Because Nice Matters

I don't believe nice guys finish last because nice guys always seem to end up the happiest.  How many times have you heard someone say at a funeral "Oh he was the meanest person and so ugly to others, but he had a good life."?

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." Ephesians 4:31-32

I've been told all my life that I'm nice.  I've been told that I'm the nicest person you will ever meet.  I very rarely have people who don't like me (at least that I know of) and it really bothers me when I know someone doesn't.  I know I should have that "I don't care what people think about me" attitude, but I don't.  I am always thinking of what can I do to help someone, or make life easier, or be a person that other people like.  I hate confrontation and don't see a need for it unless its absolutely necessary. 

I've also been told on several occasions that I'm too nice.  I've been told that I need to change who I am so I stop getting hurt.  I need to be meaner, tougher, and more bitchy.  People would tell me "Why are you so nice?  Don't be so nice!  You need to be a B--".  For awhile I thought maybe these people were right.  Maybe I needed to start being one of those mean, crazy girls who treat their man and others like @$*#.  Maybe I need to start adding more drama to my life so others don't take advantage.  And for a short time I was seriously considering a change.  But then I went to a store with my dad and found a sign that summed it all up for me: "Because Nice Matters."

I believe being nice matters.  Today I think it is hard to find truly nice people.  It is rare.  I see my niceness as a strength.  I see that being nice means I am actually stronger than people who are what I call "abrasive". I do not have to hide my feelings behind a personality that shows I'm a "tough guy".  I have no problem being vulnerable.

People ask why I am so nice to Peter after all he has done to hurt me.  And here is the reason: I see no need to be mean.  What's done is done.  We are over.  I do not see how having a lot of drama between the two of us is going to make a good life for Kamry.  I am always thinking of the future and I know Peter.  If I am nice to him, he will be nice to me.  I want to get along with Peter especially after I have seen what Josiah has gone through.  I have seen what parents who are not nice to each other does to a child. It is the last thing I want for my daughter.  I do not want her to cry every time she sees her dad.  I do not want her to not want to be with him.  Research has shown how important a dad is to a child's well-being and self-esteem.  Kamry and Peter have a wonderful relationship.  I would never want to jeopardize my daughter's psychological well-being for my selfish satisfactions.

I refuse to change who I am for someone else.  I refuse to give up being nice to others even if it means I suffer from others' meanness.  I do not believe that I have to be a bitch to have a man love me. I believe the man who truly loves me will love the fact that I am so nice.  He will not see it as way to control or manipulate me, but as a strength I have.  I refuse to stop being nice because I believe nice matters.

Only give up on math

I've been feeling kind of like a Negative Nancy the week.  I know I have been writing about loving myself, being on the way to better things, and being truly happy, but these last few days have been havoc on my soul.  Why you ask?  No reason at all.  Just the way I've been feeling.

When I started writing this blog it made me feel so much better to share my story.  Spring break was a miracle week because I felt the true power of positive thinking and of God.  And then I went back to work.

I noticed on Wednesday of my week back at work that the rush of uncontrollable crying, nausea, and general depressed feeling was back.  The only thing I can think of is that I am not happy with work.  I am not happy with what I do.  Problem is I don't know what I want to do.  I started thinking back to the time in my life that I was really, truly happy.  I know all of you will laugh at this but it was high school.  What?! High school?!  Everybody hated high school right?  Not me.  I had so much fun and I was so happy!  Then, after talking to a friend, I began to get a little scared--did this mean I was one of those girls that peaked in high school?  Oh God, please not!

But no, I don't think that is it either.  What was it?  I began to reminisce.  In high school I volunteered.  I was extremely active in my church.  I was involved with many activities that included my friends.  I belonged to groups.  I was an athlete where I worked out about 2 1/2 hours a day on average.  I went to movies and dances on the weekends.  I went on vacations with my family.  Holidays were big celebrations with lots of decorations.  I loved who I was.

"What we do for ourselves dies with us--what we do for others remains and is immortal." Albert Pike

I do none of that now.  I don't volunteer.  I go to church but just on Sundays.  I have no groups I belong to.  I have friends who I have fun with, but we all have our own lives so spending daily time together is not possible.  I don't work out.  I don't go to movies very often.  I've been made fun of so much about my dancing that I refuse to do it anymore.  I've skipped out on the family vacations over the last 10 years.  I still spend holidays with my family which I will never quit doing.

After realizing that I do none of the things that make me happy it was kind of like an "Oh duh" moment.  In a town the size of San Marcos it gets a little intimidating to get involved, especially since the locals already have such strong bonds with one another.  Also, with it being a college town most people come and go.  While I never want to leave the Catholic faith, I do feel I need to find a new Catholic church.  Mine feels a little too disorganized for my taste. I have been seeing more movies lately.  I hope to find someone who would like to go to dances and maybe even not make fun of me while I'm there.  I have a vacation planned with my family that, even if I have to sell everything I own, I am going.  (Not really--I have been putting money away.) I just need to find where I want to volunteer, particularly somewhere I can take Kamry with me so I don't have to get a baby sitter.  I read taking kids with you to volunteer is a great way to teach them compassion and giving.

"Remember that the happiest people are not the ones getting more, but the ones giving more." H. Jackson Brown Jr.

How do you love yourself again?  How do you become that happy-go-lucky person who's faith and trust are so strong that even the worst news can't shake?  I have no idea.  However, unless its a math problem, I've never been one to give up if I don't know the answer...

 

Double Woman

This blog is probably my most sensitive blog yet.  I've been avoiding writing it because its going to force me to really put myself out there.  I chose to use the term "Double Woman" in my title because I am overweight.

I am overweight.  There.  I said it. Whew!

I know what you may be thinking...Rhea, you are just now figuring out you are overweight?  But you have been overweight for years!  I've known I'm overweight.  I've never admitted to myself that I'm overweight.

I avoid mirrors and pictures that show below the shoulder area.  I've trained myself to avoid looking at my whole self in the mirror--I only look at my face.  I do not go down the mirror isle at Hobby Lobby, or Walmart or anywhere else.  I don't look at my reflection in store doors.  I stretch my neck in pictures so you can't see my double chin.  I sit with something on my stomach (like a pillow, or jacket, or Kamry) so that my rolls are hidden.  I avoid clothing that is too tight or too loose.  (Both make a big person look bigger.)  It took me years to buy skinny jeans and I still have issues wearing them.  Unfortunately sometimes they are all I have clean to wear.  The girl in the mirror and the girl I remember from the past, the one I see in my head, are two different people.



Me in 1999 starting college

I've tried diets.  I've tried Weight Watchers, South Beach, a trainer, pills from the doctor, over-the-counter diet pills, diet and calorie counting apps, and just plain old eating less and exercise.  None have worked.  Usually I can drop about 15 pounds and then it stops.  Well....maybe I stop.  But since June, when I really started trying again, I haven't lost more than 8 pounds.  Do you know what it feels like to work hard, with a trainer mind you, for 2 months and drop 2 pounds?  That's it. 2 pounds.  Even he was stumped.  So I went to the doctor and there are some medical issues (nothing major) that make losing weight an extremely hard challenge for me. (That made me feel a little better.)
I started to think about what was really going on.  I know I have these medical issues but I think my inability to lose weight goes deeper than that.  I know its me.  My weight is my defense mechanism.  This is my irrational thinking that I rationalize with:

I can blame the fact that I'm not married on the fact that I'm fat.  If I lose weight and become skinny and can't find someone to love me then that means there is something wrong with ME.    

Do you know how embarrassing that is to admit?  Do you know what its like walking around with those kinds of thoughts running through your brain constantly?  I've been cheated on in every relationship I've had.  I've been depressed and overweight in every relationship I've had.  They cheated on me because I'm fat right?  At least I hope that is why.  I don't want it to be because there is something wrong with who I am.  I don't want to face the fact that its because I am not good enough.

I AM GOOD ENOUGH.  I know that now.  OK, truthfully some days I know that and other days I'm back to my old way of thinking--that I am unloveable. 

I have noticed that my body is changing.  I've measured and weighed.  No significant loss in either category.  However, my body starting to get its hour glass shape back in my waist.  I'd like to think its because I'm beginning to value myself again. I'm shedding some of the burden I carry with me.  Instead of "weight being lifted off my shoulders" I think its being lifted off my waist. 

I think when overweight people start putting themselves down in front of others, instead of saying "Oh your not fat" (because we know you are lying) or "Your beautiful the way you are" (because we will never feel that way) people should say something to the effect of "You are worth more than you let yourself be."  Overweight people are not overweight because they are gluttons; many, many times people are overweight because of some deeper issue that no one else understands.

And, for goodness sakes skinny people, stop telling overweight people things such as "If you just exercise for 30 minutes a day" or "Just eat less" or (the worst) "I'm so fat" while you stand there in your size 6 skinny jeans and small/medium shirt.   Thats just asking for a slap in the face.  Which sometimes I wish was legal to do. 

 

 

My mistakes...

I want to make very clear that this is not a blog meant to bash Peter.  It is not meant to be one of those "all men are pigs" kinds of things.  This is a blog meant to allow my thoughts, feelings, and journey be shared with others.  It is a healing tool, not a destroying machine. 

This blog is not always going to be pretty.  The truth is not always pretty. Of course I'm going to put in little comments here and there about/to Peter that may not be very nice. But you can ask him--I say not-so-nice things straight to his face. I know if he ever reads this there are parts he is not going to like. Thats just too bad. I will make sure to share my mistakes too.

I do blame Peter for his choices.  He could have and should have made better choices.  He had many chances to get over his fear of sharing his emotions and just be honest with me. Our relationship ending the way it did was his fault.  Our relationship falling apart was both of our faults.  I do not completely blame Peter for our relationship.  This is hard for me to admit because I'm never wrong (wink, wink) but here are things I did wrong:

1) I didn't listen to Peter.  Right after I had Kamry I was sure Peter was going to propose. (It took him a year and month after her birth.)  I thought it would be a nice surprise and he knew how badly I wanted to get married.  I just didn't know how badly he didn't want to get married.  Peter said many, many times over the course of our relationship that he didn't want to get married.  He would say things like "I don't ever see myself as married."  "I don't want to get married." "I like things the way they are.  Why do we have to change if its working?"  I just dismissed these statements as him trying to get under my skin.  Sometimes they would make me cry and then he would say he was just kidding or he didn't really mean it.  But I think he just did that to make me feel better.  He really was trying to tell me his feelings but I wouldn't listen.  What woman wants to hear "I don't want to get married."?  It became obvious to me after we postponed the wedding but couldn't decide on a date that it was never really going to happen.  It was then I started to listen and I was sad.

2) I gave most of the power to Peter.  Then I would get mad about it.  I don't mean he "ruled" over me.  I mean, I hardly made any decisions.  He would ask things as simple as "Where do you want to eat?" and I wouldn't pick.  I was so worried about picking a place he didn't like that my answer would most of the time would be "Wherever you want."  Many times where he picked I didn't want to go. ( But, hey, I'm a people-pleaser and I want to make sure I make everyone else happy.)    Then I would just fume inside about how it was always what he wanted.  I would yell in our fights.  "Its always your way!"...but of course its always going to be his way when I don't stand up for what I want.

3) I ignored the warning signs.  The last two months of our relationship I began to pray really, really hard.  This was my prayer: "Lord, if Peter is cheating on me let me find out now with evidence so I can get out of this."  Now how sad of a prayer is that?  That tells me that deep in my heart I knew. Over the years of our relationships there were other text messages and strange amounts of time Peter would be "missing", but never anything concret.  I knew and I chose to ignore.  I am grateful God answered that prayer though.

Peter and I have a good relationship now.  I can actually be in the same room with him now and not want to punch him in the face.  We are friends and we do what we both feel is best for Kamry. I think we get along better now than we ever did during our relationship. Oh, we still fight, mostly over holidays.  After we fight we usually come to an agreement we can both live with.  I once read a quote that said something like "If a couple remains friends after they break up it means they were never really in love or they still are."  I believe Peter and I were never really "in love".  We loved and cared for each other, but we weren't in love. 

There is a difference between being in love and love.   I am now going to practice what I preach--I have to be in love with myself before I can be in love with anyone.  I can't wait to fall completely, hopelessly, and wonderfully in love with myself.

Not a good day

Today was not a good day for me.  I've come to accept that not every day is going to be a good day for me, no matter how positive I am when I wake up.  I have been feeling so happy lately that having a bad day today made the depression start to creep back up inside.  I describe it as a feeling of drowning.  You know when you swim a little too far down and then your rushing to the top and you feel like your lungs are going to burst?  Then you hit the surface just in time and get that glorious rush of air to fill your lungs?  That is what depression is like to me.  I feel like I'm sinking and I actually take deep breaths of air to fill my lungs back up.  Its weird, but it pushes the depression feeling out of my chest and I'm OK once again.

I had a financial set back today.  Financial problems are a huge issue for me and I'm trying so hard to get a grip on them.  So when I was on the phone with guy and he told me there was nothing they could do to help me the tears welled up.  I couldn't speak for a few minutes.  And when he said "I"m sorry to be the bearer of bad news," I couldn't hold it together any longer.  The tears overflowed.  Big, fat, warm tears.  I could barely speak to him.  Then I was angry for crying on the phone to a complete stranger about something that was my own fault.  He was nice enough to extend my deadline by two days to reach payday.  So we hung up on a good note.  I got myself under control and began to immediately think about my plan of action.  This was not the end of the world, nor was it going to break me. (This is not my usual way of thinking.)

That is one of my problems.  I treat every obstacle as complete and utter devastation to my life.  I have had to teach myself an alternative way of thinking.  Setbacks and obstacles are a part of life.  I will get through them.  I came up with a Plan A, a Plan B, and not sure yet if I have a Plan C because I'm really hoping A or B works out.  I began to execute plan A already.  It looks like its going to work out, but until its fully executed I cannot feel safe.

No, today was not a good day.  I don't know if tomorrow will be a good day.  But my Plan A for tomorrow is "Its going to be a good day."  And Plan B is "If its not a good day, how am I going to handle it?"  And Plan C is "Oh my God my world is crashing and I'm a complete and utter failure."

I'm pretty sure tomorrow that Plan A or B will work out just fine. :-)

God and Me

I have to be honest--most of the time I feel ignored by God.  I am afraid and I have been on the brink of losing my faith.

When I am afraid, I will trust in you.  Psalm 56:3

These past few years have not been good to my emotional self.  I have never once blamed God or got angry with him for it.  I know that it is my fault...I have done this to myself.  But I have prayed and prayed for his help.  I get little glimpses of it here and there but I haven't gotten full-on help.  I have felt almost like a disconnect with God...like I can't get close to him.  It feels like there is a brick wall between my heart and Him.  I can't fully trust him and give control over to him.  Until a few weeks ago. 

In Mass Father's sermon was about letting go of the sins of jealousy and envy.  He said it is useless to be jealous and envious of others because God makes each of us exactly how he wants us to be.  To want to be like someone else is wasting time and energy because we weren't meant to be like anyone else.  I felt like God was speaking to me because I was doing exactly that--being jealous and envious of others because they had what I didn't.  Why haven't I found my husband but others have?  Why did I get cheated on when I'm a good person?  Why was I still paying for an apartment, struggling paycheck to paycheck when others aren't?  Why was I overweight and others get to be skinny?  Why do I have to be unhappy in my job but others aren't?  Why do I have to be unhappy at all?

Why can't I?  Why don't I? No fair!...I was constantly saying these words to myself.  There are many times I found myself even wishing Kamry was different.  Why can't my child sit still like that child?  Why can't my child behave like those children?  Why can't my child eat veggies like other good little children do? Why can't my child have long straight hair like other little girls?

After that sermon it dawned on me...I don't want Kamry to be like other children.  I love how energetic she is.  I'm glad I don't have a child who I have to fight to leave the TV.  I love that overall Kamry is a good little girl who cares about people very much.  She is always saying other people are her friends.  When she sees someone upset in books, movies, or real life she says "Aww, they are crying" and I can tell she feels for them.  And even though I fight the veggie fight with her, Kamry eats a whole bunch of dairy and fruits which are also very important to her diet.  I've quit wanting her to be like others and have started appreciating her for who she is.

As for me, its a different story.  I have started appreciating myself a little more but its hard.  I've tried relentlessly to stop wishing my life was like others'.  I still have days where I toil with this.  Although I've improved because I'm happier.  I feel myself being happier.

Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.Psalms 37:5

My relationship with God is stronger.  I am listening to him.  I feel that gap between us growing smaller; the bricks are coming down one by one.  I'm giving up control to him daily.  God has spoken to me in the last few months. I'm paying attention.  Here is what he has said:

I was frustrated with my job and wanted to leave.  Like right in the middle of February.  Well, as a teacher you can't just up and leave a job unless you never want to have a job teaching again.  I was looking at other schools and wishing I could just walk out, move to another town and start teaching.  When I left school that day I got into my car I was about to cry.  I was so mad that I had to wait until summer to make changes.  All of a sudden, for no reason at all, my visor clip fell into my lap.  It was strange because it has never moved in the 5 years I've had it clipped up there.  I picked it up to put it back on my visor and read it.  It was my favorite prayer--The Serenity Prayer.  I smiled and relaxed.  I looked up out my windshield and said "OK God.  I will wait.  You have the control."  And then and there I decided that whatever path I'm supposed to take professionally will happen.  I leave it up to God.

Since January I've had the urge to write.  I would lay down at night and voice would tell me "You need to write.  You need to share your story.  You want to be a writer and I have given you a story.  Go write."  I didn't listen.  I fought the urge every night because I was too lazy.  When Lent came around for the first time I didn't want to give up chocolate or sodas like I usually do.  I found those to be meaningless.  I wanted to give up something that meant a true sacrifice on my part.  So I gave up being lazy and procrastination.  And it has been HARD.  But it has been the most rewarding Lent I've ever experienced.  I don't sit around anymore wishing my life was different.  I'm getting up and DOING something about it.  I have gotten my apartment cleaned and organized.  I have starting teaching Kamry responsibility.  I have gotten my work done with time to spare.  I can actually enjoy time relaxing.  But it takes a lot of work.   And I've got this blog going.  Writing has been wonderful to my soul and my healing.  No wonder God was telling me to do it!

I still have a long journey of healing before me.  I have a lot faith building to do.  I take comfort in knowing that right now, during this really tough time in my life, God is carrying me....

                  



Josiah

I miss JoJo.

Josiah is Peter's son.  We found out Peter had a son shortly after Peter and I started dating.  It has been a rough 4 years where Josiah is concerned.  Oh how I still love him.



Josiah turns 4.  We had a Toy Story swimming party.

In losing my relationship I lost Josiah too.  Even though some people don't believe me, losing Josiah feels like I lost a child.  I do mourn for him and sometimes I even cry.  After Peter and I broke up I began to separate myself from Josiah just because his mother is so unpredictable. I was afraid that if he was in my care (without Peter) something would happen and I would be blamed.  I couldn't risk my job and Kamry over false allegations.  So I had to become very strict where Josiah was concerned.  Peter took this to mean I didn't love him anymore. 



My all-time favorite picture of Josiah. 
 

This past month has been very hard on me where Josiah is concerned.  His mother, out of the blue, has changed her phone number and has not contacted either me or Peter with her new information.  It like Josiah has completely disappeared from our lives.  This is very hard for me where Kamry is concerned because she loves him so much and misses him.  She asks for "JoJo" often and I'm not really sure what to say to her.  I'm angry.
I'm angry because that after years of Josiah's mother accusing Peter and I of not caring about Josiah I've realized that she is the one who does not care.  She does not care that Josiah has a sister.  She doesn't care about Kamry at all.  She only let Josiah see Kamry for about 2 minutes when Kamry was first born.  She wouldn't let him attend Kamry's first birthday, she made Kamry miss out on several holidays with Josiah, she doesn't have Josiah call his sister, and the last time Kamry was around Josiah he would have nothing to do with her.  It hurts my heart for Kamry.  Yet every birthday Josiah had, every holiday, every milestone Josiah had, and even Josiah's little brother's birthday, I would make an effort to acknowledge it by calling.  Every time she asked me to make a cake or help with the goodies for class or even to come meet his teacher I did as she asked.  And now she has taken Josiah away completely, with no warning, and most of all, with no goodbye.

 

Josiah was a sweet boy who said silly things and desperately wanted attention.  He was scared to swim but I worked with him so he could learn.  He hated broccoli but would eat it anyway because I tried so hard to make sure he had veggies.  He was helpful and caring and loved his little sister.  He was always wanting to buy things for her at the store.  He loves the library and to read books.  He likes to dance and loves zombies.  He loves Angry Birds, his little brother, and his grandpa's ears (at least that is what he told me.)  He hated to sleep alone and loved pizza.  He will always have a special place in my heart.

 

I hope that someday when Josiah and Kamry are older they can be friends.  I hope they can both understand that they were loved deeply by all of us adults.  And mostly I pray that they forgive the mistakes of all their parents.

 

 

 

Single Mom

I want to explain my choice of title for this blog and first is single mom.  I am a single mom.  I find being a single mom surprising because it isn't as hard as I thought it was going to be.  I was really sad when I realized why.  I had already been doing it all along.

Peter is a great dad, don't get me wrong.  He loves Kamry with all his heart; he will do anything for her.  Sometimes I wished he would have put as much energy into our relationship as he did to Kamry.  Once I tried to tell him that he loved Kamry more than me.  He called me jealous and made me feel really bad for ever thinking or saying such a thing.  I was trying to tell him in order for our relationship to work we had to put each other first.  I've heard over and over again that the key to a successful relationship is putting God first, each other second, and the children third.  I tried explaining that doesn't mean we should ignore her or that I should always get my way before her.  I tried telling him that couples who only focus on their children usually don't make it because once the children are gone they have nothing in common any more.  He didn't get it.  He still doesn't.

I realized that I had really been a single mom all along about a month after Peter moved out.  I was giving Kamry a bath after doing dinner and dishes.  I was watching her play and that is when it dawned on me.  This was my life: While I was at work Peter was home watching Kamry.  When I got home (from a long day at a job that I hated) I would start cleaning up the house.  Peter and Kamry usually left it a mess and then I did most of the cleaning.  Peter used to love to announce to me that he mopped that day and get upset with me when I didn't notice on my own.  He mopped.  That was it.  All day.  And I was supposed to make sure I noticed?  Sometimes I wanted to punch him.

After I picked up the house I would start dinner.  Peter either laid on the couch or went to the gym.  I know, I know...your asking yourself "Wait! How can he feel OK to work out but his back hurt too much to find a job?"  I asked myself that question all the time.  I asked him.  He said working out never really hurt his back because he didn't use his back.  I know...I know....stupid answer.

Anyway, after dinner I would do all the dishes with no help (we had no dishwasher), give Kamry a bath, and put her to bed.  And I did all this by myself while he watched TV, or was gone at the gym, or across the street at his cousin's house.  When we moved to the apartment it was the same way.  Except he would be at the gym or on the couch. 

I find three things hard about being a single mom. 
1) Babysitters.  I find it hard to get someone to watch Kamry when I need it.  I don't have enough money to pay someone on a regular basis, his family is not always avaliable, and my family is far away.  And most of the time I really just need someone to watch her for like an hour so I can run errands.  Running errands with a 3 year old is not always fun. I do have to compliment Peter because he does help me by watching her when he can. 
2) Conversation.  When we sit down to dinner it is difficult to have a conversation with a 3 year old.  We talk about school, coloring, and what her friends did that day.  When I start to talk about my day Kamry will usually interrupt me.  Its like she was never listening to me to begin with.  Sometimes it gets very lonely.
 3) Guilt.  I feel a lot of guilt about Kamry growing up in a split home.  And I feel a lot of guilt when I want to go out and enjoy myself without her.  I try to go out (and I mean like happy hour) only when its "Peter's weekend" so I don't have to feel so much guilt.  Feeling guilty is the worst part.

Most days I'm extremely happy its just me and Kamry.  I love being able to make decisions based on what I want instead of worrying about another person.  I think that means I really didn't love Peter as much as I thought I did.  I mean, I think I would mourn for our relationship more than I do.  Oh, believe me, I suffer from depression.  But I'm discovering my depression and mourning is because I lost a person very dear to my heart.  I lost me.

Kamry Kay

I found out I was pregnant on May 19, 2009.  It was a happy but depressing day.  I was happy because I had a little baby growing inside of me.  But I was sad and depressed for many reasons.  One--I was was not married.  I was having this child out of wedlock, which is something I NEVER wanted for myself or my children.  Two--my parents.  They were going to flip out.  And they did.  I will save that for another post.  Three--I felt really stupid.  Here I was 28, unmarried, and pregnant.  That was only supposed to happen to teenagers who were dumb.  But I had no choice...I was going to be a mom.

My pregnancy went well.  We found out it was a girl and I was so relieved.  I wanted girl.  (In fact, I want two more and then I'm good.) On January 8, 2010 my beautiful Kamry Kay came into this world.

Being a mom is so wonderful that the word wonderful doesn't even begin to describe it. In fact I don't like the words wonderful, fabulous, great, fantastic or awesome because none of those are worthy of describing the feeling of being a mom.  I think the only word to describe being a mom is love.  Unconditional, everlasting, whole-hearted love. The moment they placed her in my arms there was a feeling that washed over me that I will never be able to put into words.

Many times I question if I am a good mom.  (Especially now that Kamry is 3 and I'm learning how hard the age of 3 is.) I remember I was watching Supernanny one time and there was a couple, especially the mom, having a trouble with their kids.  Nanny said it boiled down to the fact that the mother didn't know her children.  She didn't know her children's favorite color, their favorite foods, or what they liked to do for fun.  She stood there looking at her children like they were strangers.  I remember thinking how sad it was and that I would always know my children.  I will know Kamry inside and out.

Kamry loves to be tickled.  She loves the colors purple and pink and anything to do with princesses.  She loves "macanoni and cheese" and donuts.  She loves bubbles, Dora the Explorer, and Cinderella.  She does not like green beans and I think I'm losing the battle with broccoli.  She does not like hang nails and will "rescue" anyone who has one.  She has beautiful brown eyes that show absolute concern and love when she is worried about you.  And when she sees you crying she will crawl into your lap, stroke your cheek with the back of her hand, and tell you "Its OK Mommy.  I love you." and then snuggle into your chest.

Yes, I think I know my daughter.  She has become my sidekick.  We do pretty much everything together.  I've started a chore chart with her which I have found that it has done two things: 1) She is starting to learn a routine and expectations.  2) I'm getting help around here because I have learned I can't do it all by myself. 

I love my baby girl.  I know it is cliche, but its true--she is solely what keeps me going.  Every decision I make I first think about what kind of example do I want to be for her.  I have to be the kind of woman I want her to grow up to be.  And that idea alone has taught me more about relationships than any amount of years I have spent in one.

July 25th

I became a single mom on July 25, 2012.  That is the offical day Peter and I broke up because I found the text messages.  I had a feeling something was going on with him because you just get a feeling.  (Ask anyone who has ever been cheated on...you just know.)  My friend had been coming over and spending time with us and I thought her and Peter flirted but I couldn't be sure.   I really never thought she would do anything like that to me; someone she called her "dearest friend." 

To start at the very beginning, Peter had back surgery in 2010 and claimed that the bed hurt his back. So for two years of our relationship he slept on the couch.  At first that wasn't a big deal but then it started to bother me.  We would get into big fights about it.  I would tell him I missed him and felt like we weren't as close because we didn't share a bed.  He yelled and said it had nothing to do with his love for me, it was all his back.  But yet after I would leave for work he would go climb in the bed and sleep the rest of the morning.  I soon gave up.

In June I tried to talk to him to tell him something was wrong with our relationship and maybe we needed to go to counseling.  I told him I was not happy and I didn't feel like we were close anymore.  He got so angry!  He yelled and told me nothing was wrong and that we were perfectly fine.  We had already done some couple's therapy but it was because of some stuff he went through with his son's mother, so we mostly talked about how the difficulties of issues with his son affected us.  He told me we had already done therapy and we didn't need anymore.  I gave up.

Then in late July my sister came to visit with her two kids.  We had Peter's son with us so it was me and her and four kids.  We had a blast.  We went swimming, made and decorated sugar cookies, watched movies and just had  really good time.  On July 24, 2012 Peter was at work and texted me about 10:30 p.m. saying he had to finish some paperwork and it was going to take awhile but that he would be home later.  My sister and I were planning my rehersal dinner and changing it up to be completely better than the first dinner I had planned.  Then Peter got home about 12:30 a.m.  I had dinner for him even though it was late.  He acted completely normal.  I had no idea he had just been at her house for the last two hours.  He did take a shower as soon as he got home before he ate which I thought was kind of strange but didn't say anything. 

The next morning I woke up early to Peter's phone alarm going off.  (I should have known something was up because he NEVER let his phone out of his possession.)  I went into the bathroom to turn it off and when I did the text messages were open.  I could only see her name the words "hey baby..." and I remember thinking "What?".  So I opened the message and read.  And my heart dropped.  I started breathing really hard as I realized what was going on.  And I was pissed.  I'm talking ready-to- beat-the-shit-out-of-him angry.  And I'm like the nicest person in the world.

I woke him up, made him come to the room, and confronted him.  Since I didn't want to let my sister and her family hear, I screamed at him the loudest whisper possible.  Its kind of funny if you think about it now.  Being only able to scream at someone in a whisper.  Its an oxymoron.  I'd like to think I was actually screaming so loud that only dogs could hear me, but that wasn't the case.  He was trying to deny it.  I wouldn't let him.  He took the phone from me and started to erase the messages.  I grabbed it from him and we got into a wrestling match over the phone.  We fell onto the bed, me on top of him.  We stopped wrestling and I said "No. No Peter.  I am NOT crazy. I am NOT stupid. And I KNOW what I read is true.  You are sleeping with her!" He just kept saying "No. No. It was nothing and you are wrong."  I started to get off of him and he tried hugging me.  I let him for a second because was holding on to me so tight.  Then I pulled up away from him and I said "I hope she was worth losing your family." 

I've never seen him so vulnerable as I did in that moment.  And in that exact moment I had never felt so strong.

Psyc majors don't get depressed!

I once heard that people go into a job that really is meant for their own personal issues.  I knew a sex therapist who, from what I heard, could of used some sex therapy herself.  And I thought the person who told me this was crazy.  So when I finally figured out that I went into Psychology to figure out my own behavior, and not so much because I thought behavior was facinating, you can imagine my suprise.  Everybody has boughts of depression.  Espcially women and especially around that oh-so-special time of the month.  And even though I had a degree in Psychology and I know the signs of depression, I thought "There is no way I'm depressed.  See I'm happy.  I'm fine."  Until one day I couldn't control it any longer.

Depression has other ways to show itself other than just being "sad" or wanting to eat a whole bunch of chocolate (which I did both).  Depression shows up in your work, in your moods, in your health, and in your soul.  It affects not only you but all those around you.  And I know you all know this.  But while I think everyone knows this, the person with depression does not.  At least, I didn't.  Denial is a huge part of depression.

It started back in May.  I remember because I didn't have a period and it worried me because I never miss.  And I knew I wasn't pregnant because I wasn't doing anything with my fiance at the time that could get me pregnant.  But I was nauseous every day.  A wave of nausea would wash over me at least once a day, any time of the day.  Then came the tears.  I would tear up at anything.  It could be a Hallmark comerical (which is normal to tear up about) or a toilet bowl commercial (which is not normal.)  I remember hearing a comerical about laser hair removal and tearing up because the person talking was saying how wonderful it was.  And then I remember thinking "What the hell is wrong with me?"

In June I finally got my period and thought I was in the clear.  But the nausea and the tearing up wouldn't stop.  And the anxiety was starting to set in.  (Anxiety and depression symptoms are so close that many times they are experienced together.  I had already been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder years before, but hadn't had an attack in years.)  I couldn't figure out what was wrong so I chalked it up to me being an emotional, sensitive person.  And when I told my doctor he didn't seem too concerned.

Then in July I found out my fiance was cheating on me.  With my friend.  With my friend who would come over and hang out with us.  My friend who spent time with my daughter.  My friend who I though it was really weird how she was so insistent one time to go swimming because she wanted to wear her new swim suit which was a skimpy bikini.  I figured out later is was because she wanted to wear it in front of him.  Ugh....

Anyway, that story is for another time.  It is now March and I have just now figured out all this that I'm experiencing is depression, not anxiety.  And it is hard because I don't wanna be depressed.  I can manage it--so far.  I'm terrified of falling so deep I can't get out.  So that is why I'm writing...as an outlet.  I feel my story needs to be shared because so many experience the same thing.  Everybody wants to bash on the cheater and tell the cheatee "You will find someone new", "You were too good for him", and "Don't worry, it will get better", but no one wants to talk about the pain, the crying, the self blame, the whining, the defeat, and most of all the deep, deep bottomless pit of sadness that feels like your drowning....