February 2003 - K said that at some point, he maybe, might, possibly want to move out. At this point, I hadn't ever really contemplated the idea of separation or divorce in spite of being less than happy with my situation, and I was floored. I cried, I had fits, I anguished - but in retrospect, I don't think I ever tried to talk him out of it. (Hmm, what does that tell me???) And life went on, with me waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to say, OK, now's the time I want out. Now there's a fine thing to have hanging over your head, the potential end of your marriage. I didn't have the intestinal fortitude to do much other than wait at that point, though.
And K's friendship with JG continued. I wasn't stupid, I figured he felt something for her other than friendship. You don't spend that much time with someone and *not* develop romantic feelings for the person. Along the way, JG and her husband started having problems, and he threatened to move out, then finally did move out. K and JG continued spending time together, and I continued to be annoyed and resentful.
November 2003: finally, K said, OK, that's it, I want to move out. At that point, I wasn't even upset anymore - I'd already had time to be upset over it back in February, and March, and April. I was like, fine, go. (Besides, I'd had time to think a lot since then, and I'd realized I wasn't happy, that I'd welcome time apart as much as he would, if not more.) He was surprised that I didn't freak out - even though I'd told him back in Feb. that if that were what he wanted, I wouldn't fight him on it, wouldn't make it more difficult than it had to be, I wonder if he didn't really believe me when I said that, if he expected that I really would put up a fight. But by that point he'd told me he'd fallen in love with JG, and when the man you married tells you that, it pretty well demolishes any desire you might have to fix the marriage. Had we *just* had problems with communication or *just* had issues with division of labor and me feeling like I did a lot more of the childcare along with working and trying to take care of household chores, that might have been fixable. But that, after he'd spent so much time with her to the exclusion of J and me, was brutal. To my way of thinking, if he couldn't at least tone down the friendship once he realized he was developing those feelings (inappropriate for a married man), then apparently I didn't mean to him what I should have meant as his wife and as the mother of his child. And if I didn't mean enough to him for him to let go of a friendship heading in a different direction, to my mind I didn't mean enough to him, period.
K asked me later if, had he never said he wanted out, I would have said anything. I told him I would have - it might have taken me longer, possibly a lot longer, but eventually I would have gotten to where I couldn't have stood it anymore, because I wasn't happy. I had my suspicions that part of his motivation for wanting to move out might have been because he was hoping things might go somewhere with JG (he denied it then, he denies it now, but I still have my doubts - another thing making me not real inclined to want to fix the marriage, the distinct possibility that his desire to move out was directly related to his desire to get involved with another woman).
Friday, November 12, 2004
A little more history
I'm not sure about the timing, but sometime after J was born, K got to be friends with a woman who lived in the area. I don't even remember what prompted him to seek out a friendship, but he did - oh wait, this was when he was staying home with J after I had to go back to work (J was only six weeks old - some maternity leave, huh?). They got to be really good friends, and spent a lot of time together. He met a couple of other people around this same time, and when J was about four months old and K had been acting mighty strange for a few days, he finally broke down and told me he'd been unfaithful. Not with the woman he got to be really good friends with, but with one of the other people he'd met. He was so upset and so freaked out by the thought that he might lose me and J over it that he was scaring me, and I was really more worried for him than I was concerned for myself or furious over what had happened. I *was* really pissed that it happened in my house, though (but then, where else would it have happened, as K was home taking care of J during that time). He swore it was a one-time deal, that it meant nothing to him, and so on, and I chose to give him another chance. Had the infidelity been our only issue, the separation might not ever have happened.
But then there was the woman he got to be really good friends with - I'll call her JG. They'd go out driving on a Saturday, and be gone for hours - eight, ten, twelve hours at a time. This left me home with J, who was getting bigger and busier by this point - working full time and carrying the weight of child care on the weekends didn't do a whole lot to improve my mood, and I started trying to tell K how I felt. I'd tell him he was taking me for granted, he'd agree, and nothing would change. If she called and wanted to go do something, he'd cut and run, no matter what it might leave me in the middle of. I cried plenty over this, because it hurt like hell. But it didn't seem to matter how I told or asked or pleaded, it seemed like whatever I said fell on deaf ears. Eventually I got to the point where I decided I could either continue to hurt over this or I could say, screw it, because it became clear that K's actions weren't going to change. I opted to say screw it, and the pain gradually became less. I think, although I might not have been consciously aware of it at the time, that I was growing less and less happy with my marriage all this time - I've since told K that this period was what did the most damage to our relationship.
But then there was the woman he got to be really good friends with - I'll call her JG. They'd go out driving on a Saturday, and be gone for hours - eight, ten, twelve hours at a time. This left me home with J, who was getting bigger and busier by this point - working full time and carrying the weight of child care on the weekends didn't do a whole lot to improve my mood, and I started trying to tell K how I felt. I'd tell him he was taking me for granted, he'd agree, and nothing would change. If she called and wanted to go do something, he'd cut and run, no matter what it might leave me in the middle of. I cried plenty over this, because it hurt like hell. But it didn't seem to matter how I told or asked or pleaded, it seemed like whatever I said fell on deaf ears. Eventually I got to the point where I decided I could either continue to hurt over this or I could say, screw it, because it became clear that K's actions weren't going to change. I opted to say screw it, and the pain gradually became less. I think, although I might not have been consciously aware of it at the time, that I was growing less and less happy with my marriage all this time - I've since told K that this period was what did the most damage to our relationship.
A little history
I thought I'd write down the things that led up to my separation from K. This journal is also some form of therapy for me - I've always been one of those people who learned more from writing information out as opposed to just hearing it, so I'm hoping that writing all this out will help me make sense of things.
Brief timeline (some of these things may be covered in more detail later, just depends on how I feel): Got married in 1994 at the age of 26 (on New Year's Eve, no less). Through the next eight years, we dealt with loss of a parent (my mother passed away 10 days after my wedding), loss of jobs, moving, one of us going back to school, financial stresses, and infertility (this in 2000-2001, when it finally seemed like the right time to have a child). My son was born in July 2002 after some help from fertility meds and insemination, and that's when my life really began to change. Up until that point, I was still pretty much the painfully shy, totally unable to speak her mind, seriously repressed little being I'd been since about junior high (I was much more outgoing as a young child, but something about junior high and beyond just sucked that out of me, except with my close friends). Even with K, I had a very difficult time telling him what I really thought. I reckon that came from growing up with a father who had a pretty good temper, and from seeing a lot more of my father in K than either of them would care to admit (not as far as the temper, K thankfully doesn't blow up like my father was prone to do - but they're both not real good at handling things that could be construed as criticism). But after July 2002, things were gradually going to start to change.
Wait, another brief digression. Before my son was born (maybe this was in 2000?), K got in touch with an old high school friend. She lived out of state, and they talked by phone and e-mail and instant messenger. I'd get perturbed because he'd spend a lot of time on IM with her, but I didn't get real uptight over it until I came across an e-mail where he'd told a friend of his that he thought he was developing feelings of more than friendship for her. I got pretty upset over that, and K told me later that when I confronted him with it, he saw our marriage flash before his eyes and he figured that was it. Whether foolishly or not, I gave him the benefit of the doubt - after all, she was over 1000 miles away, it wasn't like anything could actually *happen*. And life went on.
Then J was born.
Brief timeline (some of these things may be covered in more detail later, just depends on how I feel): Got married in 1994 at the age of 26 (on New Year's Eve, no less). Through the next eight years, we dealt with loss of a parent (my mother passed away 10 days after my wedding), loss of jobs, moving, one of us going back to school, financial stresses, and infertility (this in 2000-2001, when it finally seemed like the right time to have a child). My son was born in July 2002 after some help from fertility meds and insemination, and that's when my life really began to change. Up until that point, I was still pretty much the painfully shy, totally unable to speak her mind, seriously repressed little being I'd been since about junior high (I was much more outgoing as a young child, but something about junior high and beyond just sucked that out of me, except with my close friends). Even with K, I had a very difficult time telling him what I really thought. I reckon that came from growing up with a father who had a pretty good temper, and from seeing a lot more of my father in K than either of them would care to admit (not as far as the temper, K thankfully doesn't blow up like my father was prone to do - but they're both not real good at handling things that could be construed as criticism). But after July 2002, things were gradually going to start to change.
Wait, another brief digression. Before my son was born (maybe this was in 2000?), K got in touch with an old high school friend. She lived out of state, and they talked by phone and e-mail and instant messenger. I'd get perturbed because he'd spend a lot of time on IM with her, but I didn't get real uptight over it until I came across an e-mail where he'd told a friend of his that he thought he was developing feelings of more than friendship for her. I got pretty upset over that, and K told me later that when I confronted him with it, he saw our marriage flash before his eyes and he figured that was it. Whether foolishly or not, I gave him the benefit of the doubt - after all, she was over 1000 miles away, it wasn't like anything could actually *happen*. And life went on.
Then J was born.
Tangled.
Dammit. I want to write, but I don't know how to put it into words. If I were writing in my black book, I'd just take a purple marker and scribble frantically, just to try to convey how I feel. AARGH. Sometimes I think (no, wait, I *know*) that life was so much simpler before I started all this growing and changing crap. But I guess the trade-off is that now life has the potential to be much more interesting and enjoyable, once the universe decides to give me a little break in the growth and character-building department. Again, AARGH. Maybe I'll be able to write later.
Random question du jour.
In "Blow", Johnny Depp's character, George, asks his mother if she got the money he sent her. And she replies, "The drug money? Yeah, I got it." And the thought occurred to me: How would you handle it if you knew your child was a drug dealer? What would you do? Would you be able to love them but disagree with their means of making a living, or would you want nothing to do with them? Would you turn your child in to the authorities? I like to think I'd love my son no matter what, although if he chose to do something illegal to support himself, I wouldn't approve of that and I'd tell him so. And as much as it would hurt me, I think I'd have to turn him in if I knew police were looking for him. But I sure hope I'm never in a position where that's a burden I have to carry.
Well!
Just read that the jury found Scott Peterson guilty. I was really expecting a hung jury, after two jurors being dismissed and all. Goes to show you what I know. Now the appeals circus begins....
A mental health day.
Yesterday was a holiday, and I took today off just for me. Days where my little man is at daycare and I'm home without being sick or without having to take care of something or other that's blown up are rare, so I'm enjoying this. And after yesterday, the house is clean and laundry is (mostly) caught up, so I've been able to enjoy it without worrying that I should be cleaning something! :-) If I had the $, I would have treated myself to a pedicure. Someday...!
I'm watching a movie right now, until I have to pick up the little one. I rented "Blow" on the recommendation of a friend - I wasn't sure I'd care for it, but so far it's really good. I've decided I do like Johnny Depp. Every time I see him in a movie, I like him better, and he plays such varied roles. I'll probably have to take a break here soon and go get the little man from daycare, and watch the rest of it tonight or over the weekend.
I have rather a lot on my mind right now. Some days I think if I think any harder, my brains will leak out my ears. I'm not even sure I want to put it into words right now. Suffice it to say that my heart hurts and my brain hurts, and I'm trying to find my way out of the muddle my life has been until now. I'm making progress, but I'm not there yet. And I ask myself, why not? Am I scared of something? What the hell am I scared *of*???
I'm watching a movie right now, until I have to pick up the little one. I rented "Blow" on the recommendation of a friend - I wasn't sure I'd care for it, but so far it's really good. I've decided I do like Johnny Depp. Every time I see him in a movie, I like him better, and he plays such varied roles. I'll probably have to take a break here soon and go get the little man from daycare, and watch the rest of it tonight or over the weekend.
I have rather a lot on my mind right now. Some days I think if I think any harder, my brains will leak out my ears. I'm not even sure I want to put it into words right now. Suffice it to say that my heart hurts and my brain hurts, and I'm trying to find my way out of the muddle my life has been until now. I'm making progress, but I'm not there yet. And I ask myself, why not? Am I scared of something? What the hell am I scared *of*???
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Is it just me, or is this ironic?
The third purpose of this journal: for me to comment on things that amuse, entertain, perplex or fascinate me.
I was just reading an article on AOL about the latest juror dismissal in the Scott Peterson trial, and the article referred to Mr. Peterson as a former fertilizer salesman. I didn't know this. For some reason, it strikes me as funny that a former fertilizer salesman is now, through legal counsel, trying to sell a jury what could be a big ol' line of bullshit about how he didn't kill his pregnant wife. I don't know what really happened, I wasn't there, I didn't see it happen - I'm not even sitting in the courtroom to have heard all the evidence presented. I just think it's funny - former fertilizer salesman, criminal defendant. Am I the only one who sees a similarity there, or is it just my prosecutorial past that steers me along that line of thought?
Enough for one night. It's late, I should go get some sleep while the getting is good (my son was up at 5:17 this morning, 3 minutes before my alarm went off - first thing he said was "trucks"). I love having this online. It's so much faster for me to type my thoughts instead of writing them out (although I do still have my black spiral-bound sketch books for that purpose - some things should *never* be seen by anyone but me).
I was just reading an article on AOL about the latest juror dismissal in the Scott Peterson trial, and the article referred to Mr. Peterson as a former fertilizer salesman. I didn't know this. For some reason, it strikes me as funny that a former fertilizer salesman is now, through legal counsel, trying to sell a jury what could be a big ol' line of bullshit about how he didn't kill his pregnant wife. I don't know what really happened, I wasn't there, I didn't see it happen - I'm not even sitting in the courtroom to have heard all the evidence presented. I just think it's funny - former fertilizer salesman, criminal defendant. Am I the only one who sees a similarity there, or is it just my prosecutorial past that steers me along that line of thought?
Enough for one night. It's late, I should go get some sleep while the getting is good (my son was up at 5:17 this morning, 3 minutes before my alarm went off - first thing he said was "trucks"). I love having this online. It's so much faster for me to type my thoughts instead of writing them out (although I do still have my black spiral-bound sketch books for that purpose - some things should *never* be seen by anyone but me).
Wine
I'm enjoying a glass of wine as I goof around on the computer tonight. I'm no wine expert by any stretch of the imagination. My comments are generally limited to "I like it" or "I don't like it". The one I'm drinking tonight, though, isn't one of my favorites. It's Cap Rock Vintner's Blush. I usually like Texas wines pretty well, and the Cap Rock Blush Royale is excellent, I think. This, though - eh, take it or leave it. It's a little too "something" for my taste - too tart/sour, perhaps? Not like I like *super* sweet wines, but this one has a whang to it. It's paid for, though, and far be it from me to toss wine unless it's *complete* dreck, so I'm drinking it in one of my nice crystal glasses (I've got 'em, might as well use 'em, right?). I'm finishing off the bottle tonight anyway - this glass was the last of it. Next on the to-drink list: an Australian wine, Penfolds Rawson's Retreat Semillon Chardonnay. Mmm, GOOD. And it's a kick-ass strong wine - one glass of it and I'm pretty darned happy, two glasses and I'm downright giddy. Not real expensive, either. I should buy more of that next time I make a booze run (lucky me, to live in a dry county). And when I decide to take a break from wine, I have a bottle of Arrogant Bastard Ale in my refrigerator. Mmm, tasty.
See, this is another change from my youth (although not as much of a change as the change to my ideas on sex and religion). My parents were not drinkers at all - my father had an uncle who was killed by a drunk driver, and he's still very much anti-drinking. He'd choke if he saw the two little wine racks in my house (and the stash of bottles in one of the kitchen cabinets). But I don't see a problem with it, as long as it's just an occasional thing (you may have heard the joke, or maybe not: "Jews don't recognize Jesus as the Messiah. Protestants don't recognize the Pope as the head of the church on earth. Baptists don't recognize each other at the liquor store." My fondness for a good drink now and then - reason #47 why I don't think I should be a Baptist anymore). So I guess it's more a change from my parents' rules to my rules, not so much a change to my way of thinking. I remember driving around in high school, sharing a bottle of Boone's Farm Tickle Pink (boy, I'm probably dating myself with that - what can I say, we were kids, it was cheap) with my girlfriends, or going to buy wine coolers (California Coolers, do they even make those anymore?!) before football games. My parents would have crapped coconuts had they known. Ah, growing up was fun sometimes!
See, this is another change from my youth (although not as much of a change as the change to my ideas on sex and religion). My parents were not drinkers at all - my father had an uncle who was killed by a drunk driver, and he's still very much anti-drinking. He'd choke if he saw the two little wine racks in my house (and the stash of bottles in one of the kitchen cabinets). But I don't see a problem with it, as long as it's just an occasional thing (you may have heard the joke, or maybe not: "Jews don't recognize Jesus as the Messiah. Protestants don't recognize the Pope as the head of the church on earth. Baptists don't recognize each other at the liquor store." My fondness for a good drink now and then - reason #47 why I don't think I should be a Baptist anymore). So I guess it's more a change from my parents' rules to my rules, not so much a change to my way of thinking. I remember driving around in high school, sharing a bottle of Boone's Farm Tickle Pink (boy, I'm probably dating myself with that - what can I say, we were kids, it was cheap) with my girlfriends, or going to buy wine coolers (California Coolers, do they even make those anymore?!) before football games. My parents would have crapped coconuts had they known. Ah, growing up was fun sometimes!
Musings on motherhood
When I was growing up, I never really visualized myself as a mother. As I got older, I didn't really know what to do with children. I babysat occasionally, and I schlepped my cousin (10 years younger) and her little friends around in the summers when I was home from college or law school, but I never really felt like I had much maternal instinct. I remember one visit home during law school, after one of my cousins had had her first baby, and I was holding my new little cousin. My mother looked at me and said, "You look so uncomfortable holding that baby!" I said, "Mama, I'm a law student, what do I know about babies?!" That pretty much summed it up.
Some 13 or 14 years later, all that has changed. My son is the most magnificent creature in the world. I adore him and would lay down my life for him. When he was born, he weighed 8 pounds, 8 ounces. Within the first week, he'd lost almost a pound of that weight and was diagnosed as failing to thrive. I'd tried to breastfeed and didn't realize that I had no milk. I so wanted to breastfeed, but had I known I was literally starving my child, I'd have tossed the idea in a second and gone straight to the bottle without a thought. He was like a different child once he started getting some nourishment! I tried to pump and breastfeed and just supplement with the bottle, but the milk wasn't there, so before I returned to work, he was strictly on formula. I cried some, anguished some over it, but when it came down to it, the important thing was that he was eating.
But I digress. My little man made up for lost time, ate like a trucker (to quote my sister), and is now, at almost 28 months old, 37 inches tall and 37 pounds. Mommy's little moose. :) Two more feet and he'll be as tall as I am! I cherish him. I think I'm in danger of becoming one of those mothers that devotes too much time to her child and doesn't take enough for herself. Tonight when J got ready for bath time, he took my dinner plate and said, "mommy finished, bath time!" LOL So off to the bath we went (hey, I figure dinner can wait, my son might change his mind about being ready for bath and bed!).
But now, she of virtually no recognizable maternal instinct seems to overflow with it. I wake up if my son coughs. I hear him turn over in his sleep. I know without looking when he's standing up on the furniture and about to fall over the side. I can change a diaper at 3 AM without turning any lights on. I can carry fourteen different things in addition to my child without dropping anything. I invariably find toy trucks in my pockets when I get to work. And hearing him say "MY mommy!" just lights up my whole day. And his little friends at daycare flock to me, which baffles me no end. One time one of his little friends ran up to me, hugged my leg, and said, "Mama!" J looked at him like, who do you think you are, hugging on *my* mama like that? LOL I can't imagine life without him, even though at one time I figured I'd never have children, never get married, just be a career woman.
Yep, he's a lot of work, and we make lots and lots of messes (which he now points to and says, "Mess? Cleam up?" That's right, cleam up, not clean up), and I do lots and lots of laundry, and have no doubt lost more sleep the past two years than I care to contemplate. But sticky-fingered hugs, big toothy grins, requests for "some mo' milk", playing trucks, singing silly songs, and reading bedtime stories more than make up for the trials of parenthood. He's my sweet baby boy, that's for sure.
Some 13 or 14 years later, all that has changed. My son is the most magnificent creature in the world. I adore him and would lay down my life for him. When he was born, he weighed 8 pounds, 8 ounces. Within the first week, he'd lost almost a pound of that weight and was diagnosed as failing to thrive. I'd tried to breastfeed and didn't realize that I had no milk. I so wanted to breastfeed, but had I known I was literally starving my child, I'd have tossed the idea in a second and gone straight to the bottle without a thought. He was like a different child once he started getting some nourishment! I tried to pump and breastfeed and just supplement with the bottle, but the milk wasn't there, so before I returned to work, he was strictly on formula. I cried some, anguished some over it, but when it came down to it, the important thing was that he was eating.
But I digress. My little man made up for lost time, ate like a trucker (to quote my sister), and is now, at almost 28 months old, 37 inches tall and 37 pounds. Mommy's little moose. :) Two more feet and he'll be as tall as I am! I cherish him. I think I'm in danger of becoming one of those mothers that devotes too much time to her child and doesn't take enough for herself. Tonight when J got ready for bath time, he took my dinner plate and said, "mommy finished, bath time!" LOL So off to the bath we went (hey, I figure dinner can wait, my son might change his mind about being ready for bath and bed!).
But now, she of virtually no recognizable maternal instinct seems to overflow with it. I wake up if my son coughs. I hear him turn over in his sleep. I know without looking when he's standing up on the furniture and about to fall over the side. I can change a diaper at 3 AM without turning any lights on. I can carry fourteen different things in addition to my child without dropping anything. I invariably find toy trucks in my pockets when I get to work. And hearing him say "MY mommy!" just lights up my whole day. And his little friends at daycare flock to me, which baffles me no end. One time one of his little friends ran up to me, hugged my leg, and said, "Mama!" J looked at him like, who do you think you are, hugging on *my* mama like that? LOL I can't imagine life without him, even though at one time I figured I'd never have children, never get married, just be a career woman.
Yep, he's a lot of work, and we make lots and lots of messes (which he now points to and says, "Mess? Cleam up?" That's right, cleam up, not clean up), and I do lots and lots of laundry, and have no doubt lost more sleep the past two years than I care to contemplate. But sticky-fingered hugs, big toothy grins, requests for "some mo' milk", playing trucks, singing silly songs, and reading bedtime stories more than make up for the trials of parenthood. He's my sweet baby boy, that's for sure.
Thoughts on appearance and self-esteem.
One more thing before I go. If I'm generous to myself, I can reasonably be described as "cute". No one will ever mistake me for a Victoria's Secret supermodel - I'll never be that tall or that thin, and after having a child, my boobs will never be that perky again barring some serious surgical intervention. I'm cute, though, if a bit on the voluptuous side.
I've battled weight issues my whole life (there's a whole vent to the fact that my weight might not be an issue if family hadn't started pushing diets when I was just 11, but that's another post for another time). After trying damned near every diet on the planet and still ending up freakin' huge (my highest pregnancy weight was a lot closer to 300 than I care to think about, and that's not good when you're only 5'1"), I decided to have lap-band surgery last August to help me get the weight off. I didn't do it for cosmetic reasons - I knew if I didn't have help getting and keeping the weight off, my son wouldn't have his mother nearly as long as he needed and deserved to have her. I went with the lap-band because it's minimally invasive, more of a tool than something that forces the weight off (meaning I still have to put some effort into it and I still have some control of the process), and it's reversible should I ever decide I don't want it anymore. (Don't know why I'd do that, but it's nice to have the option.) Since last August I've lost about 70 pounds.
I'll no doubt talk more about my band later. All this is to say, I struggled with weight and self-esteem my whole life. I think one reason I married the man I did is because on some level, I thought that was the only offer I'd get. As horrible as it sounds, on some subconscious level, I think I settled for him. But now, even though I might like to lose a bit more weight (ideally about 50-60 more pounds, but I wouldn't be disappointed if I only lost 30 more), I've realized that my weight is not determinative of who I am or of whether or not I'm a good person. I am intelligent, funny (although usually unintentionally), cute, caring, musical, easily entertained, quick to defend my loved ones, and well worth knowing. If people can't see past my size to the person I am, well, then, it's their loss. It's taken me 36 years to get to this point, but I'm here now, and by golly, I know I deserve good things. I am worthy of good things. And as far as men go, I deserve to find someone who loves me, who respects me, who cherishes me, who can be strong for me when I need that strength, and who (occasionally) puts me on a pedestal and worships me like the goddess I am. ;) I know this must sound horribly conceited, and in real life I don't always have this much confidence in my goodness and worth - I have moments/days/weeks of self-doubt. But this is such a turning point for me, to finally realize that just because I don't fit the societal definition of beauty doesn't mean I am somehow less deserving of good things in my life. It's a really big deal for me, and that's why I'm writing it down.
I've battled weight issues my whole life (there's a whole vent to the fact that my weight might not be an issue if family hadn't started pushing diets when I was just 11, but that's another post for another time). After trying damned near every diet on the planet and still ending up freakin' huge (my highest pregnancy weight was a lot closer to 300 than I care to think about, and that's not good when you're only 5'1"), I decided to have lap-band surgery last August to help me get the weight off. I didn't do it for cosmetic reasons - I knew if I didn't have help getting and keeping the weight off, my son wouldn't have his mother nearly as long as he needed and deserved to have her. I went with the lap-band because it's minimally invasive, more of a tool than something that forces the weight off (meaning I still have to put some effort into it and I still have some control of the process), and it's reversible should I ever decide I don't want it anymore. (Don't know why I'd do that, but it's nice to have the option.) Since last August I've lost about 70 pounds.
I'll no doubt talk more about my band later. All this is to say, I struggled with weight and self-esteem my whole life. I think one reason I married the man I did is because on some level, I thought that was the only offer I'd get. As horrible as it sounds, on some subconscious level, I think I settled for him. But now, even though I might like to lose a bit more weight (ideally about 50-60 more pounds, but I wouldn't be disappointed if I only lost 30 more), I've realized that my weight is not determinative of who I am or of whether or not I'm a good person. I am intelligent, funny (although usually unintentionally), cute, caring, musical, easily entertained, quick to defend my loved ones, and well worth knowing. If people can't see past my size to the person I am, well, then, it's their loss. It's taken me 36 years to get to this point, but I'm here now, and by golly, I know I deserve good things. I am worthy of good things. And as far as men go, I deserve to find someone who loves me, who respects me, who cherishes me, who can be strong for me when I need that strength, and who (occasionally) puts me on a pedestal and worships me like the goddess I am. ;) I know this must sound horribly conceited, and in real life I don't always have this much confidence in my goodness and worth - I have moments/days/weeks of self-doubt. But this is such a turning point for me, to finally realize that just because I don't fit the societal definition of beauty doesn't mean I am somehow less deserving of good things in my life. It's a really big deal for me, and that's why I'm writing it down.
Thoughts on sex.
This is not intended to be a sex blog. If it were, it would be incredibly boring, given as how I have no sex life at the moment (no man in my life, hence no sex). However, I may at times discuss how my thoughts and attitudes toward sex are changing, and things I'm beginning to realize about myself. This is one of those times.
Like I mentioned previously, I grew up pretty repressed. I was probably the most hormonally underwhelmed teenager I knew. Sure, I had crushes on boys, but I never thought much about what came after kissing (I knew the practicalities, I'd read my Child Craft when I was about six, I knew all about how babies got here, but it just never occurred to me to think of that in relation to actual boys I knew). This huge abnormality was "helped" along by the fact that guys just weren't interested in me. I like to think it was because I frightened them with my towering intellect - they *were* more interested in copying the answers to my chemistry homework than in getting into my pants, after all. All that to say, sex didn't play a real big part in my formative years (although my mother constantly worried about premarital sex and teen pregnancy, in spite of my efforts to reassure her that the odds of that were slim to none).
And I don't guess sex played a real big part in my early marriage, either. Sure, it happened, but I really didn't see what all the fuss was about. I started to wonder if I had some weird hormone imbalance, and this wondering went along further when I had to deal with infertility when we finally decided to try to have a child.
But now I think maybe I just needed to grow up in regard to sex. Since all this separation stuff has happened, I may not have had a rush of ardent suitors beating a path to my door, but I have had lots of time to think. I've come to realize that sex can be fun. I've come to realize that I no longer feel like it should be reserved for marriage - been there, done that. Not that I'd hop into bed with just anyone who comes along, but if I meet someone and am really attracted to that person (mentally and emotionally as well as physically - big turn-off if he looks like a GQ cover model but is dumb as burnt sand) and things progress, well, then, lucky me. (I figure I have a lot of ground to make up for, since I missed out on mis-spending a hormonally supercharged youth! LOL) I've come to realize that it's OK to shop at a store called Condom Sense, and that sex toys are not a cause for embarrassment, but are things to be thoroughly enjoyed and to be purchased regularly!
I've come to realize some other things, too, but it's just about time for me to call it a day. More later.
Like I mentioned previously, I grew up pretty repressed. I was probably the most hormonally underwhelmed teenager I knew. Sure, I had crushes on boys, but I never thought much about what came after kissing (I knew the practicalities, I'd read my Child Craft when I was about six, I knew all about how babies got here, but it just never occurred to me to think of that in relation to actual boys I knew). This huge abnormality was "helped" along by the fact that guys just weren't interested in me. I like to think it was because I frightened them with my towering intellect - they *were* more interested in copying the answers to my chemistry homework than in getting into my pants, after all. All that to say, sex didn't play a real big part in my formative years (although my mother constantly worried about premarital sex and teen pregnancy, in spite of my efforts to reassure her that the odds of that were slim to none).
And I don't guess sex played a real big part in my early marriage, either. Sure, it happened, but I really didn't see what all the fuss was about. I started to wonder if I had some weird hormone imbalance, and this wondering went along further when I had to deal with infertility when we finally decided to try to have a child.
But now I think maybe I just needed to grow up in regard to sex. Since all this separation stuff has happened, I may not have had a rush of ardent suitors beating a path to my door, but I have had lots of time to think. I've come to realize that sex can be fun. I've come to realize that I no longer feel like it should be reserved for marriage - been there, done that. Not that I'd hop into bed with just anyone who comes along, but if I meet someone and am really attracted to that person (mentally and emotionally as well as physically - big turn-off if he looks like a GQ cover model but is dumb as burnt sand) and things progress, well, then, lucky me. (I figure I have a lot of ground to make up for, since I missed out on mis-spending a hormonally supercharged youth! LOL) I've come to realize that it's OK to shop at a store called Condom Sense, and that sex toys are not a cause for embarrassment, but are things to be thoroughly enjoyed and to be purchased regularly!
I've come to realize some other things, too, but it's just about time for me to call it a day. More later.
Thoughts on religion.
I grew up Southern Baptist, very conservative and pretty much scared of everything. I've changed a lot since my son was born two years ago, and as I've changed, I've come to realize I used my faith as something to hide behind. I used it as justification to avoid things, to avoid thinking, to avoid life. (Not saying that anyone who's Baptist or conservative or anything like that does this, I'm just saying that that's what I've come to realize about myself.) I don't think I'm a very good Baptist, and I don't think that faith necessarily fits me anymore. I'd term myself more of a seeker at this point. I believe in God/dess (a feminine aspect to the Divine, that alone would disqualify me from being a card-carrying Baptist! LOL), I believe in a higher power than myself, I believe that higher power takes an interest in me and in what happens to me.
Thoughts on work.
I'm an attorney, for what that's worth. For years, I think I've really undervalued myself as an attorney, really undervalued my chosen profession. I went into law with the misguided notion that I could make a difference in the world, and also, I think that on some level I chose it because that was three more years of school my parents would pay for, thus three more years before I had to get out into the "real world". While I still think I should have stuck with my first love and majored in some field of science, I've now realized that being a lawyer is a noble profession, and that there are lawyers who love what they do and who genuinely want to help newer attorneys do well. I just hope I haven't figured this out too late.
What I'm contemplating: possibly opening my own practice, focusing on probate and estate planning. The problem: no direct experience in the field. Possible way to get direct experience: find a job with a law firm, work there for a couple of years to build contacts and get experience. The problem with that idea: Many firms don't want an attorney who's ten or eleven years out of law school coming in at an entry-level position. They seem to operate under the impression that you should have a certain amount of knowledge if you've been out of school that long, never mind that you haven't practiced in the field you're hoping to work in. Not saying this would be the case with *all* firms, just that it might be something to keep in mind should I decide to pursue this direction. I'm still working on other ideas for gaining experience. Right now, I realize that I have neither the knowledge nor the client base to just jump out there and hang out a shingle. I also don't have the financial reserves needed for the first few months (or years) of hit-or-miss income that starting a law practice would require (and being on my own and in my current job, no real way to establish that reserve that I've been able to figure out). But I'm thinking in this direction. I have a son now, and I'd love to have the flexibility with him that being my own boss would offer. Granted, there are stresses with being responsible for your own destiny, but I think the flexibility would outweigh those stresses once I got going real good.
Of course, part of me wishes I could just find a man who'd be willing to let me stay home. I wouldn't mind having more children if I didn't have to work. It breaks my heart putting Super J in daycare now, I don't know if I could do that with another child. So is it wrong of me to wish to be in a position where I wouldn't be using my law degree? I don't think so. Not practicing law and staying home wouldn't make me any less intelligent, it would just mean I was applying my intelligence to a different endeavor - that of running a house and making a home. But that's probably just wishful thinking, anyway. *SIGH*
And while I'm dreaming, if I didn't want to totally blow off work but didn't want to go the law practice route, and if I had the $ to do so, I'd start a Bath Junkie franchise. (http://www.bathjunkie.com) I don't think that's happening anytime soon, either, though!
What I'm contemplating: possibly opening my own practice, focusing on probate and estate planning. The problem: no direct experience in the field. Possible way to get direct experience: find a job with a law firm, work there for a couple of years to build contacts and get experience. The problem with that idea: Many firms don't want an attorney who's ten or eleven years out of law school coming in at an entry-level position. They seem to operate under the impression that you should have a certain amount of knowledge if you've been out of school that long, never mind that you haven't practiced in the field you're hoping to work in. Not saying this would be the case with *all* firms, just that it might be something to keep in mind should I decide to pursue this direction. I'm still working on other ideas for gaining experience. Right now, I realize that I have neither the knowledge nor the client base to just jump out there and hang out a shingle. I also don't have the financial reserves needed for the first few months (or years) of hit-or-miss income that starting a law practice would require (and being on my own and in my current job, no real way to establish that reserve that I've been able to figure out). But I'm thinking in this direction. I have a son now, and I'd love to have the flexibility with him that being my own boss would offer. Granted, there are stresses with being responsible for your own destiny, but I think the flexibility would outweigh those stresses once I got going real good.
Of course, part of me wishes I could just find a man who'd be willing to let me stay home. I wouldn't mind having more children if I didn't have to work. It breaks my heart putting Super J in daycare now, I don't know if I could do that with another child. So is it wrong of me to wish to be in a position where I wouldn't be using my law degree? I don't think so. Not practicing law and staying home wouldn't make me any less intelligent, it would just mean I was applying my intelligence to a different endeavor - that of running a house and making a home. But that's probably just wishful thinking, anyway. *SIGH*
And while I'm dreaming, if I didn't want to totally blow off work but didn't want to go the law practice route, and if I had the $ to do so, I'd start a Bath Junkie franchise. (http://www.bathjunkie.com) I don't think that's happening anytime soon, either, though!
Life sucks, but what can you do?
Every time I turn around, something else seems to give me a kick in the teeth. Usually it's something related to money or the lack thereof - something's broken and needs fixing, I don't have money to pay this-that-or-the-other-thing, or just the general worry over the poor state of my finances. Right now my checking account is overdrawn, and I don't get paid until Monday. Happy happy, joy joy. I've been trying to cultivate an attitude of abundance, and remember that abundance does not equal monetary wealth, that there is enough to meet my needs, that the universe will provide. Hard to keep that in mind, though, when things like this keep whacking me in the head.
At any rate, I freaked out yesterday when I found out about it. Now I guess I'd describe myself as cheerfully resigned. I can't get any more money right now, short of knocking off a bank or some other illegal act (and I won't do that - I was a prosecutor in a former incarnation, no way am I doing anything to end up in jail), so I really can't do anything about it. So why cry and mope and stress myself out? Might as well go home and have a nice glass of wine and a bubble bath after my son goes to sleep - it's much more fun.
Anyway, I'm really getting tired of finances sucking. I'm eleven years out of law school. WHEN, I'd like to know, does it get BETTER?!?!?!
At any rate, I freaked out yesterday when I found out about it. Now I guess I'd describe myself as cheerfully resigned. I can't get any more money right now, short of knocking off a bank or some other illegal act (and I won't do that - I was a prosecutor in a former incarnation, no way am I doing anything to end up in jail), so I really can't do anything about it. So why cry and mope and stress myself out? Might as well go home and have a nice glass of wine and a bubble bath after my son goes to sleep - it's much more fun.
Anyway, I'm really getting tired of finances sucking. I'm eleven years out of law school. WHEN, I'd like to know, does it get BETTER?!?!?!
Where to start today?
First, a brief intro. I'm Lisa - 36, separated from my husband of not quite 10 years and seriously rethinking this whole marriage situation, and full-time working mom of the busiest 2-year-old on two feet (often referred to as Super J or monkey man).
The purpose of this journal is twofold. First, it gives me a place to vent and whine and blow off all the steam that my real-life friends get tired of listening to. :) Second, it gives me a place to explore things I'm thinking about, things I might not be able to discuss with my real-life friends (and most of which I damn sure couldn't discuss with my incredibly conservative family). If it happens to brighten anyone else's day, bring a smile to someone's face, prompt someone to make a comment, or just make someone think of something in a different way, well, then, that's just lagniappe.
Happy reading - I know I'll have fun writing!
The purpose of this journal is twofold. First, it gives me a place to vent and whine and blow off all the steam that my real-life friends get tired of listening to. :) Second, it gives me a place to explore things I'm thinking about, things I might not be able to discuss with my real-life friends (and most of which I damn sure couldn't discuss with my incredibly conservative family). If it happens to brighten anyone else's day, bring a smile to someone's face, prompt someone to make a comment, or just make someone think of something in a different way, well, then, that's just lagniappe.
Happy reading - I know I'll have fun writing!
Testing.
Since my other blog seems to be out of commission due to server issues, I'm seeing what happens if I start a new one. I'll try to post this before I write a whole lot!
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