That Post Where I Finally Talk About My Brothers

If you have been reading the comments sections on here and over at XOJane, you might have seen how many people ask me the question "are you still in contact with your brothers?"

With that being said, don't expect a riveting or humorous post today. Just a little back story.

So....without further ado, I bring you....

No, I am not still in contact with my brothers.

They didn't grow up the way that I did. From the start, they were prized children. A boy was born and the daughter they never wanted was locked away. It's no coincidence that my years locked away started the year my first brother was born. A boy had been brought forth and the girl was thrown away.

The boys. The precious boys were born. So wanted and truly loved. Three and five years younger than I am, they were never abused the way that I was. For all intents and purposes, they lived an idyllic childhood. From the start they both excelled in certain things, which my parents latched right on to. One was an outright music prodigy. The other quickly rose to a Pan American karate champion and eventually qualified for the Olympic tryouts. My parents were proud, these boys were the apples of their eye.

"Let's Talk About Sex Baby"

Ok, for my American counterparts, I have that really awful song by Salt N' Pepa running through my head. "Lets talk about sex baby, lets talk about you and me, lets talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be, lets talk about sex."

Last night I ran a support group for sexual assault survivors, and the topic was sex. It was really interesting to hear what everyone was feeling. I think we can all agree that society has placed such standards on us in terms of sex. What is expected of us, what is not expected of us, what is, and is not appropriate, its a lot of pressure to live within the guidelines! One move in the wrong direction and you might be stamped with a rather unattractive label.

So, let's talk about sex.

How It All Began

I just looked at my traffic reader that tells me how many people are reading this blog. Someone come resuscitate me.

First off, let me tell you, I am ASTOUNDED at how this blog has grown. I was literally laying in my bed one October morning, three days after I had been raped in my house, and I was completely falling apart. Like I was the definition of falling apart. I could barely think straight. Everything that had happened, was so unconscionable, that I felt like I was walking around in a dream. All I knew was that I was hurting. Everywhere. Inside and out. Physically and mentally. On top of that, I knew that the two neighbors, who were my best friends, weren't talking to me because I had been raped. I was utterly humiliated because of it. I felt dirty, used, and scared. I was really scared. To top it off, because of them, I felt like one more person, in a long line of them, had seen something wrong with me. Had seen some terrible quality that I must possess that people see, and say "Ah ha, she really is worthless."

I had a man steal my body and my friends break my soul.

I hadn't slept in days, and I was at my breaking point. I made some half coherent phone call to Mr. Attorney Man asking if I could put my kids in foster care. I was literally just done with my life. This wasn't like me. Usually the world throws something at me, I catch it with one hand, and yell back "Is that all ya got!?" But the rape, it broke me. It had just all been too much, for too long. I didn't care if one day it might get better, it wasn't better now, and I was tired of waiting for the "one day" to come. I was just so tired. I was tired of having to remind myself to breath. I was tired of walking through a world so clouded with despair. I was just, so, tired.

You Deserve It Too

I felt really bad after the surgery took a turn for the worst, and no, not bad in the "oh my gosh, I could have died" kind of way that I should have felt bad in, I felt bad in an inconvenient kind of way. I felt like an inconvenience. I knew that I had scared the person in the waiting room. I knew that my recovery was going to be longer now. I knew that I would need some help from my friends. I knew that my kids would have to be a little easier on mommy for longer than I was expecting. I knew that I was going to be in an even bigger financial mess because of added time off work. All of this made me feel so, inconvenient.

I went home, hung around in my trapped head, and beat myself up about it. I had already felt bad about even going into this surgery. I mean don't get me wrong, I was excited to be offered the amazing opportunity to have the "original me" back, but I felt....undeserving.

After the surgery, I sat around for a few days mulling over what life lesson's I could pull from this (does that make me weird? I swear I am seriously like the weirdest person I know). I really struggled with my feelings of being a burden. Friends offered to come over and take care of me and I politely rejected them. I had made this choice, it wasn't the responsibility of anyone else to take care of me in the mess that I had created. They all reminded me that I would have needed help even if nothing had gone wrong, and yet, I wouldn't let them help me. I didn't want to be a burden on them. I reminded them one by one that they had kids, jobs, husbands, girlfriends, etc, and that I needn't be on their priority list.

Ding ding.

My Ex Is What Happened To My Face

My second surgery yesterday went great, couldn't have gone better actually. Today I woke up and albeit sore, bruised, and swollen, I actually feel somewhat like a human being again. So...I decided it was time to venture out of the house. Well, "decided" might be giving it a little bit too much credit, but lets just say I was out of fruit and birth control. Fruit I might have been able to get by without, but I definitely needed the birth control, seeing as how I'm wearing my sexy face this week.  (haha, in case you didn't know, you legit just can't start skipping pills.)

So, I sat on the bathroom counter, looked in the mirror, and pondered over where to even start with this mess of a face. Now you see, I am, what I would call, a professional "bruise cover-upper." I can mix foundations and concealers with the best in the business and no one would even know that my ex had smacked the shit out of me the day before. But in my year of healing, I threw all of that stuff away, promising myself that I would never allow there to be a reason to need it again. I stand by that decision, but it wasn't helping me this morning.

Bruised, but yay! New nose!!! (Those are stitches not boogers haha)

Surgery Again Tomorrow

Well, tomorrow (Tuesday) I have another appointment with the doctor. Can't say that I'm looking all that forward to it, but not much I can do about it, so I might as well hold my head high, smile and go for it!

I have to get all the packing taken out that they stitched and glued into my head when I was hemorrhaging, and there is a risk that I'll start to bleed out again, so...I'm scared. I'm scared a lot actually....

I'm feeling pretty beaten up already so I'm not sure how well this is going to go over but it's not like I have much choice.

My chest and throat hurt from being intubated fairly roughly and my tummy hurts from swallowing so much blood. Even my hands are bruised from where my veins blew when the nurses were literally squeezing the IV bags so they would go in faster and bring my blood pressure up.

Stories From The Ex

My brain still feels like it's in lala land, I think losing so much blood has really thrown my body for a loop, so today I bring you a pre-written post. So glad I stocked up on a few of these before my surgery. Enjoy!!

Stories from the ex, everyone has at least a few that stand out in your mind, am I wrong? I didn't think so. So, because I am so awesome, I figured I would share with you, a few of the best/worst times with my ex husband.

Now I could go on and on about the little stories, like the time that I found him passed out halfway in and halfway out of an elevator, in a luxury penthouse suite on the beach, and after dragging his ass back to the room, he disappeared again. My brother, afraid that my ex might drown in the ocean, raced down to the front desk and asked "Did you see my brother-in-law stumble by here!? He is totally....sleepwalking....and we don't want him to drown!"

Or I could tell you about the time that I stayed awake for three weeks straight with our special needs newborn daughter and threatened my ex that if he went to sleep and didn't help me, he would wake up with a mustache. I even asked him "Handlebar, or Hitler?" He didn't believe me. Four days later he FINALLY noticed he had a handlebar mustache drawn on with permanent marker, purple finger nails, and one less eyebrow. If those four days don't let you know that his personal hygiene was slipping into the meth world (that I was unaware of), then I don't know what does.

But, I also won't go into details about the little stories, like the fact that he used to fall down the stairs everyday. Like seriously, everyday. I would just hear thud thud thud thud thud and my daughter would say "there goes daddy again."

So instead, I'll just tell you a few of the best stories.

Embracing The Unwanted

Once again, I'm typing with one eye swollen shut so forgive any spelling and grammatical errors.

If you read my last post, you probably know that my surgery hit some complications.

So, I had a lot of plans for my days off. I was going to finish writing my book, enjoy some comfy time on my couch with snacks and movies, and enjoy the peace and quiet.

REALITY CHECK.

Or, what I could really be doing, is nothing. NOTHING. Even though I am taking no pain pills what-so-ever, not even a tylenol, my brain feels like scrambled eggs. I can't even make it through a tv show without losing the plot line. I can't read with ONE eye open, I have medical glue literally coming out of my eyes and nose so that's fun. I can't breath. I can barely open my mouth so forget eating.

So what am I doing instead? Well, it took me four hours to write that last paragraph.

Well That Was Scary

I'm going to say right off the bat there is probably a lot of grammer and spelling errors in here. Sorry.

Well that was a lot scarier than I was anticipating. It all started well. I was really surprised because I wasn't nervous at all. I've had two eight hour ankle surgeries before, plus three or four smaller ankle surgeries, wisdom teeth removal, and two natural childbirths, so how bad could a nose be, right?

Getting Nervous About Tomorrow

So tomorrow is the big day for me. My face has a date with my doctor's chisel. In fact, by the time most of you read this, I will most likely either be in surgery or already done. I'm starting to get upset. This is not my first surgery, far from it actually, but I'm freaking out. I'm not worried about the pain, I'm not worried about the anesthesia, I'm worried about the after.

The after I am dropped back off at home and I am alone.

When I'm swollen, bruised, throbbing, in pain, and I am alone.

When I wish I had a mom to take care of me but, being alone is better than being with her.

When I want my husband to nurture and protect me, but he no longer lives in the home we used to own.

When I look around my house and I am reminded, that once again, in the depths of my pain. I am alone.

Thursday I'm Getting My Face Broken

I'm having surgery Thursday.

As a child I caught a knee to the nose and sustained multiple more nose injuries during the course of my marriage. It took what should have been an awesome nose and turned it into a slightly less awesome nose that's all messed up on the inside. I keep getting sick, as everyone does, but for me it just hangs around in my head. Usually a sinus infection that inevitably morphs into something that robs me of my voice for several weeks at a time. My voice turns into something that positively sounds like a man is living inside my voicebox. As one of my clients put it, "Wow, sultry." It's been happening so often that my friends and I now have now named my alter ego "Roxanne."  Roxanne works at an adult hotline and has some great times prank calling her friends. While Roxanne has been all fun and games, whisper yelling at my children is not really working out for me anymore. Not to mention, its bad for business when I always sound like I'm sick.

So a couple months ago I finally got my act together and I saw a doctor. Mind you I have no health insurance, so really, this was just to find out how many years it was going to take me to save up the funds. After visiting a couple of general plastic surgeons I realized that I needed something a bit more specialized.

Updates!!

So I figured it was probably about time to update you all on some of the previous posts.

And before I start, on a totally unrelated side note, I just wanted to let all of you know that I am typing this post while wearing adult footie pajama's, eating popcorn, and drinking wine, under a giant blanket on my couch. And you know what? This scenario is every bit as awesome as I anticipated it being.

Anyways, carry on.

Let's start with "That Time I Found Out I Might Be Going To Hell." Remember dweeb face? Actually turned out to be a really great guy. We casually dated for a while, but he was ready to get serious much faster than I was, so I let him go. Great guy, some girl will be lucky to have him!

Remember my Total Whack Job mother-in-law from "Remember That Time You Finally Told Your Ex Mother-In-Law Everything You Have Ever Wanted To Say To Her? I Do Because It Was Today." Well, I have not heard from her since I hung up the phone on her, and I have to say, not only does it feel very liberating, IT TOTALLY ROCKS.

Abuse Firsthand

Reflections from the past, so far away, yet never far enough

When "I do," should have been "I don't"

His fist hit the solid wood closet door behind me with such force, I was sure it had cracked.

Eyes glaring so intensely, yet not seeing me at all.

Was this it? Is this how it ends? Who would find me? Would they find me?

Yelling, screaming, so loud, unintelligible.

Pushing, pleading, shoving, falling.

And still, Only Me. Part 2

Remember the last "Only Me" post? Well this week has been full of serious posts and heavy topics, so I wanted to lighten up the mood a bit. So, for your reading pleasure, a few more things that would totally only happen to me. Happy to have you laugh at my expense, just to bring a smile to your face.

You're welcome.

The People Of Walmart

So I'm in line at the store the other day, and I am sort of just half listening to the two girls behind me talking. One girl is saying to the other girl, "yea, that's what happens to my earrings because my ears were unevenly pierced. They said they would even out when I grow up."  I sort of want to turn around and ask her "How is that going to happen kid? Are your ears going to start growing unevenly as you get older? Because if the piercings "even out," now you might have the bigger problem now of uneven ears." But, I restrain and instead continue to half eavesdrop on their conversation.

Let Your Soul Breathe

I recently met a guy, who on the surface, seemed great. Stable life, lived near me, common interests, great job, good looking, the whole package. Except for one thing. He complained. All the time.

Somehow every conversation that we had would ultimately morph into a conversation about how his ex wife ruined his life. If I mentioned my job, the conversation would turn to him asking why did he even bother to work, his ex wife was just going to steal his money anyways. If I mentioned anything about my house, it was how livid he was that he had lost his dream home. If I mentioned my kids, it was about how his ex wife had ruined his family. If I asked him how his day was, he would rattle off a laundry list of everything that had irritated him about his day. It didn't end there, he was also angry about my life. He didn't know virtually anything about my life except for the fact that my ex chose to leave and that he is not involved with my kids, but even that was a daily topic of his anger. There was no safe subject, anything that happened, that was not to the exact specifics of what he had in mind, ruined his day.

I finally had to tell him that I didn't think this was going to work out, and wow, was he unhappy. "This is what women do! They make you believe that you can have the American dream and then they STEAL it from you! They suck you dry and then they head for greener pastures!! Why can't I just have a happy life!? Is that too much to ask!!!" Ok, I'm totally thinking I dodged a bullet from that guy.

A Message To The Trolls

So this week has definitely tested my willpower in self restraint. The trolls, or as I am more inclined to think, the troll who is assuming multiple "anonymous" personalities, have been coming at me hard. Questioning what I say, demanding proof that I am who I say I am, and just generally feeling entitled to know every single detail about my life.

I thought about how to handle this situation quite a bit. The lesser in me wanted to write up a nasty post and give you the name and phone number of one particular Troll who is demanding that I call her and return the favor by exposing myself. Luckily, I thought better of that.

So after much thought and internal debate, This is the conclusion that I have come too:

Things That Make You Ask "Why?" Part 2

Things that make you ask "why? Just, why?"

Courtesy of my phone camera.

Why was this able to get past every single department involved in designing the children's menu at this large scale chain family restaurant? "How many of you young in's want a chick-on-a-stick? Its the weekend kids, live it up!"

Why was I unaware that Santa was such a pimp?

Santa say's ho, we all say heeeeeey!

Mr. Attorney Man

So, this post started out as something completely different, and was significantly shorter, but, when I told my attorney that I was writing about him, his exact words to me were "Fuck you."

Bad idea dude. Bad idea.

So.......

Challenge accepted.

Now to most people, if their attorney had said "fuck you" to them, they would most likely be offended, but, we are kind of weird. Our relationship lies somewhere between client/attorney, colleagues, and an abstract version of friends that never hang out. I make fun of him, he makes fun of me, we get our work done, and then we go about our day.

I first found Mr. Attorney Man after my ex disappeared and I needed a divorce attorney. I remember sitting on my bed and googling the words "aggressive sole child custody divorce." Reviews of his boss popped up and they looked promising, so I made an appointment with The Boss Dude. At my first appointment, I sat nervously in the waiting room, trying to choke back the tears of realization that this was actually happening, and pondering the fact that they had the largest book I had ever seen sitting there as reading material, which had me questioning just exactly how long I would be waiting there. When they did come for me, they put me in the ugliest conference room I had ever seen, and then Mr. Attorney Man and The Boss Dude came in.