Every Storm Runs out of Rain

When I was about three, my parents split up.  We initially lived with my mother.  Everyone told me:  don’t cry; be a big girl; Mom is just sleeping so be quiet; help with your brother; don’t be loud; settle down; stop wanting attention.  For me the list goes on and on of the things I remember being said and the feelings surrounding them. 

My dad got remarried and it was decided we would go live with him and his wife because it was better to be in a two person household.  That is what we were told.  I remember packing up and crying and being told not to cry because my Mom couldn’t handle it and my new step-mom wouldn’t like it, she would think I didn’t like her.  I remember begging for her attention.  She played with my brother, held him, feed him.  I just wanted that.  I wanted to not be invisible. 

What I didn’t know then but know now is that my Dad was not my biological father.  He met my mom when she was four months pregnant and he married her anyway.  For a long time, I tried to see this as a positive – hey I was not invisible.  I was loved.  Then somewhere, somehow or something made me believe that I was loved before I was born but not so much after.  I realized that another man out there was my father and he knew it and never tried to make contact, check on me or anything.  Again, I was invisible. 

My dad died the summer before my sophomore year of high school and I once again became invisible except when I cried; was too loud; complained; wanted attention. 

I will say with all honesty that there were many people in my life who did NOT treat me this way, they did all they could.  The pattern was laid, the voices were in my head, the feelings were there and so no matter how good I felt from them, it never lasted long. 

When I met my ex-husband it appeared he pulled me out of a crowd.  I wasn’t invisible.  We spent every day and night together from April 9, 1989 until August of 1989.  His family didn’t seem to care for me and if some snide comment wasn’t being made, I was being ignored.  He moved and without being asked, I moved too.  At the time, he was the only person who made me feel worthwhile and not invisible.  However, the pattern started again.  He would go out with friends; he would stay late at work when I had made dinner or plans to talk to his family (no cell phones); he would tell me to stay while he went; when I went, his brothers and sisters were not nice to me; we did what they wanted; they got to say what they wanted and I wasn’t invisible but my feelings and emotions were.  When I let them out, I was wrong.  I was over-emotional; I did not understand; I made it all about me; I was reminded that I would get over it easy but they would hold it over my head or his head for years to come. 

I won’t go into every aspect of my marriage but as I sit here today, I keep trying to look for defining moments in my life and marriage that lead me to where I am today.  Problem is that when I do that it seems like blame and not acknowledgment.  I remember once going to a therapist and she wanted me to lay out my family tree.  It took 3 poster boards and her response was “wow that is fucked up”.  Literally.  I never went back. 

One thing I have picked up on is my low self-worth and poor treatment is my own doing.  Mine.  Others didn’t do it to me but I allowed it.  Even at age three.  I’m the blame.  I didn’t seek out; I didn’t do and I didn’t do better.  I put on the brave face, I fought, I screamed, I yelled, I cried, I taught everyone around me to stick up for themselves, I championed for everyone but me because at every turn when I tried to champion for myself I would hear a word that would spiral me into trouble.  So it was easier to champion for everyone else, for every cause, for every event, than it was to champion for me.  It still is. 

About a year ago I wrote a list of how I felt - one word descriptors of my feelings about myself.  My now ex-husband took it personally, whether by design, excuse or because he really felt it was his fault.  I tried explaining – even up until three weeks ago – that that was MY list of how I felt.  Again, I walked away feeling invisible; worthless and wrong. 

I saw and to a certain extent still see my self-worth by other people’s standards.  What does my step-mom think of me; what did my husband think of me; what does my now ex-husband think of me; what did my kids think of me; what do they all think of me now?  I somehow believe that my self-worth is tied to what others think or want from me. 

Research, therapy and friends tell me that I am the only one who can give that kind of power to someone else.  That I, consciously or not, choose to believe…

I want to scream “how can that be right and it is not fair!”, but it is true.  Several people who really care about me keep telling me to try and stop caring what others think, to be myself and be true to myself.  How?  How do you do that?  How do you do that in a positive constructive way?  How do you undo 47 years worth of not knowing your own value? 

My Dad is deceased.  My birth mother is deceased.  My step-mom doesn’t talk to me.  My husband divorced me.  My in-law family of 24.8 years has nothing to do with me.  My kids are holding on by a thread to talk to me.  The people who have stuck it out are struggling and don’t know what to do with me and my straight talking therapist best advice this week is I have to work to get my shit together.  It wasn’t said mean but as a reality check. 

So how do I practice self-control?  Self-love?  Kindness to myself? How do I grasp the sandpaper to smooth out the scars on my soul I created or allowed to be created?  My first step:  There is nothing wrong with ME…I will do the best that I can…I will do something every day to love myself and all the people in my life. 

Wish me luck, I have stepped back from the ledge and WILL will myself to be who God meant me to be.  

Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady...

I have done a lot of reading since July 2, 2015 when I found out my husband had filed for divorce on June 29, 2015.  I figured all the self help books would fix me.  ***disclaimer, there was more to fix than just me and there was a lot of me to fix***

So I moved to the almighty “Google”, once I got up off the couch - from a two week depressive episode of “I can’t see; eat; move; think” - bender.  My initial results returned about 613,00 result in .53 seconds.  I actually wrote that down.  I think I made it through about 2/3rds of all the articles before I gave up.  They all said the same thing.  My therapist at the time said the same thing.  Only he went so far as to tell me I was the cause of the marital demise and until I could recognize that and the fact that I was angry, I would be stuck.  Yes, I dropped him and found someone more qualified.  

So I read the five stages of grief:  Denial; Anger & Resentment; Bargaining; Depression; and Acceptance. 

I swirled through all of these, daily.  Not weekly, not monthly but daily. 

Denial!  Well that one happened in stages.  Right up until the day of the divorce hearing, I denied it would happen.  Then after the divorce I denied it.  Not that the divorce happened but the “it” that caused it.  Or better yet the ITS.  There was way more than one.  I’m still deciding, with my therapist, if it is worth going over them one by one or by category or if at all. 

Anger & Resentment!  This one is still happening today.  What can I say?  I’ve tried “Let Go and Let God”.  I’ve tried alcohol.  I’ve tried immersing myself in work.  Now, I am just trying. 

Bargaining!  I bargained a lot in the beginning. Then I gave up.  Bargaining never got me anywhere except anger and resentment from both of us.  We never followed Dr. Phil’s advice to renegotiate; we just bargained and then built up anger and resentment. 

Depression!  Since this played a major part in my ex-husband leaving, it sort of sent me down the rabbit hole.  After the final move out and divorce I did many things that physically made me feel better which helped with the depression but mentally I couldn’t wrap my head around anything so the depression was taken care of with self-medicating, ranting, raving and finally more depression.  In my discussion with my physician and therapist this week, I have given in to the fact that alcohol and hate is my enemy and Zoloft and therapy are my friends right now. 

Acceptance!  HA HA HA HA HA HA… ok maybe that is not funny but I don’t have anything else to say but that. 

So, none of these articles talked about the following:

Humiliation!  Oh yeah - I was deeply humiliated.  How do you tell people who have known you were married for 24 plus years?  How do you tell people who you both told to “work it – it is worth it”?  How do you tell people when the two of you sat together talking about how could other people you know who had been married 20 plus years get divorced?  What was even harder were people who I knew who were divorced and open about it had only been married under ten years and still had younger kids.  They didn’t know how to deal with the end of a relationship that spanned more than half your life or the “empty-nest” syndrome that accompanied the divorce. 

Failure!  Oh yeah, I big time felt like I failed.  I really had two jobs, as I saw it.  Be a wife and mother.  So if I failed at being a wife did that mean I failed as a mother?   Daily, I heard and sometimes still hear haunting whispers of “You are a loser. You are unlovable. You are a failure. You deserve to be alone. Life is over. You will never be loved again.” Enter depression, anger, resentment.  Those guys like to still make appearances. 

Guilt!  This raised all sorts of personal stories I’m not ready to share. 

Shame!  Ties back to Humiliation; Failure and Guilt. 

Fear!  Oh shit I was scared to death.  I got the house.  How the hell was I going to take care of it?  I needed a new car.  How was I going to swing that?  I had been out of the work force for 15 years and had no money.  Who was going to hire me and how was I going to pay for things?  How was I going to…?  The questions were endless and overwhelming.  Re-enter Humiliation; Failure and Guilt. 

Anxiety!  Enough said, really, enough said. 

Loss!  I lost a good bit by this process but I am also finding things.  My loss has been profound though.  It is apparently normal but it hit me hard.  I couldn’t, and some days still can’t see, that I didn’t really lose myself or my identity.  I had just hidden it away and because of the situations I was afraid to let her out.  The times I did let her out, I felt…wait for it Humiliation; Failure and Guilt.  It is funny, not ironic but ha ha funny, I never minding being “so and so’s Mom” and not Pam but never realized how much MRS. Kasperitis was embedded in my mind as my identity.  I remember this conversation at the divorce hearing:  “Bitch of a Divorce Lawyer for Ex:  Ms. Kasperitis….  ME:  Excuse me Your Honor but the divorce papers are not signed and until you sign the order, I am MRS. Kasperitis, I earned that title!”  I remember walking out of the Court Room feeling like the Judge had stitched a great big red “D” on my shirt and everyone I walked past knew what had happened.  I look back now and see that it seems awfully silly but it was so emotionally and mentally tied to WHO I was and that was about to end and I was going to hang on to it as long as possible.  Since that time, I’ve had people say Mrs. and I quietly respond “Ms.”!  My marriage, my divorce, hell my life is something that has happened it is not who I am, I have to learn to decide that. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had very happy moments before AND since this process began.  I have some wonderfully supportive people in my life.  I have met some new people and rekindled old friendships.  Unfortunately, I spent time taking them for granted and pushing my baggage on them instead of remembering, they love/ed Me for Me and were there to support me but not carry the suitcase.  I am hoping that those I made carry the suitcase can forgive and hope they work their way back into my life because they were/are really good people who were/are really good for me. 

So where am I now?  Still standing in the middle of an abyss – backed away from the ledge - but trying to remind myself that I am the only one who can help me.  That no one can make me see my worth until I am willing to see my worth.  I am the only one who can make me happy.  I am the only one who cannot be self-destructive.  I am the only one who can ruin new and old relationships!  I AM! 

Stepping back from the ledge...

For as long as I can remember, my biological mother was an alcoholic.  My grandmother told me she even drank while pregnant with me.  Although in the 60’s that was not so uncommon. 

In my late teen years and before I got married, I would drink.  A lot.  I always remembered everything and woke up completely hung over.  I never had a black out.  I did stupid stuff but eventually found out I didn’t like it and I hated feeling so sick all the time.  I stopped.  From 1990 until late 2015 I rarely had a drink - maybe a glass of wine at Christmas.  I had kids to take care of and to be totally honest; I was always the designated driver.  My ex-husband would binge drink.  At parties or outings he would start drinking and wouldn’t stop.  He would do things he shouldn’t.  I saw this and memories of my childhood flooded back.  I didn’t want my kids to see.  I didn’t want them to remember the way I did.  More importantly someone had to be sober for him, for me and for the kids.   I know this sounds like I am dishing and I don’t want it to, but this is MY story and this “telling” is part of MY story. 

I spent my whole life feeling like anyone around me who drank and drank to excess did so because of me.  I had been told growing up that my mother did it because she couldn’t handle how she got pregnant with me; she couldn’t handle me.  I had people tell me that my ex-husband did it to escape me and my personality.  I did so much research.  None of it helped I just always walked away thinking so many people want to escape ME.  So many people have to do this to get away from me.  So I’m going to break the pattern and not drink.  I held strong to that promise until my divorce. 

The kids were gone.  The husband was gone.  The chores around the house were done.  I was exercising and had lost weight.  I was fixing things around the house.  Making new friends.  Taking trips.  

Despite all that I was swirling.  I would come home from work and while I enjoyed being alone, I felt so lonely.  Thoughts would creep in, remembrances of every year of my life.  So it started slowly enough, a glass of wine with dinner.  I don’t really like wine but I do love a neat scotch or whisky.  I love the way it taste.  So I upped the ante.  I replaced the wine.  I was still fine, only one or two.  It numbed things; it relaxed me; it let me go to sleep; it kept the anxiety I felt at night home alone, at bay. 

As the divorce date neared and the holidays approached, I was up to three to five glasses a night.  I didn’t wake up hung over.  I didn’t throw up.  I didn’t drink before 6:30 p.m. What I did do was send hateful texts; emails; bothered people on Facebook but hey I was ok because I woke up each morning and felt fine and went to work; worked out; paid my bills; lived life.  I would then come home and find that it wasn’t a few times a week but almost every night. I was cycling.  I didn’t really care.  I had spent 23 or so years not drinking, why not, I deserved this.  I had spent almost my whole life having people go off on me when they were drinking so they could handle the same while I figured out all this stuff. 

My first clue there was an issue should have been the night I was on the phone screaming at my ex-husband and my youngest, who was still home from college, removed the drink and phone from my hand. 

My next clue should have been when my ex-husband blocked my phone calls and texts.  It wasn’t.  All I did was still scream into his phone or fire off nasty texts.  I justified it all.  I had endured behavior like that all my life, albeit without current technology like emails, texts and cell phones but still I took it and harbored it in my “safe place”.  I had justified their behavior as alcohol induced so I figured they could justify mine. 

I didn’t drive; I got up for work each day; I was not hung over; and aside from seriously biting words who was I hurting?  The date of what would have been my 25^th wedding anniversary arrived.  I started drinking as soon as I got home.  I had a really crappy week at work, my boss had yelled and cussed at me.  Then it was “that” day.  I don’t remember much of anything about that night.  My daughter was here and recounted the “tale”.  I actually thought it was funny.  It did not bother me at all that I didn’t remember.  I didn’t really want to remember and was inwardly happy for the lack of memories, past and in that moment.  Again, I woke up the next day, no headache, no sour stomach, I felt GREAT.  April 1, 2016 I got fired.  I won’t go into that story again because the date is only relevant because I could use it as an excuse.  April 7^th arrived, the date I first met my ex-husband and I could use that as an excuse as well. 

Why is it that people around me saw a problem but I couldn’t?  I’m not blaming anyone but an incident occurred Monday night, April 11, 2016 (another anniversary I get to add to my books).  Since then several people have said that they have seen it coming; that they saw the downward spiral.  My kids actually talked, amongst themselves, about my behavior and what was happening. 

So what happened?  I don’t know.  I only know what I have been told.  I had one drink and for some reason decided to call my mother-in-law or ex MIL.  It was very emotional because her health is failing.  I had another drink.  These were not bar type drinks; these were 3 or 4 finger pouring.  I remember hanging up the phone with her and not much else.  In about two hour’s time, I had finished a bottle of scotch and drank more than a 1/3 of a bottle of crown.  Here is what I have pieced together:

I made several phone calls (so sorry everyone – for either what I said to you or the messages I left). 

I sent several text messages.

I yelled at everyone in my house. 

I verbally abused my daughter and foster son. 

I then proceeded to fall down and hit my head and blacked out. 

Apparently, I verbally abused the two paramedics; two firefighters and two police who arrived at my house. 

I got put to bed, assessed that I probably had a grade 1 concussion but was mostly drunk because I had not eaten and now only weigh 130 pounds and drank enough straight rum and scotch that it was hard for them to tell how much was drunk or head injury. 

My daughter and foster son had to handle all of this, they had to do for me what I had done for other people in my life, all my life, and had vowed never to put any of my kids through. 

I had a job interview the next morning.  My daughter woke me up; put coffee in my hand and told me to get my shit together.  She did damage control for me with her siblings and with anyone I texted or called.   I went to my interview then I went to see my doctor and he told me to get my shit together.  I spent the rest of the day apologizing and trying to piece together what happened.  I spent the entire night trying to piece together what I did and more importantly why?  My oldest son lovingly talked to me but basically told me to get my shit together.  I talked to my therapist and he told me to get my shit together.  

As I type, I can think of one thousand reasons why.  I can think of all sorts of justifications (and please read everything above here as explanation and not excuse or justification).  At first I thought, why?  I don’t have to have a drink; I don’t crave it; my hands don’t shake; I don’t…I don’t…and I don’t.   What I wanted was the drinks, not drink, to numb everything I was thinking or feeling; to make it to bed time; to sleep without dreaming.  What I wanted was for everything to fade away because if it all faded away then I could have some moments of "happy". 

See I have no excuse or justification.  I know first-hand what excess alcohol does.  Not to the person doing it but to those around them.  I wanted the pain and grief I was feeling to just be numbed out.  It wasn’t like taking medications because those numb you for a long time; I wanted enough numbness to stop the emotions and feelings.  I did to those around me what I SWORE and preached I would never do.  I am hoping I raised my kids well enough and my friends know that my hurt and grief overwhelmed my friendship and love for them.  I don’t know if it is true but I am hanging on to the hope of forgiveness for my actions, words, thoughts and deeds.  I know I was never very forgiving so I am hoping. 

I didn’t know what rock bottom is/was.  I’ve been in many positions of thinking I was rock bottom but none like 7:30 a.m. on Tuesday, April 12, 2016. 

So what now?  Well, I’ve issued some apologies.  I have had serious conversations with at least two of my kids.  I didn’t have anything to drink last night and it is ironic, I fell asleep just fine and for the first time in a long time didn’t dream of how horrible of a person I am (because while I thought I wasn’t dreaming, I knew I was and every dream was 47 years of what I had done wrong in my life).  Now I need to find a way to move forward, because despite all the outward progress I made since the divorce, all I was really doing was back-peddling onto a ledge.  I’ve stepped away from that ledge and now just have to figure out how to fix things.  I still feel shut out and left in the dust; I still feel sad; I still feel grief but my driving motivation is the hurt, shame, embarrassment and remembrance that THIS IS NOT WHO I AM – AND…that I did to those I love, what had been done to me.  Something that I had spent more than half my life trying to fix and make it so it wasn’t done to them. 

So I’m not going to give up.  I wish I could promise I’m not going to give in but I can’t.  I’m going to re-focus.  I am going to remember who I am.  I’m going to be and I’m hoping this huge knot on my head sticks around for a long time so I remember what hurt I have caused.  I am going to show through actions and deeds that the hurt I have caused was me and not them and that I am better than who I have been. 

To My Adult Children of My Divorce

I had an eye-opening experience this weekend.  I have looked into this topic before; had small conversations with my kids about it and even sent notes telling them I was sorry.  Something/someone slapped me in the face this weekend that I was participating in a form of mental torture for my kids about my divorce.  In my mind, I balanced it with the fact that I was looking out for them; that I cared; that I was being honest.

Honest?  and Honestly?  I was doing none of that.  My hurt and devastation and core belief system is and was so messed up that all I wanted was someone on my side.  Who better than my five kids.  Right WRONG.

I was always the more verbal, animated and stressful one in the marriage.  My ex-husband was quiet, calm, and kept his feelings to himself.  In marriage it worked a good balance.  In divorce, it just set me off.  His quiet and calm sent me swirling.  Who was my support system?  I didn't have one.  I went to my kids.  Surely, they would understand, they had watched everything their whole lives so they could offer insight, advice, opinions and information.

Each of my kids were born out of love, not just by me but both of us.  I was dubbed Mega-Mom.  I thought it was a joke, found out it was not, and then have come to learn from it and love it.  I am Mega-Mom. I spent my life protecting, loving and fiercely looking after my kids.  I protected them while letting them learn.  I protected them from their first breath until...  I have come to realize, that I protected them from everyone but me.

Truth is, I sort of felt like if I spewed everything to my kids, they would take my side.  I didn't want them to hate their dad.  Hell, I still call him and say "this kid is having this issue, could you please check in with them".  I just wanted someone on my side.  Someone to say this is horrible, how could this happen, you are so loved, you are great, is he stupid?  I wanted my pity party to be validated and who better than the people who sent me cards saying I was the Greatest Mom on Earth, once a year?

So I talked of past issues; past behaviors; new encounters for me; hell I even have gone so far as to talk about marital sex.  I've called him all kinds of names; laid out his private issues and fights and struggles.  I've called him all kinds of names.  What is worse is I have grilled them for information.  What did he say?  Why didn't he respond?  Did you tell him I said "xyz"?  Nothing?  Oh so he asked how I was?  You know he doesn't really care?  He cooked?  Really?  Come on, he doesn't know how to do that.  What did y'all watch?  What did he give you?  Where did you go.  The list goes on and on.

I became and have been the person whose eyes I would have ripped from their socket if I found out they were doing that to my kid.  Why?  How the hell did I forget my job?  How the hell did I forget everything I taught them?  How the hell did I forget that despite anything that happened in 27 years, HE is their DAD, and he is and was a great dad?!?

So this is not for my ex...I don't know if I can refrain from spewing for awhile, but this is for my kids:

I will try hard, harder and my hardest to do the following:

1.  Keep any negativity toward my ex-husband to myself or my adult, non-children support system;
2.  Remember that my ex-husband is your FATHER, your DAD, your DADDY and you and he deserve that; he worked hard at it and is good at it;
3.  That our personal lives, mine and my ex-husbands, are just that and if we tell you it is because you asked, not because I want you to announce it or even keep it a secret but because it was out of interest and that you are not looking for details but knowledge that life has not ended and the dark hole is not too deep;
4.  That stories or events that happened out of your ear range and eyesight from age 0 to our divorce was done on purpose so those stories do not need to be told now; they serve no purpose and hurt you and in the end hurt me, so they will stay where they belong, in the messy box that was my marriage;
5.  Respect your feelings, thoughts and emotions.  How hard this must be on each of you, even if you have reconciled it.  Just because you are grown and I am single does not mean I get to forget my passion as your Mother and get to put my feelings ahead of yours.

What I ask from you?  I was going to say nothing but here it is:

1.  Be my child;
2.  Remind me you are my child and are here to support me but not be my support system or ear;
3.  That you love me AND you love your dad;
4.  Remind me when my toe touches up to the line of crossing boundaries even if I am happy, drunk, sober, hurting, angry, or down in the dumps;
5.  Remember, I am grieving and in a position that you have never been in and am doing what I can to learn and that I am sorry; and
6.  Here is the really important part, I LOVE YOU, for you, for the you WE raised you to be, for who you have become and for who you still have to grow too.

All my love,

Mega-Mom

Some of my Firsts since August 2015...

Fired? Terminated? Laid Off?

FIRED…TERMINATED…LET GO….doesn’t matter what you call it but each word stings.  It stings to those of us proud of our work and work ethic.  It stings to those of us who care and get personally invested in the job and clients. 

Just like with all life events, the action of being fired sends you through cycles…

My first was shock.  Literally my brain tried to listen but kept saying “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME”. 

My second reaction was anger.  Oh really, well, let’s see how well this goes without me.  THEN…

I couldn’t breathe.   How was I going to pay the light bill? How was I going to eat?  I have 5 kids worth of student loans to pay for and a new car I bought.  I had been at this job for 7 months after a 15 year hiatus to raise my kids, who was going to hire me.  I was going to be the little gray haired woman at McDonalds asking if anyone wanted a coffee refill. 

Bitterness and revenge…oh the stories I could tell.  The things I could dish on.  The clients I could “let in on things”.  The toe stepped over the line issues that would take everyone down.  How about the person who got several reprimands and write ups and produced no income or very little but didn’t lose her job?

Humiliation set in almost immediately.  How do I tell everyone?  How do I tell everyone what happened to a job I loved; clients I loved; an area of law that moved me and I got fired because my boss couldn’t be professional? 

Then calm.  So I got fired for no reason, no explanation, no severance and cannot get unemployment because I didn’t make enough during two quarters.   The calm of update the resume, prioritize your bills, suck it up and ask for help, send out the resumes and apply for any job.  Any job is better than none and could provide a learning experience to add to my life. 

So, except for demanding I had a right to remove my personal browser history with passwords stored (which by the way DO NOT DO ON YOUR WORK COMPUTER), I left with as much dignity as I could.  I posted on Facebook what happened but blocked anyone who could see or know my old office and office mates.  I’m trying to see this as a learning experience but will readily admit that revenge hangs closely in my “alone time thoughts”.  

So how do I grow from this personally?  What can I learn that is not negative?  How can I see that this is another mountain to climb (hell, I climbed an actual mountain and went zip lining)?  The articles on the World Wide Web are not helpful.  They talk about the psychological affects; they talk about how to “deal”; they talk about “pulling up your boot straps and taking time”.  I don’t have time.  I NEED to work, I need the intellectual stimulation, I need something more than a job, something I thought I had but didn’t.  So I will spend time sorting it out.  Maybe a creative way to take my knowledge will come out of all this so I can still help the elderly and their families and have some social justice for an area of our society that is so completely ignored that it breaks my heart.   

Labeling myself and Self Destructive Thinking

I certainly thought that 2016 would be much better than 2014 and 2015 but it hasn’t turned out that way so far.  Today, I was thinking what productive thoughts and writings did I have?  At first “none” was the answer.  I went back at looked at my post on Facebook from 4/7/16 about having lost my job and saw all the comments.  I looked at all the private messages I had received.  People kept saying:

You are strong.

You will come out ahead.

You are a fighter.

We believe in you.

We love you.

We are proud of you.

You are a force to be reckoned with.

Stay strong and focused. 

These are just a few.  I sat here for almost 45 minutes re-reading these comments wondering why people would post these things. 

I am weak.

I’m a follower.

I’m concerned about what others think of me.

I need and crave acceptance and approval.

I’m not pretty or smart.

I’m behind, I got fired.

I require too much out of people. 

I give too much.

I’m too emotional. 

My list went on and on and in my head it still does.  Then I looked at the people posting, they were not family…they were not fringe friends seeing what has happened to someone else today.  What the hell could that mean?  Someone tell me and the “Oh they really care about you” just seems cliché.

Why is my list of ME so negative but everyone else’s is positive or a helping hand and done out of genuine concern?  

For some reason the Gladiator scene with Commodus came to mind:  “You wrote to me once, listing the four chief virtues: Wisdom, justice, fortitude and temperance. As I read the list, I knew I had none of them. But I have other virtues, father. Ambition. That can be a virtue when it drives us to excel. Resourcefulness, courage, perhaps not on the battlefield, but... there are many forms of courage. Devotion, to my family and to you.”. 

When I started my first job after the divorce I had to take two tests.  One was a strength finder and the other a Kolbe assessment.  Both proved very interesting.  I retook both tests and my strength finder test changed.  My Kolbe assessment did not.  So my virtue’s? Who decides?  What are they?  Do they ever evolve?  Can they evolve?  

So back to my internal view of myself:

I am weak = well not really.  I’m physically stronger than I have ever been in my life.  I am mentally working on being stronger, which is a wishy-washy way of saying I’m mentally stronger now than I was say 3 months, 6 months, 8 months ago.

I’m a follower – I’m a follower when I allow others actions or words send me to a place of self-doubt and when someone deserving of being followed appears in my life.  

I’m concerned about what others think of me – not sure how to get around this one.

I need and crave acceptance and approval – Not entirely true.  I don’t need and crave it – I WANT it. 

I’m not pretty or smart – well I’m not ugly either and I’m not stupid or ignorant.  I’m 47 with 5 kids; a baby belly, a sun damaged face; hair that goes wild in the wind; nails I don’t take care of and I didn’t finish college but I read and try and learn as much as I can. 

I’m behind, I got fired – I am behind in the legal field.  So much has changed but I caught up.  And Yes I got fired.  People get fired for real reasons and made up ones.  Yes I am hurt and angry as hell over it but I won’t be taken advantage of like that again and will put this in my “learn from” column. 

I require too much out of people – I do.  I expect answers; responses; I want what I want when I want it and feel let down when I don’t get it.  I respond why can’t they – oh yeah wait because they are not me. 

I give too much – Oh that I do…but is that a fault or did I add it to the list because my brain says it is a fault?  I love giving….

I’m too emotional – another Oh yeah…but is that a fault or did I add it to the list because so many men in my life and my step-mother have told me I am over emotional and to buck up?  What is wrong with having emotions; showing them; Sad part is I’ve spent so many years trying to repress this I forgot to show when I was happy.  So that is a huge fault. 

So the point?  Not sure except to say that I have a great group of friends and a wonderful support system.  I am trying every day.  I am learning every day and I'm attempting to surround myself with people who see me for ME and not for who they want or wish me to be.