The giant ring

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.