“The soul has no secret that the behaviour does not reveal” Lao Tzu
That is exactly how I felt last night. I was invited over John’s house for dinner with him, Jamie and John’s “girl” Ana. The setting was beautiful as the Christmas decorations were in the process of being displayed. On the table awaited our most delicious Caprice salads, (and I felt so bad when I saw John’s face from my not eating tomatoes) while John seared Tuna Steaks outside on the grill. Everything was wonderful except for me. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t enjoy myself and I couldn’t stop the volcano of emotions erupting inside my head. Just the slightest comment was all it took to push me over the edge and let go of the tears I spent the entire evening pretending to suppress.
My emotional weight has been incredibly heavy over the past few weeks and I’ve done everything imaginable to get to the source. Instead, I found myself sad when circumstances are happy and angry when I have no reason to even feel upset. I tried yoga, meditation, eating chocolate, orgasm, exercise, talking to friends; everything I would suggest to someone asking me for help. Still I can’t hide the frustration.
In attempt to get to the root of my melancholy state I began to construct this blog post. Formatting my paragraphs inside my head while I reflected on every thought. Hoping to process my reaction to the thoughts.
When one begins the journey to their higher self. Renovations need to happen, walls get knocked down and memories that were hidden deep into your cerebral suddenly are set free. When you set those imprinted emotions free, you physically have to feel the emotion again. So if the memory was happy, you’ll sense a euphoric feeling when you uncover that once lost moment. But if the memory is sad, you too become sad. Until you face whatever it is you are hiding, that sadness will linger.
Lately everything is upsetting me. I’m frustrated with work, and my finances. I’m irritated with rental cars. I’m unwilling to follow through with anything and my resentment towards my children makes me ashamed to even admit it. They want, need and deserve so much and I’m only one person. I want to write, I want to paint, I want to spend hours do nothing but exploring the world with my children. I need to relax, I want fun, I have to work…. I go to work and lets say I meet an asshole, I use every bit of my positive energy to erase him from my aura and start over. Seven hours later in 7 inch stilettos, after 3 people have tried to touch under my underwear or asked me “what goes on in the champagne room?” I’m emotionally spent and aggravated with my job and feel I’m not compensated enough for the energy I put in. Then I get pissed at the girls who so easily sell their bodies and their souls and have it all. I’m struggling to maintain my morals, sending compassion to the women who don’t have it for themselves. Yet I see them with what I just can’t get to and I wonder “It’s just sex, I did it with my husband when I didn’t want to” and that thought makes me angry with myself. I love my life traveling, but I’m tired of my suitcase and I miss having a closet. I’m hard on myself when I know I should be reading with the boys but I just need an hour of sleep. All these emotions weren’t here 4 weeks ago. There was a trigger and until my drive to John’s house, I was unaware of what that was.
It was a phone call from Gabriel, my son, while I was camping at Boyd’s during the Key West power boat races. The day started with rain and I had put all of Heather and my blankets into the car. It was pouring and the tent my dad lent me didn’t have a rain guard. Already frustrated because Heather and I had just had a conversation about cutting our losses and leaving the races due to repetitive bad nights. It’s pouring rain, I ‘m sitting in the car burning sage to clear my mood and my phone rings. Gabe is nervous and doesn’t want to tell me why. He says, “Did dad tell you?” I’m like, “tell me what?” and he goes, “Nevermind”. Now i’m irritated with him because I hate when people say nevermind. It’s like dangling chocolate in front of a women on her “Red Dragon”!!! I make him tell me and I find out that my ex husband and father of my children just introduced them to his new girlfriend. That wouldn’t be a big deal for a normal ex. Not mine. This is number four and he just left the last one a month ago after my kids spent the summer with them and her son. Another girlfriend wouldn’t be so bad either because I do want him to be happy. I recently just complimented him on his current employment. I told him that I’m so glad he’s doing something that makes him happy. And then I’m smacked in the face with this. She’s 19. 19 and pregnant. I don’t feel an emotion right away and I do my best to say the right things to Gabriel. The phone call ends and I smoke myself to sleep with a serenade of rain pouring on the hood of my rental car, a meditation mantra cd of shanti mantras, sage and nag champa burning in the ac vent. The windows are cracked so the fresh rain scent allows me to breathe just enough without causing the rain to soak my skin. My Ganesha statue that I received as a gift from my dear friend Jayesh sits on my dashboard. The emotion is instantly locked away and buried so fast I never knew it affected me. I was proud of myself for dealing with that so well. I even woke up to a rainbow over the crystal clear turquoise sea on the beach of our ocean front campsite.
A few days later Gabriel called me again. This time he says, “Dad wants to know if you’re going to put anything in your blog.” Apparently he is concerned about his ex girlfriend finding out before he could say anything to her himself. I had a few sarcastic comments but I was in control enough to only say them in the privacy of my own thoughts. Instead I told him to tell his father, “mom says not my monkies, not my circus”. I didn’t understand why he was concerned about my blog when he just put a picture on Instagram of the new girl with the kids? It didn’t make any sense to me and I again brushed it off.
I did talk to my closest friends about it. I didn’t call my family because they get all worked up and every time insist I take him back to court to get child support. I’m entitled they say. I tell them the same thing everytime, “you can’t get blood from a turnip”. When I got divorced I insisted on having full rights and responsibilities in exchange for my complete freedom! I wanted nothing in return and I denied child support. For 10 years I watched him not pay child support to the previous ex-wife. Always justifying it by stating, we were broke and needed our money for living expenses. Saying things like, she has plenty of money and my daughter is fine…he’d go on by boasting she’s taking vacations and shopping, she doesn’t need to take our money when we need to buy food. I would see his point. When people asked me why he didn’t pay child support to his ex, I’d explain it the way he explained it to me and I would make them believe what I chose to believe.
For as long as I can remember I made excuses for him. I told myself that I would love him unconditionally and no matter what happened I wanted him to be happy. So every time something hurt me, I locked it away and tried to control my emotions. I tried to love myself by setting him free. It worked. I did set him free. I no longer am in love with him. When he does something that used to hurt me, I only feel sad for him. I do want him to be happy and I do want him to have a successful relationship. I believe we all deserve that but will never have that until we clean out and face all of our own shit.
I thought I was angry because just when I might have gotten a tiny bit of financial help, the Universe says just kidding. Knowing he now has a job he likes gave me hope. That is something I thought would never happen. I thought I was angry because I still believed he would start helping when he could…..and once again he can’t.
Now he has to take care a of a child having a child. The reality that I’m completely alone, like for real alone finally hits me. Over the past 3 years when anyone asked me about my ex and his character… I always respond by saying something along the lines of, “He’s going through a really hard time right now. I know how hard it is to find yourself and his happiness is more important than money. I know that when he is able to help, he will. Right now, he is just struggling.” They all roll their eyes. Every single one of them. Again, I’m making excuses for him. Deep down inside I know it’s a crock of shit. I want to be positive. Thinking positive creates positive and if I believe it, than it will be.
Do you know how fucking exhausting that thought process is? The power of manifestation is the most amazing thing I have witnessed and experienced myself. But sometimes, It’s really exhausting when you have an ex like mine.
All of a sudden everything that didn’t bother me is bothering me.
Then I have my aha realization and I force myself to go all the way back. Find the hidden rooms concealing every pain I’ve captured and locked away. Pains I couldn’t release because I never allowed myself to feel them. I denied the reality and created my delusion. My delusion was safe and my excuses made sense. I can’t keep them hidden anymore because someone knocked on the door and woke everyone up. So I went into my subconscious blazing and began kicking down the walls hiding my skeletons. Confronting them one at a time. First I have to face them, and then I have to feel them. One by one. That’s the only way to finally be free.
I’m feeling and reliving every excuse I pretended to believe and every pain I denied its presence
2003 He’s married to his ex-wife but just came back from Iraq. We had exchanged letters the entire year during Operation Iraqi Freedom. We fell in love. He wanted to leave his wife for me. We went back and forth about what’s right and what we should do. He ended up on my doorstep during military leave when he left his wife after an argument they had over sex. I showed him my world and when he cracked, I always blamed myself. I would say to myself that something must have happened in Iraq that he doesn’t talk about and maybe my lifestyle is too much for him. I quit for him. I didn’t want to quit. I wasn’t ready to give it all up but I loved him and he couldn’t handle my life. We once went to a swingers club because it was something my girlfriends and I enjoyed. I wanted to wow him with my life but instead it gave him an impression of me he was unable to let go of. I normally wouldn’t partake in the festivities when we’d frequent Trapeze. The swingers club that my girlfriends and I liked to go to after work on occasions. I would enjoy watching. That particular night I brought my ex, we all had a little too much to drink and everyone had touched some part of everyone else. Him and I ended up getting into an argument and I tried to prove I didn’t care so the next morning, Not having slept yet, I told him I wanted him to sleep with my roommate. I told him to do it and when he actually did. I was pissed. I couldn’t tell him I was pissed so I locked it away. Telling myself it was my fault because I asked him to do it. Everytime we’d ever argue about anything related….I knew he thought he loved a slut, only because I chose to be honest.
2004 I’ve left my life in Miami and moved into his house in Fayetteville, North Carolina. He’s still married to his ex-wife and going through a divorce. I later find that she was unaware of that divorce at the time. I’m playing the role of army wife and silently missing my friends and life back in Miami. I miss dancing but would never admit that. I miss going out of the house now that I sit inside his home all day long preparing for him to come home. Only for him to come home and bitch about everything that didn’t go his way during his day. I pretend not to miss my life and make the best of our life. I’m pregnant and his mother warned me not to hurt her boy. I can’t get help because he is married to his wife and the military doesn’t take adultery lightly. I have to go back to Florida to apply for Medicaid because I am ineligible for Tricare. But I get to see my friends so I’m happy. I come back to Ft. Bragg after I now have insurance and our arguments continue. We are both stressed and scared and he is worried about his career. We agree to get an abortion after discussing it for 16 weeks. I couldn’t have a regular abortion like the one I had before. When I was 18 in Miami. They put you to sleep and you wake up with a very heavy period and light cramping. I was 16 weeks with this child. We both wanted the baby but neither could imagine going through with it. We drove to a facility in Raleigh, North Carolina. The closest one that performed terminations at that late in the pregnancy. Neither of us had the money for the procedure so I asked one of my regular customers if he would pay for my abortion. He always gave me way more than the amount every time he used to visit my club so he was more than happy to help. After I signed all the legal documents, I’m given two pills. One that causes the babies heart to stop. The other to induce labor and make your cervix start dilating. I had a fraction of a second to not take those pills and instead chose to feel no emotion and just swallow. A decision I never forgave myself for. I studied spirituality and found peace with believing that some souls serve a purpose. That some babies were never meant to be born. That everything happens for a reason and this was a life lesson we needed to experience. After I swallowed the pill that ended my would have been childs life, they had me sit in a room with everyone else suffering the same sense of self-hatred and remorse. When it was my turn to go back he kissed me on my forehead and told me we were doing the right thing. I didn’t believe him but I told myself I did. I don’t think he believed himself either. Now I’m laying on the table with my legs strapped to the stirrups. They strap you down because they don’t administer anesthesia for this operation, but you are given gas to numb the pain. So the straps are there so you don’t kick the doctor basically. They said you only feel a little pinching and it doesn’t hurt too bad. That was a lie. After the babies heart stops and it is officially dead. They have to cut the fetus up small enough in order to remove it through my half dilated cervix. It hurt like hell and I felt every bone break and every cut. I couldn’t cry because I didn’t want to accept this wasn’t the right thing to do. I focused on breathing through the pain and trying not to think. I remember telling the doctor to stop after the first bone broke and he, with the most sympathetic voice said, “ma’am it’s too late. Your baby is already gone. You have to relax so we can remove all of the fetus or you could risk getting an infection.” I wanted to cry. Instead I locked it away. We went to Applebees for lunch afterwards and neither of us said much. We agreed that we should take this time to focus on us and building our relationship…looking at this as a second chance.
One week later, he need space.
I was smothering him was his excuse when he broke up with me. It was the 4th of July and I was driving to Ft. Myers to watch fireworks on the canal at my grandmas house. I cried from Lakeland, Florida all the way to Cape Coral while my best friend Kristen drove in silence.
I blamed it on the abortion and told everyone who asked me what happen that he was depressed and couldn’t handle it. That fact was true. It took a serious toll on him. One that almost caused him to take his life later on.
Many times I made excuses for his actions. Too many painful experiences I muscled through and pretended didn’t bother me. They are all coming back to me in the form of sadness and anger triggered by this new baby.
I’m angry because I know he thinks I make enough money and the boys are ok. That reality is true. They don’t go without. I provide for their every need but I’m breaking myself down in the process. Trying to find balance and make it all work in a way that makes everyone happy. I was ok doing everything when I thought he was trying to do something for his future that would fulfill his life. Something that would in turn allow him to finally live up to a promise he once made to help when he could. It’s only fair as I’ve fulfilled my promise to never take the children away from him and to allow visits whenever he is in town.
Now I’m not ok
The reality hits me on the way to dinner with my friends last night. I’m not ok because he does need to help. Women all over the world get help from exes whether they have new spawn or not. If he can make a baby than he damn sure can support the ones he’s already made. I caught myself making excuses for him. Telling myself he will need his money because babies are expensive. I planned to be supportive when we talked. Whenever that is because I haven’t spoken to him in months. My son plays middle man telling me what dad says and that makes me angry. He’s too young for that burden and that’s why I hide my emotion and answer diplomatically.
Then yesterday came the straw that broke the camels back.
Gabe says dad wants to know where they are spending Christmas. They’re spending Christmas with their grandma and grandpa because I need to go work since I can’t afford Christmas. My rental car needs renewed on the 20th so I’m letting grandma provide the magic while I spend Christmas making some cash. I was ok with this knowing everyone was happy. I’ve had the kids every holiday since the separation so it’s only fair.
Why do I have to work and miss everything while he gives me nothing to contribute? Then he gets to pop in and show all of his Facebook what a good father he is. Then take tons of pictures showing how they’re such a happy family. I’m not ok with that and I feel so guilty because I want them to be a happy family.
I wish that were true but the sad reality is it isn’t.
Both boys suffer severe separation anxiety and I spend every moment away from them in guilt while I’m doing what I need to do to give them what they need. Then I spend every moment with them making up for spending so much time away.
I can’t carry the weight of the emotional baggage anymore. I apologize to anyone offended by this post. I’ve only spoken my truth from my perspective. As I’ve previously stated. This is my journey to self-love.
My journey and mine alone and those that take offense, ask yourself what it is that offends you? Why does it offend you? Maybe there is some truth buried deep inside your soul. Emotions you’ve never felt because you pretended they didn’t hurt. Maybe my words have triggered that emotion you hide. Be careful when facing a truth you don’t want anyone to know not even yourself. It’s a very dangerous path, one should proceed with caution as it can be quite painful….but if you can endure the pain, in the end it’s the freest form of freedom
I
Random Acts of Candice 