leslieism

You know when you haven’t slept for a month because you were trying to wrap your head around your unexpected break-up?  You thought for sure it had to do with something deeper because you two had a special connection.  And so you got through each day, knowing that God has a plan and sometimes His plans take time and patience.  Per the norm in your life…you didn’t give up hope.  Hope is one of my coping mechanisms; you keep the hope flame alive until one of two things happen: either you get what you were hoping for OR you hoped for so long…it dies off and you’ve become hopeful about something else on accident.  I call it, “The hope replacement theory”.  So, one of the things I was hoping for was an answer and it was delivered.

Another woman.

It all made sense now and yet at the very same time it was even more baffling.

The first thing I did with this catastrophic news (I’m using sarcasm.  Although it was heartbreaking, this is merely a part of my journey and I’ve battled far worse.) was break up with the green dot.  You know the hope I mentioned previously?  Yeah, well, it allowed me to continue dating this man, secretly, via the green dot..you know the dot..the “I’m online” dot.  The symbolism and synchronicity that made our relationship intriguing and memorable, had me believing he could sense our green dot dating.  So.  I was like, “Hey green dot!  We are done!  No more movie time, no more goodnight kisses.  No more whispering sweet nothings into your…er, onto your, um, well, whispering in the general direction of your green dot face!”.  My next step involved a lengthy text…and a hurtful dialogue between my ex and I.  At some point however, I fell asleep.  A deep, restful, sleep…the first in over a month.

I wish I could say I washed my hands of it all and have not given it another thought.

I remember being told that in my writings I seemed tougher…more of a “cut a bitch” type of person.  Well, I hate to disappoint, but, I’m nice. ( And for the record, I am a bit of everything that I write.)  I haven’t cut a bitch since I was in that Latina gang. (How did I get out of the Latina gang?  When you join a gang under cultural identity false pretenses, you can leave unscathed.).  I’m more of a “cut a bitch a piece of cake” type of gal…and by bitch, I mean me…and by piece, I mean eat out of the pan. The reality here is, who actually cuts bitches anymore?  We’re grown ass adults…with kids…what do we want to teach them and do we really want to be separated from them due to a lengthy prison sentence?  Do not misunderstand me.  I have a shank in my sock drawer (going away present from the Latina gang) and if my child is in harms way…Momma “cut a bitch” bear comes out full throttle.  Other than that, I’m nice.  Nice, nice, nice, nice, nice.

Nice.  I asked myself, “Self, why has every man I’ve loved, since I was sixteen years old, left me for another woman?”.  I’ve deemed my niceness as the problem.  At one point in time, I wasn’t just nice, I was extremely codependent.  Example:  One of my boyfriends was struggling to get on his feet (after leaving prison…something about drugs…) so, I bought him new clothes and paid his rent.  At two different places.  One day I got off work early and decided to make him dinner.  I let myself in.  Long story short, out of the three of us, I was the one asked to leave.  Now, at this time period, I was also very naive.  I thought it was perfectly normal that we needed to stop by the Dairy Queen to barter (he said trade…but barter is so much funnier…years later) a chain saw and a car stereo.  As well as being nice, and codependent, I was also clingy and insecure.  This combination made for a difficult recovery after being left for another woman in yet another relationship.  So I drank.  I drank and I drove and I dumped all of our belongings into mud puddles in the fella’s new yard.  I was nice enough to wash the new chick’s car though.  With beer.  I drank so much it lead to me needing to get sober.  Thankfully, I’ve got eleven and a half years of sobriety today.

My marriage.  Ugh.  I was all of the above minus the alcohol, and insert neurotic.  I stopped eating.  I cried on the bathroom floor….kitchen floor…hallway floor…etc. floors…I Sherlocked Holmed like nobody’s biz.  Investigating phone records(highlighters, I USED HIGHLIGHTERS! I color coded that shit.), tracking down leads, running a toll-free hotline promising a reward for information received that lead to a “busted” and so on and so forth.  At some point during this mess, I was introduced to a woman that would teach me how to fix myself and not others.  And so, I began to change my life.

I truly believe that the man in my last relationship got me at my best(my best for now, I try to improve daily). Because even though I’m still a nice person, I have no desire to fix a man and I will stand up for myself and oh yeah, I’m happy..  Along the way, I lost my way, and in turn lost a little of myself.  Looking back I see exactly when it started; when I started to fall in love.  At the time I just thought there was something wrong with me.  I had the worst case of cotton mouth and no amount of liquid intake would fix the problem.  I just felt sloshy and had to pee a lot. I concluded that quenching a thirst I did not even have was not the solution.  So naturally, I WebMd my symptom.  Yes, symptom, there was only one.  I determined I had Sjogren’s Syndrome…lack of saliva and tear ducts that cannot produce tears.  Um, my tear ducts have never been unable to produce tears, but what else could be the answer.  The pharmacist at my work muffled his laughter as he told me I did not have Sjogren’s Syndrome.  Shortly after, I realized I was falling in love.

This was the first time I had feelings like this since my marriage and although I had done a tremendous amount of work on myself, I was not prepared.  I became more passive and I passed it off as being understanding.  Being superabundantly understanding lead me back to my innate nature of naivety and innocence.  I feel like if I had spoken up more aggressively….I either could have ended the relationship myself by making a more educated decision…or at the very least, not have stuck around like a fool while my boyfriend was getting to know another woman.

I wanted to write this blog entirely different.  I envisioned showing that I’m not always so nice…that I can be mean also.  I was going to put down the other woman…call her a cunty bitch……I was going to publicly invite her husband over for a romp.  I was going to dedicate multiple paragraphs to how awesome I am.  But I felt like just being me…creative…silly…honest.  I like me and as you can see, I have come a long way.  I know what I have to offer and I don’t need anyone to validate me or approve.  People are always telling me how strong I am and I didn’t entirely see it…until now.  I was strong enough to tell someone I loved them(and I thought I would never be able to do that after my divorce)…and I was strong enough to handle the rejection…alone…and I’m strong enough to know that him leaving me for another woman, in fact, has absolutely nothing to do with me. At last but not least, I need no other man to comfort me right now. I don’t need to bad mouth some cunty bitch for stealing my man.  I don’t need to sell my awesomeness to anyone.  And if the hot ass husband wants to come over for a romp…well, I’m just trying to be nice…

As usual, I write this in hopes of helping others in similar situations.  It always gets better….but it only gets better if you can forgive. ~LM