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

Recently my daughter received an award at school for her integrity.  I mentioned to her teacher how blessed I am…having a nine year-old, recognized for her integrity.  Her teacher exclaimed that my daughter amazes her daily because of her compassion and empathy for others.  But this award,she tells me, involves a couple of specific incidents.  The first situation involved her confronting her classmates, her peers, during a social studies discussion.  She talked to them about a game that was being played at recess, a game making fun of a girl with slight autism. She said it was bullying and not the right way to treat someone, especially someone that may be a little different.  The teacher told me that my daughter did not approach it in a tattle telling type of way, but in fact, brought about a productive group discussion.  (I’m beaming with pride at this point)

Situation number two:  The kids write little narratives about their topic of choice and then are given the opportunity to read aloud.  The teacher tells me that my daughter wrote a short autobiography…centered around “the divorce”.  (Ugh. My gut hurt for a second) Then she read it to the class.  (Oh dear, I gasped)

Her teacher looks like she could be getting a tad emotional as she continues on…she tells me that the entire class starting clapping when she finished reading.  She tells me that the class has never clapped after a narrative reading. THEN, she says, six children’s hands shot up…each one wanted to share their own divorce/broken family stories. (I’ve got chills and tears in my eyes at this point) My daughter has been insisting that she is the only one in her class with divorced parents…I’m sure the other kids felt the same. The last little boy that shared, started crying as he talked about the fighting going on at home.  My child started a support group all because she had the courage to share her story…her feelings.

I know right.  I’m pretty much raising Jesus. Kind of a massive responsibility…raising a holy child. Especially since becoming a teenager is inevitable. Yeah, wait till Jesus starts her period. If she is anything like her mother, she is going to be one weepy, irritable, lil’ bitch. So I am working diligently on her training. Whenever she gives me any attitude, especially about chores, I wave my wrist (donning my W.W.J.D. bracelet)in front of her face…chanting, what.would.Jesus.do. She usually freaks out and boo hoos about the pressure of being Jesus n’ all. At this point, we pray.

Alright, enough of the Jesus biz. I’m working on a lengthy, serious-time blog and I wanted to give you something light and amusing beforehand. I also wanted to share this story(minus Jesus) from mountain tops. My daughter is the biggest blessing in my life and I don’t think there are words in the human language to describe how much I love her. So I thank God, daily, for giving me my very own Baby J.

Reeaallyyy?! Tonight’s episode of ‘Bones’, hmmm, not a lot of gross stuff…UNLESS YOU COUNT THE MUSHY, PERFECT, WEDDING. It was amazing and beautiful and Cyndi Lauper sang the Etta James classic, “At Last”. The romantic in me is slowly dying as it gets crushed by the rock it’s taking refuge under …but, well, that kind of music is like a defibrillator…to my dead romantic self.

Reminds me of a story:  Being an old fashioned kind of girl I once asked a guy to be my boyfriend with a note, a check the box kind of note.  Well, you know how boys are dumb? Apparently this guy was illiterate and when he finally learned to read(Thank you ABC Mouse)….he said we needed to talk. He says(very uncomfortably) “Sooooo, good news, I can read! And, uh, well….that note you gave me…..you know how I checked ‘yes’……I, thought, or hoped…mostly hoped, but either way I still couldn’t read aaannnndddd I was pretty sure it said ‘Would you please be my super good buddy…with benefits…and devoid of all emotional bonds?’.  Terribly sorry about the misunderstanding! At least it won’t ever happen again….I can read!”.
I threw a rock at him. Then I crawled under it.

I’ve been watching an abundance of “Bones” lately, filling an emptiness with the weird and gross.  Unfortunately, television execs believe cutesy couples are actually the “empty-fillers” desired by the public.  So they put three on the show. Right on. 
So one half of one of the couples contracted a mutated strain of botulism, major bio hazard, in critical need of an anti-serum, blah blah blah.  His lady, the head coroner, gave a dramatic speech over his comatose body…concluding with a “I love him”.
Ugh. A moment of cynicism smacked me in the face as I pictured the guy waking up…so happy to be alive….his lady all happy…..and then he’s like “oh hey, btw, I don’t like you like that”…and then I chuckled all cynically.
Then I scratched my leg and was like, whoa! When is the last time I shaved?  Starting to remember why being single is so awesome(said in a sing song voice).  And honestly, when I’m wearing shorts, all curled up on the couch…with myself…and my hairy legs….I give em a little rub…and for like 2 seconds it’s like watching a movie with a man friend. 
The next simpleton that tries to hit on me at work is gonna get a ba-bam, when I fling out my fleecy leg or flash an armpit.
Cynical episode over. 

And I continue:

Let me iterate, a phenomenon occurred in court….SWAT removed my resentment and an Angel, kindly scraped out the leftover residue.  I was free. I conceived a life with no more fighting or bitterness for us…for others…the whole damn world.  And although I was ridiculously sad and incredibly vulnerable (from my awesome morning) I didn’t even think about me. Holy shit! It’s not about me! (If you’re keeping tabs on all the phenomenon action happening, take notes now).  I was not concerned with my feelings and the feelings I would have felt in the past would have motivated my need for validation and control.  All I wanted was for there to be more happiness and love…even if it wasn’t for me(because it’s not all about Leslie).  I opened my eyes to the effort my ex husband had recently been displaying with our daughter and decided it was good enough.  Baby steps in the right direction.  Plain and simple, a complicated situation between my ex husband and my daughter and I…just became simple.  If the circumstances remain stable, my daughter has a father again. Happiness and love for my baby.

My ex husband and I can communicate like grown-ups now. We can be in the same room and not choke from tension.  We can talk about his new family…and I feel content, like this makes more sense than we did…and I can wish them happiness and not be lying. 

Okay.  I have no exact rubric or recipe for how I made it to this peaceful place.  Baby steps + trying to live right + positive people in my life + moving forward + courage + honesty + unconditional love= a whole lot of progress and growth and serenity.

Ps. Let’s be real, “bad stuff” should be scattered intermittently throughout “The Leslie Theorem”(weird, it’s like everything is always about me). Life will never run that smoothly and thank goodness for that……we can’t improve ourselves if we’re perfect….so we persevere.

Pps. That little equation(which is merely a rough estimate)also described the relationship that I am currently grieving over. So, therefore, my relationship helped me reach this place of peace, as well.  And one can assume (since we know that each moment creates another) that our breaking up, well, you understand what I’m saying.  I just refuse to say it because it pisses me off.  I can be all tra-la-la-la-la and rainbowy, but I’m still human. I don’t have to understand everything and I certainly don’t need to agree with everything.  I can only accept the way it is right now.  I also accept that it won’t always be like this, whether we get back together or whether we don’t, the sadness will dissipate either way. So, since you brought up the possibility of us getting back together(yes, it was you not me)…do you think sending a singing telegram or perhaps, oh I don’t know, leaving a stray puppy with my name on the collar, on his doorstep….would this be considered “hopping aboard the crazy train”? Lol Do not worry about me. I will persevere.

Alright my friends, I must get some sleep. My story is done for now. Thank you for listening.

May you live in love and happiness.

I don’t recommend reading this unless you have read Part One.  Also, please note that English is not my second language nor am I dyslexic.   This story can only be told in a haphazard manner.
Try to follow me as I continue on:

So, I came to the conclusion that I was 95-98% positive about my decision to proclaim my love. 
I commenced my proclamation and an internal jubilee ensued.  Trumpets played and confetti blew out of my chest.  That’s what it felt like anyhow…I had no idea I felt so much pressure in my bosom, my lungs, my heart, and it disappeared as soon as I manned up. I went to sleep with a smile that night.

Okay. Fast forward two weeks later.  I will not go into much details about  the break-up. I cried. We parted as friends. I think he might be suffering from a mental handicap. Not really. The end.

Two hours later I had court with my ex-husband. I know, not exactly “the best day ever!”  EXCEPT, a shift in the universe took place(and according to the latest personality test I’ve taken, “I’m in harmony with the universe”) and I let go. I let go of things I didn’t even know I was holding on to.  This is the best I got to explain this phenomenon. I didn’t realize I was harboring resentment, like an escaped convict…it snuck up on me and held me hostage. And all of a sudden, without warning, SWAT showed up and threw resentment in solitary confinement in a maximum security prison. 

To be continued…

Ten days ago(but who’s counting)(not me) a relationship I hold dear to my heart, ended.  Trying to write a blog about what I am experiencing has proven to be rather difficult.  You see, I write about personal, negative events, give it a positive spin with a “the moral to the story is…”throw in some humor…maybe some politically incorrectness and wal-lah.  This confounded ordeal however, has no negativity…despite my sadness, the whole thing wreaks of positivity and happiness and spiritual enlightenment.  I feel like a “hallelujah” and a “praise the Lord” should be said aloud. Right now. So do it.  Now here’s my story:

I didn’t learn about unconditional love until a few years ago. Being given pure unconditional love taught me how to love myself. Once I began loving myself I was able to give unconditional love to others.  Weights were getting lifted off my shoulders left and right.  Romantic love was out of the question for me, however, especially unconditional romantic love. 

My marriage literally traumatized my heart. I no longer(if I ever even did)knew what love was or what it meant.  At one point I thought I was “cured” of my marital pain.  Evidently I was not.  I couldn’t understand why it felt as if I still cared. -I’m going to skip ahead now:

For the past year I’ve been in a relationship that has changed me, forever, and I’m grateful.  When I started feeling romantic love towards this man, I fought it with every ounce of my being. All I knew is: love=pain.  Eventually I realized my feelings were not going away. What do I do with that? Well, first,  I had to admit I was afraid of getting hurt.  Second, I had to determine if my love was unconditional…no expectations or strings attached.  Third, I had to know that I love myself enough to accept the aftermath of my confession.

To be continued…

I hate worms. I hate worms so much, that in seventh grade I chose to write a report versus dissecting a worm.  I had no issues dissecting anything else that year, just worms.  Today, I willingly opened up a big ol’ can of worms and I felt just as uncomfortable as I did on that sordid day in seventh grade science class.

Sometimes, for the sake of our children, we need to open cans of worms. Hell, sometimes, if duty as a parent calls, we may even need to eat those damn worms. Throw up as I might, I choked down those nasty worms. I also cried.

I could not exactly pinpoint the critical motive for my tears….I’m pretty sure each tear had it’s own personal motive.

I drove around crying and talking to myself. When I noticed that I was being noticed, I picked up my cell phone and had a pretend emotional phone conversation. Until I saw the Sheriff. So, to avoid getting a very real ticket, I dropped my phone and just pretended I had a Bluetooth. Upon reaching my destination, I decided (for my sanity) I should make an actual call to an actual person.

I called the next best thing to “Dear Abby”….I called, my dearest Cheri. We laughed that I was crying. She listened to my rambling…and she related to my rambles. Everything is okay. My life is still amazing. I do not need to create chaos when there is none. I do not need to control EVERYTHING….just myself. I’m still happy and feeling blessed….no amount of worms can ever take that from me. And most importantly, today, my daughter was the happiest I have seen in two years. Everything aside, that is all that matters to me. Her smiles. Her smiles are like the hot sun to worms. And she couldn’t stop smiling today.

Tonight I go to bed with an elated heart.  I prayed to make the right choice today and I was willing to accept God’s help.  I feel at peace and I can only describe it as a heart that has welcomed forgiveness and a will that has been turned over to God. 

I let go of my need to control the outcome, no matter how good my intentions….my ego has played supreme ruler…over destiny. 

Do not misunderstand me, I will protect my child at all costs and stay in control…as necessary…as warranted…and God willing.

For now, I let go.  For now, I feel a new hope.  My heart hurts less today than it has in two years.  That, to me, is what hope looks like.  That, to me, is God’s love. 

I do not know what the future holds and I don’t want to know.  What I do know…is enough for today.  I will continue to pray for forgiveness, courage, and hope.

I celebrated my triumph over fear today, quietly and alone….another victory in itself.  Oh, and ice-cream, triumph celebration did indeed involve a dairy delight. 

Sometimes I feel like Cinderella when the clock strikes twelve and her carriage turns back into an electric blue Dodge Neon.  

Driving home from the beach last night I felt a modicum of emotional dehydration. Both hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead with my mouth slightly open, both eyebrows raised and a slightly dazed look upon my face…..I wanted to speak, but only a sigh would omit from the speaking hole.  I concerned my thoughts with my daughter’s bizarre behavior and negative attention seeking. And yet, in the brief half second it took to furrow my brow I realized that my car was full of sand; that my daughter had melted marshmallow in her hair; that I just went on a long walk on the beach with my honey….arms wrapped around each other as we held on tight for warmth and possibly to help with the deflection of the mortar fire ensuing chaotically around us….stumbling in the loose sand and having to talk very loudly…soooo unromantic, however without the kids for a half hour, it was like a very romantic date.  Aaaaannnnndddd thoughts return to my child.  Emotional dehydration.

Knowing what is best for our children is not easy, and shouldn’t be easy really, because then they would just be little robots.  If we want to teach them how to think and feel for themselves, we have to allow them to do so.  It is our responsibility as parents (I love when I act all experty on the subject) to protect our offspring, but we do not need to be martyrs! (I can’t be a martyr because I am literally “no Mother Teresa”)  My emotional dehydration partially stems from trying to protect my daughter by taking on her feelings.  I’m tired and she’s acting out…….I’m gonna go ahead and give myself permission to try a new game plan.

A year ago my game plan would most definitely have not consisted of meeting my ex-husband’s baby that he had with his now ex-girlfriend.  Yeah, let’s be real, pretty much the exact opposite of that game plan…more like a board game game plan, a boring game, like Monopoly. However, tonight I not only met the baby, but I held her and kissed her beautiful lil’ baby cheeks.  Not having her father as a part of her life, I tried desperately to ignore the fact that my daughter has a sister.  I was quite honestly repulsed by the baby I had never met….jealous and sad for my daughter.  Well, circumstances presented themselves and I was given a choice.  I could respond to the (I want to say something other than the cliche’ “baby mama”….but yeah, nope) baby mama when she tried to contact me or I could continue to pretend they didn’t exist or at the very least….lived.in.North.Dakota.

Well try as I might, I knew they didn’t live in North Dakota and mostly, well, my daughter deserves to have a relationship with her sister……or the choice, along with the feelings and emotions that may arise either way(for her)(okay and kind of for me too)(geez, I sure like to make everything about me)(it’s hard not to with the Earth revolving around me and all).  

So I have been given a gift….an opportunity to grow….and I am going to take it and run(mostly just walk fast, I kinda lie when I say I go for runs….I am not a “runner” so much as I am a “fast walker”….but I get where I need to go and give myself chances to stop and smell the roses…or eat a piece cake).  And my child, she gets an opportunity to grow as well….if I let her.  And I choose to let her, mostly because her baby sister is cute….if she was an ugly baby I would just tell Elena they moved to North Dakota.