Posts tagged ‘Marriage’

Preparing for the future

When I was with my ex-husband, Nick, and I had Gavin, his parents purchased life insurance for him. I didn’t understand why at the time. It seemed so morbid to me, preparing for your child’s possible demise. Then when Nick and I split and the policy was allowed to lapse and eventually close altogether, I began to thinking about insurance and life insurance in earnest.

When Rob and I moved in together, he made sure we both had at least a bit of life insurance. Of course, we had our car insurance, renter’s insurance and then the little private policies on the expensive electronics Rob loves so much. But life insurance? What was the deal? I would learn soon enough.

We had some very basic life insurance on each other; in case of something horrible. That way we’d at least have enough for a small service and that was good enough at the time. Then my health made a drastic turn for the worse. One doctor told me I was “24 with the body of an 89-year-old”. Life insurance was going to be next to impossible to get now! They require physicals; Rob and I both knew I wouldn’t pass one. Who wants to cover someone with Fibromyalgia, chronic migraines, GERD and IBS?

Then to make matters even more complicated, we ended up on public assistance again. With public assistance you aren’t permitted to have whole life insurance because you can draw money out against the policy. They view that money as cash. We needed the insurance but we needed to find decent coverage that fit all of our needs. It was a nightmare!

In the end, we manged to get our insurance agent to find something that worked for us and with us. Thank God!

Brought to you by your friends at America Life Quotes!

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Honesty: My Story: Dear Nicholas,

Dear Nicholas,

We’ve been apart nearly 10 years and there’s apparently still a piece of me that is afraid of you. I used to be so strong before you. My Granny taught me never to fall for a guy like you. I still don’t know how it happened. Well, that’s not entirely true. I thought I could save you. I thought I could save you from yourself. First, from the gang that didn’t exist in the end. Then from your parents because they didn’t understand you. Little did I know that they didn’t understand you because you were stoned all the time.

I wish I had known how much of my life was based upon lies.  How do you keep your life straight in your head? All the lies you tell? Or did you only tell them to me? Did everyone else get the truth? No, that can’t be right because I know you aren’t Autistic. You’re a Sociopath. So you lied to the doctors in Columbus, those are more lies to keep straight. Unless you just don’t go back now that you have the diagnosis.

This whole “I’m a changed man” crap. Is just that, crap. You don’t just change from what you were. Not who you were but what you were. You were a monster. You are a monster. You always will be a monster.

I don’t know how you treated your other fiancées. Do they know how you treated me? Are they aware of how you used to sit on the couch and obsessively clean your swords? Especially while we fought? Or how you used to sleep with the swords under the couch, thereby under you, because you refused to sleep in bed with me?

To this day, I don’t understand why you never wanted to sleep in bed with me. You asked me to marry you. It was your idea. And yet, even when we lived at your parents house and they were on vacation, you wouldn’t sleep in the same bed with me most of the time. I didn’t understand it then. I don’t understand it now.

You said you loved me. Yet you did everything you could to sabotage our marriage. You wouldn’t sleep in bed with me. You abused me. You misused me. You were hurtful. You neglected my son. You abused him. You sabotaged marriage counseling. You continually brought your mother into our marriage. Every fight. Every misunderstanding. Every time I told you “no”. Every time you wanted beer. You called your Mommy and pulled her into our marriage.

Should we discuss your treatment of me throughout our relationship? I think we should. The technical term is Domestic Violence. Let’s call a spade a spade shall we? Since if I remember correctly, you just love the Ace of Spades…so a spade a spade…

YOU. ABUSED. ME.

You screamed at me. You tormented me. You mistreated me. You threatened me with your sword collection. You called me names. You threatened me, in general. You threatened to take Gavin from me – then you would lie to the courts and see to it that I “never saw Gavin again” if I ever told anyone how you treated me. You cheated on me. You pushed me down the hallway. You showed me how you would plot your abuse case against me – so you could tell the police how abusive I was against you if I ever tried to leave. You sabotaged marriage counseling – my last-ditch effort to make our marriage work. You denied me affection if I sought it out. One night when I tried to connect to you by partying with you and your friends (including your mistress), you raped me. You pinned me to a door by my throat with Gavin clinging to my left leg. You tried to put your fist through a table over a childhood milestone – an over-reaction because I had company over for once. You tried to put your fist through the side of the refrigerator. Drugs? You did those. Alcohol? You drank those. To excess? Yes, you had that covered too. You are an alcoholic, addict wife-beater. You stole my social security number in order to obtain social services after I’d left you. You ran up massive charges in my name at Hollywood Video renting movies I already own after I left. You also ran up large bills in all the utilities – gas, electric, cable, phone – and left them in my name but refused to pay them. (That one is okay though because I just had your electric shut off on you.)

Let’s talk about Gavin for a second. Gavin is mine. Now he is ours – mine and Rob’s. Then, he was mine – just mine, not ours. You may have had a slight part is helping to create him but that’s it. You didn’t help to care for him. You never truly loved him. You skipped his 1st Birthday Party! You say it was to work. I say it’s because you’re an ass. You could have requested to have the day off. They would have given it to you. You didn’t ask. So you missed the party. You slept through his 1st Christmas morning! You were sleeping on the couch and I tried to wake you up. You yelled at me and said, “He’s not going to remember. I’ll see it all later!” then you passed out again. (Never mind the fact that the gifts for his 1st Christmas were purchased by your parents because you took the money out of our checking account and spent it on drugs. But who’s counting, right?)

Were those not good enough examples of your horrible parenting skills – or the complete and total lack there of – with Gavin? How about this one then? How about my first day of work at HH Gregg? Remember that one Nicholas? I had to be at work at 9am. At 8am I was getting ready and I woke you up – again from where you were sleeping on the couch. You woke up and smoked a cigarette. You promised you would stay awake and not go back to sleep. I left at about 8:30am. You were still awake. Gavin was asleep and not due to be awake until about 10-ish. I called from work at 11am – no one answered. I wasn’t too worried – yet. By 1am, when you still didn’t answer I was worried. I called repeatedly. Finally, I called the neighbor. She went to the Apartment Complex Manager and got the spare key to the apartment. Do you remember what she found when she let herself into the apartment? Do you?! She found you – passed out cold and totally unresponsive on the couch. She found Gavin – in his crib, where he had been for over 19 hours at that point! He had cried himself hoarse. He was soiled through his diaper, through his sleeper and onto his crib sheets. He had attempted to finish his bottle from the night before – the one with spoiled formula in it. (Formula because you made me wean him because you were jealous of the fact that he was breastfed when he was 6 months old. Let us not forget that.) When she found him he had no tears left to cry. Which means he was dehydrated.

All that happened because you had to get stoned while I was at work because you couldn’t and wouldn’t hold a job and couldn’t and wouldn’t stay sober. Just out of curiosity, do you remember what happened to the job you had right before I got that job? You were working at Check Smart and $300 went missing. The way I hear it, it went missing on your shift. They can’t prove it was you but they also can’t prove it wasn’t you either. So they just let you go. Interesting…

You know, when I started this letter I didn’t set out to bash you. I also didn’t set out to word vomit everything you did, or said, or thought. I was aiming to be more graceful and eloquent with the whole thing. I guess somethings you just need to get down and out. At least it’s out there though. Now I know that I’ve finally said my piece, or part of it, and I’ve been heard.

Good, bad or indifferent…I’ve been heard.

Honesty: Part 2: Family Rundown

I was adopted. That alone doesn’t make my Family Rundown complicated. However, once you begin throwing in the biological family with duplicate titles…Oy! Things can get a bit hinky. So here’s the rundown, a crib sheet if you will. (Hahaha I made a funny. (lol) =)

Adoptive Family

Barb ~ Mom

Doug ~ Dad

Zach  ~ Kid Brother

What y’all don’t know is that Fall of last year I had a rather large falling out with my Adoptive Family. We haven’t spoken since. I won’t discuss the details but it was nasty coming from both sides. I don’t regret my decisions because I made them for the right reasons, for my family. That being said, I do regret how the whole thing went down. I regret how it ended. I regret that people were hurt. On both sides. Including myself. So now 6+ months later, I am without my Adoptive Family in my life through my choices and their choices.

Biological Family

Mary ~ Mother

Charissa ~ Sister (Oldest of the Four)

Mike ~ Brother (Second Oldest of the Four)

Trisha ~ Sister (Third Oldest of the Four)

Me ~ Sister (The Baby)

Now you take current day, I’m not speaking to my Adoptive Family. Except for one Auntie. Whom has always loved me unconditionally. She’s never judged me, even when everything began.

I was speaking to my biological family. The key word in that statement being was. Well, I still speak to my oldest sister, Charissa. I’m currently working on my relationship with Charissa and her family; my niece, Brina,  nephew, Jeff, his fiancée, Dana and eventually their son, Cameron (who is only a few weeks older than Mr. Emmett John). I now speak, with my brother Mike and his wife Sharon. Since I was discovered and all. =) (lol) We’re all getting to know each other, which is cool. But they’re the only people from my biological family I ever talk to. I was close with my older sister, Trisha for about the past year and some odd months. Then I was becoming close with Mary. Then for reasons which I won’t post here, we had a falling out. Now Trisha, Mary and I aren’t speaking.

Hell, every where you look I’m losing family. Granted, I have a part in all of it. I don’t deny that. The parts I’ve had in things may not have been the best parts but I’ve done the best I could with them. I’ve done the best I could with the hand I was dealt. And when the end came, and I had a choice to make, I chose my family – Rob, Gavin, Elliott Richard, Emmett John, Maggie Sue, Cleo, Ducky and Rosalie. I chose the family I swore to love, honor and cherish. The family I am bound by blood, God and purpose to love, teach and protect. In the end, that’s what I did – protect them. I made the choice that I felt best protected them. Yes, it hurt people I love. But they hurt me. I was hurt. I am hurt. But that’s okay because I did the right thing for my family. I’m not trying to start a fight. I’m not trying to bad mouth anyone. I’m merely stating how things are.

I’m not perfect. I’ve never claimed to be. When it comes down to it, I can only be me. Good, bad or indifferent I am me. Love it or lump it.

Don’t rock my boat

Seriously, don’t. I’ve got enough going on in my life at the moment.

Gavin’s meds aren’t working, which you know if you still read Rob’s blog. I think you do. Dr. R wants to switch him to Lithium. I don’t want to go to Lithium. I don’t see where we have a choice.

We have Help Me Grow coming on Monday to do their unofficial evaluation of Emmett John. This is where they tell us if he is Autistic or not. I feel like I could grab the lady who works in the local day care. After all, she works with kids all days too. That doesn’t mean she is educated or should be evaluating children for Autism. Yet, the Children’s Hospital is waiting for Help Me Grow’s eval to help decide if they will evaluate Emmett John. You know, my 22 month old who still doesn’t speak.

Emmett John still doesn’t speak. He’s still angry. Developmentally he’s in two groups – he’s either right where he should be or he’s stuck some where between 9 to 12 months. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t point. I can’t figure out how this happened.

Elliott Richard is stuck in the middle. He stands to lose his childhood – either protecting himself from Gavin or protecting Emmett John from Gavin. Or there are the rare times that he plays big brother to Gavin. He’s 4 years old and if we don’t fight for it, he may never get to be a kid. His childhood may become a casualty of war.

My migraines are worse. I’m reaching the limit on my Topamax. It isn’t working anyway, so what does it matter? Dr. J has increased my pain meds and added an anti-inflammatory that I can’t pronounce, which I should only take when I can’t take it anymore. He’s ordered bloodwork and an MRI. I should take my new meds but I don’t. I scared. I don’t want to end up like House – addicted and crazy, seeing people who aren’t there. I just don’t want to end up crazy. I’m all full up on crazy. I’ve had enough of my life being filled up with everyone else’s crazy.

Rob and I are fighting. Not over anything. Just over everything. Big. Little. Everything. Nothing at all. We’re stressed. Over-whelmed. Taking it out on the only safe place we have. Each other.

We’re all surviving. Just barely. Bobbing along in a little lifeboat. Some days the waters are calm and survival is easier. Other days, it sucks. I’m not gonna lie. The boat rocks. we take on more water than we can bail out. There are days our little boat nearly capsizes altogether, but for the grace of God. I don’t  know how we survive at all sometimes.

We have so much going on. Too much going on. Too much in our tiny little lifeboat. Don’t rock it. Things happen. We may not like them. We may not understand them. They may suck in a major way. Believe me when I say I know this. But don’t rock the damn boat. Maybe the things that we do…the decisions that we make…are for the best interests of everyone…perhaps they are based upon things not everyone knows about…maybe my last act, my last decision was made out of love.

I’m just tired. Life is so precarious in our tiny little boat. We work so hard for our tiny bits of stability. Now we have…this. This drama. This wondering. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. Keep it to yourself.

Don’t. Rock. My. Boat.