You Said You’d Care For Me / Said You’d Be There For Me / Give To Me, Why Won’t You Live For Me? / You Said You’d Cry For Me / You Gotta Be, Nice For What?

I’m using my break at work to finally write a decent post. First I was going to apologize for not writing more, but in all honesty, I’ve grown so much in this past month, to a point that I won’t apologize for any action (or inaction on my part). My life is hectic and busy true, but it’s also a string of choices that I purposefully make and I just didn’t feel like choosing to write in my down time. To be honest lol, I got high a ton and watched a lot of Netflix and danced around my room… and wrote some poems and songs that I might post at a later date instead. So, not sorry?

But here’s a glimpse of what’s happened in the last month apart from that quick post I wrote.

I got the place close to the lake. It’s all said and done as of last week. It’s in West Kelowna, super close to many winery’s and trails. It has two schools that have ranked well in close range, so that’s a plus. I’m just having trouble finding child care now, but everything in its own time. But if you have any suggestions I’m all ears.

Z is excited to move and talks about Kelowna all the time. I took a video of the house when I flew out there 2 weeks ago and she’d really getting the whole idea that we’re moving. She talks about going to the beach and seeing her cousins all the time, it’s really uplifting. Little E on the other hand is not at all thrilled about the prospect of it. He takes ever opportunity possible to say he doesn’t want to move. I get it. I totally do. What almost 8-year-old wants to uproot and move to a place he’s never been to where he knows hardly anyone? He has to start a new school again, making it a new school for every year he’s attended. It’s been difficult on him, making friends and fitting in, and I feel bad. I’m truly hoping this move will be one we can settle into and make our home. For Little E’s sake. And my own.

On another note, E has been committed again. I randomly received this text a couple of weeks ago:

e

Just a friendly reminder. This dad of my children hasn’t seen his kids since January.  Which coincidentally is about the same time he last sent child support. We also live on the complete opposite side of the country from Ottawa. But he somehow made it to Ottawa… because apparently this capital city we live in doesn’t provide health care?? Anyways, he had also previously told me he had quit his job as opposed to his current story of being fired, which by now I knew not to believe because with him it’s an endless cycle of lies. Either way, I haven’t gotten any $$$ from him in months which has been awful timing while trying to purchase the new place. I honestly haven’t been this financially strapped… in ever. But it is what it is.

So, to make matters even more unbelievable (hard to do in my life, but by now we know not to push the envelope) this past Saturday while I was playing outside with the kiddos, I received a call from a number marked No Caller ID. turns out to be the hospital he’s been admitted at. You will literally never guess what they were calling for.

Go ahead and try.

You’re probably wrong.

I’ll help.

They were trying to hit me up for money. Not one word of a lie. They said he had the balls to list me as his emergency contact. 4 years into our divorce and I’m still his top go to person?? Fuck Off. She said she had called Welfare Services and they won’t pay because of something something (I really wasn’t listening I was honestly beyond shocked that the whole system had the gall to call me and ask ME for money to cover his bills). So she’s basically saying that because he put my name, I’m responsible. Hahaha.

I told her no. Flat out no. If they are expecting me to pay, they can actually stop treatment (my actual words) because I’m not paying anything. She started to say something like “oh I can imagine what you’ve gone through” and I stopped her cold. No. No you cannot. You have no idea what I have gone through with that man. I will not be paying anything. Please don’t include me in this. Then I asked her what E had been saying about me, to which she responded that E hadn’t said anything since being admitted and that he was very sick.

Uhhh, Duhh. That’s not a news flash to anyone. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell the whole world. E is sicker than your average mentally sick person.

So the call ended with her apologizing and saying she wouldn’t bother me again. I’ll take that as a win.

I know some of you are thinking that’s very cold-hearted of me. That I should be more forgiving and helpful.

Why?

Why should his well-being be more important than mine? Why should he be allowed to continually wreck the peaceful life I’m trying to create for my kids and I? I have to take care of myself and my children. I spent YEARS trying to “help” him, but at some point, I have to recognize that my life and sanity is valuable too. No one is looking out for me except me. So I have to… I have to make the moves that benefit myself and my kids. E is toxic, so I will not allow that poison in my life in any form anymore. I have to clear out that harm to allow myself to be the best version of C that I can be. At some point I (and the world) just have to recognize that E is a grown man, and although he is very sick, I am not a medical professional and therefore I am not fit to help. I also have been hurt by him and therefore have no desire to help in any way anymore. That is my choice. That makes me a stronger person for making beneficial choices that allow me to grow and move on. As bitchy as it may seem, it’s my choice and it improves my quality of life. Which is just as important as E’s, but I have to do it for me. What he does is his choice. This move is mine.

And I will not feel guilt for choosing my best life.


-Drake/Nice For What-

 

I Don’t Ever Wanna Feel Like I Did That Day, Take Me To The Place I Love, Take Me All The Way

When I was 19, my body was used for the first time in ways that changed me forever.

I was really good friends with this one couple, A and M.  We worked together, we went out dancing every weekend together. I was even planning on moving in with A in a few weeks because she wanted a break from living with her boyfriend M for now ( I know, who moves in and than out of their boyfriends house? Whatever, she was my friend and I need a new roomie). So when A went out of town to Big Valley, M joined my boyfriend W and I on Friday night at our go to club and it was dancing like normal. At the end of the night I drove my boyfriend home and then took M to his and A’s place. I had previously planned to spend the night there since we both had a work meeting early the next morning that I was going to drive us too.

They lived on the ground floor of an apartment building so when we walked up to the patio doors, his neighbors were out having drinks with the music blaring. We said our hi’s and headed on inside. M poured drinks for us and turned something on the tv, I can’t remember what. I just remember sitting on the couch having my first drink of the night, it was about 1 in the morning, and thinking I have to be at work at 8:30 and how much it sucks, and also how loud the neighbors music was that I could barely hear myself think.

And then outta nowhere, M leaned over and kissed me. Wooh, no! Oh common C, just a little bit, I’ve been wanting this for so long. Why do you think A is moving out? We’re not doing good. She knows I love you.

WHATTT?

Ummm… No! I have a boyfriend and we’re doing just fine thank you very much. I’m truly sorry things aren’t working out for you guys but I’m not interested. I should leave. I went to stand up to go and that’s when my life changed. M grabbed me from behind and threw me on the floor before I even knew what he was doing. That’s when I started screaming. And hitting and biting and kicking… anything I could do to try and stop this. But M was bigger. And stronger. And a man who should’ve known better. He was on top of me straddling me in no time. Telling me he loved me, and that it was ok. Trying to kiss me. I kept screaming, but the music from next door was drowning out my calls for help. He dragged me by my elbow and hair down the hall to the spare room, where he literally picked me up like a rag doll, threw me on the bed and locked the door. He ripped my pants off and shoved his fingers in my vagina, talking about how much he loved me, and needed me. I’m frantically screaming and pushing away. He kept trying to kiss me until I threw up on the bed and he didn’t care. He just took his dick and shoved it in me. Over and over while I kicked and screamed and cried.

I had things inside my body that I didn’t want. I was used as a toy and degraded. I was humiliated and felt defeated. I had only had sex with one other man, my current boyfriend W before this, and I felt like I had betrayed him. I wanted someone to rush in and save me. I wanted time to stop. I wanted to die.

But instead he finished, and rolled over and slept. I managed to move off the other side of the bed to the floor. I was covered in vomit, blood, tears, snot, and semen. And I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t even cry anymore. All I could do was listen to the music from next door and the stupid sound of the caged mice on the desk. They were like me. Locked in a room. Running on their wheel. We both just wanted to get away. All night. Those mice were the only witnesses to what had happened, and to this day, seeing a mouse brings back every evil moment of that night. To the point I bought a snake so I could feed it live mice every week just to watch them die. Morbid? Yep. Helpful? Very.

I finally got my act together and snuck out about an hour or so later and drove straight to my boyfriend W’s place, where I told him what happened. He handled it so amazingly. He helped me shower and get into bed. He called work the next morning informing them I was unable to attend due to a family emergency. He offered advice, but never told me what I should do. He came with me to the clinic to get tested for all those wonderful STI’s. And he held me. He just held me. I never cried about it after the fact, and W understood that. But he still knew that I wanted to be held and feel safe. And he always did that for me. He never got mad when I said I didn’t want to press charges. I told him I didn’t want to have to be dealing with M or the whole situation for however many months/years to come, considering we worked together and everyone knew us both at work. I basically just wanted to pretend it never happened. Denial, its what I do, that’s how I operate. And W was ok with whatever I wanted. He recommended certain things that were best for me for sure. But never pushed me into something I wasn’t comfortable with.

Unlike some “men” who think if they say “I love you” then they can fuck you no matter what.


-Red Hot Chili Peppers/Under the Bridge-