Message from the Universe

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.

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.

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

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

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."