Journal - 07/18/2012

You're fucking faded—

People like you that live in your own little world where you control everyone and everything you think you own.

Well marriage isn't a title of ownership tucked away in your glove compartment, and kids aren't property deeds either.

People like you may think people like us are delusional, but consider this:

We may be disturbed and traumatized, yet who put us through what made us this way?

You, whatever your intentions may be or may have been, it was you that did this to us, and we were weak enough to let it happen.

I'm not trying to play the victim card, I'm too proud and stubborn for that, but—
   
     People like you are about 100 parts psychotic for every part psychotic that people like us are, if you want to put it in generic mental health terms.

How many offenses does it take for people like you to get the help you need, locked up on Psychopath Row?
People like you, I hope and pray for your healing—
   
     For the lengthy painful healing process of your perineum, asshole, rectum, and colon—
     after you are raped up the ass by a fucking broom handle.

     I hope you're the prettiest person in the kennel you get locked up in—
          So you get your face slashed.

And when you're covered from head to foot in bandages, when you're hooked up to the life support, as the IV drip-drops—
   
     I hope all you see is you pulling your bitches hair while trying to shove her down the stairs, and everything you've ever done, that you will pay for, in the long run.

People like you....

People like us don't need people like you.

Long Ass Vent About Shit (#2)

Things I Would Like To Say To You (aka No One In Particular But Yes Really A Specific Person And/Or Peoples):
-Did some one accidentally fuck you in your ass last night?
-Did you spend most of, if not all of, your childhood being fucked in the ass?
-Who the fuck fucked you in the ass so hard that it turned you into a total ass-fuck?
-When you have your girlfriend fuck you in the ass, do you have h...er lube it, or just shove it up there rough and dry? Because if you just have her shove it up there with no lube, that would explain a lot of things, like why you beat her....
-Your girlfriend gags on your cock because it tastes like sweaty urine and rotten mouthguards - NOT because it's THAT big! (Because dear, it's not....)
-If you were to get a circumcision, you would have nothing but wrinkly hot dog casing left underneath all of your STD-infected nasty ass foreskin.
-Okay, but seriously - WHO THE FUCK FUCKED YOU IN YOUR ASS HARD ENOUGH TO TURN YOU INTO THE TOTAL ASS-FUCKING ASS-FUCKER KING OF ASS-FUCKING ASS-FUCKS THAT YOU ARE TODAY?
-Why do you always go through the self-checkout at Hannaford, even when you have a literal cart-full of groceries? Is that because you made a pit-stop by the pharmacy and put some Astro-Glide in your cart under the baloney and m&m's?
-Why do you like getting fucked in the ass so much? And secondly, why do you like fucking your girlfriend in the ass so much?? Maybe you should change the "interested in" on your profile from "women" to "men" or "women that resemble men"??
-OH!!! I GET IT!!! YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S ASS IS ACTUALLY TIGHTER THAN HER TWAT!!! THAT'S WHY YOU ENJOY FUCKING HER IN THE ASS SO MUCH!!!!!!!!
-Wait...how much tighter? A whole 2 inches in diameter tighter? Holy cowwwwwww! Yes, you definitely need to change your "interested to" section on your profile.......

Long Ass Vent About Shit (#1)

Not really sure what certain people think they're doing or why they have to be such idiots with such a great lack of common sense....

Exhibit A. Non-custodial "other" biological parent of my 22 month old son changes physical address/residence where he has scheduled visitation with him, but FAILS to notify ME, or the courthouse, of the change in address. I had no idea WHERE my child was going for visitation for some of April, all of May, and part of June (2012). But I continued to send him off for visitation (even though each night he was not with me I was plagued with stress-related ailments such as insomnia, panic attacks, anxiety, increase in OCD symptoms, swelling & spasming of my stomach and gastrointestinal tract....). You know why? Because not doing so would have been unfair to the "other party", and even though they had broken their visitation/contact agreement with me, I was not about to do the same to them.

Well, this guy BOY was found in CONTEMPT of our parenting order through Wiscasset District Court, State of Maine. He was found GUILTY of Contempt of the Family Court Order last week. Fined $100.00, and ordered to reimburse me my costs by 07/27/12 for filing the Contempt Complaint against him - about another $100.00.

Exhibit B. Same person mentioned above, now has two children on the way. One with his OTHER ex, they were together for just a few months, and, she even admitted to sneaking doing pills in the apartment they shared at the time, WHILE my son was there for scheduled visitation. She's due in oh like September. By the way she's almost 30 and can't even hold a damn waitressing job!

Also, he has one on the way with his CURRENT and THIRD "baby momma", who just turned 20 and has pretty much only earned income from babysitting etcetera, and they live in one of her grandfather's properties, so I DOUBT there is much of a burden of financial responsibility there. She thinks she can change him. BAH!! Good luck!!!! I used to be as ignorant as you ;-) You will grow out of it!!

But basically, and truthfully -

After all this and all that and then some -

I am sick to my stomach. How is a laborer making slightly over minimum wage and working odd hours and barely working 4-5 (give or take) months out of the year going to afford his child support bill to a 22-month old, PLUS his soon-to-be DSER/DHHS-enacted child support bill to the state for his second child on the way, AND THEN supporting a "girl"-friend and HIS THIRD YOUNG CHILD UNDER THE AGE OF THREE??

He won't be able to do it. Financially OR emotionally. I stopped believing in his devotion to our child together a long time ago. Obviously our child is NOT his first priority. That's why my son calls another man with the balls to follow through on fatherhood "DADA".

The state deducts his child support, but he has YET to pay off his Small Claims Court ordered debt to his FIRST baby momma, and he has had nearly a year so far to pay off the debt too!

There. I can vent now. Oh. He was found in contempt of my small claims judgment against him the week before last, too. It feels good to finally see the scales of justice balanced. Now that the stressful overwhelming and weary, all too tiring bureaucratic court processes are - for the most part, for now, I hope for good - done with, I can finally vent and rant and rave and bitch and moan and run my mouth about it!

I feel so much better now.

If you think you know everything about me, you most likely don't, but if you are reading this, and you thought you knew everything about everything going on in my life, you ought not to think you are so all-knowing now.

Journal - 07/19/2011

When you can’t deal with your past but it keeps biting you in the ass

Crash and burn, crash and burn

This blazing rotation is worse than addiction

Worse than life itself; a life half-lived; a life of regrets

Looking back on the past

Looking back on the moments you wish you could have for life

Looking back on what you would rather un-do

Than live another night of memories through

Journal - 10/10/2011

Where have I gone off to? This total lack of ambition, this void in my mind of ambition and drive…. It is killing me slowly inside. So many things in this world to want and to strive for, yet I want nothing but to lay my head down and sleep. Why am I feeling this way, when just the other day… Just the other day there were so many things to look forward to, there was so much to live for, and now all I feel is emptiness and worthlessness. Why bother with the struggle when things no longer seem worth struggling for?

All I want is to lay my head down and sleep.

I am worthless, I am nothing – I have been told so many times, and meant to think this so many times, that for my mind there is no other choice but to believe.

And as I think these words, my throat binds as if to relieve its swelling pain I must cry. But I told myself so many times never again, never again would I cry over the past – the things that are too late to regret, the things I cannot change and cannot seem to forget.

And as I type these thoughts, an immense swelling is present in my throat, which no matter how hard I try I cannot swallow its pain.

The past has elapsed, the present is now, and the future is happening. But I seem to stand still in this tunnel of time:  Stuck in a rut of the past, while reaching for a grasp on reality.

I remember the details of everything that upsets me all over again. I forget what makes me happy and what I have to live for. In this standstill I go over and over the last few years. I feel over and over again the guilt that I will never be good enough, the sting of hurtful words, the trauma of what should have been the best time of my life.

The year I hate to remember. But closure is closure. And maybe I just need to put it all down in words. Maybe then I will stop remembering over and over. Maybe then I will be free from the binds of my past. And maybe, just maybe, I will feel good again.

Journal - 07/11/2012

Why am I so fucking over-stoked and so fucking excited about building my kids a playhouse?

I can’t seem to shut up about it!

I was trying to figure out why I have such an obsessive amount of pep toward this project at 4:00 this morning when I was still awake sketching some more preliminary exterior blueprints of it; and then again from 9:00 this morning through 12:00 noon while I was drawing diagrams of the wall frames, floor base, roof, etc.

I finally figured it out though.

Well for one, I tend to get very wrapped up and involved in my kids’ interests, and just as elated as them when it comes to something they are looking forward to with eager anticipation.

Then I had a little flashback moment as my eyes wandered from the rough drafts and diagrams on my computer screen….

I remembered all the times that I had lived with my father during my childhood, and all the disappointments I experienced, and all the loneliness and nothingness I felt increasingly over the years, during my time spent there.

My dad would always start with, “Sweetie, we ought to build a tree house for you!” or, “Girly how would you like to put a playhouse in the yard?” We would talk in length and detail about what kind of tree house we would build, or where we would put it, and how it would be designed, and how we could “engineer” the process of building it. I loved flipping through his collection of architecture books, even from an early age. I loved dreaming up my dream castle; my fairy house; my tree house; my magical fortress hidden in the trees. As soon as I had the idea in my head that we were going to create and build my very own “sanctuary,” it was all I ever thought about. Filling countless notebooks and drawing pads with sketches of my ideas and visions for this project, imagining what it would be like when it was completed, picturing spending warm summer nights camping outside in a place of my very own – it consumed me.

My dad and I brainstormed all kinds of ideas and designs together – turrets, balconies, towers, a slide, swings, a drawbridge door, a loft, windows with flowerboxes, a home-made moat; all kinds of girly storybook fairytale princess dream playhouses! I envisioned myself sitting in my castle, peering at my kingdom through my window as the sun began its ascent at dawn. I could hear the frogs and crickets and birds. I could smell the cool morning dew on the leaves and the grass. I would sit there quietly peeking out my window at the faeries zipping around my flower garden, reclining on morning glory petals, eating milk and honey out of little seashells – and then as the midnight blue sky would begin to brighten, one by one, the faeries would zip off, darting into the forest and through the branches and leaves, until they were just tiny specks far off that I would hope to see the next morning.

Anyway, we never built a playhouse. I never got to see my coveted tree house, castle, kingdom, fortress turn into a material reality. All it ever was was a repeated broken promise, a disappointment, a “never-gonna-happen,” and something that I would eventually forget about, but remember and dissect the significance of it in the future.

I have wondered why my dad never built that with me, year after year….

I have amused the idea that maybe he is bipolar, and on his fanatically happy and obsessively ambitious benders he would make all kinds of promises that he would never keep.

Maybe he just didn’t believe in himself, or in his abilities. Maybe he is just the kind of person that cares one minute and not the next, whether or not he has a mental disorder.

We lived at so many different addresses in so many different towns and counties throughout Vermont and Maine; I don't think I could possibly name all the towns we have wandered, let alone how many dumps or rooms-for-rent we have inhabited....

Of course, I have outgrown the obsessive fantasy of having my own dream fairytale kingdom castle playhouse anymore. But since having my own kids to make memories with and to devote everything I have to give to – my own childhood memories act as a guideline in my mind of all the things I will never ever do to disappoint, neglect, hurt, or alienate my children.

I will always follow through on promises I make to my children, pinky promises or not. I will never break my word, my promises, or my plans with them. I will never lose my temper with them, although I may at times feel frustrated, I will always be patient and loving and understanding. These memories of my childhood are my eyes to the world that children see, and the things that children want and need most of all, which is not any material possession.

So why am I so thrilled and motivated when it comes to this project of building a playhouse for my kids? I think I am proud of myself and what I am capable of. I will not repeat the same mistakes of the past with my children. I am capable of keeping my commitments to my children. I am following through on something I have always wanted to do, that my children will enjoy, and that will give them memories to cherish in years to come. I am putting all my free time, and all the effort and energy I can eke up into it. I am proud of all of this, and I am looking forward eagerly to my children being proud of their dream playhouse, and proud of me for committing to doing it.