Is anything ever going to change?

http://www.gulf-daily-news.com/NewsDetails.aspx?storyid=378559

Once again I open the GDN to read an unbelievable story about sexual abuse and the leniency the Bahrain Courts have when punishing perpetrators. A 15 year old and his uncle beat, raped, and filmed themselves while doing it because the man was engaged in a relationship with the 15 year olds mother. His words were, she was having a relationship “behind his back”. Since when do mothers need their children’s permission to have relationships? She is divorced and free, right? Ok let us make the poor excuse that this is an Arab country and so the mother needs her son’s permission to have a relationship (this is still Bahrain and not Saudi, right?), why did those two feel that a beating and rape while filming it was the correct course of action to take in order to bring this relationship to an end? The son claims it was his right to “honor beat” the man. Honor beat? Once again, what country is this? Since when did using the word “honor” become an acceptable excuse for beating and raping someone anywhere in the world but specifically Bahrain? I have lived here over 22 years and have never heard that word used as justification in court before. Is a new trend in extremism coming to Bahrain? Do residents here now have to fear that at any moment an attack will ensue based on “honor”? Not only that but your day in court will be little more than another assault against you as the judge will view your beating and rape as merely an inconvenience to you because the defendant had to restore his family honor one way or another?  In all the years I have lived in Bahrain one of the constants that has never changed are the atrociously low sentences  (or slap on the wrists if you will) that child molesters and rapists earn for doing the most despicable thing one can do to another, much less a child. Not only did these men confess to what they did in court, it is obvious that they are dangerous men who use extreme measures to deal with their issues. What excuse will the courts give them when they show up once again having done something similar to some other victim (maybe the mother next time, in defense of honor) because human beings generally show you who they are but we often ignore it and assume the best in them.  If I were someone considering coming to Bahrain for work or travel and I read the local newspapers as a way to gauge what sort of country Bahrain was, imagine my thoughts when reading that expats might not be able to drive for much longer, that car accidents due to extremely poor and aggressive driving are a daily occurrence, that if your nationality is not the “right” one you may be treated as less than either physically, financially, or humanely, that animals are often abused and considered disposable, that beaches are garbage dump sites, that elected officials in this country spend copious amounts of time doing nothing more than coming up with ways to waste both time and money,  and that, worst of all, sexual crime is not a big deal and treated lightly by the Bahrain Court system. The Bahrain government has spent a lot of money and effort in convincing the rest of the world that everything is fine here in order to get tourists and business back on board after events over the past couple of years and yet for anyone that has even the smallest interest in coming to Bahrain, all that effort is wasted with just a few minutes spent reading a local newspaper. All the money in the world and the best P.R. firm cannot undo that kind of damage.  

The scars of our memories.

When I was around 7 years old my father hit me on the head with a wire hanger. My "crime" was that I had scuffed the toes of my new school shoes. He checked them just before I was ready to head out the door to school and his reaction was rather extreme...if I say so myself. 

Grabbing the first thing available, one of those wire hangers that had a cardboard cylinder for a base, he smacked me on the head with it several times. He then kicked my butt, literally, and sent me out the door crying and with abusive words and threats ringing in my ears. Unknown to me, but I would shortly find out, was that he had actually managed to hit me hard enough that the wire had entered my skull...thus I was bleeding quite profusely as I stumbled shaking and crying down the street on the way to the bus stop.

 It was one of those moments where you don't realize you are injured until someone points it out to you. In this case, it was one of our neighbors that happened to be out in her yard and who quickly let me know something was wrong with me by her piercing screams and bug eyed look as she rushed towards me. 

She actually scared the cry right out of me as I saw her come rushing at me and I wanted to turn tail and run back to the house. Not often children see strangers come running at them while screaming and reaching out in such a way...but back home was the stuff of my nightmares...and so I stopped dead in the street and waited for whatever fate this screeching woman intended for me. 

It was then I realized I felt a very warm sensation oozing down my face and shoulder and I reached up to wipe it away only to come away with a hand drenched in blood. I stared at my red hand wondering just how it came to be covered in blood and couldn't think of one good reason. Suddenly the screaming woman went silent though her mouth still made the motions of screaming...only to be replaced with a very loud buzzing sound. Just before I went weak at the knees I was scooped up by someone I hadn't seen coming up behind me. My mother. 

Apparently my mother hadn't witnessed my father's early morning lessons on keeping my shoes unscuffed, but had heard me crying as I left the house and came to the door to see if I had left or not. It was then she noticed blood droplets in a haphazard line leading away from the door and towards the sidewalk. She told me her heart stopped in her chest when she saw that blood, assuming I had been taken by someone and injured in the process. She ran down to the  sidewalk just in time to hear the neighbor woman start screaming...and assumed the very worst.  

As she rushed me back to the house intending to take me to the hospital, not knowing how I was injured but seeing lots of blood, she was met with my stony faced father who quickly took charge of my "medical care". He refused to allow her to take me anywhere and insisted I be put in the shower so all the blood could be washed off. I remember him insisting my underwear stayed on which seemed rather odd when I thought about it years later. All the while he was washing off the blood he was on a long rant of how it was my fault and these were the consequences of disobeying his orders. I made not a peep in my own defense knowing it would do no good and also knowing it could make matters far worse. 

My father investigated my head to see what the injury was and declared there being no need to pay a fortune for the hospital when all I had was a pin sized hole in my skull from the end of the wire hanger. My mother did not insist...in fact she said very little. Something I took in stride at the time but would recall years later as being silent acceptance of my fate at his hands yet again. 

He kept me home from school that day and we never spoke of it again until I was grown and my mother came to visit me. She said that she didn't want me  to be hurt more than I was so she remained quiet...to protect me. Considering what that man did to me over and over again for the next 10 years I find it hard to believe my safety was what motivated her that day...but who knows.  Possibly she had my short term safety more in mind back then.

I think about that particular moment of abuse more than lots of others because I have a scar on my head to constantly remind me. It started out as a small raised bump but over time it has grown bigger and gets scratched my hair brush quite often. My father is long gone but his mementos are still around keeping his memory alive. Yay me. 

Another memorable event that always comes back with unending clarity were when he forced me to stand in the corner with my sodden underwear pulled over my head. I was a horrible bed wetter as a child and it lasted until around the age of 9 I believe. My older sister absolutely hated sleeping with me as I generally soaked us both with my nocturnal offerings more often than not. I remember my father making it a point to come check the bed every morning and me laying there fully aware of what he was going to find yet again. 

No matter how hard I tried or what I did (using the bathroom before bed, not drinking anything for hours ahead of time) it never seemed to help much. I actually recall having dreams as a child of me getting up and using the bathroom, feeling that sense of  release when you have been holding it and then get to finally go as you sit down...only to wake up and realize it wasn't a dream. For the rest of the night I would lay there cold and shaking from both the wetness and fear. 

On those mornings he chose to come throw the covers back and pull me from the bed I knew what fate awaited me...hours with my face pressed into the corner with my own panties snug against my face. Of course it didn't end there. Once his particular brand of punishment was over I still had my older sister to contend with. She always found time to punch or pinch me while hissing in my ear about how disgusting I was and what a baby I was and did I need diapers again? 

For the life of me when I think about these episodes...I can't remember what my mother had to say about it or if she ever did anything for or against me other than once again change the sheets on the bed after letting it air outside for a few hours. To this day the smell of urine triggers memories of those mornings spent in the corner while everyone else went about their routine as if I were invisible and inconsequential. Good times.

Years later when my own youngest daughter had her own bed wetting years, I should have made the connection, one of many, but it just never clicked until hind sight gave me 20/20 vision about that and a lot of other clues as to what was going on. Another reason to feel such guilt about my blindness. 

When these memories, and so many others, suddenly intrude on a perfectly nice moment, I can't help but wonder what memories my own children have locked away that also cannot be forgotten and make for unwanted company now and again? In my own defense (if I even have the right to make one) I did not remain quiet from the moment I learned what he was doing. I know this does not mean anything against the painful memories my children suffer from when I was clueless but it at least lets them know that if I had known sooner...I would have stopped it sooner. 

Small solace but something I try and convince myself means something. 

 

A reoccurring dream has me head scratching...again.

As I have stated several times on this blog, I often have dreams over and over again that generally end up meaning something to me, or coming true in some cases. Quite often these reoccurring dreams occur in the same place, like a bedroom or a particular road that ran near where I lived for awhile in my teens. One dream I have had many times over the past few years puts me in a bedroom, though this one is a room I'm not familiar with, in which I am on one side of the locked door and someone else is on the other side trying very hard to get in. That someone is almost always my father though now and again it is some unknown person. 

These dreams are not exactly scary but I do wake up from them feeling stressed and a bit anxious. I'm not sure what the purpose is considering my father has been dead for quite some time now. It's not like I will ever find myself on the other side of a door from him while he tries to knock it down. 

The more interesting thing to me is that I don't feel as if I dream that often. I know we forget our dreams generally upon waking giving us the impression we don't dream, so that may be it, but most mornings I wake up with no memory of having dreamt. When I do dream they are vivid life like events that have very little fantasy type scenarios involved. In order to come true they need to be capable of coming true. Dreams that reoccur often do come true in some fashion, though, so I suppose if I dreamed of flying it could be me in an airplane and not me personally flying...but my dreams don't generally work like that either. One thing doesn't generally stand for another thing. If I ever dream that I can fly chances are I can and just need to muster up the courage to jump off the highest available peak. My dreams are more like that .

 The dream about my father on the other side of a door trying to get me is on my mind a lot as he recently showed up in once again doing just that. The way my dreams generally work doesn't mean my father on the other side of a door trying to get me symbolizes some inner angst...but that at some point in my future, my dad will be on the other side of a door trying to get me. That is what the dream tells me..but that is impossible. Over the years I have had this same dream too many times to count, but I don't give it too much thought because my father is dead. End of story. The dream can't come true...so why do I keep having them?

One other interesting thing about my dreams is that I don't dream of the people currently in my life all that often. While married to my ex for 20 years he rarely showed up in my dreams...as did my father while living at home. An occasional cameo role is about the most they could hope for. My children probably show up more often than any others in my life, but then again, still not as often as it would seem they should. The love of my life probably even less so. This is something I have always found a little strange. My dreams are generally about me, of course, but often just me or me with unknown people set in familiar surroundings...friends and family are almost never co stars. 

I have no idea if that means anything at all in regards to my psychological make up or sanity level but it is something I have experienced all my life so is normal, whatever that it. However, dreaming of my dead father in a way that makes it seem as if a future event might take place that is impossible (unless one believes in the zombie potential...hmmm) but also knowing that those dreams of mine that do reoccur often come true in surprisingly accurate ways has me scratching my head.

Not sure if I should find this interesting...or be worried about it. My dad alive was hard enough to live with....not sure I want to find out what the alternative is.

New Year 2014. Last one was damn rough...time for something a little different.

2012 was one of my worst years yet since I divorced. No lie. I made some very bad choices, burned some much needed bridges, and generally just set myself on a destructive course that nearly had me in the black for good. 2013 was mostly spent trying to do damage control with varying degrees of success depending on who you asked. If you ask me, I wouldn't mind forgetting 2012 all together and parts of 2013 can follow right along, thank you. 

However, I didn't die from any of those bad choices so I will assume that means I still have time to do better and be better. A work in progress. Good days and bad days rub shoulders and have me on that emotional roller coaster ride that never seems to have an end. I have cried a lot and laughed little. I have spent more times just sitting doing nothing other than beating myself up over all those bad choices that just kept coming rather than do something about them...but eventually I caught on and started doing something. Too little too late? As I said, I'm not dead yet so let's assume the answer is no. 

I seriously need to start writing again. I keep saying I will and then let things get in the way even though this empty space is running like a ticker tape through my head day and night. It begs to be filled and my fingers itch to fill it but my mind just gets in the way and makes excuses...never seem to run out of those. 

Anyhow, my one resolution, if I must, is to get back to writing. I need to fill the empty spaces with words that won't stop in my head until they are written down. I need to finish that story I started awhile back that some of you may remember and I need to figure out how to make my writing work for me because I stopped writing and I started spiraling. I see a connection yet I couldn't seem to stop it or fix it. My goal is to write at least one post a week, more if properly motivated. Whether my readers come back or not is immaterial...I always did write just for me but the positive feedback was always nice. 

So here I am, 2014. Not dead yet. Not out for the count. Long as I wake up every morning then I have been given another chance to do better than the day before. Let's see if I have enough sunrises left to undo the destructive sunsets that are behind me? 

Wish me luck. 

The value of a child.

A Bahraini man publicly declared that he would be willing to sacrifice his children for peace in Bahrain. He was called a hero by many when it was posted on Facebook by supporters of peace in Bahrain. I was the only one who took exception to his declaration and said so. Here is what I said. Comments?

I am a follower of the Defend Bahrain page on Facebook and recently a particular Shiia man's name was mentioned as being "a hero" because he stated that he would be willing to sacrifice his 5 children for peace in Bahrain (for the record he was denouncing those in Bahrain that are causing chaos). Dozens of comments lauded this man as a not only a hero but a shining example of what a citizen of this country should strive to be like. As a parent myself I was absolutely horrified by his statement and by those that verbally back slapped and high fived him. I'm sure they would have carried him on their shoulders as well if possible. As parents we are given one task the moment we realize we are now parents and that is to protect our children from harm. There is no piece of land on this planet that comes close to being worth the blood that flows through any one of my children's bodies. We are meant to protect them with OUR lives...not sacrifice them on the alter of stupidity, ignorance, and pride. What is the point of bringing peace to Bahrain if we have thrown our children to the wolves in the process as we are meant to want peace for THEM, not for ourselves. We are leaving this land for them and for those that come after them. Not for ourselves as we will be long gone eventually. To say you are willing to sacrifice your children for a piece of land means you are not only an unfit parent, but neither deserving of nor striving for that peace you so loudly claim you want because a home that has lost all its children to war can never be a peaceful home....and a home that has lost all its children due to a parents neglect, pride and misplaced priorities is hell on earth. How can peace come from that? A true hero is a man that lays down his weapons, be they real or imagined, physical or verbal, while standing in front of his children and declaring, no more fighting...I want peace..and I am willing to sacrifice my pride, my ego, and my life for that goal, as long as they are safe. If everyone of those on that page who called him a hero were willing to sacrifice their own children as well, Bahrain would become a barren wasteland for what is peace without the sound of children playing and laughing. It is an empty meaningless peace.

A Squeezing of the Heart

A Squeezing of the Heart

For much of my life I was alone. Yes, I had a family growing up but I was not like any of them..or they were not like me. Not sure which is more relevant or if it matters. What matters is that I wasn't very connected with them and so spent much of my time alone...and by alone I don't actually mean physically alone, since that was rather impossible, but more emotionally alone or mentally alone. I spent more time inside my head then out of it...if that makes sense. 

When I married things didn't really change all that much. I really had no connection to my ex, who never read a book, never thought too deeply about anything important, and never understood why I did. I spent more time alone then with him...both physically and mentally. 

I couldn't really make friends either. Mostly because he didn't allow me to be with people, for the most part, but even when I was I didn't really know how to foster friendships and maintain them...so either he broke them up or my inability to be properly sociable did. Either way, I was alone more often than not. I was alone a lot in my life. I could say I was use to it but that wouldn't be true. Choosing to be alone is one thing...having it forced on you is something else.

And then I met someone who changed all that. 

This person was (is) everything I thought I would never have in my life. Something I thought I never deserved to have in my life.

 I was taught from a young age that I was worthless, useless, a waste of space and not very good at anything. Not a good daughter, sister, wife, mother, Muslim, friend, girl friend...etc.. Even though my I.Q. was higher than most children my age (I was tested and skipped grades blah blah blah), I was made to feel stupid and never encouraged to build or make something of my intelligence. My father couldn't be bothered to allow me to see just how smart I was. He refused to send me to college...hell, he refused to pay for SAT to get into college. I couldn't take them because I had no money of my own. I took the free ASVAB and went into the military. Not what I wanted in my life but the choice was not mine at the time....and see where that got me.

My ex spent 20 years destroying what little self worth I had left. He degraded everything there was to degrade in me..both physically and mentally. We both knew I was smarter than him...yet he made it a point to attack me in every way possible so that my intelligence was never a weapon I could use against him. I was too busy trying to get through each day...day after day...trying to be a better wife, mother, Muslim etc. so that the words and abuse would stop. If I could be better...he would be nicer. Didn't work with my dad but it might with the ex.

It didn't work but we all know now that it never would have. Abusers don't care. Period. No amount of fixing yourself will fix them....since they are the ones who are truly fucked up. 

At any rate, by the time this person entered my life...I was about as low as one could go and not actually be under ground in a grave. That all changed...to a point.

There is something about being loved by another human being that changes you. To see how he or she looks at you to the exclusion of anyone else in the room. The way he or she softens their voice to speak just to you...softens their touch just for your skin. The way they sit closer to make sure their body has some kind of contact with you. The way the sound of his voice causes a  reaction in you...or the way her gaze focused on you makes goosebumps crawl up and down your arms. That reaction your body experiences just because that person is near...or if they are not near...just thinking about them can do things to you that nobody else can. The way they go out of their way to make sure YOU know how important you are in their life. How special you are. How loved and appreciated you are just for being you. It's like your existence suddenly makes sense...you exist for the soul purpose to be loved by that someone special. 

Now it is one thing to have someone fall in love with you, quite another for you to believe it...to believe you are worthy to have such a love given to you when you have been made to believe that you are unlovable, unable to generate any emotion other than disgust, hate, or worse, indifference, in others. To have someone open a door and enter your life that knows none of your history, none of your emotional hangups and can't see the scars you have on the inside that are far worse than the ones on the outside...and just loves you because of YOU...not only is that hard to believe...it is hard to understand. 

There is obviously something wrong with me...for my entire life people have been detailing exactly all that is wrong with me. They can't all be wrong...can they? So how is it you can't see what they see? How is it you can see my intelligence? My sense of humor. My blue ocean eyes that sparks a shiver inside you when I look at you with that intensity that you love so well. How is it that my touch, which has always been described as cold and unwelcoming, is suddenly, not only welcomed but longed for? Who is this person you see when you look at me that nobody else can see because it seems you are looking at a stranger. Someone I certainly don't recognize and have never heard of. Since there is something obviously wrong with me...yet you find me desirable, lovable, and all things good...then there must also be something wrong with you. Yes...that is how my mind has been working during the course of this relationship.

Of all the things I have had to work on within myself..my anger, my self esteem, my sense of purpose and worth...believing I am worthy of another person's love has to be the one that has come hardest to me. People who professed to love me have been leaving me all my life...and usually after doing something  truly horrible to me (so better they left really but still painful), and those that stayed in my life made sure I understood they were the ones suffering from my existence because I was more work then I was worth. It is hard to get past a life time of that sort of conditioning. It doesn't happen over night and not just because someone enters your life and tells you that you are loved. 

It doesn't work like that. Believe me. 

No matter how much that person will express his or her love. How much they might go to pains to show you, prove it, live it every day of your life. No matter how much you want to believe it..there is always that little voice in the back of your mind saying, it's only a matter of time before he or she discovers that same person everyone else was aware of, that unlovable person, and do what they all did...either leave or stay and suffer from your existence. 

So because that voice is the voice of the demon that lives in your head and has lived in there since you were old enough to know that a demon lived in your head...it is the voice that dominates much of your thoughts, your choices, your life. No amount of love from another human being can silence the voice of the demon that assures you that no matter what that person says...you are not worth being loved. Period. 

So you hear the words, love and enjoy how that person makes you feel, how they touch your heart, your mind, your body...while the whole time the demon is negating it all in your head. It is a constant war going on that never ceases. There are lulls, there are retreats now and then but it is a full scale war going on and the casualties are constantly piling up. Of course the casualties are the moments you let pass, the choices you made believing they were the right choices, the harm you did to your relationship because the demon dominated your thoughts. Created anger and doubt and suspicion where none existed...but existed in your head none the less. Demons are powerful things. So powerful that sometimes even love cannot conquer them. 

My personal demon was anger, of course. All the years of abuse from every corner of my life caused such an all consuming anger in me that in the end, I had very nearly destroyed not only myself...but the one relationship...the one love that was given to me freely and unconditionally. 

It is not that I don't love this person. I do beyond words. Beyond expression. It is just that I couldn't believe in myself, find worth in myself, find anything in myself to deserve what I was being given so much of. I was letting the anger and self doubt destroy even the little bit of good I had in my life. I was allowing that anger and self doubt to make choices for me that were not good choices but of which I had no power NOT to make because the voice in my head, my demon...was the most powerful force in my life up until then. Not even the greatest love I have ever had the honor of being given could quiet the voice of my own personal demon. 

I had to fall very hard and very fast and all the way to the goddamn bottom almost (almost) before I learned that the demon was alive and well because I fed it, nurtured it, and gave it everything it needed to survive. It needed my anger, my self doubt, my self loathing to live comfortably in my head...it needed everything negative I had within me...and I had a lot...and so it grew and grew and became louder and louder...until every other voice was drowned out (even my own). Even the voice of my love. 

So I made choices. Bad choices. Choices that were bad for me, for my children and for this relationship that was the best thing I have ever had in my life. At the time, of course, I thought they were the right choices but then that was the lying little demon convincing me they were. And I listened...and lost a lot. 

As my previous post indicated, I had an epiphany of sorts. Realized that I needed to just Let Things Go if I was going to survive my life. Survive with any sense of peace and happiness. I'm 44 years old and not getting any younger (so sad) and all I can say is better late than never that I was finally able to drown out that terrible horrible little voice that has been my constant companion since I was a child. Of course I still have moments of doubt, moments of in which I have to mentally catch myself from falling into bad habits of self destruction...but I'm coming along quite well for the most part. 

However, I have learned that just because I am healing myself...working on myself and doing what I can to ensure I am a mentally healthy person...that doesn't mean the damage all that anger created isn't still being felt by those that are closest to me and suffered the most from it. Most especially by the one person that loved me when no other person on this planet could find one reason to do so (not including my children here of course...that is a different kind of love). I damaged this relationship a lot by making choices that hurt us both. I thought they were the right choices at the time...but they were choices made in anger so obviously were not going to turn out well. Unfortunately, fortune telling is not one of my skills...and I'm worse off because of it. 

So now that I have let the anger go (mostly, still working on some issues) and have gained a lot in my life because of it (inner peace, happy thoughts, better choices made with a clearer mind and losing weight), I find that now this relationship is in danger of coming to an end. Not because the love is gone, it isn't. Still as strong as ever. Not because the desire to be together is gone. Still there...but because my anger has been a very real part of this relationship even when we both tried to ignore it or excuse it. My decisions and choices were made from anger and they turned out very bad for all concerned...and so this person is use to being hurt because of my anger and the resulting fall out. Hard to convince someone that it's no longer an issue when it always has been before. Sort of like convincing myself I am worthy of being loved...even when everything in my life convinced me that I wasn't. 

I am so afraid now. More afraid than at any time in my life. More afraid then when I thought my father was going to actually kill me. More afraid then when I thought I was going to actually kill my husband. More afraid then when I thought I was going to die at various times in my life. None of those moments of fear can measure up to the this overwhelming fear that now consumes me that NOW...when I have finally gotten my life on a good track. When I have accomplished so much mentally, physically and emotionally...to the point where I can feel actual happiness is within my grasp...now when I believe that this relationship can actually be better than it has ever been before because NOW I won't be busy destroying it with anger and self doubts etc....now is when it will finally succumb to all the pain it has had to endure over the years. 

Now....when it has the best possible chance of succeeding...is when it will fall apart. 

Irony...Karma...which ever it is...you are a bitch.  

I am fearful that my vanquished demon will return with a vengeance because even though the anger is gone...it is being replaced with fear of abandonment once again. I cannot blame this person for leaving me...lord knows I did my share of pushing away...but I cannot seem to find the right words to convince that all will be better now.

Words have abandoned me, it seems....and without the power of my words...what do I have left to convince with? Words are all I have ever had to truly express myself. To make people listen up and pay attention to me when most of the time I am invisible and ignored. 

I have accomplished so much within myself this past 5 months or so...but my greatest fear is that it is simply too late. I will end up losing the one thing that kept me going when nothing within myself could do that. And for that reason...I am terrified. 

It is hard to remain positive and moving forward towards happiness when that very source of my happiness seems intent on moving further away no matter what I do. I cannot blame anyone but me for this. Which is ironic considering I have been blamed for all the failures my abusers had within themselves but pushed off on me all my life...I didn't deserve those blames...but this one I actually do...and I am afraid it will send me free falling back into the black that I have worked so hard to pull myself out of. 

I have dealt with abuse, with neglect, with anger and self doubt. I have lived through soul destroying loneliness and unhappiness. I have survived when my abusers have died alone or continue to live but are alone having lost everything. I survived all of that for better or worse...but I am not sure I can survive this person leaving me (or worse yet, becoming indifferent). 

It will be one leaving too many. 

All I can say is that I love you. Need you. Want you and that I am so sorry for my past mistakes. I have no excuse other than that I am a work in progress. I cannot undo in such a short time what 40 plus years has had time to create in me. Have a little more patience with me and I promise it will all be worth it. I am trying so hard. Please don't give up on me. 

Please.

Grandma Coolred...how awesome is that?

 Maya Rashid AlJuma March 24, 2013

During my long absence my oldest daughter had the nerve to make me a grandmother without so much as asking me. As I said...what nerve. She was due around March 23 and thus I made it my goal to be with her during one of the most terrifying wondrous moments of her life. I was alone for the birth of all 5 of my babies so I know what it feels like to not have a hand to hold or someone to calm me down...I didn't want her to feel that way even for a moment. 

Of course I told her I wouldn't be able to make it because I simply didn't have the money for such an expensive ticket. She believed me...so gullible.

I got busy on my side, ensuring I had a month off from work (all my coworkers seemed as excited as I was by the prospect of me becoming a gramma...ancient jokes were in abundance) and I waited impatiently for my tax return to show up. It was the only way I could afford to go but it was taking it's damn sweet time and time was running out on me if I was going to make it there before she delivered. 

Now here is the thing. Other than my kids over here...and coworkers of course...I told nobody that I was going to Bahrain...not even my best friend there. The only person I did tell was someone I knew who wouldn't spill the beans..so he could pick me up at the airport. (well that didn't work out as well as I hoped but what to do?)

My daughter constantly made comments about wanting me there and how she was getting so nervous and worried. I told myself if she really did start to freak out I would ensure her I was coming to calm her down...but that point never arrived so all was good. The day I left I constantly texted her and everyone over there all the way across the U.S. until I lost contact in the air. By this time my best friend sort of had a clue of my intentions as I would see in all the texts back and forth later...but she wasn't positive. 

I arrived in Bahrain after a torturous 23 hour flight all together. I was exhausted...and to make matters worse...my expected ride was no where to be found. My phone had discharged at this point so I couldn't even see his number to call him. I still wanted to surprise my daughter but wasn't sure what to do at this point. My plan wasn't working out...grrr.

I ended up waiting about an hour before I decided he wasn't coming (I was the only red head in a sea of dark haired people..he wasn't there or he would have seen me) so I decided to take a taxi to best friends house. Surprise her...then go to daughter's house and let the party begin. 

By the time I got to best friends house it was fairly late..and she wasn't there. I spoke with her housemaid who ensured me she would be coming soon...so I hid in her ladies salon where I could see when she arrived. Unfortunately, her housemaid wasn't very good at keeping secrets and sort of let the cat out of the bag as soon as best friend arrived. So much for surprises...grrr. 

She was surprised, to a point, but had a feeling I was coming over and so expected me as well. By this time it was quite late and since my daughter was late stage pregnancy and didn't need middle of the night surprises...I decided to wait until morning to spring my awesome self on her. I spent the night at best friend's house and anticipated the morning's adventures. 

A little bit of back story at this point. I had told my daughter previously that I bought a lot of baby things for her...but would mail a box to her and hopefully it would arrive on a certain date (my arrival date no less). She was constantly asking me if I had mailed the box and I told her be patient. So the next morning my best friend calls her and tells her SHE had the box..as I had actually mailed it to her...not my daughter. My daughter was sort of miffed at that but was happy just to know it arrived..and told best friend to bring it over. 

When we arrived at daughter's house...best friend knocked on door and indicated that the box was so big a man from the street was carrying it for her to the door. As I sprung around the corner..my daughter was standing there with a very skeptical look on her face at this point...but it immediately dissolved into a pool of tears as soon as she saw me. I quickly realized how relieved she was to have me there..and I was very happy that I had decided to come despite the crazy cost of the ticket. 

After celebrating we got down to the business of waiting for baby to arrive. She still had about a week to incubate so we shopped, and readied baby room and just enjoyed the next few days while baby was still on the inside (always the best place for them). 

During prenatal visits the doctor kept mentioning C-sections and epidurals as choices my daughter  could consider and I was rather irritated by that. Why not promote natural birth first and foremost...why even bring those up unless the need was very apparent? By this point baby was being just a tad stubborn and delayed her arrival by a few days so induction was talked about. My daughter decided March 24th would be the day to get baby moving. We waited for that day to arrive with bated breath and mixed feelings of Fear and Finally it would be over with. 

The morning of the Big Day we arrived at the hospital very early in the morning and daughter was settled in and prepped for an I.V. etc. to begin the process. She was scared but I could also see that she was very relieved to have me there..along with her husband. I might add at this point that her husband is a wonderful man and was there every step of the way with her (as much as he could be). Always attending her prenatal visits...always very interested in what she was going through and doing whatever he could to ensure her comfort and calm state of mind. They chose a private hospital that would allow him to be with her during the whole birth process as well and he was with her every moment. I like him a lot. 

When her doctor arrived...she still brought up a possible C-section and epidural..even though my daughter was doing fine up to this point. Yes she was experiencing pain but she was handling it well..so what the hell? I talked with my daughter and advised her to do what she thought was best but that natural birth was the best choice unless something warranted such actions. She seemed intent on doing it the natural way...which didn't seem to please her doctor for some reason.

My best friend arrived at some point and we all spent the morning listening to the fetal monitor, getting my daughter whatever she needed..and counting the minutes down. She was very slow in dilating, was experiencing more and more contraction pain, but was doing OK. Once again the doctor came in and advised her to consider a C-section or epidural. Her comment was that she didn't think my daughter could handle the pain...which was odd considering that's exactly what she was doing up until this point. My daughter told her...I'm fine right now. Give me a chance to do it this way. 

Shortly before noon, as we were all gathered around, my daughter (while suffering through more intense contractions at this point) suddenly demanded we get the nurse. It seemed the urge to push had just arrived. The nurse came and did a pelvic check and was surprised to learn that my daughter had went from barely 2 cm over several hours to 7 cm in no time flat. Suddenly things got serious and nurses came in preparing to take her to the delivery room. 

Best friend and I waited just outside the delivery room for awhile...alternating between crying and excitement...waiting impatiently for good news. Her doctor came out at one point and said we could go in if we wanted. Wow...that was awesome. I didn't think I would be able to be with her..just near her...at that point. We put on gowns and hurried into the room. 

Daughter was concentrating on her moment in the limelight...SIL was holding her hand and doing his part to keep her calm...and the nurses were running around like those last few minutes before the curtain was drawn and the show began was at hand. 

Best friend and I elected to stand just behind the curtain since it was close enough to offer support but not in the way of all the activity. We shouted encouragement to her every step of the way..until we eventually heard what we had all been waiting anxiously for 9 months to hear...the indignant cries of a new life brought into the world. 

We were all crying, excited, and overwhelmed...but not too overwhelmed that we didn't record the moment when new baby Maya was brought over to the table for her first check up. It's an awesome video that I would have loved to have with any one of my own children. Oh well..sign of how things are changing in Bahrain from the 80's. For the better in some regards. 

At some point my daughter looked at her doctor and told her...see, I did it without drugs or anything. I proved you wrong. That's my girl. Don't let the doctors bully you into unneeded procedures unless it's absolutely necessary. Everything and everyone came through with flying colors. 

And  I was a new grandma. Grandma Coolred. How awesome is that?

I spent the next two weeks helping daughter with whatever she needed but she assured me that she had a perfect example on motherhood due to her own mother. She had this. Very cool. A million pictures and a hundred videos later...I was sad to see my day of departure arrive. I had to say goodbye to my two kids, my new granddaughter, SIL, and best friend that I love so much. It was the first time I had ever found it hard to leave Bahrain. Imagine that. All it took was a new little baby to make that happen...well not just that...but more on that later. 

So little Maya is well over a month old now...thriving and keeping her parents on their toes. I get lots of daily pics and videos still and share them with everyone who doesn't run away at this point. My daughter is planning a trip here so her siblings can see their new niece and her husband can visit the states for the first time. I can't wait to see them. 

I will make an effort to be in Maya's life because my own children did not have that sort of connection with their own grandmother (thought hind sight tells me they didn't miss out on much but at the time it was very hurtful to me)...plus I have so many things to teach this precious little girl. Sarcasm and a sharp tongue being top of the list...as self defense against the Stupids of the world.

 It's the least I can do. 

 

The Big Golden Dog that spoke to Coolred in her dreams.

Anyone that has known me throughout my life is aware that I have a thing with dreams. My dreams often come true...in one way or another. This has happened my whole life and I have just come to expect certain dreams will "speak" to me in some way. Now I may have a dozen dreams a week...several dozen a month etc. with nothing extraordinary happening..but then one dream will come along that stands out. It's rather hard to explain why this dream is different except to say that while I'm having the dream, I'm fully aware that THIS dream has something to tell me...and it's usually more vivid and more "real" than other dreams. I wake up and immediately know that something will happen eventually to make this dream "come true".

Another clue that tells me a certain dream is more special than other ones is that I will have it more than once. Up until recently, twice or possibly three times was the max for having one particular dream (with variations but all on the same theme) until that dream played out is some fashion in real life. After that, I never dream that particular dream again.

Until several months ago that was the pattern for my Special Dreams. Now and then a certain dream would come to me...possibly twice or three times...and then become reality in some fashion. Not all the dreams were good, so to speak, so I can tell you that I have been damn scared by some of them...but generally speaking they have been pretty interesting the way they played out.

As I said, up until a few months ago...then something happened that changed the whole Special Dream scenario...I dreamt of a Big Golden Dog. When I say big...I mean larger than the size that this particular dog (it appeared to be a Golden Retriever type dog) generally grows. His head reached my chest and was the most beautiful dog I have ever had the pleasure to look at.

I knew from the moment this dream started that Big Golden Dog was special. I needed to pay attention to this dream. However, in the first dream he did nothing more than follow me around the dream as the dream itself played out. I wasn't surprised when about a month later he showed up in my dreams again. This time he walked by my side as I wandered through my dream. Again, nothing happened to explain his presence but I felt incredibly calm just having him in the there with me. I remember waking up and just laying there almost expecting that he followed me out of the dream...that's how real he seemed to me.

Over the course of several months Big Golden Dog made an appearance in my dreams 4 times (the first time a particular dream happened that often)...but something interesting started happening...he started looking directly at me and doing things with his muzzle (mouth) that made me feel as if he was trying to speak to me.  It got to the point where I absolutely hated waking up because I felt like just a few more seconds and I would understand what he was trying to tell me...and he was really struggling by the 4th dream. I knew, without a doubt, that if he showed up in my dreams again...he would speak to me...and I also knew he had something important to tell me. 4 dreams obviously meant something...but what?

You know where this is headed, right? Big Golden Dog did show up for a 5th time...and yes...he spoke to me...but wait...first let me give some back ground that will explain what he had to tell me and why it was so damn important that I get the message (as if I needed telling but who am I to dictate my dreams...or who shows up with a message in them).

If you read my previous post (I hope), you will know that I have been struggling with a lot of personal issues for a long time. The past few years have been especially hard after the divorce (and the reasons for it) and just dealing with the anger that permeated me so deep I think my bones were soaked in fury. I sank quite low, to the point where friends were abandoning me and I was in danger of losing some very important relationships that meant the world to me. I was on a very destructive course that had me free falling into The Black.

It's about this time (at my lowest and darkest point) that Big Golden Dog first showed up. I didn't equate the two until much later...as you will see.

At around the beginning of this year I had a nasty wake up call. I realized that if I continued on this course of self destruction I was going to lose the one relationship that mattered more than any other (besides my children). I needed to figure out a way to rid myself of this over powering anger in order to save myself...and the relationship. By this time Big Golden Dog had shown up 3 times.

I started thinking (see previous post) about all my issues and what was at the root of all the anger. My ex obviously played a very big role in this. The life I had with him has scarred me in ways that I will never be rid of...but I was holding onto the anger long after the divorce was a done deal...so essentially I was keeping the man in my life as if we were still married. I needed to drop that mentality if I planned on getting rid of that anger. I spent two days off from work, around this point, doing nothing but laying in my bed and thinking...and just letting go of things that had bothered me to the point of causing issues for me...and for those closest to me. It was a weekend of mental purging and by the end of it I was completely exhausted. I barely had the energy to return to work...but before I did Big Golden Dog returned for a 4th time. This is when he really tried to talk to me but couldn't quite make it.

By this time I had told plenty of people about my dreams and the latest star appearance. Everyone had opinions about what a dog in a dream meant but I was no nearer to knowing at this point what his purpose was...but I knew he would come again and I was patient.

By March I had sorted through a lot of my mental anguish and had let so much crap go that I started feeling like a new person. It was mid March that I traveled to Bahrain to attend my daughter's birth of my first grandchild (another story there) and for the first time ever...I enjoyed my time spent in Bahrain (with a few bumps). So much of the anger and suffering that I equated with that country was simply gone. It was almost like visiting it for the first time...with no preconceived opinions about it. When it came time to leave and return to this life...I actually didn't want to go. Yes, I know. Quite surprising that Coolred was actually reluctant to leave the country where here demons came to life...but reluctant I was. I could almost feel my heels digging in even as I looked forward to seeing the children I had left behind for a month.

It was then that I truly realized I had successfully done what I never thought I would ever be able to do. I separated the fact of my abusive 20 year marriage to a worthless human being...from the country it took place in. Bahrain wasn't evil just because evilness occurred there. If that were true then America would be evil and unacceptable to me as well since my own father was every bit as abusive as my ex. I realized that I had been equating the place with my ex and my marriage...and for that I had been making those closest to me suffer with my anger and personal issues. I also realized that because some of my children still live there (and my new grandchild) that I would obviously be making more trips back there and so getting rid of the anger and bullshit that crowded my mind was paramount if I was going to be the Awesome Gramma that my own mother never was (another story...I have plenty of them...just wait).

I returned home with renewed determination to continue the healing process. I had plenty of incentive...a new me...a new life awaited...and happiness.

And so...for the 5th time Big Golden Dog showed up in my dreams (last week)...and he spoke to me just as I knew he would.

And this is what he said.

You have lived a life full of pain. It has made you who you are today, for better or worse. You cannot deny your past nor can you change it...all you can change is how you let it influence your future. Letting go was essential for healing to begin. Those who left you while you struggled were meant to leave...and those who have stayed were meant to stay. Do not spend precious moments grieving or feeling anger for those that are no longer in your life as their paths sent them in a different direction. Those that love you, need you, and want you in their lives have made it a point to remain in your life. You have learned that life is short. Time is precious. Prolonged anger is a wasted emotion and love is often the victim. You have traveled a rough road but it has led you to where you are today. Be proud for what you have accomplished. There is still work to be done but you are well on your way. Happiness is always a choice.

I woke up from this dream feeling absolutely amazing. Rested and at peace with the choices and actions I have made recently. I have no doubt that what I want for what remains of my life is the right choice or me...but it doesn't hurt to get a second opinion that supports that choice. Ha ha.

Big Golden Dog (who remained nameless throughout the dreams but strongly reminded my of my dog King) was a sort of spiritual adviser I'm thinking. Something I've never experienced but certainly was well worth the wait. I have no idea if I will see him again but I doubt it. He had a message and he delivered it.

Just Let It Go

For those that use to read me regularly you may have noticed that I haven't written anything significant for quite some time. Writing is my Thing. It's what I do and I have always enjoyed it since I realized I do it rather well. However, this past year hasn't been My Year, so to speak. I've been in an up and down roller coaster ride that has had me either hanging on for dear life...or raising my hands in the air and enjoying the thrill. All this has resulted in one very troubling aspect in my life...I lost the desire to write.

Period.

It just left. No idea why...or really when but I realized at some point that I just had nothing to say anymore. Or maybe I felt my words had lost their ability to really convey what I was feeling or what I wanted to express. I have no idea but the end result was silence in the one area of my life I had always depended on to get my demons out...or my humor (I choose to call it that) or whatever was on my mind. Without being able to write...it has all been locked up inside me...and damned if I haven't suffered because of it.

I went down the rabbit hole more or less and apparently enjoyed it so much I decided to stay there for a spell. I have been down that hole before (my past made it a place I tend to visit from time to time) but I have always used my writing to pull me back out again. This time I did not have even that ability to rescue myself...so there I stayed.

Around the first part of this year I had a revelation of sorts. I was angry. Very angry. Angry at the people in my life (past and present) that have done things to me that turned me into a negative, pissed off person. Every day I was fuming about one thing or another. My temper, which use to be so hard to trigger, was now on a veritable trip wire. Anything could set me off...and I was a raging ball of fire. I was a seething mass of negative energy that ended up corrupting everything good in my life...because I was too angry to pay attention to the good things in my life.

I was letting my past ruin my present...and destroy whatever good my future held for me. I was allowing all that bullshit that was my past life...be the sum total of my present life. I was my past..and my past was me. When I realized that I was allowing those people, that are long gone from my life, to still be a part of it (taking up full time rent free space in my head) and therefore impacting and corrupting it...I knew I either accepted the rabbit hole as my forever dwelling...or fight my way out of it.

Everyone who reads (or did) about my life know that I have 5 kids. I had a blast with my kids while they were growing up. We were rarely apart for any reason and they were a close knit group of siblings. My kids are mostly all grown now. I have my youngest, 15 years old, at home still but the rest are off living their lives. The silence that is my house now weighs on me terribly. Gone are the sounds of the music they all played, the fighting or laughing...the messes they each generate in their way. This silence has fueled my anger in ways...because I had no distractions from that anger and could spend copious amounts of time nurturing it and feeding the flames. My children are the soul reason I survived my marriage. Having them in my life, knowing I needed to be there for them..meant I couldn't give up or give in. Even if I felt my life wasn't worthwhile or important, theirs was...and I had to make sure they knew it. Now they are gone (generally speaking) and Ive been alone with my thoughts, my inner demons, my anger issues...and that has meant I had little respite from the inner destruction that was going on.

As I said, I realized one day that I might as well still be married if I was going to wake up every day and spend my time, my precious time, living as if my ex was still a real and meaningful presence in my life. If my memories of the past were going to keep me company as I went about my daily routine, ruining whatever happiness I might gain from even the smallest of joys then why bother living. If the experiences I had while living in Bahrain for the first 20 years...were going to color and corrupt whatever came after that then what was the point of the divorce..of gaining my freedom...if I was still going to live as if I were a prisoner?

I realized that the only person that could save me from my anger and issues with my past...was ME. Once I realized this I set about on a course of emotional healing. I spend far too much of my time alone...but one thing that being alone affords me is time to think....and think... and think some more. At times I would lay in my bed, during my time off from work, and just think. I would do nothing else but think about my past, my anger issues and where they came from...and what I could do to change what I was becoming (or had become) into someone better. I would literally lay there for two days solid and just stare at the ceiling...going through every damn issue that had turned me into a person that others didn't want to be around (did I mention I have lost several "friends" this past year as well)...I thought it was them...but realized it must be me since it kept happening. I find it incredibly hard to make friends, went most of my whole life without really having any, so losing the ones I did have was like a confirmation to my already low self esteem that I'm not even worthy to remain friends with. If others can't stand me..what did that say about me?

I worked my way through issues that were like open wounds on my soul. I poked and prodded them and made them bleed out all that pent up corrosive blood until only fresh blood remained. As I dealt with each issue I would ask myself...why is this still making me so angry...and is it worth it still? Of course, most of the time (damn near every time) the answer was no. Anger and self loathing, low self esteem and feelings of unworthiness were not worth it. My past was what it was...I couldn't change that...but I could change today, tomorrow and whatever came after that. As I worked my way through each and every issue...the end result would be to Just Let It Go.

Like a balloon that yearned to be free and sail off into parts unknown...I released, one after the other, issue after issue that was weighing me down, corrupting my relationships, my goals, my life. As each balloon sailed away I felt myself become lighter inside. I started feeling something I hadn't felt in so long I wasn't even sure I was calling it by the right name.

I started feeling happy. (don't be as shocked as I was please)

Happiness is not a feeling I have really felt too often in my life...and when I say happy I mean more than just a fleeting moment of happiness that is more like a memory than a state of mind. It felt unfamiliar and alien at the beginning...almost like an impostor had set up residence after I kicked out the abusive squatters. I almost didn't know how to handle this new emotional state. I felt like a beginner at happiness..a noob that needed to feel my way around and learn the rules and tricks before really putting my all into the game.

Apparently the "new" me was attracting some attention. I have had people at work comment more than once that I always seemed to walk around with a scowl on my face (I'm sure I was as I always had some inner demon playing with my mind)..or that I looked like I wanted to punch someone. Now they were amazed to notice that I was smiling, whistling...even singing...while going about my work. I had a few people ask me if I was in love..had I found someone that had brought about this change. Well, first off, yes...I am in love, have been for years now, but that relationship was one of the ones I was busy destroying due to my anger issues and one I was desperately trying to save at that point....but the reasons for the smiling, whistling and singing was due to another person all together.

Me. I was happy....or working hard so that I knew it was coming. I could feel it...see it...taste it. As I worked my way though each issue...I finished with it..and then Just Let It Go. I could not possibly explain with adequate words the effect this had had on me emotionally. Yes of course I still get angry (more than I like still...a work in progress) and I know that to never get angry is just not possible...but when I trip up and fall into a full blown anger melt down, I mentally try as hard as I can to reign myself in and put a halt before it gets out of control. (again, not always successful but I'm far better at it then I used to be). I ask myself, will this matter in 5 minutes, ten...tomorrow...and of course it most likely won't. And when I realize this...I can almost  feel myself relax and feel the anger start to recede and dissipate. It has stopped my anger in its tracks most of the time...most, work in progress as I said.

I have reached a stage now where so many things that use to set me off (thoughts of my past, of Bahrain, of certain people) don't really affect me at all anymore. I can think about them without feeling that tightness in my chest that would be an indicator that rage was building. I can talk about them without gnashing my teeth or getting angry at the person I'm talking to because the person I'm really angry at isn't there. Those balloons have sailed...and I have never heard of a balloon that was set free...come back to its owner.

Now, if there was one set back to all this emotional healing...it's convincing others that it's actually taking place. People who know me, love me, are so used to Angry Red...that they are suspicious of New Red. For some reason they would rather believe that you can't change who you have always been even though those same people have been encouraging me for years to do exactly that. I have actually gotten into arguments (go figure) while trying to convince these same people that the changes are real, are reaping benefits and are permanent. I much prefer New Red to Angry Red...why would I go back to that...and why do those I love most keep insisting I do? I have no idea.

Anyhow, I have a lot more to say. That makes me happy just writing that as it means I have more writing to do...and I realize this post is not up to my usual standards but I felt the need to write and I haven't felt that in such a long time...I'm just putting it out there before the mood disappears. So you guys (if there are any readers left) get a rough copy and I'm sorry for that but it is what it is. 

A few topics I will write about are my two recent trips to Bahrain (yes...imagine that), my new status as Grandma (my granddaughter is amazing) and what the future might hold for me. I became friends again with my ex from high school and other topics that might be of interest.  Stay tuned...if you are interested. I know I am.

Oh mind of mine...

Being alone with my thoughts
What black chaos
What red pain

Filling my head with your sneaky ways
Devious pain filled images
Do you even care...oh mind of mine

Three little words on a screen
Causing doubt...hurt...regrets
Squeezing my heart

Wonder of wonders
It still functions...beats
Tho each one leaves me breathless

Choking my throat
Filling my eyes so I can't see
Squeezing...always squeezing

Oh mind of mine
You are not really my friend
Will you leave me too?

College Class Update

I've started my second semester of college after a very hectic first semester. It took me awhile to find my groove that first semester; find time for work, homework and family. As I said...HECTIC!!

Anyhow, just to wave my own flag for a second here, after all that headache, stress and much hair pulling, I did manage to finish the semester on the Deans List. don't ask me how I managed that because I haven't a clue. But still, yay me.

Side note...the only thing that stopped me from finishing with ALL A's was one certain speech teacher that gave me a B in his class. I hate to admit I have serious doubts as to whether I deserved that B. I did flub the first speech (deer in headlights remember...ugh) and got a C but I got A's on the next two and A'ced the the final as well. Sooooo....it makes me think he had other issues with me (possibly my connection to Arabs/Islam that he showed obvious dislike for?), but I don't know for sure so I can't say.

Anyways, new semester new stresses, new likes and dislikes etc. Here's a second week into it run down.

Algebra I & II. This class isn't really a class. It's all done on line with a teacher circulating the class encase anyone needs help. No lectures, no examples on the board with detailed explanations etc. I'm a visual person so this is very hard for me to deal with. I'm finding it difficult to understand the rationale in mixing numbers with letters and calling it math. Ugh! It's even more confusing to me because I use to be an ace at math, a whiz, somewhat of a genius actually. When I was young I could do complicated math problems in my head people! No lie. When I was a mere 6th grader I was placed in 9th grade Algebra, which did nothing to make friends for me. For some reason 9th graders did not take kindly to a puny 6th grader showing them up. I mostly kept silent after realizing that just because I was smart didn't mean I had to show it. (oh the memories) I would have to venture a guess and deduce that my "math muscle" has atrophied due to inactivity and such. In other words, Use It or Lose It! I lost it. *sigh*

Good news is that this class is taught by my previous math teacher so we have a relationship established already. She is a good instructor so I'm confident things will go smooth.

Technical Writing: This class is about learning how to write business correspondence, ads, memos, things meant to be published in other words. So far it comes across as very odd. The instructor gives very strange homework that many of us have concluded makes no sense based on what we were taught in class. He also is a very sedate, methodical instructor. a.k.a. boring. I could fall asleep in the time it takes him to get his point across. Most of the students in this class are the same ones that were in my English Comp class last semester. While that class was Las Vegas with its funny lectures, jokes, and all around feel good atmosphere...this one is like a trip through Mr Rodgers Neighborhood...with Mr Rodgers leading the way. No excitement, no laughter, just information given in slow monotones and glazed eyes and big yawns are prevalent. I don't particularly care for this class at the moment but it's required to full fill our English credit so what can I do. Get it out of the way I guess. *sigh*

Spanish I: I actually love Spanish class despite my struggle learning foreign languages. Arabic definitely did not come easy to me (still struggling with that..ugh) but our instructor is a bubbly, sexy energetic Latino woman and she makes all the difference in how the class runs. It's interesting to note that Spanish and Arabic have very similar grammar rules. It's also a "what you see is what you get" in terms of spelling etc. There are no silent letters in other words. I like the class a lot and hope I can learn sufficient Spanish to converse with my many Spanish speaking customers. However, I noticed that I definitely need to be in class and learn the material first hand. The two days I missed for various reasons could be viewed quite well on our first exam. I did well on the sections I was in class...not so well on the sections I was not in class. I vow to not miss any classes if I can help it. I also noticed that she doesn't spend much time on any given section. The first day we were learning vowel sounds and basic Spanish rules...the next words...and the next we were expected to be reading and reciting whole sentences. Obviously it's going to be a speedy train to the final destination...so got to be there for the whole ride. LOL

Soy optimista!!!

Wyoming Govt & Politics: I have to admit right here and now that I know very little about the American govt system and how it operates and came to be what it is. Other than what I learned in 9th grade govt. class I have little experience with it. My only excuse being that I have been overseas for all of my adult life and busy with other things...ahem. I thought the class would be boring but it's actually quite interesting. Of course this doesn't mean I'm going to find it a breeze or anything but at least I won't be falling asleep in it as I see many other students doing in that big hall while the lights are off and projector on. LOL The instructor is quite dynamic as well so that's helpful. He is making a potential "dry subject" (at least to me) engaging and thought provoking. Also, it's actually two classes; one day a week are a combined class with several lecturers giving their opinions etc about current events or politics etc, which helps keep boredom at bay with every new face etc; and we've got a once a week class with our own specific instructor fine tuning what we heard in the lecture hall...with his own added commentary. So it's interesting and I think I will learn a lot about politics before I'm done. They also aren't afraid to speak of "controversial" issues and let us comment on those subjects too so that's always fun to be able to speak freely with learned people about certain subjects. Right now we are discussing the topic, "what's so great about being an American and is our democratic system any better than what passes for democracy in other countries?". Fun stuff.

College paper: Of course I continued with writing for the school paper. I was also made Assistant Editor this semester as my instructor really likes my writing. She hinted that I will be made Editor sometime in the future if I continue in this vein. I found it funny that I actually don't always get a chance to look at the college paper once it's published and so was actually surprised to see the last one published from last semester had the whole mid section spread dedicated to one of my articles. She never told me she was doing that so had no particular interest in making it a point to see the paper once it came out. I generally tend to write my piece then let her do what she wants with it and leave it at that. I guess as Asst. Editor I may have to change that blase' attitude. LOL

I just want to point out that that particular article was me blathering on about how I feel every American needs to get a passport and leave the bubble that is America and see the rest of the world rather than rely on such things as Fox News and Oprah to fill them in. Most Americans will never leave their hometown, their state, or even their side of the continent and so obviously will never leave America for any reason. This is to our great disadvantage as the world is made up of more than just America and how can we know a people or culture unless we get out there and experience it? Just a thought. Anyhow....

Developmental Psychology: Same instructor as my previous psych class so at least I know her exam style etc (all from her lectures, the text is more of a back up reading sort of thing). She is very interesting and makes this class enjoyable. Psychology is just fascinating to me and I look forward to it. This class focuses on child development from conception to teen years. After having 5 kids and 'seeing it all" so to speak...I'm hoping it won't be too hectic as far as needing to study etc...but who knows. Last semester my first exam in college was one of hers and I completely bombed it. Got a D simply because it had been 25 years since my last exam and over estimated my abilities...what can I say...I use to be a whiz kid...living on past glories obviously doesn't pass exams for you. LOL Got down off that high horse REAL quick and buckled down and learned how to study all over again...or should I say for the first time...LOL. I never actually studied when I was younger...I know...you hate me. Ha ha so do I remembering my cavalier attitude towards studying back then. The ego of youth and all that. Anyhow I like this class and look forward to it.

Well, that's it for now. A little run down for ya. My attitudes about each class may change over time (looking at you Spanish) but for now that's it. Wish me luck.


*side note. My boss moved me from the branch on the other side of town to the one just down the street from me. This means that, not only can my kids come walking down to visit me since during school we don't always get meaningful time together, it also means I don't have to hurry back and forth all the time to make it to work etc. More time to stay at college and get work done etc. Bonus. Down side...these customers are not nearly so interesting as the ones at the other store. *sigh*

When someone who should love you....hurts you...

Most of my life I've only ever had a few people in it that I considered "loved" or "friends". My family consisted of my mother, two sisters, father and a brother that I've barely seen my whole life(extended family doesn't count here as my father rarely let us visit with them and they NEVER came to visit us). My circle of friends has always ALWAYS been very small due simply to the fact that, first my father then my husband, created an environment around me that only allowed a few friends in.

There was a time in my life when I was so lonely and isolated that I would accept virtually anyone that showed a half decent interest in me as a friend. Later I would realize it was half hearted and not worth pursuing, but desperation would keep me "chasing" after relationships that just weren't there. More out of the need for friendship then because I felt they were really interested in maintaining a relationship with me. This usually resulted in me being hurt in one way or another...but lessons learned aren't always learned easily.

Being married to my ex for so long and subject to his families ill treatment of me taught me one thing...it's far better to ignore such behavior then to react to it. It's far easier on the mind and heart to remove yourself from that situation then to stay right in the middle of it hoping it will change. Once someone has made it plain that the relationship You thought was there (or should be there)...or a relationship You thought was always going to be there...no longer interest them...then why stick around waiting for them to change their minds? Especially when they make it abundantly clear through their actions (though rumor spreading or hurtful words etc) that they are "done"?

This was a very slow lesson for me to learn. I had to be hurt by a lot of "friends" and in some cases, "family" before I learned this lesson well and good. Why should I pursue the relationship when they have made it clear they are done with it? Understand?

This lesson slammed home to me once and for all (and for good) the night I discovered what my oh so wonderful ex had been up to with our children. His subsequent reaction to "being caught" was one thing (and expected considering his past indifference to feelings of guilt) but the reaction from so called friends and family and a whole sale abandonment of those same friends and family came as a shock...and a hard lesson learned.

A relationship isn't always what YOU think it is..and it's true "depth" can be brought to light in a nanosecond...then all is laid open and the "truth" of it is there spotlighted under a very harsh and painful light.

It was during this painful insight...this harsh lesson learned...that I made a promise to myself. One I have stayed true too for the most part...I would no longer allow a "friend" or "family member" in my life that has made it abundantly clear their side of the relationship doesn't mean nearly as much to them as it does/did to me. I made/make this decision based on how they treat me, my kids, or those I hold dear. I realize not everyone gets along ALL the time so petty things and minor hurts and disagreements are not my "judging" criteria. Oh no, this person has to "really mean it"...and by that I mean go out of his or her way to hurt me, my kids, or someone I hold dear.

Now, I have lost some "friends" along the way this past few years. People who I considered friends but their behavior proved they were only in it for the short haul. Never mind, life goes on and I'm much better off without that drama in my life. My new motto, "no more drama", has served me pretty well (except for things I have no control over) and, for the most part, I don't look back.

I know I know, some of you are reading this thinking...damn, doesn't she give people a chance or what? People make mistakes, say shit, do things that hurt you etc so what's up with her? She isn't perfect either I damn well bet. Why so harsh and quick to jump ship?

I hear ya. And you would be right if your thinking that. I'm not perfect, nor do I wish to be. How boring that would be. However, I do make an effort to NOT hurt people on purpose...and if I do...I also make an effort to show remorse and apologize if possible.

Hurting on purpose is what I'm talking about here people. When YOU go out of your way to hurt someone you are supposed to love or be friends with on purpose...then YOU are showing through your actions that YOU no longer have a vested interest in maintaining that relationship anymore. Right? Otherwise, why cause the hurt...ON PURPOSE???

Those are the sorts of people that gotta go....no more drama remember? I've been hurt enough, my kids have been hurt enough, by so called "friends" and or "family". So, my promise to myself is...cut off relations with those sorts of people no matter WHO they are to me, or supposed to be anyhow.

Now, what this post boils down to is this. Someone extremely close to me (not saying who just now) has hurt me very deeply. I'm talking, came out of left field, no idea what the hell got into him/her, but this person deliberately and ON PURPOSE set out on a campaign to hurt me, and my kids, as much as possible.

And it worked. The knife in my heart barely has anything left to hold on to as what's left is shredded and weeping.

It hurt that bad.

And still hurts.

And will keep on hurting until I die...yes...that bad people.

And so, this person has been cut from my life full stop. No turning back. No chance for reconciliation...and the one reason that made up my mind is this. Once you have made up your mind to deliberately and ON PURPOSE hurt someone so bad and so deeply without a thought to the obvious consequences...then obviously your half of the relationship was over in your mind. I mean seriously, do people who do that sort of thing think an apology will suffice and things will go back to "normal"? Of course not. Never again. Trust is gone. If you can do it once you can do it again (which is why I wonder why spouses that have been cheated on think the cheater will never cheat again..if they can do it once they can do it again).

A friend of mine said, after hearing my story,.."Don't worry...after some time has passed you will call him/her. You get use to it".

You get use to it? I don't want to get use to it. I don't want to constantly worry that this person is "storing" everything I say or do as fodder for later attacks, or "plotting" to hurt me again on a whim. I don't want to have to worry that my heart has a knife over it just waiting to be pierced....again...and again...and again. Because if they did it once...they can do it again. No more drama remember?

Why would I want to "get used to that"?

So my question is people...do you believe in cutting people from your lives...people who are supposed to be friends and or family? Specially when they are very very close to you and to lose them in your life is a BIG thing...but in your mind a necessary thing? Can you do it? Should you do it?

Forgiving is one thing...forgetting is something else all together.

*sigh*

My apologies

I apologize for all regular readers...my family is going through a very tough time at the moment and I cant be bothered to string a few words together and call it a post.


We have had a bomb of monumental proportions dropped on this family...and of all places to be for it to happen....Bahrain is right down there on the list of the absolute wrong place to be...sigh.


Will post something as soon as things work out one way or the other...I hope sooner rather than later.


Come back soon and take care.