Have you ever been so at peace and happy that you were overwhelmed to the point of being near tears? That’s me - post breakup. Life’s good.
Have you ever been so at peace and happy that you were overwhelmed to the point of being near tears? That’s me - post breakup. Life’s good.
My boyfriend and I broke up 23 days ago. In that time I’ve been to Tennessee for work, Oklahoma City for fun, a marching band contest to cheer on my kid sister, and hiking with a friend. I’ve also had friends over for dinner, spent more time than usual with my sister, gone out for coffee with the girls, and enjoyed the quiet of my back yard as I relaxed in my hammock. I’ve begun enjoying cooking again and I’m even sleeping better and getting up earlier.
I feel like I have a year’s worth of fun to make up for so I’ve kept myself really busy. When I finally get still enough to think (and especially when my stillness is accompanied by exhaustion) I feel like I miss him. Otherwise, I’m so happy I feel like I’m bursting at the seams most days. I realized yesterday, though, that while I miss having someone wrap their arms around me and talk to every day, I don’t actually miss him. We had a lot of good times, but our bad times were so incredibly awful that the good times couldn’t have ever made up for the bad.
I’m sad for him. Without the help of a counselor, I don’t think he’ll ever be happy. I still want happiness for him, but I think I’m finally confident that I don’t want him in my life anymore. He wasn’t good to me and I deserve better. I think 99% of the time when people argue, both people involved are in the wrong somewhere because nobody’s perfect. My limited life experience has taught me the rarity of a person blowing up at another individual for no good reason. Unfortunately, on a multitude of occasions, I found myself on the receiving end of his anger with zero concept of why he was angry. During our last fight, I asked nicely if we could change the channel. He blew up and accused me of purposely trying to ruin his Sunday. He told me it was his “fuc#!ng house” and wondered aloud why I would think I had the right to ask him to change the channel.
During our next-to-last fight, I asked what his plans were for the upcoming weekend. When he told me, I said, “That sounds fine to me, but I had also come up with an idea I’d like to run past you. We don’t have to do it, but what if we did this instead…” He exploded. For 45 minutes I begged him to speak nicely to me. I never raised my voice. I just kept asking, “What’s wrong? Why are you so mad? What did I do?” The majority of our fights happened this way. He’d yell about something I said when I had absolutely no clue that my words could possibly be so horribly misconstrued, and then I’d spend the better part of an hour begging him to calm down. I would plead with him and apologize profusely. I’d take all the blame for everything even though most of the time I had no idea why he was even so angry, and he always let me take the blame. And then at the end of the fight, after feeling emotionally abused, I would ask, “Do you even still love me?” He’d say he did but he couldn’t actually say the words, “I love you” when he was angry. It instilled in me a worry that one day, a fight really would be enough for him to completely stop loving me.
He is an emotionally abusive man. Thankfully, I got out and don’t feel much worse for the wear as a result of his abuse, but I can see how easy it would be for a woman to stay in an abusive relationship and never get out. It starts very slowly until one day you finally think, “Wait a minute. I don’t think this is the way things are supposed to be.” But you stay because at that point you already love the guy and you hope if you’re good enough to him you can fix his anger. You think, “I’m strong enough to endure, and it’ll be worth it on the other side when he’s better.”
Ladies, hear me… I’ve always known I deserve better than to be emotionally abused. I’ve always heard that many abused women feel like they deserve the abuse because they were raised by an abusive father. For me, it wasn’t that. It was my deep desire to see him healed and whole. I wanted goodness and happiness for him and I wanted to see him through and help him learn how to remain calm. I honestly believed I could walk through that fire with him and walk out on the other side with a strong, enduring, healthy relationship.
You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to be changed. Remember that. If you’re in an abusive relationship, you don’t deserve it, and you’ll probably never change the person. When a person is so deeply screwed up that they are willing to abuse the person they say they love, the only people who can help are Jesus Christ and a counselor. Walking away from my boyfriend was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I loved him. I still love him. But I don’t want him back anymore. It only took a few days for me to realize how much better off I was without him. The person you’re with should add to your happiness rather than detract from it. They should encourage you to discuss your feelings and have open, honest communication. They should make you feel safe, loved, and cherished. If your significant other isn’t making you feel that way, let go of them. You’ll be glad you did.
I did it. I finally left him. I’ve lied to myself and everyone around me for 13 months now. I let my love for my boyfriend blind me to his deep-seated issues. I naively thought I could fix him. I do adore that man. I love him with all my heart, but he is not emotionally whole. I need to be with someone who doesn’t make me afraid to express my feelings. I constantly walked on eggshells around him and feared his next outburst, and the longer we stayed together, the more frequent the outbursts became. He felt trapped. He wanted out but he wouldn’t leave me, so I left him on Sunday.
My breaking point was when he chewed me out for asking if we could change the channel. We’d just spent over 3 hours at Buffalo Wild Wings watching football and returned to his house to watch more football. I very meekly asked if it would be alright for us to watch something else for a little bit. He blew up. He accused me of always trying to ruin things and purposely making him angry. I never raised my voice. I kept begging him to please calm down and asked, “What did I do wrong?” He said, “I DON’T KNOW! I JUST DON’T KNOW WHY YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!”
I gently responded with, “I’m really sorry you’re mad. I’m just going to go home. I don’t deserve to be treated this way.” He continued to yell and asked, “Are you actually going to leave this time? You threatened to leave yesterday when you made me mad and you didn’t!” I told him I was leaving. I went back to his bedroom to grab my backpack that I keep my laptop in, and while I was standing in the middle of his room it hit me…
In that moment I felt like a scared little child. I felt panicked and nervous and knew I needed to get out. I felt unsafe and wanted to hide. I realized that I don’t like who I’ve become in this relationship. I’ve always been a strong, confident, happy woman, and now I’m weak, scared, and too often unhappy. I do love that man with all my heart. I want nothing but happiness and peace for him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, but I couldn’t go on living like that. I couldn’t continue to allow myself to feel so scared and sad all the time. So I walked out with my backpack on my shoulders and kindly told him it was over. I told him I loved him and wanted nothing more than for us to be happy, but we aren’t happy and our relationship isn’t healthy so it needs to end.
Sad doesn’t sum up how I feel. I am devastated. I feel empty. But I also feel empowered and excited to reclaim myself. I want to be happy again. I want to uncover that independent, happy, confident woman that I used to be. I care for him more deeply than he realizes. I hope to God he can find happiness and peace some day. I wish it could’ve been with me, but I’m so proud of myself for getting out. I don’t want to be broken anymore. I want to be whole again, and I know there’s a man out there for me who will treat me with the kindness, gentleness, and respect I deserve.
For now, though, I think I need to just focus on Sheri. I need to remember who I am. I need to go to antique stores on Saturday mornings and walk my dog in the park. I need to re-discover those things that used to make me feel free and happy.
Here’s to a new start… A very difficult, but much-needed new start.
A few weeks ago I was looking at a picture of my dad and I realized for the first time since he died that I’m really going to be ok. I don’t ache anymore. He died 9 months ago and I finally feel like I’m going to make it. It’s as if I can breathe again.
For those of you who have experienced a death in your family recently… I promise one day you’ll be able to breathe again. One day you’ll stop aching and longing to wake up from your nightmare. One day, you’ll accept your new reality and be able to live again. One day…
I’ve never been one to be preachy. My beliefs are mine and nobody else’s. Nobody deserves to have my beliefs thrown in their face. But let me just say… I couldn’t have made it through this awful time if I didn’t know I’d be able to see my dad again someday. I believe in heaven and hell and I know my daddy loved Jesus. If you don’t know and love him, I encourage you to do so. It has certainly help make my existence without my dad much more bearable.
On August 11th my boyfriend and I celebrated our 1-year anniversary. I adore that man. He’s incredible, but we’ve really had a tough go of it. A lot of married couples say the first year of marriage is the worst. You’re on your best behavior during the dating process but then once you’re married, all the masks come off and life’s tough for a while. Neither of us are the type of people to hide who we really are. What you see is what you get so we never went through a super-smooth time of being lovey-dovey and never fighting. I think we’ve finally figured things out and I’m cautiously optimistic for now.
We both have issues. I’ve learned through our relationship that everyone has issues. Mine? My parents had a horrible relationship. Every time they got in a big fight, my mom packed a bag and threatened to leave. Because of that, I’m terrified that one day, my boyfriend will reach his “fight quota” and leave me. It’s awful. I can also be pretty demanding and I have a tough time not keeping score. I know how many nights he has spent at my house for the last year, and you know what? I’ve spent 22 more nights at his house than he has spent at mine. Sometimes it makes me feel like I’m sacrificing too much, but most of the time, I want to force myself to stop keeping track. I need to learn to let go.
He doesn’t know I’m posting this blog so I won’t divulge his issues. That isn’t fair to him.
I’m ready for a new job. I don’t really care where I work, I just need to find something different that pays the same amount I’m already making. I’m looking. I’ll find it. I have to get out of that place.
Not much else to say. That’s my life. The end. :)
Best. Picture. EVER!
This is my boyfriend and his grandbaby. She was hot, tired, and ready to leave the baseball game Saturday night so my boyfriend snuggled her up one last time to tell her goodbye. She started to cry and this was the photo I got. This makes me love life. Like, really love it.
My dad died 6 months and 6 days ago. You’d think I’d believe he was gone by now. After all, I saw his lifeless body and watched as the paul bearers struggled to lower his heavy casket into his grave, but most days, I still don’t believe it’s real. Enough time has passed that I can think about my dad without bursting into tears, but part of me worries that my ability to cope isn’t as healthy as it might seem. Is my denial being conveyed as a healthy acceptance? Could be.
I’ve had 2 dreams in 2 weeks that my dad was alive. Except I knew he was dead and I was scared to see him. I kept telling him, “You’re dead. You’re not supposed to be here.” But all he would say in response was, “It’s ok, honey. I’m not really dead. I never was.” All I wanted was for him to go away because his presence made me fearful.
Mom wants me to go to the cemetery to see dad’s headstone. The week it was laid, I cried every time I thought about it. It was as if the headstone made it real. Like it was the final nail in his coffin. I can’t do it. I can’t go out there. I’m not ready. I want to live in denial just a little longer. I want to believe he’ll come back even though I know it’s illogical. I want to believe the world will right itself again someday because everything seems so wrong with him gone.
I feel like I’ve been robbed - as if I just got home from a weekend away and found my house torn apart and half my belongings missing. Except the thing missing isn’t a television or some other non-important thing that can be easily replaced. It’s a person. A person whose time with me was taken away.
You shouldn’t have to stand at your dad’s grave when you’re 16 or 28 or 30 like my sisters and me. You should be 48 and 60 and 62. Even then it would’ve been terrible, but it would’ve been an extra 32 years with my daddy. I hate death. I hate it like it’s a person who wronged me terribly. I hate it like it’s a disease that has plagued our world.
Why is it that my car insurance is never due at a time when I have money?
Oh yeah. Cuz I never have money.
The other day my boyfriend and I sat down to watch a few episodes of Dexter, and he left the light on. I said, “Why don’t you turn off the light?” He answered, “Because I know you like it on.”
It didn’t hit me until later how big of a deal this was. He loves sitting in the dark all day long. He’s not depressed. He just enjoyes dim lighting or no lighting at all. I’m always opening the blinds at his house and turning on the lights because being in the dark makes me sleepy and sometimes makes me sad. Or worse, it makes me sleepy AND sad. My boyfriend has a tendency to be a bit selfish. He likes things done his way and he has no problem cancelling plans if he happens to wake up and decide he doesn’t actually want to go do what he committed to do that day.
I know a lot of women are overly selfish, too. We live in a selfish world, but my life experience has led me to believe that traditionally, men carry the torch of selfishness a little higher than women do. Women are naturally inclined to be the caregivers, and most women admit to enjoying taking care of their man. I think their selfishness is partly our fault. We practically encourage it through our babying of them.
But leaving the light on for me… this was a big deal. Too much light actually makes that man a little cranky. It’s typically more important to him that he’s in a room with dim or no lighting than it is to me to be in a room with a lot of light so I don’t usually make an issue of it. Other than opening the blinds or turning on the lights from time to time, I rarely complain about sitting in the dark. But he chose to leave them on that day, and did it again the next day when we watched tv. He did something he dislikes for the sole purpose of making me happy.
You know what else he did without me asking? He loaded the dishwasher. When I think about it, I can recognize many small things he does for me without being asked to do them and he doesn’t ask for a pat on the back for doing them, either. He just does them to make me happy.
So why do I need flowers so badly?
Why is it that the new daily habits he developed strictly for my benefit aren’t enough? Maybe I’m the selfish one. Here’s what I realized… daily habits are easy to take for granted. While I greatly appreciate that he is now helping out around the house more than ever before, I also believe these things should’ve been happening from day one. My momma taught me when you see a job that needs to be done, you do it whether it was a mess you created or not. He and I both work full-time jobs. I don’t mind going to his house and cooking dinner for him in the evenings, but I shouldn’t have to clean the kitchen before AND after cooking, either.
I love his small gestures. They accumulate and let me know how much this man really loves me.
But sometimes, I need flowers.
Sometimes I need a bigger gesture. I need him to come to my house on a Tuesday when we don’t usually see each other just to surprise me. I need him to send breakfast to my office, buy me flowers, get me a card that includes a message about how much I mean to him, or even just text me in the morning and ask if I slept well. Something - anything - to let me know he’s thinking of me enough to have put a little effort into letting me know I’m loved.
Unfortunately, him doing the dishes doesn’t make me feel special. It makes me happy and greatly appreciative, but it doesn’t make me feel special.
Last Friday was our faux one year anniversary. We know the day we met so we refer to it as our faux anniversary. I was really excited. I told him I couldn’t wait to celebrate with him. I figured he’d at least pick up flowers at Walmart and hand them to me - price tag still in place - and take me to dinner. Know what I got? Dinner. When we got back to his house, he played a couple games of hockey with his soon-to-be 22 year old son, and I went to the bedroom, alone, to watch tv. He finally joined me and we watched a movie until we fell asleep. What a day. He really let me down. I tried to talk to him about it and he didn’t even apologize. He didn’t even attempt to make it up to me. I couldn’t help but think, “A truly thoughtful man would say, ‘Honey. I’m so sorry I let you down. I’m going to make it right. Tonight we’re going out. We’ll go to dinner and a movie, and we’ll celebrate our relationship properly.’” Instead, it was more of the same. Still no apology, more TV in bed, and instead of taking me out again, he decided to use MY leftovers from the night before and divide them in thirds for dinner. So not only did I not get a make-up anniversary celebration, I had to go out and buy lunch on Monday since I didn’t get to save my leftovers.
Why can’t I be happy with his help around the house and him leaving the lights on from time to time when we watch television?
I just need a little romance in my life. Is that too much to ask?
I’m 28. My boyfriend’s 50. Let me just say, I’m not ashamed of that in the least bit. When we’re in public, I hold his hand proudly. I kiss him on the cheek and don’t care who sees. He’s incredible.
I had an amazing father. I don’t have daddy issues.
I met my fella on April 26th, 2012. He was one of the 4 new statisticians at the ballpark. He was the last of the new workers for me to work with and instantly my favorite. I felt no romantic connection to him for 3 months. All I knew was that I enjoyed his company, and I always got very excited when I looked at the schedule each month and saw that he and I were scheduled to work together. I looked forward to those games more than any other. I never dreaded the late nights when I knew I’d be spending them with him. But again, I never thought of him romantically until the very end of July.
We worked together on July 25th and I felt like he was hitting on me. It worried me. I didn’t like it. For the next 3 days, I fretted about having to work with him again on the 28th because it bothered me to think he liked me. But then I asked myself why I was so worked up about it. Was it fear of a new relationship after being single for so long, or was he actually wrong for me? I realized we’d had a connection all summer. He was kind to me and we clicked. I’ll never forget seeing him walk up the night of July 28th. I looked over my left shoulder and my heart skipped a beat. My stomach knotted up - in a good way - and I knew… I liked this guy. We officially got together on August 11th. It has been almost 8 months and I’m ridiculously happy.
Our relationship has had some rocky times. About 2 months ago we reached a “make or break” point and took a week-long hiatus. We got back together and ever since things have been better than ever. I’m more convinced than ever that this man adores me and I’m crazy about him.
His beautiful grandbaby arrived on March 14th and both of us are tickled pink. My older sister said, “Sheri, babies are a blessing but I can’t believe you’re so excited about this!” I told her, “I figured I had two choices; I could embrace the fact that my boyfriend is now a grandpa, or I could break up with him.” I guess I’m a “go all in or get out” kind of girl. So I went all in. I adore that baby and I adore my fella. Grandpa or not, he’s the same wonderful man I met almost a year ago.
My last several posts have either been about the grief I’ve experienced through the loss of my dad or my amazing boyfriend, so today I want to write about something different…
Heard of it? Oil pulling in it’s most basic definition is “The use of oil as a mouthwash… for 20 minutes.” Yeah. I use all-natural, organic, unrefined coconut oil. It’s hard like real butter. I’ve also heard it compared to candle wax. I wouldn’t go that far. I think butter is more accurate. I melt mine first in the microwave because I can’t stand chewing on it while I wait for it to melt. I have bad gag reflexes. Whaddya gonna do? Melting it first makes it more tolerable.
Anyway… Google oil pulling. It’s said to cure a slew of diseases. I’m on day two and so far, all I can say is that it makes my sinuses run like a river. I’ve had sinus problems my whole life. They rarely drain. It’s like the mucus is all nice and cozy up there and it ain’t leaving for anything. I’ve basically gotten used to it. I had that oil in my mouth for 2 minutes when my sinuses opened up and started draining like crazy.
If it does nothing more than keep my sinuses clean, I’m in. That crap is awesome.