I have decided to start blogging again. I think fresh starts in life deserve a whole new blog site....... so join me here:
http://shannonroxanne.blogspot.com/
http://shannonroxanne.blogspot.com/
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
The Cycle of Abuse
Rage. Blame. Accusations. Controlling. Bullying.
Confusion, panic, guilt. Pain.
Punishment.
Resentment. More pain. Finding ways to cope until it's over.
The Apology.
Immense relief that he is back to his old self, and all is right with the world again.
Fear. Guilt. "I'm sorry, I love you, I don't want to hurt you."
Love.
Love?
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Just Rambling
There is nothing worse then someone trying to take your feelings from you...ok there's a lot worse things, but right now this is the subject I want to address. Why is it so hard to validate other's feelings? Good, bad or ugly. If I don't want help from someone because I learned a very long time ago that "help" tends to come with a price or implications that I'm stupid or needy, two characteristics that I don't want to be associated with; or if I speak as if I'm right, yet willing to say "oh shit, my bad" when told I'm wrong. WHO CARES? Why is it such a BIG DEAL????
And why is it that people who have had the "worst lives" out of everyone on earth (and believe me there are a lot of people who have this mentalilty), think that no one can possibly understand or that no one else's problems matter just because we allegedly have it better in life? There will always be someone who has endured worse then you; ALWAYS. There will always be someone who is fighting the same battle as you, there will always be survivors of varying degrees, and there will always be those who give up, and lay down and die. Problems don't discriminate. So who gets to say who has it better or worse? I have never understood the ignorance of looking at someone's life from the outside and deciding they have it better or worse. We all have our demons. No one is the judge of who's is worse.
My point in all this?? SHUT UP and QUIT WHINING.
And why is it that people who have had the "worst lives" out of everyone on earth (and believe me there are a lot of people who have this mentalilty), think that no one can possibly understand or that no one else's problems matter just because we allegedly have it better in life? There will always be someone who has endured worse then you; ALWAYS. There will always be someone who is fighting the same battle as you, there will always be survivors of varying degrees, and there will always be those who give up, and lay down and die. Problems don't discriminate. So who gets to say who has it better or worse? I have never understood the ignorance of looking at someone's life from the outside and deciding they have it better or worse. We all have our demons. No one is the judge of who's is worse.
My point in all this?? SHUT UP and QUIT WHINING.
Monday, April 9, 2012
April 8th, 2012
Easter Sunday.
It is almost a year to the day that “J” and I broke up. I can remember sitting on my patio last Easter and realizing the promise that my life still held. Despite the devastation I felt from that break up I looked out into my yard, across the horizon at the lush green trees, felt the breeze at dusk, and I knew things would be ok.
I’ve been to hell and back this past 2 years; the first one being an emotionally numbing blur, only finding strength in my late night walks at the track and budding friendships; the second year being one grueling, heartbreaking test after another it seemed. But somehow I made it through to the other side. Well not somehow, with God, with friends, with therapy, with hope. And the journey to the “other side”-- life after an 11yr emotionally abusive, painful marriage-- can be scary but exciting all at once. And now, here I sit a year later, and I feel the same promise that I felt a year ago. …. I just looked out into the same horizon, from the same spot on my porch, and things are ok. I whisper thanks to God for bringing me to this place.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The Dreaded V-Day
You know what’s romantic and HOT to me? Know how to fix my car when it breaks down. Go outside in the cold early morning before work, and warm my car up for me. Fix my squeaky dryer. Get your hands dirty, and like it. Smile at me like I’m the only thing in the world that makes you smile. If you love me, then tell me and show me all year long. I don’t need one day for it to be more special then the others. I want someone who makes my life special, and I do the same for them. Roses die, chocolates make us fat, I’m too old for stuffed animals, sweet words can be written any time on free paper, and balloons deflate (And come on people, a balloon?? Be for real.)!
Some people may say I’m not very romantic, but I happen to find romance in stuff that is real and genuine. And I just flat out don’t buy into the February 14th bullshit.
XOXOXO
~Jenn
Some people may say I’m not very romantic, but I happen to find romance in stuff that is real and genuine. And I just flat out don’t buy into the February 14th bullshit.
XOXOXO
~Jenn
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
I Have Wondered
Sometimes I have wondered what’s worse; a parent who chooses not to face or deal with any of their child’s emotional turmoil or hardships, or a parent who is just absent altogether (like ran off with the gypsies and left said child on g’ma’s porch as a newborn).
I grew up with the first kind of parent. My parents were there physically and yes all my basic needs were met, and yes I knew they loved me. But there’s something that happens to a child on the inside when mom and dad are incapable of dealing with their emotions; parents who choose to put on a blindfold and look the other way.
My dad sustained a brain injury when I was 9, and could no longer work. The injury caused permanent damage to his brain, affecting his moods and how he coped with stress. Meaning: He has zero tolerance for any type of stress, has mood swings, severe depression, and then chose to cope with it all by isolating himself and smoking marijuana daily. Now, 23 yrs later, he is coping much better, and the mood swings & bouts of depression are less frequent, however those are the memories I’m stuck with of my dad from childhood; yelling, punching holes in walls, or severe depression. Secrets were kept, and things were glossed over with a simple “we’ll get through it” or “we’ll pray about it”. So even when I was 14 and the ATF raided our house (in helicopters and vans) because someone turned my dad in for running a “marijuana farm”, and he faced jail time for the 90lbs of marijuana that was growing behind our house [though he was never selling it, that was a false accusation] my mother simply stated the facts to us and that was that. After a few weeks of sobriety my dad became severely depressed and suicidal. He stayed in various psychiatric hospitals over the course of the next few months.
Looking back I realize that my mom was doing all she could to keep her head above water. All she had ever known was survival. Her parents were emotionally & oftentimes physically absent, her dad was a binge drinker whom she had to pick up from bars in her teen years when he was too drunk to drive home, and she is the only one of three daughters that wasn’t crippled with Mental Retardation or severe anxiety and later alcoholism. I get it. But what bothers me and what I struggle with admitting is that I’m angry that she could never seem to be there for me. Like REALLY be there. Yes, my mom would jump in front of a truck if it would save me from danger, yes she would keep my kids last minute if I needed it or loan me money if she has it. And YES I am thankful for those blessings that others don’t have. But like I said, something happens to you on the inside when you watch your mother & father ignore your emotional needs; when they fail you during the toughest times of your childhood and teen years.
When I was frightened by the things I saw in the psych hospitals my mother never asked how I felt…
When everyone at my small town school knew my dad had been arrested my mother never asked how I felt…
When I stayed locked in my room, only surfacing to eat, throughout the majority of my teen years, my mother never asked how I felt!!!
By the time I was 19 my mother had managed to consume herself with handling life around us, and she so easily chose to blindfold herself when something might be too emotionally overwhelming or God forbid, she might have to talk to one of us about how we felt or actually gain some information about what we were doing with our lives in teenhood. So her reaction really shouldn’t have been a shocker when my 19yr old self announced I was getting married to a 20 yr old guy I had only known a few months, and she simply said “ok, well do we get to meet him?”.
A few months into marriage when I expressed to her how afraid I was of my husband’s anger one day, she simply said “but he’s good to you right.” and then put on her blindfold…
When she saw the wounds on my wrist after an argument with him, she accepted my pathetic attempt at a lie and put on her blindfold…
When my sister started staying in her room for days at a time with severe depression not even coming out to use the bathroom because of her anxiety, and would just pee in a bucket…or when my brother started getting DUI’s, and drinking everyday… my mom chose her blindfold…
There are countless other examples of when my mom simply chose to not be involved in our lives on an emotional level. My dad had the “out” of being considered incapable, but for my mom who was a college educated, professional, Christian, kind hearted woman who simply continued to look the other way…it was CONFUSING. I know that I had two parents present in my life, yet I seem to be the angriest at my mom. I think somewhere in my mind I concluded that my dad had a physical handicap that simply didn’t allow for him to be emotionally supportive of anyone else. All he could manage was himself, and even that was a stretch. In my head, my mother never had good reason to ignore the obvious signs that her children were struggling. Now as a 32 yr old social worker and budding therapist I do see her in a different light. I do realize that she was handicapped in her own way because of her childhood. I try to accept that, and hope that the anger subsides, and it has some. The damage is slowly undoing itself while I’m in therapy. In the wake of my separation and divorce I realized more and more how different my life truly would have been had I grown up with at least one emotionally supportive parent, but the reality is that I didn’t.
Today my relationship with my mom can be taxing at times. We have a love/hate that is incredibly unhealthy. I haven’t liked hugs or kisses from my mom since I was a teenager, and could never figure out why because I’m incredibly affectionate with my own kids, friends, and significant others. I think there is a lot of hurt, frustration, anger, and confusion deep down inside that’s still trying to surface. I struggle with feelings and worry of abandonment, rejection, and loneliness. I know exactly what it all stems from. I know the exact moments in my life where if my mother had handled something differently my life would have headed down a totally different course. That can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes, but I’m trying.
I grew up with the first kind of parent. My parents were there physically and yes all my basic needs were met, and yes I knew they loved me. But there’s something that happens to a child on the inside when mom and dad are incapable of dealing with their emotions; parents who choose to put on a blindfold and look the other way.
My dad sustained a brain injury when I was 9, and could no longer work. The injury caused permanent damage to his brain, affecting his moods and how he coped with stress. Meaning: He has zero tolerance for any type of stress, has mood swings, severe depression, and then chose to cope with it all by isolating himself and smoking marijuana daily. Now, 23 yrs later, he is coping much better, and the mood swings & bouts of depression are less frequent, however those are the memories I’m stuck with of my dad from childhood; yelling, punching holes in walls, or severe depression. Secrets were kept, and things were glossed over with a simple “we’ll get through it” or “we’ll pray about it”. So even when I was 14 and the ATF raided our house (in helicopters and vans) because someone turned my dad in for running a “marijuana farm”, and he faced jail time for the 90lbs of marijuana that was growing behind our house [though he was never selling it, that was a false accusation] my mother simply stated the facts to us and that was that. After a few weeks of sobriety my dad became severely depressed and suicidal. He stayed in various psychiatric hospitals over the course of the next few months.
Looking back I realize that my mom was doing all she could to keep her head above water. All she had ever known was survival. Her parents were emotionally & oftentimes physically absent, her dad was a binge drinker whom she had to pick up from bars in her teen years when he was too drunk to drive home, and she is the only one of three daughters that wasn’t crippled with Mental Retardation or severe anxiety and later alcoholism. I get it. But what bothers me and what I struggle with admitting is that I’m angry that she could never seem to be there for me. Like REALLY be there. Yes, my mom would jump in front of a truck if it would save me from danger, yes she would keep my kids last minute if I needed it or loan me money if she has it. And YES I am thankful for those blessings that others don’t have. But like I said, something happens to you on the inside when you watch your mother & father ignore your emotional needs; when they fail you during the toughest times of your childhood and teen years.
When I was frightened by the things I saw in the psych hospitals my mother never asked how I felt…
When everyone at my small town school knew my dad had been arrested my mother never asked how I felt…
When I stayed locked in my room, only surfacing to eat, throughout the majority of my teen years, my mother never asked how I felt!!!
By the time I was 19 my mother had managed to consume herself with handling life around us, and she so easily chose to blindfold herself when something might be too emotionally overwhelming or God forbid, she might have to talk to one of us about how we felt or actually gain some information about what we were doing with our lives in teenhood. So her reaction really shouldn’t have been a shocker when my 19yr old self announced I was getting married to a 20 yr old guy I had only known a few months, and she simply said “ok, well do we get to meet him?”.
A few months into marriage when I expressed to her how afraid I was of my husband’s anger one day, she simply said “but he’s good to you right.” and then put on her blindfold…
When she saw the wounds on my wrist after an argument with him, she accepted my pathetic attempt at a lie and put on her blindfold…
When my sister started staying in her room for days at a time with severe depression not even coming out to use the bathroom because of her anxiety, and would just pee in a bucket…or when my brother started getting DUI’s, and drinking everyday… my mom chose her blindfold…
There are countless other examples of when my mom simply chose to not be involved in our lives on an emotional level. My dad had the “out” of being considered incapable, but for my mom who was a college educated, professional, Christian, kind hearted woman who simply continued to look the other way…it was CONFUSING. I know that I had two parents present in my life, yet I seem to be the angriest at my mom. I think somewhere in my mind I concluded that my dad had a physical handicap that simply didn’t allow for him to be emotionally supportive of anyone else. All he could manage was himself, and even that was a stretch. In my head, my mother never had good reason to ignore the obvious signs that her children were struggling. Now as a 32 yr old social worker and budding therapist I do see her in a different light. I do realize that she was handicapped in her own way because of her childhood. I try to accept that, and hope that the anger subsides, and it has some. The damage is slowly undoing itself while I’m in therapy. In the wake of my separation and divorce I realized more and more how different my life truly would have been had I grown up with at least one emotionally supportive parent, but the reality is that I didn’t.
Today my relationship with my mom can be taxing at times. We have a love/hate that is incredibly unhealthy. I haven’t liked hugs or kisses from my mom since I was a teenager, and could never figure out why because I’m incredibly affectionate with my own kids, friends, and significant others. I think there is a lot of hurt, frustration, anger, and confusion deep down inside that’s still trying to surface. I struggle with feelings and worry of abandonment, rejection, and loneliness. I know exactly what it all stems from. I know the exact moments in my life where if my mother had handled something differently my life would have headed down a totally different course. That can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes, but I’m trying.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Things I Have Actually Said Outloud...
...while perusing my matches on an online dating site. : / Seriously, I'm not making any of this up. Just thought I'd share...
"He was on the other site too! Dude, give it up, you're gay!"
"Ugh, he has elf ears!"
"That's because you look like a pedophile..."
"um, gross"
"Cute, but can't spell."
"You're obviously high in all these pictures"
"Well gee with a screen name like 'Elated HoneyStick', who could resist?? Oh, and you're 50? Even better!"
(big sigh) I think I'll stick with finding happiness as a single girl :)
"He was on the other site too! Dude, give it up, you're gay!"
"Ugh, he has elf ears!"
"That's because you look like a pedophile..."
"um, gross"
"Cute, but can't spell."
"You're obviously high in all these pictures"
"Well gee with a screen name like 'Elated HoneyStick', who could resist?? Oh, and you're 50? Even better!"
(big sigh) I think I'll stick with finding happiness as a single girl :)
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