, there is no wait and the sense of humor of the staff is great. They even had me laughing through the pain. It could have been the Dilaudid they gave me, but I did appreciate smiling faces and the more relaxed atmosphere.

I was planning on going to aqua aerobics this morning. I love this class at my gym. I'm the only one there under 55 and I love it. Senior citizens are so great to be around - I love their energy. I think they get a kick out of me being there, too. Everyone is going to have to wait for me to grace them with my presence because I can't stand up straight.

I also promised Payton a trip to the beach today. Sorry, baby boy. It's Avatar and Frosty the Snowman for you. Hopefully I can spoil the crap out of him this weekend. At least that's the goal.

Day 1: Project 365

2010-03-18T17:05:00.001-07:00

I needed something warm and cozy. This scarf took about 2 hours to make - P hook with Lion Brand Wool Ease Thick & Quick yarn - two skeins.

Beginning the re-building

2010-03-18T16:51:00.000-07:00

Today is a new day. I have been torn down from all directions.

I'm at rock bottom emotionally, physically and mentally. It's an effort to walk the dog. I'm winded climbing the stairs. My insides are curling up on themselves and I'm tired of it. I'm lethargic, sad, melancholy, listless, lifeless and puffy.

It would be so easy to stay like this and rot, but I can't. I would be destroying everything I have worked for up until this point in my life.

So tomorrow starts a new chapter.

I have to get out and do. Not just be. But I have to be comfortable with me and the direction I'm going, even though I feel like I'm blindfolded and hobbled. Maybe that's the best way considering I would be scared out of my gourd if I were to take a look at all of the details. I'm naturally a planner and I have to let that go. I need to see that which is in between the black and white.

I have to say that every once and a while, I see a glimmer of what I am to be. It feels like every time I reach for it my hand gets slapped. So I need to try another path of self-discovery and be willing to veer off the path of a bit. Maybe a better one will be there.

So much

2009-12-08T10:13:00.000-08:00

There is so much going on I have no idea where to start. I've been keeping a list of blog topics in my iPhone for future use as they pop into my head.

These past few weeks have been very overwhelming - full of anxiety, triumphs, successes, a set-back or two, good news, bad news, much thought and planning. Thankfully, my head has been level and I'm moving forward.

My thoughts are getting in order and they will soon make their appearance here... promise.

A shining accomplishment

2009-11-06T09:07:00.000-08:00

With everything negative that has been strolling through my brain and life in the past few weeks, somehow this amazingly positive experience slipped through the cracks. I mentioned in an earlier post that I was going to teach myself how to bake. I gathered up my tools and ingredients and gave it a shot. The results were amazing: warm, sticky, golden brown caramel apple sticky rolls. Holy crap. My house smelled heavenly for days.

I got to use yeast and sugar and cinnamon and everything. I made such a mess. There was flour and butter everywhere.

The thing that makes these rolls so special is that there are diced apples laced through the gooey caramel sauce. The recipe says that you can add apple liqueur to the caramel. I think I may try that next time for a more intense flavor.

Letting them rise a second time before baking. What you don't see is the huge, beaming smile on my face.

These rolls are fabulous. I'm going to make a variation of them for Christmas gifts for friends and family. Minus the apples but with a crazy yummy coffee maple glaze instead.

This recipe came from Ree Drummond of Pioneer Woman fame. Her link is in my sidebar. Big thanks to Tony (again) for the amazing photos and help with the clean-up. He was well rewarded!

Getting my brain in order

2009-10-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

Holy moly, it's been in interesting few weeks. Just trying to wrap my brain around a sliver of it is too much to bear some days. In some ways, I see exactly how far I have come, but in others, I see exactly how far it is I have to go.

There are many difficult things that people have to do in their lives. There are many lessons to learn and changes to make. Some are considerably harder than others. Yesterday, I did the absolutely most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. Above and beyond getting out of an abusive relationship. Harder than having plans for a healthy child blow up in my face and dealing with the fallout. Harder than getting my center back. Harder than being confident in myself.

I took a stand against my abuser. I filed paperwork to change a wrong into a right. Nobody has ever told the truth to his face, including me. And there it is on paper for the world to see now. He will be served tomorrow.

I am terrified, but I am sick of being bullied and belittled. I am done walking on eggshells and keeping my mouth shut. I'm finished with letting him walk all over me. I will not let this person become the blueprint that my child will study as he becomes a man. No way.

There are so many reasons why.

Seaside walk

2009-10-05T15:15:00.001-07:00

Yesterday morning, I asked Tony to show me how to use his camera. It's not just the little cutesy metallic green point-and-shoot cameras that most of us mamas have. Oh no. It's one of those big black ones with all the buttons and knobs and it has all kinds of attachments like lenses and lights and things. And a big black bag that he carries it all around in and God help him if it ever got stolen or damaged. I have never seen my Zen Master of a husband angry, but I'm definitely sure that steam would pour out of his ears and quite possibly lightening would stream down from the sky and zap an innocent grandma in the wazoo.

In my quest for learning how to do new things, I asked him a whole bunch of questions about what makes a good photographer. I mean, two people could take a picture of the same thing and the image by the everyday tourist would look just OK and the other by the trained photographer would capture the pure essence of what that object is inside and out. What makes the difference? We spoke about angles and lighting and lens types and composition and editing. I get the lingo because I have taken many a college art course and studied Art History more than most people would care to admit. I've dabbled a bit in photography, but that was many many years ago. I never really took to it because I didn't like turning into a bat and bumping about blindly in the darkroom. No thank you. Since then the whole digital revolution has come about and that is something entirely foreign to me. USB cables and Photoshop and who knows what else.

So we hoofed it down to the Oceanside Pier and Harbor. The pelican is Tony's shot, but the other three are mine. He tinkered with Picassa and here are the results. Hooray me.

This pelican was showing off for a little crowd of squealing children. He had it pretty good, seeing as it was the end of the day and there was little to no luck in the fish-catching department. He got the spoils of the left-over bait. Lucky duck... I mean lucky pelican.

This is a shot from under the Oceanside Pier. The waves were still rather large from the remnants of the Samoan earthquake. It was really something to see them crashing through the posts. Tony added a sepia tone and adjusted the sharpness and contrast. There was a small tweak on the angle as well.

There was a bike rental shop just below the pier. This image was cropped just a bit to focus on just the lines of the bike frames.

This shot was taken over by the Oceanside Harbor. I like the two blues with the sharp white trim. Just a small crop on this one.

The nature of things

2009-10-02T08:51:00.000-07:00

The last few days have been a cluster of great successes, feats of strength, hearing difficult truths and in-my-face tests of my year of PTSD counseling. I would have to say that my therapist would be so very proud of me. Maybe I should give her a call. I have to say that I am giving myself a whole-hearted pat on the back for not losing my resolve or falling back into that dark place that I was dragging about with me for the better part of a decade. I am stunned that I am able to look back to those days without emotion. If I feel anything, it is sorrow. Not for myself - I cannot change the past and only look upon it as a source of lessons in moral character - but for others who have yet to witness the full wrath of what I experienced. If anything, the past week has proven to me that I am strong enough to take a stand for what is right and that I will be OK. Maybe scratched up a little bit, but for the most part come out on the back end a better person for it and thereby stronger as a final result after the wounds heal.

Several nights ago, I met with someone who needed me to tell her the truth. She had a list of questions and wanted brutally honest answers. I gave them to her. Not to be malicious or hateful to the person we were speaking of - I really and truly have no energy for that anymore - but to paint a very vivid picture of what the sad reality of the situation is. We talked at length over Niçoise salads and Merlot about the fact that the question of "why" cannot be answered, that we can only move forward and make ourselves whole again. There was a great desire on both our parts for the person in question to get help and to get that help quickly. However, the issue remains that the pride and ego that is present will not allow him to do so. It was concluded that he is embarrassed and ashamed of who he is down somewhere deep in the recesses of what he experienced as a child and that he feels the need to paint some sort of surreal picture of who he thinks he should be. It makes us both so incredibly sad as we both see that the potential in this person is immeasurable. Truly it is. He just refuses to see it and actually live it. Over the years, it has gotten covered with a very thin facade that is now crumbling about his shoulders.

What I had to say was very hard for her to hear, but it confirmed her suspicions of what she had thought all along. The most difficult thing for me wasn't talking about the past, it was watching her experience the same things I had. I could read it all over her face. No words needed to be spoken.

She is such a beautiful woman. So opposite from me in the physical, yet I know that if the circumstances were different, we would have been great friends. She is a strong, opinionated, athletic, savvy, smart, sharp and witty woman. She is successful, financially responsible and can wield the iron fist if necessary. The thing I like best about her is that she is brutally honest and is not afraid to call a spade a spade. She has the desire to know the truth and heaven help you if she finds out you are lying.

It has taken me the better part of a week to pull this post together. Since I have started it, I have been through another cycle of my black cloud moods. I had some time alone and was able to process everything that has occurred and work myself into a lather over it all. Yesterday I had a much needed chat with my amazing husband and we worked through the knotted up emotions that were clogging up my brain. A few tears, a small pity-party, a plan for action on my part to help relieve some of my anxiety and three wonderful hours walking the seaside cured most of the crud. I feel pretty much back to normal today.

I am a strong believer that everything happens because we need it to and that there is a lesson to learn so that we might be able to grow and thrive in our lives. I am seeing very clearly that I have made the right choices and that in and of itself is amazingly comforting.

Completely giddy

2009-09-28T09:15:00.000-07:00

So along with my new Building the Muse blog project, there are a few other things that I am mentally ready to start tucking into my bag of tricks. The main one that I am completely over the moon about is learning how to bake. Baking is something that I have always envied in other people. To be able to turn out tender pie crusts and gooey perfectly balanced chocolate chip cookies is a skill that I thought possible only of the white-coated professionally trained gods and goddesses of the kitchen. And then I few months ago, I got to thinking. My MOM baked when I was a kid. I remember baking bread, sweet rolls, soft pretzels and sugar cookies. I remember licking the mixer beaters when my mom made cakes from scratch. The double boiler came out at Christmas when we made chocolate candies for our teachers. I'm skilled with my hands as an artist, why the heck can't I do this myself? Then to take it a step further - have you actually taken the time to READ the labels on the ready-baked goods in the grocery stores? They are longer than the inventory list at the San Diego Museum of Art. There are words in those lists that are not pronounceable without a degree in phonetics. And I have been eating that junk out of convenience for how long? Yuck. My intestines are sticking together just thinking about it. Shouldn't there be just flour, sugar, milk, butter, chocolate, vanilla beans? Simple ingredients, not chemically preserved sugar bombs meant to survive longer than radiated cockroaches.

So I started slowly with the obligatory banana bread. Then I pulled out the chocolate chip cookie recipe from my childhood. Now I'm ready to tackle sticky buns. Next, my grandma's chocolate cake with a possible detour to those amazing soft pretzels we made when I has a kid. Two Christmases ago, I was extremely successful at making caramel sauce. Sugar, cream, and butter - the real deal. I was so incredibly impressed with myself; I think I shed a tear. Really. I did it, and did it well! And it was good. Amen. A warm golden brown with a great consistency - not too sweet - just right.

So I have my list ready to go to prepare my kitchen with the tools necessary to succeed. My mom caught wind of my endeavor and got me started by bringing over my great-grandmother's ceramic mixing bowl last night. I can't believe this amazing piece of family history is in my home. It’s well over 100 years old. I remember my mother letting bread dough rise in it on the stove top. She had special tea towels to put over the top that were reserved for baking only. Heaven help the child who used them to mop up spilled milk!

Today I'm ready to purchase a rolling pin, long oven mitts to spare my arms from my clumsiness, parchment paper, a candy thermometer, a small cast-iron skillet and my own special tea towels. I'm going to splurge on Vietnamese cinnamon and European butter. And the most frightening item on the list is yeast. Yeast. Little tiny temperamental sugar-eating, warm-water swimming organisms. And they scare the heck out of me.

It's time to tackle the fears and hope that the weathered old bowl will bring me the wisdom of generations past. A little luck wouldn't hurt, either.

The new project

2009-09-25T17:14:00.000-07:00

So that legendary bird sat on my shoulder a few months back and whispered, hey lady, you have quite a story to tell. Why yes, I do, says I to my fluttering avian friend. Recent events have prompted me to look into the publishing world and I found that not only is it very difficult to get a book published, the subject matter on which I was planning to focus on is a very tough sell to all the various publishing houses. I thought I would try anyway and quickly discovered that my brain does not function in such a linear fashion. What was pouring out of my pen and onto my crisp and crunchy new notebook was cathartic, but would there be interest in the way I was telling it? Maybe, maybe not. Not to be self-depreciating and if I was really really telling myself the truth, probably not. I don't have an English degree, or pure journalism experience, or a sharp pen with which to capture everything in such a succinct way that it would be a smooth read from start to finish.

So I thought, well then, how the heck will I be able to do this? To put everything down in words that form stories with injections of images and other inspirational thoughts can be rather fractal. I also tend to lean to the randomness of my world and to organize myself to the degree required to write a novel just ain't gonna happen. No way, no how. Not for all the hippos in the world, though my four year old gem of a child will be very disappointed, to say the least.

OK.

And there it was, looking me square in the face. Not only do I keep a quasi blog of sorts, but I read about four "mommy blogs" and three other thought collection blogs every single day. Duh. I very much enjoy the candid nature of them and I like the way that they can make you feel like you are in that person's living room with them through the power of wit and word. Every morning, I get all kinds of excited to open up my web browser to see what new and wonderful stories I can absorb about my favorite persons on the Internet. Hey!!! I can have one of those, too!

Eventually, this blog will move to it's own website. And wow! Lookie there! I have the great and wonderful privilege of being recently married to the most amazing computer dork in the world. He builds amazing websites for people for a JOB. Wow. JACKPOT! (Thank you baby doll and love of my life, even though you have no idea what you are getting into yet.) And I have nothing but time on my hands to bombard my little spot on the web with all my ramblings and musings.

The story I have to tell will be revealed in juicy little nuggets as I am reminded of them and have the need to share. It's one of pain and death - of others and of mine, of re-building and new growth, of healing and happiness, of food and inspirations and most importantly the love I have for those I choose to surround myself including my kick-ass husband, children and most importantly, the new-found respect I have for myself. I have been through many months of painful therapy and have come out on the other side with the ability to look back without all the black thunder clouds of emotion that were plaguing me for the better part of a decade. If I am able to help just one person by writing down my experiences and solutions, then my work will be even that much more complete. Just one person to say - oh my, I thought I was the only one going through this and holy crap you survived and I can do it too. That would mean the absolute world to me. Hippos and all.

Thanks, little bird.