stephanie
south of boston, United States
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An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
Isn't it ironic ... don't you think
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought ... it figures
Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
'Well isn't this nice...'
And isn't it ironic ... don't you think
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought ... it figures
Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face
It's a traffic jam when you're already late
It's a no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic... don't you think
A little too ironic... and yeah I really do think...
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought ... it figures
Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out
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Since the comments on the last post have exploded, I thought I’d answer a couple of comments here (if blogger ever lets me post again, shitty, fucking, dick, ass blogger. I’m so getting my own domain. Does anyone want to translate this template into wordpress for me? I’ll pay.)
Anyhoo…Anonymous wrote:
What he does is abuse. It is dangerous for you and you kids to be around him. Go with your instincts. If you feel it. It is real. You don’t owe anyone anything. Yikes, I just don’t like seeing or hearing or reading about people in abusive situations. It breaks my heart. People don’t change. He wants control. All men know women dream about their weeding their whole lives. You should have what you dream of!!!
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Hey Anonymous! We’re a friendly bunch around here. Feel free to leave your name next time.
Yes, I’m aware that I endured over 11 years of abuse from this man. The question on the table is, has he really changed? From outward appearance, and in recent dealings with me, it would seem so. He has also been told, flat out, that if I was to accept him back into my life, there is no way that I will put up with anything remotely similar to where we’ve been in the past. He assures me that is possible and would absolutely be the case.
That said, my fear is living under the same roof with him again, knowing our history. I believe it is why I am holding back so much in terms of moving forward with him. He wants me to forget the past and start fresh. I don’t know if that is possible.
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Haley-o wrote:
Wow, I didn't realize it was that bad. You're very brave to have left and even braver, it seems, to give him another chance for the sake of your kids.
I believe writing it out is a really good tool for you--because, if you really do want to move forward, you're going to have to release the past. Writing down the past externalizes it, right? ...unbottles everything and gets it out there. Writing down the past is a way of releasing it and distancing yourself from it--so you can see it for what it really was, deal with the residual pain, and let it go. I hope that helps...
________________________________________________________________
Hey Haley! Blogger didn’t let you sign in? :) The problem is instead of releasing it, distancing myself and letting go, its brought back a lot of bad memories, negativities and concerns for the future. Can I really, even for my kids, get back together, without living in constant fear? I don’t know if I can._________________________________________________________________
Truthfully, after writing this, I don’t know if I want to. But, it always comes back to the same thing, the boysies. It’s not like I woke up one day and said, “Wow, I’m still in love with B. I made a mistake. I should see if he wants to get back together. (That’s what he thought I would do 4+ years ago, though. Because, according to him, I was always wrong in the decisions I made four years ago.)
No. What this boils down to is I miss my boysies. In the past 4+ years, I have spent 2+ years with them, 2+ years alone. I want to see them everyday. If there is anyway I can work it out with this man and we can cohabitate peacefully, isn’t it better for them in the long run anyway? Having both parents living under the same roof?
Fuck if I know.
That’s what therapy is for.
I met B the summer of 1991 in Fire Island. The girl that ran my share house went to high school with him and introduced us one night at Flynns. By the end of the summer, we were inseparable, and we moved in together six months after that.
From the get go, B was very different from anyone I had ever dated. He wasn’t a “player;” checking over my shoulder to see what better might be coming down the pike. He was extremely attentive, wanting only to make me happy. In retrospect, it was very validating for me to have him around.
He was the first person to EVER buy me separate birthday and Hanukah gifts (the curse you live with when you’re born on Christmas… here’s your combo gift!)
The first year we were together, he was so horrified that my parents didn’t get me a birthday cake, when we got back into the city that night, he scoured Manhattan until he found me a piece of cake. No small feat on Christmas Day at 8pm. Then he made me blow out the candles.
Somewhere along the way, our relationship became one of angry words, screaming, yelling, and more. I lost my trust in him and our marriage. This didn’t happen overnight and it was present from the beginning. I glossed over it because I didn’t want it to be real. I buried it deep within my psyche.
Now, I have been instructed to unearth these things, write them down, so that I can possibly move forward, and perhaps learn to trust him again.
So, some assorted memories, not of the good variety…
We were in a car service, returning from a visit with my parents. This was at the beginning of our engagement and we were still trying to decide where the wedding was going to be. I brought up the idea of getting married in a castle, because it was something that I had always dreamed about. “Absolutely NOT!” was his immediate response. I tried to get him to listen to my point of view, but there was no changing his mind. The more I argued, the angrier he became. That was his word on the subject, now the subject was closed. By the time we got back into the city, I was in tears, and couldn’t stand the thought of being around him. I left and sat in a movie theatre, crying, for two hours. It was the realization while I was there, that I didn’t have anywhere else to go, that made me go home. When I got there, I told him fine, I’d continue to look at temples. We ended up getting married in the same kosher catering hall where he had his Bar Mitzvah party and his sister got married.
We went to Hawaii on our honeymoon, stopping first in San Francisco for 2 days. On the flight from California to Hawaii, the bottle of water I put inside the carry on bag, opened and soaked everything. B had warned me when he saw me do it, that I shouldn’t put the water in the bag because of that very reason. When he saw what had happened, he exploded. The woman sitting next to us on the flight was very concerned for my safety, and leaned over to ask me if I was okay. B then turned his wrath on her. She immediately asked to have her seat moved, rather than sit next to B. Somehow, this was my fault as well, so he screamed some more. I went for a walk by myself upon arriving at our hotel. Then I went back and apologized for putting the water bottle into the carry on.
The day I realized that I was pregnant with Little Dude we had one of our worst fights ever. Big Guy was a little over a year old, and sitting in his high chair at the time. I don’t remember what the subject matter was, but I know in this scenario, once again, according to him, I was wrong. The fight escalated, B took me and shoved me out the back door of our house. He then proceeded to lock me out. I was incredibly pissed off and decided to try and climb in thru the kitchen window. I had gotten the screen off and was starting in when he brought the window down on top of my head. In front of my son. That walk was two hours worth of me crying, wondering what am I going to do. In the end, I was pregnant. There was nothing to do but go home.
I was nursing Little Dude at the kitchen table one evening. B got very upset with me regarding a decision I had made without consulting him first. He started in with the berating of Stephanie. I decided I was not going to engage, I was nursing my son. I got up, baby in my arms, still nursing, and walked past him so that I could continue feeding my son in peace. He chased me down the hall without missing a beat, his screaming voice echoing off the walls. He didn’t stop even after I got inside Little Dude’s room and closed the door. Where I remained, crying and nursing at the same time.
Fun times.
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Question.
This is supposed to be helping me… how?
Bueller?
(Fucking blogger! I wrote this on Word at 2:30 this afternoon, and the blogger database has been down until NOW. I know this is a free service and shit, but after I write something, I usually want to POST it.)
The Muppet Personality Test
| You Are Kermit |
 Hi, ho! Lovable and friendly, you get along well with everyone you know. You're a big thinker, and sometimes you over think life's problems. Don't worry - everyone know's it's not easy being green. Just remember, time's fun when you're having flies! |
You know you're vain when