I believe the attachment to my parents, with my father in particular, is best described as an avoidant attachment. That makes me feel guilty to even say that. My father believed in working hard and he felt others should do the same. However, he was very demanding of those around him. I have no memory of my father ever telling me that he loved me or that he was proud of anything I had accomplished. He either said nothing or criticized me. I remember once showing him a spelling test that I had made a 100% on and he asked if I could not have done any better. This was his form of teasing, but some encouragement or support along the way could have made a huge difference in how I felt about myself.

Another memory I have is of my high school English teacher, Mr. McCarty, sending my parents a postcard at the end of my junior year. He spoke of my great attitude and willingness to participate. He said I was a joy to have in class. I found this postcard in the junk drawer of the kitchen cabinet that summer. I remember reading it and knowing that what Mr. McCarty thought of me must not be true if my parents had not even told me about receiving the postcard. I threw it away. I threw away a Super Scholar’s plaque I received the same year.

Because of the avoidant attachment with my parents, I felt I had little value. I dated people who I felt I deserved. I dated a guy who had dropped out of school, and another that went to serve his sentence by going to jail on the weekends. I had no supervision as a teen. I had sex with men because I felt like I did not have the right to say no. When I dated, I gave myself away bit by bit, like a pile of sand that is carried away by the wind a few grains at a time.

I have been married for ten years. I married someone that I probably should not have. When he asked me to marry him, I felt the same way I did when I had sex with men that I did not particularly want to. I thought he was “good enough” for me. It has gotten more and more stressful as time has gone by. I have always had a difficult time with people being close to me. I hide my emotions and hurts and pretend I do not need much of anything.

I wish that I knew that I did have value and that I had the right to my own opinion when I dated. I also wish I would have known that I should not feel obligated to have sex because it was the “nice thing” to do. I remember as a teen giving in to peer pressure in many different aspects because I felt like what I wanted, truly did not matter. It is difficult to know what advice should be given to teens before they begin to date. I remember a few people trying to talk me out of dating a certain person or about marrying my husband. I felt like they meant well, but they did not understand that the right guy would never want me. I settled.

This is ironic, but the line I would not allow guys I dated to cross, was them speaking negatively about themselves. I encouraged each person I dated. I tried to convince them they had good qualities. One guy I dated listened to negative self-image type music continuously. We always argued over what music to listen to. I repeatedly told him that listening to all those songs that reinforced his aversion to himself was not healthy. Was I attracted to men who had poor self-esteem because of my own self-deprecation?

Something I wrote tonight

I was listening to Guy Clark tonight and I wrote this.

I could not get over how much you looked like the pictures I had seen of your dad. Before, you were confident and fatherly. You were vibrant and the life of the party. You threw all the parties. You toked it up and drank until everyone else left or passed out. You gave advice and people listened. You deserved respect and it was given, not because it was demanded, but because of your character.

Afterwards, you seemed to have lost your confidence. Instead of a father figure, you seemed like a scared child in an old man’s body. I was scared seeing you like that. You were no longer the life of the party, dispensing advice like a psychologist. You were searching for answers. You were the one asking questions.

You were bitter. You went into hiding. You talked of putting up locked gates and privacy fences. You planted weeping willows all along the road. You put up blinds on the front porch. The parties stopped. You talked about yesterdays, regrets and remembrances. You talked about how no one came around anymore since there wasn’t free whiskey.

I think people didn’t come around not because of the lack of liquor, but because of changes in you. You didn’t consciously decide to change. We all knew that. Nonetheless, you changed. It scared us all when you asked us questions about the meaning of life. We were used to your rhetorical questions that helped to drive home your point.

Your character remained. The respect for you stayed. Maybe that is why people stayed away, out of respect for you. Life changes us. Fear changes us. Chemo changes us.

drinking beer,watching re-runs and blogging

What?? Someone I was "following" totally disappeared. She completely disappeared. She vanished from my list of blogs I follow. Where did she go? Should I care so much? When people vanish from blogs, it's like seeing a movie that doesn't reveal what happens at the end. I watch movies to see how they end. I want to know! I read blogs to see what's going on in people's lives.

The woman I was "following" had a teenage son. She was also in a bdsm relationship. This was new to her. She said she had finally found herself through this relationship. So now I wonder did the son happen upon her blog and was so deeply disturbed that she did away with the whole thing? Or another thought was did the whole relationship turn out to be crap, the guy a disappointment? Was he too domineering? Who knows? Not me. And the fact that I don't know really irks me.

I like reading blogs, blogs that belong to people that are doing things with their life. I feel as if my life is like when I get confused about how to take my truck out of 4-low. I know I have to put it in neutral, then 4-high, then 2 wheel drive. But I get confused so often when it's time to actually do it. I forget about it having to be in neutral, etc...

It seems like that's where I am now. It is like I have finally made it to the top of my long winding up-hill driveway, and I have pulled out onto the highway, needing to hurry up and put it in 2 wheel drive and here I am fumbling, trying to jerk the lever back before someone plows into me. I'm fumbling trying to remember the next step in moving ahead. Every year, as my birthday draws near I usually question what am I doing with my life? I wonder if my life is really helping anyone else's. It's not even near my b.d. and I am asking myself this question.

Now, here I am, in my basement, drinking beer, alone. I have class tomorrow to find out how badly I failed a test I took on Monday. What am I doing with my life? I had an interview today. Four people questioned me and commended me on how great I am doing balancing so many things. I was questioned about my support system, and I tried to divert the question. I did not want to answer it. I was forced to answer it. Right after I was told what a great job I was doing I was told they were worried about me. Life is complicated. I was asked what I did for fun. I did not have an answer. I told them a half-truth, which was accepted. But I seriously don't know what I do for fun.

How many of us go out and do things just for fun? I really don't. Is that sad or how life is for most people? Even if it is how it is for most people, does that make it ok? So tonight, I am drinking beer(only 3 so I don't feel bad tomorrow),watching re-runs, and blogging. Not so fun. I need direction. Not just on what to do for fun, but direction with my life in general. Well the dryer stopped, time to re-load it...

lack of caffeine and doing what they say can't be done

I am tired. I have tried to stop drinking pop, but I don't like who I am without it. I need the caffeine. It helps me be me. It's an addiction, I know. But one I enjoy. So anyway, I haven't written in awhile. My life has been pretty much status quo. Maybe if I drink more pop, I'll have the energy to do something new. :)

I took my second biology test today. It was baaaad. I'll find out my grade in a few days. The last one I made a 68 on. Many people in the class did poorly. After he gave us those tests back, he said some of us might have a learning disability, but we had to deal with it. Today I saw him in the hallway after class, we were talking and I said, "Maybe I do have a learning disability." He said, "Maybe you do." hahaha
We'll see what I made on it.

I am not wavering in my decision to divorce, but I am tired. It's exhausting living with someone you don't really like, or respect, who doesn't like or respect you. Living a facade is debilitating. I long for the days when I have peace in my home. I know no matter who lives in a house, things aren't always going to be great. But I have needs(lots of needs).

I read a blog today about moves from porn you should never try. I want to defy those rules. Well, not all of them, but some. As I read them, I thought, no wait, that's possible. That's exciting. I actually like that.

I am still moving on, just very s-l-o-w-l-y.

"gunning for a fight"

I was truly gunning for a fight tonight. Not a fistfight or a duel with pistols at high noon, but an argument. My family is making me angry. Well, not all of them, but my older brother especially is. He has been talking smack about me. To my face? No. Behind my back? Indeed.

I can't tell him that he's a __________, because then he would know that someone told me what he said. So, I called him, invited him to something that I'm having in March. Something major. Something important. He said he'd try to come, etc... word word word.

I was waiting for him to say something harsh or out of the way. I was very calm. I was going to calmly tell him off. But I didn't get the chance. I was so disappointed about that. He thinks I am a bad person because I am going to get a divorce. He is an ____. He's judgemental and mean. Well, behind my back, anyway.

I talked to a friend tonight. I told her I wanted to have an affair and drink beer. Affairs are never a good thing to put on the agenda, I know. But it would be an escape. What are my escapes now? Food and self-induced orgasms. That's not a really healthy combination either. When I am alone, I have several orgasms. When I am around others, I eat. I'm not going to have an affair, btw. I was just ranting.

I sometimes wonder if I am a nymphomaniac. I have some of the symptoms.

Truckers, continued...

OK, so I was thinking of another trucker today. I didn't have sex with this one though. :) I used to work in a convenience store in a rural area. Local truckers came in several times a day. I was married at the time. I was tempted to have an affair with one trucker. His handle? "Undertaker". He flirted with me. I flirted with him. He told me lots of fun things that girls like to hear. He was a charmer. He would come in the store and buy a cold drink, and have his hat turned backwards. I asked him once why he was called "Undertaker",and he leaned over the counter and whispered that he would be the last one to let me down. He was zealous in his pursuit, which is always a turn on.

I'm thankful I didn't cross the line. He had an affair. It just wasn't with me. See, that's the thing. It turns out he did let me down. He wasn't just after me. And when this other lady's husband found out, they divorced. It started a chain reaction that wasn't very pleasant. What was disappointing was that he told said nice things about me that were hard to believe. Then I find out they were lines he used on other women.

Donkey and Undertaker were both truckers, truckers that I let roll on. I am glad they did roll on. OK, so I have a fascination for truckers. But I am not looking to hook up with a strong, confident man simply because he's a trucker. I want someone who loves sex too. Sex is the area it would be great if he was very needy in. Needy and knowledgable. I heard a new song by Young Money called "Bedrock". Part of the chorus is this: My Room Is The G Spot, Call Me Mr. Flintstone, I Can Make Your Bed Rock. I'd like to visit there. I'm just saying.

I need the complete package deal. Is that guy out there? And if he is, will he find me? These are just some late night ramblings. Loneliness seems to get worse at night, like a sore throat. Always worse at night.

Valentine's Day 2010

Today was not pleasant... I was aggravated and aloof throughout the day until I saw heartbreak. Pain and loss are as much a part of life as anything else. But that doesn't mean it's easy.