Me-The Beginning

I am not sure where to begin.  Born in a small town in New York to older parents.  My mom was from Scotland; she grew up the unwanted child.  Living with her Grandmother and her Aunts because her parents couldn’t be bothered with her.  My father was a first generation Italian American who was the youngest of 3.

When I was 6, I was sitting in the living room watching some game show on TV.  My mother was having an argument on the phone with my dad.  She slammed down the phone, came into the living room and told asked me if I wanted to go with her or stay with my father.  I told her I wanted to go with her.  She told me to pack my stuff we were leaving. The guy who was painting the house “John” pulled up in his beat up old van, which he had named Bertha.  Mom loaded up garbage bags full of our belongings.  I said goodbye to my best friend, handed her my favorite doll, which she promised to bring to me as soon as we were settled and with that my mother, my brother and I were on our way.  All my toys, pictures, etc…….left behind.

We camped our way down the east coast.  It was a lot of fun actually, although I missed my Dad …they wanted me to call John Dad but I didn’t want to. We spend the summer at a beach house in Ocean View and than moved into old World War 2 housing in Va. Beach so that I could start school. My mother informed me that my last name would no longer be the name I knew, it would be Paquet.  She enrolled me in school as a Paquet, Johns name.  John was an alcoholic.  When he was drunk he was mean.  My brother taught me how to slow down my breathing so that it would appear to anyone watching that I was sleeping.  I escaped a few beatings that way.   My father had apparently spent a lot of money to find us.  Once he did, he left us alone. Not long after, my brother who was constantly in trouble for no reason at all, got in trouble for stealing from his paper route,  John and Mom decided that he should go live with my father.  I was 7 or 8 maybe?  Didn’t see or hear from him again till I was 16.  (I later found out that he was raised in foster care on work farms.  His life was awful and he still managed to grow up to be a great guy.)

The day the bus left with my brother the sexual abuse started.  Simple at first, laying in bed with him with my underwear on and letting him touch me….it escalated……….further…….but, you don’t need to know all of that.

My brother being ripped away from me left a huge void.  I didn’t have a protector, I didn’t have a comrade in the chaos that was my life….I began making friends with a succession of boys solely because they reminded me of my big brother.

Eventually we moved from the WW2 housing to a trailer in what was actually in the beginning a nice neighborhood.  It was mostly military families so my friends kind of came and went.  I was never allowed to have friends over, or have them spend the night.  The reason I never told my mother about the sexual abuse was that John told me, that if I ever told anyone, he would kill my mother.  I was a kid so I believed him.

I want to emphasize that when John was sober he was an awesome dad.  He taught me how to fish, how to paint, how to hammer in a nail.  Unfortunately, he was an alcoholic so those moments were few and far between. Not long after my brother was sent away, my parents decided to go on an all night fishing thing, or something.  They left, the sitter never showed up.  They came home, found out that I had survived and from that point on, I was left alone.

Two important memories I want to mention. Because both had a major affect on me.

One was that John was a house painter and injured his back badly.  He was forced to lay flat on his back and not move for several months.  My mother had to get a job.  We may have been on welfare, I don’t have any idea. Point is the typical, Christmas was here, and we didn’t have money for anything.  My mother took what money she did have and went to the store to get groceries.  While she was gone there was a knock at the door. It was someone my mom worked with.  They had taken up a collection without her knowing.  They brought in and decorated a Christmas tree.  Filled it underneath with Gifts and brought us bag after bag of groceries.  It still makes me cry.

The second it that I was gone from the house as often as possible, I was always off on my bike with my friends.  Playing Lassie or Star Wars or one of the other myriad of escapism games that I played.  I also started babysitting at 9 for spending money.  The second memory is that my friend, Patricia Beth Bolton, was nabbed coming home from the book mobile.  She was raped, sodomized and beaten to death and left in the woods that were behind the field next to my house.  The brother of a man whose children I babysat on a regular basis committed this atrocity, his name was Andrew Clozza.  This changed everything for the rest of my childhood.  No more roaming around at will alone.  I became a latch key kid.

Because I was being molested, I had less than zero interest in boys. In 5th grade someone asked me if I was a lesbian. In 6th grade it somehow came out that Paquet wasn’t really my last name and I had to switch back to Dipalo.  It was horrible and confusing and the teachers treated me like I was trying to pull one over on someone. They had a drug awareness day and I burst into tears during the assembly because I realized that John was an alcoholic and that the funny smell around the house was Marijuana.  A teacher removed me from the assembly to a room alone so that I could cry it out.

Around this time, something happened and I somehow let it slip to my mother that I had woken up to find John in my bedroom.  My mother flipped out (apparently she had her suspicions that something was going on?) She and John had a huge fight.  He left (ended up he was having an affair with her best friend anyway, they ran off together.)

My mother was DEVASTATED.

She honestly loved him.  Probably the first person she loved more than herself.  She cried a lot, clung to me. Most of her married friends pushed her away, I guess out of fear that she would stalk their husbands.   She finally pulled herself together and put a personal advert in the paper.  She started dating. She would bring the men home and make me go watch TV in her room so that way they wouldn’t try to have sex with her.  I was up to all hours, only wanting to go to sleep.   Eventually she started dating a piece of scum that she decided she liked.  He moved in.  His name was Eugene.  Gene for short.  Gene would call my mother and tattle on me if I did things like watched TV before I had done my homework.  Than he came up behind me one day and put his hands over my breasts (which has just appeared the summer before Junior High, much to my embarrassment.)  He told me that if I allowed him to do that whenever he wanted, I would get whatever I wanted.  I wanted him gone.  I turned into a raging bitch.  My mother asked me what was wrong with me.  I told her what Gene was doing.  Her response? Wait for it…. “But you only have to put up with it for a couple of years, I am going to be alone for the rest of my life.”  Gene said either I go or he leaves. He went.

My mother’s next winner was a redneck with a 16-year-old son.  She married him the summer before I turned 13. They went away for a WEEK.  I was left alone with a fridge full of groceries and a number to call in case of emergencies.

The Vaughan’s came with their own hell and insanity.  Jr, was a 16 year old stoned, sex crazed, socially inept, emotionally stunted idiot, who glued pornographic centerfolds to the walls in our shared bathroom (he was forced to take them down) and than as I got older, drilled peep holes into the bathroom walls so he could watch me bath and pee without me knowing.  He would sneak into my room at night and take my Pajama’s off .  I thought I was safe so I was sleeping deeply.  Haven’t slept that deeply since. I was suspicious that something was going on, and using my brother’s handy trick, laid a trap.  Caught him coming into my room.  Went and woke up my parents.  My stepfather said I asked for it. My mom came home the next day with 2 deadbolts and a locking door handle for my bedroom door.

My stepfather and his son were both addicted to Marijuana.  Addicted as in, when they didn’t have any they were absolute hell to live with and turned to Alcohol.  My stepfather put his fist through my bedroom door once after he called me something along the lines of a mother fucking bitch and I told him he should know all about Mother fucking since that’s where he had gotten all of his experience.

When he moved in I started paying $25 a week rent to live in my own home.  I still had an array of chores that I had to perform as well as going to school and working part time at the hair salon. (I was 13 btw).  Jr, a school drop out, paid $20.

Holidays were never that warm fuzzy thing you hear about from your friends or see on TV.  We’d get up open presents, cook a meal, and than everyone one go to sleep while I cleaned up the kitchen.

Birthdays didn’t mean parties….actually from 13 years on if I wanted a cake, I had to bake my own.  It usually meant getting taken out to dinner.  Or perhaps everyone else going about their lives, coming home late at night and giving me a cat…….or something.  We never took family vacations.  Once pop came we did go do the occasional something, but I usually had to pay my way and buy my own dinner or jump through a lot of hoops to get him to do it for me.

This was my childhood.  I don’t want pity.  I am not trying to one up anyone about who had the worse experiences. I wouldn’t change one detail about my past because it put me on the path that led me here. I love my husband; I love my kids but more importantly I LOVE ME.

I went to my first Science Fiction convention when I was in Jr. High.  I later became friends with the 14year old who had come up with and organized the entire thing.

At 16, I started working 2 jobs and going to school.  I worked at Pizza Hut for the summer and in the fall. I began working for Revco. All the while working at the hair salon.   My friend Ann, threw me a surprise 16th birthday party, the surprise being that no one that I knew came.

My stepbrother was giving me a ride to work one day on his motorcycle and I wouldn’t tell him something he wanted to know, so he drove around deliberately to get me lost and make me late for work.  At one point he stopped the bike and asked me to tell him my secret.  I got off of the bike.  He asked me where I was going and I pointed to the nearest house and said that I was going there to call my mother.  He said but you don’t know where you are!  I told him that I was sure whoever lived in the house did.  He took me to work.  I never let him do it again.

I met Ann in my creative writing class.  We became tight and with her, I started going to Science Fiction conventions.  I know that you are laughing at me but when you are a teenage girl with no self-confidence and a lousy life a sci fi convention is Magical.  You leave reality at the door, pay your money and can be whoever you want to be.  You even get to choose a name for your con badge.  There is a greater ratio of males to females than in normal life and the hot/not ratio was even more in my favor.  At Con’s I was a Queen.  I made tons of friends, most of whom I still have to this day. I was the belle of the ball and everyone loved me. I was cool, fun, talented and Beautiful. It was awesome. It was almost like a drug, I guess.  An escape. I had my first kiss at a con, met my first boyfriend at a con. I gained a circle of friends that slowly built.  I became the mother hen. If someone was down, I rallied the troops to cheer them up.  If someone needed friends, I introduced them to my world of friends.  I did everything possible to keep the friendships growing.

I lost my virginity on the 4th of July at a food lion store.  Fireworks literally went off. I was 17 and a high school graduate and I did it to keep from losing my first boyfriend, Dean Robb.  It was one of the worst experiences ever.  He told me that I was so good at it he couldn’t believe it was my first time.  I think he thought it was a compliment.   We broke up on the following Mother’s day because I had finally gained enough self confidence while he was out to sea to realize that he was just as bad for me as my family.  Always tearing me down, never building me up.  Always telling me everything that was wrong with me.  Never telling me what was right.  (A side note about my mother- she was the type of mother who bought me clothes a size smaller hoping that I would lose weight, I think was a 12 at this point. She was the type of woman who chastised me if I gave her a gift that she didn’t like.  If she gave me a gift, which I didn’t like or it didn’t fit, she would return the item and buy something for herself.  She was the type of woman who never went out of the house unless she was dressed to the nines.  She always wore designer clothes even though she did ferret them out off consignment stores more often than not.  If I looked good, she made herself look better.  I got my ears pierced she did as well.  She knew that she was smart, and knew that she was beautiful, but also knew that she was getting old and was a bit vain so it was eating away at her. I, in turn, rarely wore make up.  I wore clothes that made me feel comfortable and that for the most part hid my femininity…although as I started to feel more comfortable with myself that changed a little bit. I am not hung up on what I look like, mostly because my mother was and it ate away at her. Age ate away at her.  I didn’t know how old she really was till I was 16 and wrestled her driver’s license away from her.  This is also about the time that I found out that she wore dentures and had since she was a teenager AND that she has been married before my Dad and had 2 grown kids old enough to be my parents).

Dean showed up on Mothers day with roses for my mother and instructed me to get dressed and grab my purse we were going out. I told him I wasn’t because it was mother’s day and when he got into a snit I ditched him.  I had been dating another guy all summer anyway whom I had broken up with before Dean’s ship had come in. (That guy, Terry Lee…. was one of my best friends and for a couple of years roommates.  He stopped talking to me a couple of years ago because his girlfriend now wife was jealous of our friendship.)

So…finishing up high school.  My counselor told me not to take my SAT’s because I probably wasn’t going to go to college anyway and I didn’t have the math I needed to pass.  My parents weren’t paying for college and my stepfather wouldn’t cosign any loans.  I was going to go to community college but something went wrong with that plan and I ended up going to a stupid expensive business school that hadn’t gotten its accreditation yet but thought it would come through before the semester started.  Mother co-signed with out pop knowing which was awesome because when she died the loans were paid off automatically.

So, now I am in college and working.  But I had FRIENDS tons of GLORIOUS FRIENDS.

I would go to class and than go to work…now at a Hotel Gift Shop and maybe a front desk gig at this point I don’t remember. I would get off at 11:00 meet my friends at the beach and skinny dip and than go party till I had to get some sleep so I could start the entire cycle again.  Than with the money that I made at work, on the weekends we would travel to cons or rent hotel rooms and have more parties.  People came to my parties!! It was awesome…and not so much………..because I was so freaking messed up inside.  I would get really depressed and think about killing myself.  I felt like the Great Gatsby, I would throw these parties and than not want to be there.  I still do that now.  Robert and I will have a house party and I will not hang out with the folks.  Honestly, I was an intelligent young woman; I knew that the majority of the folks who came to the parties I had at the hotels weren’t there because of me.  They were there because a lot of my friends had cool friends and I was on the fringe…. never really feeling like I was a part of it.  My home life still sucked.  I had bought my own car.  Were doing my own car repairs with the help of my stepbrother. Everyone else was at a real college.  I had my core group of good friends.  It really wasn’t them it was me.  Outsiders wanted to be me.  I’m not being cocky; it’s true I have had several people tell me lately that I was the glue for our group that everyone always seemed to flock to me.  Their perception of me and mine are totally different.

I’m not worried about you judging me.  If you were that sort of person, I wouldn’t be sharing this stuff with you anyway….and even if you were to pass judge, doesn’t bother me anyway.  I don’t have any regrets. Thanks for all the love by the way………….
Everything your asking is a little complex. After Dean, I wasn’t without a sex partner ever.  Sex was fun…beyond that for me it was a way of feeling, if only for a few minutes like someone cared about me.  I had regular boyfriends, I had a couple of one night stands with folks who became friends…..I had a friend who I called whenever I felt the need to have sex. It was fun.  I came to a realization at one point that I didn’t want to be “that” girl.  So I stopped having sex and started dating a Virgin….I wanted to go a year celibate.  Than I had sex with the Virgin and it wasn’t fun so I eventually broke his heart.  He’s now married to Ann, my best friend from High School.
Than came the fateful day when a bunch of friends and I were at a con in DC.  We decided to hit an adult bookstore.  Which is a story in itself actually. When we returned to the hotel, the 5 of us I think it was went out on the balcony and i had my first orgasm.  After that sex became really fun.
There is a book called Courage to Heal that actually gave me nightmares.  It’s written for adult survivors of incest and sexual abuse.  It suggests in that book..I think it was that book…..that when we are forced to have sex when we are kids…we feel guilty enjoying it as adults.  Subconsciously we always feel like we are doing something wrong I guess.   It suggested that light Spanking or Bondage would release that guilt…
So Jim was the guy I was dating who was into bondage.  It was Bondage 101.  Nothing Scary………tied me up…spanked me….it was fun.  There was a dark element at a lot of cons where the B&DS&M crowd was on the fringe.  You could always buy stuff there.  I had a leather thong sort of thing and fur lined leather handcuffs.  LIght easy and fun..
Than I was in a long term relationship with Bill.  The first long term relationship I had ever been in.  4 months into our relationship, my mother had 3 brain anyurisms  and a stroke…she died 3 months later.  I went into a tail spin. I felt lost, abandoned and alone.   I was 22 years old and for all of the hell my childhood had been my mother had been the one constant.  She loved me as much as she possibly could have.  I was the only child she raised to adult hood.  Bill was in the Army by the time she died.  He didn’t even take off to come to the funeral or to try and help me in anyway.  That should have been a wake up call huh?
Anyway, Bill was cheating on me for almost our entire relationship, but I was too blind to see it because i was in a tailspin over my mother.  So much so that soon lost my job. My friend Terry took out a small term loan to help me pay my bills until I could get on my feet…(again, no help from Bill…although I sent him money regularly through the army and when he went to college…for 8 years I helped him out…can you say SUCKER?) Sex started not being so much fun with Bill…our relationship was odd..not healthy.  When I Finally realized he was cheating on me, I broke up with him.  I was 29.
That was when things started to change a bit.  I didn’t go to cons any more.  I couldn’t afford it.  Was working 4 jobs and living in a small one bedroom apartment near the beach…I dated a couple of guys because i was too bored to commit suicide.  But I no longer felt pretty. I had gained weight after my mother died. Some guys that I had met up with were actually a bit mean to me…I moved into a 2 bedroom apartment with Bills sister because her husband left her after she finished paying for his college and she couldn’t afford her rent. So she paid utilities, moved into the second bedroom and than her dates were mean to me.  She had sex with a friend of mind who she knew i lusted after…
I was blah…than Steven became my friend  with benefits.  Sex was fun again, I felt GOOD, I felt attractive.  it was awesome.  I knew that we didn’t have a future neither of us were each others type….we were just having fun.
Than I met Hubby. Dude, he was so angry, so troubled.  He was cute, had an adorable little butt and a sexy voice.  He liked me for me.  He liked me chubby. He became my newest project to help.  He and his friend Devd basically lived at my apartment.  They were always there.   He did little things.  He fixed things.  He bought a padded toilet seat that matched my shower curtain…said that way my bottom would be warm and cozy when I had to use the facilities.  He praised my cooking. My body.  He encouraged me to reach out and grab what I wanted out of life.  He gifted me with cooking lessons. He was also a HUGE jerk…but he was cute.  Sex was Good and fun and frequent.  He made my pulse race.  We fought, he tried to break up with me, I fought to keep him.  He needed me to keep him from fucking up his life and I needed the electricity that came from being with him and the acceptance that he seemed to have for me.  God, he was SO angry. He was so Rude. His friends were asses too. Our sexual relationship tanked when we went to take our trip around North America.  He wanted to tie me up and spank me and I said sure.  We were having fun, but he got way too intense.  He was spanking me WAY too hard. He ignored our code word. He betrayed my trust.  He also started smoking copious amounts of pot when he got out of the Navy.  I didn’t have a good history with pot, even though I had been known to supply my friends with some when I was younger…another attempt at acceptance.  I hated him stoned.  Sex on the trip became less and less frequent, because I didn’t want him touching me stoned. He may have been stoned during the incident, I don’t remember.

Love and Motherhood.

How do I turn off the faucet of emotions in my head?

How do I give up on my silly childhood dreams of having someone REALLY love ME…

I think maybe that’s part of why I am so into motherhood.  I am not the best mom…I know that I am not.  I am not the fun mom who is always doing crafts and activities with them.  I have been known to turn on the television and spend a day trying to get caught up on laundry or housework….occasionally, spending a few hours doing something like making a cake or working on something for someone else… I love the stuffing out of them though. I love those two little people with every fiber of my being.  I try to give them the space that they need to breath and grow so that I when they do the inevitible pulling away that comes with growing and maturing…maybe it won’t hurt me so much.   The mom thing though…that is a special role right?  I can’t be replaced. If I died tomorrow, I am sure a woman would come along who would love them and nurture them…but they won’t forget me. My mother has been gone for 22 years and I still hear her voice in my head.  She wasn’t the best mother…although I am sure that she did all that she was able too.

Maybe I do hold my kids close to me more. I don’t have a lot of set personal boundries with them.  I sleep with them more than I do my husband. If they need me I am always there…even though sometimes I am short tempered, and cranky.  My daughter and I always talk about my crankiness.  She lets me know when I have hurt her feelings.  I teach her that I am human…and that sometimes being a mom can be hard but that Love is like that….

I wasn’t an adequate daughter….my mother always wanted something more…

My father didn’t really want me at all… None of my relatives really felt more than an obligation towards me…

I make a great friend…until people don’t need me anymore…and than they move on … someone better….less…..I don’t know whatever I am….maybe I am not that great a friend…maybe I expect too much.

I am not an adequate wife….my husband wants something more from me that I can’t provide and that has ended up damaging our relationship..perhaps permanently.  I know that the damage has changed me….I am still trying to figure out how much….

I make too many promises and never have enough time to fulfill them…..but my kids….my kids are new…they are fresh…I can work on building our relationship on teaching them love and trust and strength and self esteem.  all of the things that I was never really taught when I was a kid…and that I have had ripped away from me time and time again.

They are my heart….and I have a few years before the hormones make them lash out and attempt to push me away…maybe…I can be more than enough for at least them….Yoda says there is no try there is only do and do not. I am putting all of my energy into doing for them,  Into making their childhood safe, happy and full of love….they may not go on great adventures….I may not be capable of making Christmas a magical experience or any of those things that those other seemingly in touch and perfect parents do…. but they will remember feeling safe and loved and cherished.  They do have a father who adores them.  Hopefully my daughter won’t have to go looking for love and acceptance from a variety of random guys when she already has the most important one wrapped around her finger at the age of 5….(She had him at 2 hours old…)

If I can hold my marriage together and accept being barely adequate there….maybe the love of my kids will be enough to keep me in the game….


Rules for Being his Wife

We  have intimacy issues.  Sex is a huge problem for us.  He insists that I say no to everything…we have been together 12 years…He told me to make a list of my rules for sex.  It threw me for a loop.  Rules for sex?  I didn’t comprehend….

This is what I came up with. 

Roberts Rules for his Wife


  • Don’t ever do anything that he could construe or misconstrue as disrespectful, even if disrespect isn’t intended this will upset him greatly


  • Don’t Joke with him unless he initiates, he considers this disrespectful.


  • Don’t ever say something along the lines of “grab that for me will you?” if you don’t ask “Please grab that for me will you.” He gets angry and considers that you telling him what to do and no one tells him what to do so he gets angry


  • Don’t ever point out his bad behavior (although he will point our yours frequently, to point out his makes him angry and defensive…it’s disrespectful).


  • Don’t ever question his decisions, that is disrespectful


  • Don’t ever offer any advice, he doesn’t want it…you aren’t intelligent enough or wise enough to do so and he equates it with telling him what to do.


  • Don’t listen to music that he doesn’t like…..he will change it immediately to something HE likes and often than turn around and leave the room.


  • Don’t watch anything he has not interest in.  He may watch it with you for a few minutes and than ruin it by ridiculing EVERYTHING about it.


  • He is going to get angry and hurl hateful insults at you…you are supposed to of course take it and recognize that he his angry at himself for some reason and is doing so to push you away…forgive him immediately upon his admitting that he was not being nice.  He often does this in front of other people, just laugh it off.


  • Don’t bake any sweets because he will get angry at you as he eats them. Don’t make anything that he construes as unhealthy because again he will be angry.


  • If he arbitrarily decides that things aren’t needed in the house whether they are his or not and will throw them out…this could be anything from food he finds in the kitchen that displeases him to random other items.  Just roll with it.


  • He will rail at you for the house not being clean, while contributing to the disaster by leaving socks and clothes and shoes everywhere…orange peels on the counter rather than in the trash…dirty knives on the counter etc. It’s YOUR job to clean up after him not vise versa.  He does this even if it is clean.  If you ask him too he will help clean so don’t get angry about this…it’s your job to clean.


  • Robert has a double standard for your behavior and his behavior. It is what it is. You can’t change it so roll with it.


  • Don’t ever complain of having any physical ailments of any kind. Robert abhors weakness. It’s an excuse. He chalks it up as a character flaw and it will be held against you.



  • Robert works really hard to take care of his family.  His love for his kids is tangible.  He makes choices that often go against what he really wants because of them. Inside all of that anger is an absolutely wonderful guy…with a really kind soul. It’s usually worth following all of these rules just to see glimpses of that man you fell in love with. Keep that in mind, it makes the rules not so difficult most of the time. 

I printed them out for him and concluded the pages with the following paragraph…


Your request for “RULES” for sex threw me for a loop…as I thought about it, I realized that there are “RULES” for dealing with you…of course you didn’t write them out for me…I have watched you and adapted based on who you are….because I love you and loving you and living with you means learning your likes and dislikes and rolling with them.   My writing out “Rules’ for you having sex with me is just one more thing for you to get angry and resentful about.  It’s not going to solve anything…it’s just going to make things worse and give you more reasons to push away from me.  I try to be as fluid as I can for you. Obviously loving you is one more thing that I fail at in your eyes and for that I am truly sorry.



The beginning…..

I stumbled upon this conversation from facebook that I had saved for some random reasons that I will I am sure get to later…thought it was vaguely Ironic..


September 10, 2008

The other Woman (back when she was my friend)

  • What is happening?

So I’m not trying to be a jerk and pry, but your status’ are going crazy? Did someone hi-jack your computer or are you really going through a really rough time right now?
It looks like your husband was cheating on you or something. Anyway, Please Call me or write back if you want to talk. I am here for you and of course would not talk to the other girls about it in the group, which it looks like they are curious as to what is going on as well.
I know having 2 babies puts a big strain on a marriage, I hope that whatever is going on can be worked through as it will get easier with the kids and you will re-connect again, it just takes a lot of time.
Love you girl,
I’m here if you need me.


September 10, 2008


  • Hey ,
    Thanks for the e-mail.
    Two babies does put a lot of strain on a marriage and hubby decided he was going to pick up a little girlfriend on the side. We’ve trying to work through this for about a month now on top of the sad event of a friend of ours committing suicide back in July. It’s been really rough to tell you the truth, more so for me than him….
    Anyway, today it all came to a head when his “girlfriend” offered to watch our kids while we went out after the babysitter canceled. I boiled over and snapped…and used Facebook to get his attention. It was immature and wrong….but it worked.
    We’re working on it. Thanks so much for caring….
    Don’t worry about a thing…take it easy and relax so that your baby girl comes out as mellow and happy as the rest of you.
    I’ll be fine!

THe Other Woman

  • Oh my god E, I am so sorry!! I wanted to call you but wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with that right now (I know some people would rather e-mail… like me… when something is going on). Plus, all this stuff was going on today with you so I didn’t think you need a person bugging you on the phone. So I bugged you on e-mail instead

    So, this “girlfriend”, was it just a flirtatious thing or did something actually happen between him and her? Why would she even offer to babysit? Is she a mutual friend and didn’t think you knew about her or something. Hey at least you used Facebook to get back at him and not seriously hurt someone. Which is probably something I would do. You are a better woman than I am, I really admire you for that.
    I’m happy that you guys are able to try and work at it. Like I was saying before, with twins, it’s a lot more complicated for a marriage and I don’t think a lot of people understand that who don’t have multipules. Even the strongest marriages get tested and pushed to limits. I know it hasn’t been all peaches over here either. I try and think of it as temporary though, it is a huge adjustment and really does take a very long time to re-arrange your life to. Plus so mush happens in the first year and you are having to constantly change for the different demands each month once you’ve gotten used to something, you have to switch gears again, it’s just crazy. I think it is worse for the husbands to get used to. They are used to being your everything, and now they have to share you with 2 demanding babies and you really don’t have the time for him anymore. I constantly worry about Christopher finding attention elsewhere, part of me wouldn’t blame him, I haven’t been “interested” in sexy things especially lately, and we never have any time or energy for each other. But like I said too, it’s gotten a bit easier as the boys grow more independent.

    Well, I do care so much about you. I know it’s been hard to get super close with our twins and this pregnancy but hopefully once she is born we can get to be closer.
    Call me anytime if you want, well besides Friday  I’ll be in surgery. Or e-mail. Let me know how things go. I’ll be thinking of you.

Thanks so much. It makes me feel better to know that it’s not just us. My single friends don’t get it. The energy thing is a big part of it. The kids take it right out of you. We’re going to work through it. Thanks for being here for me. Now, don’t worry about me…save your energy for your beautiful baby girl and we’ll bond after she arrives.

Love Me

November 16, 2009

The Other Woman

  • So great to see you today!

Even though I probably in advertanly made you said by asking you what happened with Robert. And I probably shouldn’t have told you that for Robert to be a good father he has to have a good relationship with you. I know you already know that, I was stupid to say that. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to feel better and be happy. I wish there was more I could do. But I’m always here if you wanna talk and can always come over if you need me. I forgot.. Are you going to kim’s Friday?




I don’t normally do regret…really, I don’t. It’s a pointless waste of energy and time.

I don’t know where I went wrong in my life…sigh…that’s not true…I have coasted along taking the road most traveled…sticking with the known rather than the unknown…getting by by the skin of my teeth on more than one occasion..but always in control of me. I have always owned my mistakes although admittedly sometimes it has taken more time to own them than others…learned from them and moved on. I own my past….although there are some long term psychological affects from my childhood that affect my ability to trust, my relationships….I accept that the damage that happened to me, happened and it’s over. I don’t use it as a crutch for bad behavior.

Did I go wrong when I gave up control? When 12 years ago I quit my 4 jobs and had a friend move into my apartment so I could travel around the country with my then boy friend? That’s the first time that i didn’t have complete control since obtaining adulthood.  It’s the first time that I couldn’t easily just take my ball and go home. That trip was both Heaven and Hell.  The screaming fights…I can actually remember those far better than I can remember some of the beautiful sites….the Verbal abuse….the gut wrenching fear of “ok, what do I do now” while stranded in a parking lot is some desolate area of Oregon…

I thought that ultimately the trip made us stronger…although there was some far reaching damage from that too…I thought that if I loved enough…if we loved enough it would work it’s self out.  I knew that he was going through a transition …a life change…and he was moody because he didn’t have control and didn’t know what he wanted and he was uncertain and when he is uncertain he lashes out verbally….I was patient because when you love someone….that’s what you do…

We returned home after almost 6 months of traveling…we had read the 5 love languages and understood each other a little better….we packed our stuff, loaded up a truck and moved to another state…together….thinking that perhaps after we got settled, that we would go our separate ways. ..

We settled in to our new home….it was us against the world…working together we could accomplish anything. Things were good.  We were friends again. We would snuggle and watch TV…take walks on the Greenway…explore our surroundings…I got a job and picked up some college classes…he started college…things were good not idyllic….not dreamy…probably a little more bumpy than I remember currently…but I don’t know anything other than bumpy…a road that was too smooth would have made me nervous.

I do know that it had been almost 2 years and when I heard his voice my heart still skipped a beat…when he touched my hand I tingled and that when he held me, I just knew everything was going to be ok.  I know that I couldn’t sleep without him next to me.

We decided to buy a house.  That was not an easy task…I remember more bellowing arguments…however we finally agreed on one and purchased it. More stress…trying to juggle all of the balls and close on the house but we did it!  October of 2003 we moved into out new house and life was good.  Really good.  He proposed.

I was floored…we had never seriously spoken of marriage….there was a bit of a gap in our ages with me being older by a decade…I laughed him off…I told him that he didn’t really want to marry me…I said “Think about it…and if you propose again, do it in a way that will make me cry when I think about it” or something along those lines…

Valentines Day came…and he proposed.  Granted he didn’t come up with it on his of his college chums did…but it was unique.  I came home to construction heart conversation hearts that led me on a path through the house ending at our bedroom door, which opened to reveal that the room was full of helium balloons.  The hearts led to our bed which had a stack of girl scout cookies and a heart that said “Will you Marry Me?”  I cried, I’m a sap… he didn’t have a ring…or flowers…he didn’t get on one knee…just stood there smiling as tears poured down my face.  I said yes! We went to a celebration dinner at the fish house up the street…grand total $12 I think.

In retrospect, I guess the fact that he didn’t have a ring bummed me out a bit. Any ring would  have done…I’m not really materialistic…or a big fan of jewelry….but he did plan the proposal…and the first thing everyone asks is “let me see the ring”.

His mom gave me a ring of hers..of course she gave it to me broken and tarnished. But hey it was a ring right? I took it to a jeweler and had it cleaned up, repaired, and sized. Poof I had sweet, pretty, inexpensive engagement ring….which I promptly lost doing yard work…seriously, I put it in my pocket and it disappeared…we searched the yard for weeks with a metal detector…nothing turned up..

We had pseudo traditional white wedding 8 months later.  On a gorgeous fall day on the front lawn of a coworkers home I became a wife.  I was in a poofy white gown…I walked to him and we walked up the aisle together. We wrote our own ceremony and vows.  It was bigger than we would have had because his mother insisted on inviting a ton of people but she helped pay for the wedding.  I was GIDDY.  No other word for it.  I don’t know if I have ever been so happy in my entire life.  Life was good. I was loved! Me..someone loved me enough to want to live with me until I died!  I didn’t have any doubts.  I knew that I was making the right choice for me.  I was 35! I knew who I was…this was something that I was doing by choice…100% commitment.  I asked him before we started planning the wedding. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Yes he said. “What if you meet some young college co-ed and you decide you don’t want to be with a me anymore?” “that won’t happen” he said.  “I don’t do divorce” I informed him…when I get married it’s till death. “have you seen my family?” he asked.  “We don’t do divorce.”  I’m sure that more was said on the subject but you get the point.  He wasn’t nervous on our wedding day. He was calm, confident and beaming. He was 25.

We had a fabulous honeymoon! After that things were horrible.  We ended up in couples therapy within months of getting married.  We still had the intimacy issue and we were trying to have kids which made it that much more difficult.