I'm a bit angry...

I remained in Las Vegas, for my daughter mostly. Because she didn't want to leave Las Vegas and so I put my life on hold and remained. I put it on hold for my youngest boy too - I stopped dating for the first 11 years of his life.

I'm VERY proud of my daughter, she wants to major in Marine Biology. But, I'm angry now. She is looking into Universities in California and Hawaii. MOVING AWAY FROM VEGAS. And I'm stuck here since the boy has decided that he doesn't want to leave Las Vegas now and that my making him leave is making him leave his grandfather which he knows plays guilt on me. My father is his only grandfather, my stepfather doesn't claim any of my kids as a grand child and my mother, well, she is just distant all the time. But, now she wants to leave and that just pisses me off. I understand that she needs to spread her wings and fly, that to be a Marine Biologist going to a University in the desert of Las Vegas is not ideal and I don't want her to stay here and throw her dreams away - but now I'm questioning my own throwing away of dreams for her and my youngest boy. Perhaps, I shouldn't have done that?

Also, my daughters father and his girlfriend, the man I am still in love with, bought her a bus ticket to visit them in Lancaster, Ca. about 3 hours from here. I'd already told her that I wanted to take her down there, she could pay for my gas there, so I could also see my granddaughter, but she has begun to stop listening to me... she asked him if they could see her two sisters (the 16 yr old and 17 yr old) and he asked them if they would meet her and him half way between the them.. I don't want her ANYWHERE near these two girls and especially their mother, I spent all this time raising her, keeping her away from ugliness like them, yes the three of them are ugly - all three doing drugs and drinking. So, we fought about that last night. I know that if the mother says anything to her at all, I'll end up going out there and kicking the shit out of her... I'll find her since I know the small town they live in and it's VERY small. I'm going to call him and speak to him, tell him how I feel about this meeting of the the girls. I already know that the mother will be there, the girls don't drive and the mother is always trying to get him with her (according to him)... plus, I know her well. There's no way she will pass up a chance to meet my daughter and quite possibly even say something to her. Tess is very aware of the crap this women pulled and how she played a huge part in me taking her away from her father and keeping her from him, but she tells me that I have nothing to worry about - that IF the woman says anything to her about anything especially me, she'll be the first to speak up and put her in her place. I don't doubt my daughter won't do it - she is after all my daughter, but why even put yourself in that position at all??

We talked last night about how her father seems so whipped by his new girlfriend (again though I really like the girlfriend) and how she thinks he never stands up for himself - and asked me how come she is such an in your face person when her father is so whipped. I had to laugh... and then told her - she got that from him and I, that both of us are like that, though I think he is so medicated up now that he's not so much like that - I am still.... I stand up for myself still and for my kids, always.

To top all of it off, I'm smack dab in the middle of some kind of major depression, a funky ick that doesn't want to lift and won't let my brain think the way I know it can and should.

I'm just a mess and not enjoying life at this time.

Admitting it...

The boy finally admitted that he ate the clam chowder. How fucking stupid is this to lie about?

"I knew you would get mad at me for eating it" is what he says. WHAT??

"What part of I dont CARE about the clam chowder, I care about the lying, are you not understanding here" I say to him.

"I know how you get when I eat your food" is the reply.

Yes, I have my own food. As does he. It's suppose to last the month, but his usually last less than a week. There are certain things I cannot eat and certain things I can, when I find something I can keep down, I get it for me. I only eat maybe one meal a day and have even been known to go a few days without eating.. either because I'm not hungry or too busy to eat and forget. Hell, my stomach is only 4 oz big so not being hungry is not something unusual for me, though I try to eat something each day to get nourishment at least...

I still don't care about the can of soup. I just don't understand why this child felt it so necessary to lie to me about it. Do I really get THAT angry at him when he eats something he knows is for me? I don't know, I suppose I need to look at that?

At least he finally admitted it...

Right?

Clam Chowder

I bought 4 cans of clam chowder. 2 for me and 2 for the boy. I ate one last week. He finished both of his within a day or so, cause he's like that.

I went to the cabinet to heat a can up for me a bit ago and it was gone. I asked him why he ate my can and he denies it.

There is NO one else in this house. Him and I only. He vehemently denies eating it. I find a fresh empty can of clam chowder and show it to him and he keeps saying he didn't eat it. I show him the bowl in the sink that has clam chowder in it and he denies it. WTF?

I don't give a rats ass about the clam chowder, though I was disappointed because Id been thinking about it and wanted it...

I'm PISSED that he continues to lie to me about it. I ask him if there was anyone in the house last night while I was gone he says no. He can no longer blame his sister, she isn't here. He ate the damn can of soup and instead of admitting it he is in his room raging at me because I have now grounded him for LYING. HE thinks its because I think he ate the soup and isn't understanding it's because he LIED about it.

I can't take much more of this. Lying because he ate a damn can of clam chowder.

My daughter, my son.

My daughter, my pride and joy, the one who has seemingly come out of being my child unscathed, moved out. Last week. I'm very sad, hurt and angry about it. She didn't move far, only about 4 blocks away to my fathers. Yes, my fathers.

Dad's been in Phx for the past year and has finally returned home after receiving half an artificial heart. She wasted no time. She lied, told him that I was ok with it and when he hit me with it I was in shock. SHE didn't want to tell me because she knew that I wanted her here with me for one more year and clearly knew what my response would be.

I said some very mean things to her, as I lashed out in my own pain and fear of losing her. While she is my flesh and blood, she holds no grudges and when I calmed down enough for her and I to speak, she told me she loved me and I was able to tell her I loved her back.

I'm not afraid to be alone and I'm not alone right now, since my baby still lives with me. But for some reason I felt rejected and hated. HOW after raising her all alone for 18 years, could she just leave me like that? But that's not what she was doing. She wasn't leaving me, she's spreading her wings. Better she go live with her grandfather and not have to worry about a ton of bills and other things, than off on her own where she must pay bills and work and go to college. It took me a couple days to accept that, though I have told her more than once I want her to come home I'm no longer so angry at her. I miss her.

It's now just me and my 13 year old boy. It's not easy. There's no buffer here anymore and he's an angry kid, which often is directed to me as I try to parent him. His rages frighten me most of the time. I'm slowly learning to deal with it the best I know how and can only hope that as he matures he will see that I do what I do because I love him. As I wrote in my essay for Violence Unsilenced, "is it too late" for this child? I hope not. He isn't a "bad" kid, he simply has no self control over his anger and he rages against authority. I am putting him back on vyvanse, medication that helps with ADHD children, of which he is one. And I think I may put us both in therapy though he has told me more than once that he will not speak. If nothing else, perhaps it will help ME to learn how to deal with him in a way I don't know of right now.

That's all for now from the fast lane. Life seems so bleak as I sit here... there seems to be no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel.. but I think I will just keep looking for it.

Peace

See that sign on the right of my blog?

The one called, Violence Unsilenced? See it? Over there? Not hard to miss. Have you ever wondered why I have it there?

I was a battered woman. I have what is called, Battered Woman Syndrome. It is quite possible that that is the main reason I do not do relationships well, a trust issue perhaps, though who knows since I never went into therapy for it. Writing was my therapy, always. Anger is my lifeline these days. As my life begins to crumble in ways I seemingly have no control over, anger keeps me alive, lets me know I am alive.

Sept 3rd, my story will be out there for all to see. I'm not afraid or ashamed anymore, but I am still angry. I have a loathing for people that is unmistakable and unbearable at times, though most tell me and others I am the nicest person they know... but if you do not know me, I come off as aloof, standoffish and often defensive. If I let you into my life, beyond the circle of boundaries that I have, its because I have watched you closely for a long time and if you screw up, I'm gone and done with you.

If I dont know you and you screw up, I am angry and it shows. If you dont know me, you are afraid of me. I am tough, strong, angry and pissed off at the world and it shows. If you don't know me you ask people that do know me and like me, how they can like me. They will tell you I am a giving, caring and loving person... but if you dont know me, you dont see that.

I dont mean to sound like Im the best there is, but few people are allowed into my world, my real world, not my blog world. I have few friends and then there are those that want to be my friend. Those people I look at, I watch and I wonder, why in the world do they want to be friends with me. I'm nothing special. Im a failure at nearly everything I do and I can be a shitty friend, losing touch with those that have been allowed into my life.. that is how "I" see me.

I use to pride myself on the self control I had around those that are idiots. Now, not so much. I dont hide my loathing well, perhaps that is because I am 45 years old now and simply to not wish to play the game. And sometimes, I honestly believe that those I love would be better off without me.

There's more, but its painful new things that have happened that I just do not want to share right now. When the pain begins to subside, I may be able to put the words to paper. For now, I will leave it at this.

So, Sept 3rd, please go to the link on the right and read my story, maybe you will gain some insight into why I am so angry, why I am so hard to get to know and why you must be so very special if I call you friend.

R.I.P

Ted and Eunice Kennedy..

They will be missed.

I have some painful things to share with you, however above that pain I am in tremendous anger, thus it is not the time to share this.

I will.

I promise.

Pre 9/11, Sit down and I'll tell you a story...Part 1 rather long

You may have heard my story before, of how I came to live in the city where the neon lights grow out of the dirty desert, aka Las Vegas, twice. Yes, twice. Some of you might relate, even share a similar story, some may feel sorry for me (don't). What you will read today and subsequently the next few days (unless I break it up with more pictures of summer vacation 2006) is a part of my life that sometimes if I think about it too much will send me into a tailspin of depression. However, one day, I'd like to write a book, fiction of course, but based on my life. I'll start this story at the age of 25... and end it at the age of 27.

At 25 I had been in AA for 3 years and met a girl who was new to AA and living on the streets. I allowed her to come stay on my couch. We got along well enough and I liked her. One day she called me at work and said that her brother had just came to town and needed a place to stay, could he stay a few days... I said yes.

When I arrived home, the house was empty. So I got busy doing what I usually did after work, cleaned up from the night before, did the dishes, picked up the older boys (he is now 23) toys. Shortly after that, they arrived.

It was love at first sight. For me and I believe for him too. That night he was in my bed and remained in my bed for months. I learned a few days after he arrived that he was 21 and had just been released from Vacaville (a prison north of where we lived in the San Fernando Valley). That should have been a red flag and I missed it, or rather pushed it aside. What's that? Why was he in prison? Well... attempted murder reduced to assault and battery. That should have been a red flag and well, again I pushed it aside. I was in love.

Things went well for a long time, nearly a year. Then my best friend of 15 years slept with him.. or he slept with her and she claimed she loved him. (this man is very good at manipulating and charming his way into ones life, not to mention he was gorgeous, had six pack abs and large muscles). She came to me and told me this had happened. What she nor he knew... I had just found out I was pregnant with the girl. Yeah, I know, another red flag, sleeping with my best friend. Love really is blind.

Eventually it worked out, she found another man and he stayed with me (sort of). I wasn't drinking or drugging, he was and needed to find his drugs the best way he could... manipulating and charming other women.

Shortly into my second trimester the beatings began. Also at the same time, he began hanging out with another woman. He would stay away for days, doing meth with her, then come back to me begging to let him come home and I would let him. A week or so of everything going wonderfully, he would be gone again, usually after a beating - an excuse for him to leave and find that other girl with the drugs.

In the beginning of this other relationship she didn't know where I lived, but eventually she found out. Into my 3rd trimester, is how I found out about her. She knocked on my door asking for him. He went outside for a moment and came back in telling me that she just told him she was pregnant. I told him to leave, but he claimed he didn't want to be with her, he wanted to be with me. I asked him what he planned on doing about this other baby and he told her to get an abortion. She was still outside and he asked if she could come in and if I would talk to her.

She came in and he told her again... you need to get rid of the baby, cause I am staying here with her and our child that is due in a few months. I told her that I would take her and wait and take her home. I also told her if she ever knocked on my door again, I'd beat the living shit out of her.

She ended up having an abortion on her own somehow. My due date was coming up and so was Christmas. All was well at home, quiet really, at least so I thought. One evening we were up in the bedroom and I heard a whistle. A person whistling. A few times. I was finally suspicious and asked him what that was... it was her calling for him, something she'd been doing on a regular basis and I never knew about it. I finally told him to chose. He left.

I wouldn't let him back right away, unlike all the other times. It was Christmas Eve. The girl was dropped in position ready to come into the world head first, even though I still had about 8 weeks to go. He asked me to come outside and talk to him, since my oldest boy was in the house. There I got the beating of my life (or so I thought at the time) He threw me against the brick wall, flattened all my tires on my car (I had plans in the morning to drive to Big Bear, Ca.to spend Christmas with my family. that didn't happen) That beating lasted for what seemed to be a lifetime. Christmas was spent eating McDonalds on the living room floor and one present for the older boy. No Christmas tree, nothing.

After that beating I decided I'd had enough, not only that, the girl flipped herself up and over so she was now breach.

For the next 8 weeks, he came and went, I was too scared to say anything, so I just let him in the house, never asked where he was or where he was going. His anger and rage was still prevalent and he had me fearing for my life. I rarely spoke to him and nearly always found an excuse to leave the house until I knew that someone else was in the house with us.

On Feb 7th, the girl came, c-section. I thought he should know, so I called his sister, who in turn called him. 4 hours later, he was there holding his daughter, begging me to let him come home, he'd changed and wanted to be a family. In the back of my mind and my gut both told me, Dude, he's not going to change, my heart said... look at him holding his daughter, he's changed completely and the past nightmare was finally over, it would be him and me and the girl, one happy family, my heart over ruled my gut and brain.

Things went well for a while. He came straight home from work, he helped with the baby, he helped me while I was recovering from the c-section. For a few weeks, life as I had always wanted, was mine.

And then, like a rerun, he was off and running again... with her. Back and forth, me to her, her to me, a viscous cycle to be sure. Then there was one week when he straightened up again and told her he was done with her... then there she was AGAIN at my door knocking. This time I brought her in the house, with clenched fists ready to kick her ass, had he not come out of the bathroom right then, I'd have probably fulfilled my promise of kicking the living shit out of her, he put me in a bear hug, reminding me the baby was right there and I still wasn't fully recovered from the c-section.. and that since she was there, we should hear what she has to say.. AGAIN this bitch tells us she was pregnant. He told her (without my saying a word) that he had the only child he wanted and that she should leave and never come back again.

Fast forward to when the girl was 8 weeks old. He had returned to his old habits, the other one was still around, though no longer pregnant. (I'm not even positive she was pregnant either times, but in her whacked out thinking, perhaps if he thought she was pregnant, he would leave us and go to her for good.)

By now, I was done. The beatings had stopped for a few months and I had my strength back after the c-section, my self esteem was coming back and no matter how much I loved him and I loved him with my entire being (to this day I believe he is my soulmate, though I haven't seen him or spoken to him in 17 years).. regardless how much I loved him, I could no longer live this way, so one day after he had been gone a few days, I simply locked him out of the house.

That last night, he broke the door down. He pummeled my face and body, black and blue. My roommate grabbed the girl and put her on the bed, trying to keep her out of harms way. He had ripped out all the phones, but for the one in my roommates room. The beating lasted about a half hour, roommates boyfriend wouldn't stop him from doing it, though he did tell him that the cops had been called. I'd never pressed charges before, but that time I was going to.

The police came, I gave my report, they wanted me to go to the hospital but I wasn't leaving my baby. They looked around the complex and couldn't find him, so they left...

10 minutes later, he had come back, had me by the throat trying to push me down the stairs. The girl was still on the roommates bed and I somehow got out of his grip and ran in there. He followed me and pushed me towards the bed, I fell about an inch away from her head. The cops were on their way again and something in me snapped.

He went out the front door, I grabbed a broom and held the handle over my head to beat him with it, when I walked out the door there were 8 cops, all with guns out and he was on his knees being handcuffed. Unfortunately, I created a distraction and only one hand was cuffed and he got away. They searched for him for 45 minutes until they found him. I was outside as he was being escorted to the police car and the last words I ever heard out of his mouth was:

"Kiss my daughter for me, I'll be back to do it myself"

I knew I had about 2 weeks to get out of the apt (we couldn't stay there anyways, he'd broken in the door). So, roommate, me and the girl went to live in a "welfare" hotel. It was a horrible experience, with whores and drug dealers knocking on our door all the time.

A friend of my fathers owned a condo, here in Vegas that was empty. He agreed to let us stay there rent free for a year. Dad had come to the hotel where we were staying and immediately got us a room in a much nicer, cleaner and less scary hotel, where we stayed until we got a UHaul packed up and ready to come to Vegas.

So, if you've made it this far, I'd be surprised. BTW, the girls father, had 2 more girls from that one girl, plus last I heard he had another child on the way. (This was about 6 years ago, when I was still keeping in touch with one of his sisters)I've gotten one child support check, which the government garnished his wages. How much was the check you ask? Are you sitting down?? You have to be sitting down for this one... the check I received (8 years ago) was for...

32 cents. Umm.. yeah, that's not a typo. I actually have it somewhere in the house so I can frame it. Maybe once I finish going through boxes that haven't been unpacked (we've lived here 5 years and I still have unpacked boxes!) maybe I'll find it and scan it.

That is the story about how we ended up in Vegas. I suppose it could be written better, but I'm sure you get the jist of the whole thing... (I'd left San Fernando Valley a few times before that, moving to various states here and there, but always returned to SFV, until this last time. Might be that I'll share some of those moves and why they happened.)

More pre 9/11 to come. And the picture, she's the real reason I finally left that situation. She doesn't know it (she knows about her father and the things he did to me), what she doesn't know is that she saved my life and I am eternally grateful to her for that. Perhaps, one day I will tell her.