Moving Day...

This blog used to be like another home for me...a safe place where I could let my hair down and confide in friends. In recent months, however, it has taken on a different life and become a different place. The neighborhood has changed. Too much has happened here, and it no longer feels like home.

This is bittersweet for me, as I am infinitely grateful for the dozens of supportive emails I have received from all across the country...I am thankful for every reader. I am thankful for every comment, whether it was shared on the blog site or privately in an email, regardless of whether or not you agreed with what I had to say. Also, I am proud of this little blog...I've come a long way from the girl who once refused to let anyone read a single word she had written. I found my voice here. I worked through a few problems and made a few people laugh. While I have absolutely no regrets about anything I've shared, after much consideration, I have decided to move to a new home. Sometimes, the best thing you can do in life is start fresh...and since physically relocating to the mountains in Colorado is not an option for me right now, I'm going to start by giving my voice a new home.

For the time being, I have decided NOT to share the link to my new blog publicly...if you wish to continue following me--and I hope you do--please email me at seeksdecember@gmail.com and I will be happy to send you a link. I have no plans to take this site down, just as you don't burn down the house because you're moving. You just pack up your things and leave it behind. See you soon.

First Date

I just sent my eigth-grader off on her first date....her boyfriend is a gangly, dark-haired, freckled boy named Richard. (Yes. His name is actually Richard. And he's also 13.) She was just picked up by Richard and his parents, to be dropped off at Kickingbird Theater for the next two hours and forty-two minutes, because I'm nice enough to allow for preview time. This is nerve-wracking on dozens of different levels and for several reasons...not the least of which is because I remember this exact scenario all too vividly.

Still, I think when we look back on this day, what will best be remembered are the introductions.  I didn't hear the bell, and Emily answered the door to find Richard and his father standing on the front porch. Sara comes running into my room. "He's heeeeeeere!" she whispers at regular volume. I head down the hall to find Emily standing shyly in the entry way, the front door open, and Richard and his father on my front walk.

"Hi, I'm Shannon," I say, shaking hands with The Boy's father. I am knocked slightly aside as Roger, our 6-month-old, 70-something pound puppy, barrels out the front door.

"Oh, shit!" Emily blurts, taking off after the dog.

Can you feel that awkward silence?

I smile at The Boy and his stunned father. She's SO mine.

Insomnia Chronicles Part I

So, it seems sleeping is something I've given up again for the time being...and I guess that's okay. I admit there's a lot on my mind. For example, my daughter is going on her first date this weekend...if that isn't worthy of a little sleep deprivation, what is? Did I mention that her boyfriend's name is Richard? And that he asked for her phone number because they were both wearing deadmau5 shirts? Shit, this kid doesn't stand a chance with me....

She's very cute in her happy bubble. Tonight, she started giggling because of a sweet text he sent. Don't worry, I'm not going to burst it. I'm not going to tell her that it gets a lot more complicated the older you get. The thing is, it's also every bit as wonderful when you meet someone and you click, no matter how old you are. It doesn't matter that you both have a few quirks. It doesn't matter if there's baggage. What matters is that you see something wonderful in someone and you want to be around them so you can find out more. Maybe that starts with a deadmau5 t-shirt. Maybe it's something else...but whatever it is, I hope she doesn't ignore a spark just because she's scared or because it maybe isn't perfect on the surface. I've done that more times than I can count, and you know what? You always wonder. But at the end of the day,  it isn't about everything being perfect...it's about finding someone who still wants to stick around when they know you're NOT...and wanting them with you in spite of the mess. Now THAT'S a beautiful dream.

If only I could sleep....

Eccelsiastes 3

So I've learned more than a FEW hard lessons the past year...and one of the biggest ones I've been struggling with--and for the longest time--is letting go of friendships that have run their course. It's silly, I know. When you love someone so much, and have shared so much with them, of course you want to hang onto a relationship...but here's the thing: hanging onto a friend or a relationship when there isn't really anything to hang onto has to be one of life's most demeaning, soul-crushing experiences. It's been worse than most of the breakups I've had. It IS a breakup...a harder one, in many ways, because there are so many things you love and miss, and you have to accept that they simply don't feel the same way about you or value your friendship the way you do theirs.

It happens for any number of reasons...in my case, it started with the divorce. With most of my married friends, not much changed. They asked me about my dating life, and went out of their way to make me feel included for parties and activities, whether I was seeing someone or not. When I had a breakup or a shitty date, they listened...sometimes offered advice, but never judged, whether I took the advice or not.

And then, there was the other group...and the one I've spent a LOT of money on therapy trying to understand, convinced that I'd somehow failed. It's especially hard, because it was once the single most important non-familial friendship I had...and now, I'm pretty sure if I never text her again, then I may have already spoken to her for the last time. I'm just no longer on her radar and don't fit into her life. How did I get to this point? Where did I go so wrong? I've asked myself--and my therapist--these questions over and over for more than six months.

While most of my friends have made an effort to keep up with me, there are a few that have retreated further away...and it took me awhile to realize that's a reflection of THEM. Not me. When you spend a rare evening with several of them, and realize that not one time did ANYONE ask anything about you, outside of the initial greeting, that's also a reflection on them. When they spend the entire evening talking about things they've done together that you weren't a part of...well, that's just rude...but it's certainly not a reflection of ME. It took $700 in counselor's fees and some wise words from good friends to fully understand that.

Friends come into your life for a reason. Sometimes it's long-term. Occasionally, it's for life. But friends leave your life for a reason, too. And hanging onto one that doesn't want to be there only makes you feel insignificant. Instead, focus on the ones that bring something wonderful to your life--not someone who makes you feel ashamed or unworthy. It's easy to let the one overshadow the others...but don't make that mistake, like I did. Accept that the season has passed...and by all means, go ahead and keep loving them. Keep rooting for them, and keep praying for them, because I promise, they need it. Celebrate the wonderful things about them, not the things that they did or said that made you feel like shit. Chances are, those are the result of their own insecurities, anyway. (Remember, no one has any right to look down on you.) And when you have sent them your very best full-power Care Bear Stare, don't feel bad about turning your attention to the people that actually make you feel loved.

http://www.youtube.com/embed/W4ga_M5Zdn4

Brokenhearted...

As a native Oklahoman, I am no stranger to the relative horrors Mother Nature sometimes doles out in the spring. I have stood in the hallway with my arms around my terrified children as all but one of the windows in our house was shattered by baseball-sized hail. The sound of tornado sirens--while unnerving--does not send me into a panic. Rather, I do what any good native girl does. I go outside. If the funnel is to my right (that's east, folks), I remain outside. To my left--well, that's a different story. That requires a group huddle in the tub of the hall bath...or ideally, a basement or storm shelter, but I don't have one of those. Most people here don't.

The thing about a tornado is, even if you've grown up here and understand how they work and what to do, when it happens, there's nothing to do but let it come and pray for the best. It's not like a hurricane, where you have a few days' warning and the option to evacuate. The best you get is around ten minutes' lead time, and you prepare, knowing in the back of your mind that there is at least some possibility that your house and everything in it could be lost.

What you DO NOT expect is to see is a suburban city with nearly 60,000 residents virtually obliterated. You DO NOT expect to see not one, but TWO elementary schools leveled, with an unknown number of schoolchildren among the dead. There's nothing you can do but put your arm around your best friend and cry with her and watch it on the news as it barrels toward her house where her two young children are. No matter how many times I've seen it, I will NEVER get used to that part of it...and yet, the city of Moore has done this THREE times in 14 years.

Even as the death toll rises and the horrors unfold, I admire the spirit of this community. Although a million and a half people call the Oklahoma City metropolitan area home, when tragedy strikes, the sense of unity is unmistakable, and I am awestruck every time...I never for a minute intended to be a lifetime Oklahoma resident, but here I am. And today, I am nearly as proud as I am brokenhearted.

Remember me?

The past few weeks--and especially the past week--something incredible has happened...I feel almost like MYSELF. For a long time, I've been living under this terrible fog. Then Tuesday (glorious Tuesday!) came, and it was lifted. I feel like ME. I've laughed. I've joked. I've hung out with girlfriends. I've hung out with guy friends. I've played with my kids. I've made plans...and The Fraud has scarcely crossed my mind the past few days...and that's as it should be. The whole reason I did this was so he would be excised from my life, because he never belonged there in the first place. I just didn't realize how quickly and effectively it would actually work!

I spent the weekend with the two best daughters anyone could ask for. Friday night, Em had a friend sleep over. Saturday, I took the girls to the mall. Saturday night, I got together with a bunch of girlfriends and their kids to watch the game and celebrate Mother's Day, and I had a blast, even though our Thunder lost. Today was wonderful...my girls are incredible, and they are the culmination of everything good in my life. How they managed to get the best of everything in us is truly a mystery, but it happened. They have been so strong through this whole mess, and it hasn't been easy on them. You see, they both really liked him. Having to explain that everything about him was a lie was relatively tough. I spared Chicken as much as I could...but Emily, well...she's 13 and nobody's fool. She was angry, and that's okay. We were ALL taken in by a con man. It wasn't just me he was lying to...that's been rough for them. Especially for her.

The beautiful thing is, we're all out from under the cloud. We're looking forward to the summer...we talked about vacation plans. We went out for Mexican food. (Well, we tried to go for Turkish food, but Simply Falafel was closed for Mother's Day.) We just had fun together...which hasn't happened nearly enough in the past six months. It has me happier and more hopeful than I remember being in a long time. Being their mom is the best thing about me...I'm pretty good at it...just talk to them for a few minutes if you're not sure. ;)

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner...

Excuse me. This isn't eloquent, and for that I apologize. To MC...go f*ck yourself. The judge saw through your bullshit. Karma's a bitch, and I'm real sorry....but I've never been happier than today. I was granted a permanent, final no-contact VPO for the state's maximum of 5 years. This is the first time in this judge's history to grant a permanent protective order against a defendant who had not (yet) served time for domestic violence. (Because, let's face it...one day, he will. It's not like he's going to STOP.) But for today, good triumphs over evil, and I am over the moon.

 

And as for you...you should try NOT being such a reprehensible asshole. Try NOT beating up girls half your size. Try being honest about who you really are...with yourself, and with others. At least SEE how it goes. Good luck with your sad existence...I have nothing but pity for you...and far more for any woman who dates you.

On the Ledge...

Tomorrow, I have to face the man who hurt me more than I ever imagined was possible...and I am scared. I'm not scared that something will happen to me in the courtroom...but I am scared of having to relive the awful things he put me through. I have not yet successfully talked about what happened without dissolving into a crying jag that is vaguely reminiscent of Whoopi Goldberg in The Color Purple...and that's just practicing in the mirror. I have no idea how I'll manage it in front of a judge...and the prospect of M's sneering presence turns my stomach.

I don't understand how he can live with the knowledge of what he did to me, and still present himself as the victim...just some guy with a crazy ex, like he did with his last girlfriend to me...does he get a rush from knowing that I'm constantly looking over my shoulder? That I'm scared all the time? That I wrote letters to my daughters in case something happened to me because of HIM? Because of his words. Because of his actions. Because of his threats. Because he stole my confidence and crushed it. Because he took a sick pleasure in pointing out my every flaw, in telling me I wasn't good enough, even as he told me he loved me in the same breath.

The worst part is, he had me believing it. He had me believing THAT was normal. Just count the bruises and wipe up the blood and tell me he loves me and he's sorry he called me those names and said those things. What I really want to know is how did HE get this way? And what gives him the right to play the victim when I finally stand up and say I've had enough? Who taught him that it was okay to systematically tear someone down, piece by piece, until there was nothing left?

Some things, I don't want to understand. This is one of them. Pray for my strength tomorrow. For wisdom and peace for me and my daughters...that we can finally put this nightmare behind us.

The Least Funny Blog Post I Will Ever Write...

I have been debating about whether to write about this. I have such wonderful support from so many people...people I didn't even know followed me. And so many women have written me, thanking me for my honesty when it came to issues dealing with divorce and raising children as a single parent, with some even calling me inspiring. But there is nothing inspiring about what I have to say today...

Last September, I was swept off my feet by an incredibly charming man. A man who showered me with attention and gifts. A man who was intelligent and witty. A man I could talk to all night, who listened with interest to what I had to say. A man who was kind to me, and treated me like I hung the moon. He brought me flowers, just because. He left cards and notes on my windshield for me to find in the morning, just so I would know he was thinking of me. He seemed genuine and honest, and willing to be up front about his flaws...or so it seemed. A man who gave me more positive attention in the first three months than I had ever received in my entire life. He called me his soulmate. After everything I'd been through, I thought my prayers had been answered.

I was wrong.

So, so wrong...

After a few months, the cracks in his foundation began to show. There was a mountain of debt I had no idea he had...and we're not talking a little. We're talking nothing he'll ever pay off in his lifetime. He had depleted his savings and retirement accounts. His truck was repossessed. He had to constantly borrow money to pay bills or get the water or electricity back turned back on, even as he went out every night and dressed in expensive clothes. And then there was how little he saw of his children...as of this time, it's been four months since he laid eyes on ANY of his four kids...the youngest has seen him three times in the past 9 months, once only for an hour. He is tens of thousands in arrears on his child support. I began to realize things weren't as they seemed. Then there was the jealousy...he had mostly female friends, but I wasn't allowed to stay in contact with my guy friends. "Because I know not to trust guys. They all want to have sex with you," he said. Any argument I made was wholly unreasonable--a betrayal of him, even. Guess what, ladies and gentlemen? I had the original con artist. Me...a fairly intelligent girl who makes a decent living and has her life more or less together. A Nice Girl at heart--far from perfect, but generally kind and reasonably responsible. And I missed it...and I put myself and my kids in grave danger because I wasn't bright enough to see it in time.

The controlling behavior slowly escalated. In the final month, if I was upset or bothered by something, it didn't matter how calmly or rationally I brought it up. He turned it into a shouting match almost immediately. The fights were horrific, and always 100% MY FAULT. If only I did this...if only I was more respectful...he would tell our friends I was unstable, when he was the one who threw his phone so hard, he left a hole in my wall. Once, near the end, he screamed in my face, calling me a fucking cunt. When I started to cry, he looked at me with disgust. "There you go again, playing the fucking victim. You're pathetic," he spat.

Never in my life have I been called the names he called me. Cunt. Slut. Bitch. Pathetic. Loser. Liar. I have never experienced so much hatred and vitriol...all from the person who claimed I was "the love of his life" and talked often of marrying me. I have never been so torn down and humiliated, nor treated with so much disdain in my life. It went from being the most loving, affectionate relationship I've ever experienced to exactly the opposite. That isn't to say I did nothing wrong in the relationship...I am human, and I made mistakes, too. But I was honest and loyal throughout. For him, it turned into a game, where he liked to point out my every flaw. He seemed to get joy out of being critical of my appearance and mannerisms. My nose was too big. My singing was abysmal. My laugh was annoying. I needed to do some squats. My hands and feet were ugly. My jaw and lips were all wrong. I really wasn't all that pretty...and I was supposedly the girl of his dreams? And still, I didn't leave.

By then, I loved him...not who he was, but the version he had presented in the beginning...and I thought, maybe if I give it time and walk the line, that guy will come back. What I didn't realize is, that guy never really existed. This one did. This was who he is. The one who had built our relationship on a house of cards...some half-truths, some out-and-out lies. The things I have learned about him since the breakup are simply mind-blowing. Even that term is a grave understatement. Humiliating. Embarrassing. Disgusting. None of that even touches it. This was a man (and I use that term loosely, because he is really not a man at all), quite simply, with NO moral compass or sense of decency, honor, or responsibility to anyone. This was a "man" who feels he is above everyone...above the law...that there are no rules that apply to him. And that is what makes him so terrifying.

As for the breakup itself...I was badly beaten. Not with his fists...just with his ability to throw me around like a rag doll, on account of the 100 pounds he had on me. I sustained a concussion, over 30 bruises, and urinated blood for days. My back was black and blue. I stayed with my parents. My mother cried every time she looked at me. And still I cried and refused to give the name of the attacker to the police...even as the officer told me the level of injuries I sustained warranted a felony assault investigation. I was wrong not to. I know that now. If nothing else, I should've done it to protect his current girlfriend....and all of his future ones. They will end up just like me, just as I'm pretty sure now that I ended up like the last one...it hasn't been hard to fill in the blanks that he left unsaid about his last relationship, the one which he claimed he had been  so honest and up-front about. I'm sure he's saying the same things about me now, as he pulls the wool over this victim's eyes. Because she is a victim, too, every bit as much as I am. She will be abused, whether it's physically, verbally, emotionally, or all of the above. It may take a little time, but it will absolutely happen. She will be hurt by him, and I can't help her. I don't want to feel guilty about that, but I do. I regret that. I wish I could warn every woman in the metropolitan area.

I can't do that. All I can do is tell my story, and hope people read it. All I can do is make people understand that no one is immune to abuse. My YWCA counselor likened his actions to emotional terrorism. It can happen to anyone. Even smart, pretty, together girls...who may be in a slightly vulnerable place. It's the vulnerability he feeds upon. I have lost friends. I have been judged harshly. I have hurt those that I loved. I have lived in fear every day. I have had my life threatened. I have made mistakes. And I have survived. One day, maybe I'll even be okay. One day, maybe I'll trust someone again. I don't know. But it isn't today....

Head Over Heels

I am not, nor have I ever been, what anyone would describe as a Dog Person. I liked some dogs, but always in an I-just-wanna-visit-and-not-live-with-you capacity. To be honest, however, I have long been semi-indifferent to most dogs. I even tend to actively dislike some of the ankle-biter breeds. When I got divorced, I happily settled into a neat, pretty, comfortable-but-small 3-bedroom house with the girls, which I take a great deal of pride in owning. It is by no means fancy, but I maintain it reasonably well and I love that it is MINE. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would share it with anyone but the girls and our two cats, one of whom I have had roughly since the Dawn of Creation.

Then last year, I met a guy. And the guy had a dog. But it wasn't just ANY dog. It was a 160-pound Great Dane, and one of the coolest, most intelligent dog-ponies I have ever encountered. He would bring him to my house when he visited, and we would keep him when he left town. After not quite 6 months, the guy and I were done--a sad end, and a story for another day, because I'm not ready to tell it. But after a couple of months on my own, I realized I missed the dog. I missed having him around, because he is an awesome companion, especially when the girls weren't home. I missed seeing the girls with him, and the joy they took in having a dog in the house.

Soon, I found myself browsing rescue dogs on petfinder...casually, at first. The idea was incredibly abstract. Then, I saw him. And I was smitten.

I found out he was being fostered, and I followed his progress for a week or so before I called and made arrangements to meet him. I didn't tell anyone, because if it didn't work out, I didn't want to disappoint the girls...and besides, who would believe it? Me and a DOG? Me, training a PUPPY? And not just any puppy...over 40 pounds of mystery Dane/Lab/Hound mix. The destructive potential this 3-month-old ball of energy could have on my serene little house was mind-boggling. In spite of all of that, I HAD to meet him.

So I did...and I brought him home with me. And it didn't take long. I was a goner...I was crazy, over-the-moon in love with Roger, the Pony Puppy. Me, the confirmed non-dog person...who managed to housebreak a puppy in a week, and taught him "sit," "stay," and "lie down" within 10 days. (Clearly, he's brilliant. Or I am...but I think it's him. Or the bacon.)

I'm still not sure I'm really a dog person, generally speaking. But I like MY dog an awful lot...it doesn't mean I go up to stranger dogs in the park. (This is kind of how I feel about children, too...love mine. Love the minions of those that I love...but strangers' children I am happy to admire from a distance.) I'm pretty sure this dog was mine from the start. He was sent to me, for us to rescue each other. I think we're both doing a damn good job.

Rescue Dog

Tomorrow--correction--later TODAY, I am rescuing a shelter dog and bringing him home with me. Well, sort of. I'm just bringing him home. As I see it, the animal sanctuary already did the rescuing...not that adopting a new family member isn't cool as hell. I'm excited! This may turn out to be the best relationship I've ever had! But what's funny is he doesn't even know I'm coming. I wasn't sure why I've felt so compelled to do this in recent weeks. I've been following his progress with his foster family for a couple of weeks...today, I understand why. In some ways, I am not unlike a shelter dog. While I know--intellectually speaking--that I am loved, I'm not always wanted. That point was driven home to me in the past 24 hours, more than once. It's the same point that has been driven home repeatedly over the past few years by various people.

I've had sort of a shitty time of things. And no one else has been through it but me. Being flung from a marriage and the family and home I had known for all of my adult life into an unknown situation with only a truncated version of my family still intact is awful. Only a couple of my friends have been through something similar. The rest simply don't understand. They couldn't. While I realize that the relationships I've had were ultimately mistakes, they were mine to make and learn from, just like all romantic relationships...one hopes with their closest friends standing behind you, because it's hard. I mean, only one of those relationships lasts, right? There's a lot of trial and error involved. But that isn't always the case. Sometimes you turn around, like a shelter dog, and discover several of your people aren't there. Sometimes that isn't intentional. Sometimes it is. But either way, it's hard...hard to be The Girl that No Longer Belongs when all of your friends are married...it's hard to be the one that everyone is watching when a relationship ends in the worst possible way, when it was the last thing you expected. (It's actually a hundred times harder to be hurt in such an awful way by the person who claims to love you more than anything, who you thought you would spend your life with...just in case anyone was wondering.) It's hard to be told "I Told You So" by the very few that did suspect something was amiss. It's hard to be told how much stress you've caused everyone, when their stress was only a drop in the bucket compared to yours. It's hard to get conflicting advice from every different direction, and know you hurt or pissed off someone by making a different decision. It's hard to be told your decisions are being judged and your friendship is on the line...especially when it's clearly already been cut off, and you find yourself downgraded to acquaintance by someone who used to have your back. It's hard to have people not reach out to you and not respond to you, whether it's because they're angry or they don't know what to say...or maybe they want to punish you, or maybe they've simply stopped caring...some things I'll never know, and some things I don't want to know. It's hard to be written off. Conditional love and friendship is something I hope I NEVER understand, no matter how many times I experience it from those I love unconditionally. Shelter dogs have only known conditional love...or maybe they're loved, but thrown back anyway, because they behaved in a way that their Person didn't like and it threatened their happiness...their comfort zone...their world. It caused them stress, even though the dog probably hasn't known comfort or happiness or stability in years.

I am blessed to have some stability in my life...but I have a lot less than I used to. And just like I gave everybody warm fuzzy props a week ago, let me now say--to everyone--I am sorry for the stress or disappointment I've caused. It was not intentional. It's the last thing I wanted. And this most recent installment, I certainly didn't ask for. It was NOT my fault, or so the counselor keeps saying. I'm sorry if you see me as a screw-up. I'm really not. This is really f*cking hard, and you've never had to try to do anything like it. I take good care of my girls. I get the privilege of putting them and their happiness first. And they're amazing! They make every day brighter. I am proud of myself for getting through it, even if you're not. I am proud of those battle scars and those lessons learned, because they're harder than what most people have to learn. While everyone else talks about how blessed they are to be living the dream...I feel blessed to have been tested and still be living my own version, even if it doesn't look like everyone else's...even if I don't belong to the club anymore, even if I am persona non grata. I am SO proud of my truncated, patchwork family, but it did seem as though there was someone missing...

With God's Grace, that someone is coming home tomorrow, and he will be my everyday inspiration. Because as hard as my recent existence might have been, you know what? His has been harder. He was abandoned shortly after his birth and didn't even get to know the love of his mother for very long. (I mean, hell, he doesn't even know who his father IS!) He probably hasn't known unconditional love at all, and I am determined to show it to him, no matter how ridiculous his behavior may be at times. I have been blessed to have that in some places in my life. There are a few people that will always hold me up. One of them gets the privilege of taking me to adopt my rescue dog tomorrow...I think I'm sort of her rescue dog sometimes, but it's okay. She lets me call the shots while I figure things out for myself...I won't do that with mine, but he is an actual canine. Isn't everyone a rescue dog at some point? If you haven't had your turn yet, I am so thankful for you...but I promise, I will do whatever it takes to show you love when your time comes. I won't let you feel excluded or left behind or forgotten or judged. Until then, I will keep you close to my heart.

You Never Know...

Sometimes, when you least expect it, she comes back better, stronger, and happier than she was before. Alone and happy might just be the brightest spot in the universe...and it might be the hardest place to reach.