I'm a survivor, just like my Mama.

Before I start tonight I want to apologize... I'm sorry I haven't written in awhile but it took me alittle longer to get back into the swing of things after being so sick. Slowly but surely I am getting everything back to normal. I hope nobody thought I forgot about them or that I wasn't writing anymore.... Not happening... I need this and in a way love it too much!


Now, as you have probably guessed I'm going to be writing about my Mom tonight. Our relationship is definitely the most important relationship I have... maybe ever had. I've learned so many things from her (good & bad), we've been thru things others will never understand, our lives have run parallel in more ways than one and somehow we've always had a strong bond, no matter what. Tomorrow night we will be celebrating her being sober 3 years... 3 years!!!! It's the longest she has ever been sober and I feel blessed to be her daughter and can celebrate this with her.

I guess I have to start at the beginning... As I have said my Mama couldn't have children so she and my Dad adopted me when I was a day old. They brought me home and my Mom had every hope that life would be better. Her and my fathers family had no love lost between them, her side of the family wasn't close either (except for my Granny) so her dream was her, my dad and me... family of her own.

Not long after my father got sick with Alzheimer's and everything changed. Her dreams never were realized and life never was the same. My Mom always drank, socially at first and then it just grew and grew and grew.... By the time my dad had died and she remarried, my step dad, her addiction to alcohol was in place.  

There are so many things I don't remember with crystal clear clarity but I do remember being 3 or 4 and my Granny telling me if I ever saw my Mama drinking anything from the big bottles (scotch etc) along with pills from a bottle like this (she showed me the bottle) to come and get her. That Mama didn't act like herself when she did and she could hurt herself... I remember my Mama yelling at my Granny about that... she was so angry. What she didn't realize was that by my Granny telling me that from a young age I realized that alcohol and her drinking too much was the cause for her being a mess at times, losing her shit, saying things that she normally wouldn't etc... I knew what addiction was before I could spell it but more importantly I realized it was a disease.

Now I know a lot of people are saying no child should have to deal with that etc and you are right. In a perfect world no child should have an alcoholic mother and a dickhead abusive step dad. In a perfect world neither of my parental figures would have been drunks (contrary to popular belief my step dad was a drunk, what they call in rehab a dry drunk, he didn't drink to excess often but showed the symptoms of a full blown alcoholic and when he did drink in excess watch the fuck out!) If I lived in a perfect world I wouldn't have had to worry about my safety and well being along with my baby sister's. So I guess you could say I learned a lot earlier than most people that life isn't fair and by no means is it perfect.

I don't want it to sound like that I always forgave my Mom or I looked the other way or even was ok with her struggle with alcoholism. I wasn't... I got mad and angry... I screamed and yelled and fought with her. Many more times than I can count I cried.... I always loved my Mama but I hated her disease... I hated who she became, the things she said and did... the things she didn't do. I hated being responsible when I was so young because she couldn't be... I hated not being comfortable having friends over... I hated the fear most of all.

I was always afraid. I was afraid she kill herself, or that someone would know what was going on in our house. I was afraid my step dad would freak out and I'd catch hell because I didn't do what I was supposed to do... As far as he was concerned I was supposed to "handle" my mother, take care of my sister and keep the secrets.

My life was ruled for so long by fear and secrets. I was a child from a home that was abusive and sick and it was ugly. I did a pretty good job of covering and lying, no one really knew. I remember once when I was 15 or so and I was sleeping over at a friends house and actually talked about some of the stuff that was going on in my family and my friend looked at me with a look of shock and said to me "Lil I thought you didn't have any problems. You never say anything is wrong." Also when I was out of HS, someone I knew since kindergarten was at my house one night and actually saw my Mom acting the fool while she was drunk and he was totally shocked that he never knew my Mom was a drunk. Even if my step dad said I didn't do anything right apparently I followed some directions well... I kept the secrets of our dysfunctional family very well.

I struggle to explain to people my relationship with my Mom. I know how so many people look at alcoholics and addicts and I don't want anyone to speak against her or hate her... I know what she was and still is but I also have watched her scratch and claw her way out of the abyss of alcohol. I by no means think what she did was right or good... Not to mention she totally owns her past and has done her best to make amends for what she did. She is doing her best to live the life she always wanted for herself. How could I hold that against her.

My Mom by no means had it easy... her life from the time she was young had many things happen that should never have happened to a child. I won't tell the instances etc because that's her story and not mine to tell. I will say that between her struggle and my own struggle we have done our best to break the cycle of the abuse that we both individually and together went thru. We both still struggle and obviously are still working thru things but we are doing it.

3 years ago I came home to a mother who had just totalled her car and 2 others while driving drunk. When I spoke to her about it she tried, like usual, to push it off... make it seem less awful than it was. Then she broke my heart... She told me "Every night I go to bed and pray that I won't wake up in the morning." I immediately started crying.... felt sick and cold down to my bones... all I said to her was "Do you love me???" She looked startled by my question. "do you love me?????????" I asked again, she just took a deep breath. I was so scared... I told her if she loved me she would never pray to not wake in the morning... Right then I realized how much I did love my Mom and that I would love her enough til she could love herself. In the next few days I kept at her and made it clear that she needed help... Not for me or for anyone but herself. She finally took the step to ask for help. 3 years later I have my Mom... Happy, goofy, silly and relatively healthy.

My Mom and I don't have the normal Mom and daughter relationship. We've been thru so much together, I've finally come clean about my past with my ex with her and lots of other things I kept from her out of fear. We are open and honest with one another... She is my rock, my champion and my best friend. I do my best to make sure she knows how important she is to me.

She has asked me to introduce her tonight at her 3 year AA Bday and I am honored that she asked me.  I am so thankful she is sober, happy and in such a good place. I am also thankful for the relationship we have now but also for the relationship we have always had. Yes, it was messy and dysfunctional. It wasn't perfect or pretty but deep down no matter how bad things got I always knew she loved me, that she was doing the best she could while she was battling her demons. I guess I understand that more than most especially now... I've battled my own demons and continue to battle them. I am a survivor, just like my Mama.

I love you Mama!!!!!!!


I think this is good enough for now... ;)

~LilBitch

...The journey never ends.

I am angry today... I keep thinking about stupid shit... Things I had no control over and things I did have control over... I am becoming consumed with my past... Some is good stuff and some is dark & ugly. What does  it say about a person when they have had more dark & ugly than good in their life??

The logical side of me knows I am a survivor, that I made it thru some really fucked up stuff... I know that by going thru a bunch of fucked up memories and experiences I'm dredging up all the feelings that went along with it. I also know that me being sick and rundown isn't exactly helping my frame of mind. I know it but it doesn't mean I have to like it, any of it.

So, yea, I'm angry. I'm angry at myself... I'm angry at my my parents... I'm angry at my sister... I'm angry at my ex.... Hell I'm even angry at my birth parents... Atleast I'm not one of those people who doesn't admit to being angry with themselves. I've never understood that. I mean you are culpable in your life... not just others, for what has happened. How can you not own your fucked-up-ed-ness??? Maybe I understand that more than others because I grew up in the house I did with the parents I did. One who was an alcoholic and one who was a dry drunk.

You know what's funny? My step dad was riddled with cancer and even then he never owned his fucked up bs. My Mom finally saved herself and has been sober 3 yrs. She owns her past and what she did and didn't do. Funny how the drunk is a sober and healthy person and the dry drunk withered away to nothing and never took ownership of his bs before he died. He just wanted blanket absolution (from me, I never asked my Mom what he wanted from her.) and then he left us with all the crap.

I didn't give him the absolution he wanted and no, I don't feel bad about it. Like I said, guilt is a useless emotion, just because he felt a sense of guilt before his death didn't mean anything to me. Granny always said if you lived a good life then really didn't need to ask for forgiveness. He didn't live a good life, not my fault, therefore not my job to forgive him. His demons were his own.... for a long time his demons caused him to torture me. Once he died the only demons I had to fight were my own.

I may have come a long way but I'm still fighting my own demons. I have to work harder than I let on to stay on course. It would be so easy to fall into the darkness... as sick as it sounds I am quite comfortable there. When nothing else made sense or hurt too much the darkness was my security. Sometimes I allow myself to slip into it, like after I got that email from my sister a couple of weeks ago. I allowed myself a day to cry and "sit" in the darkness but it took me two days to fully recover. Even still I needed the darkness for alittle while. I'm sure my former shrink wouldn't be happy and would probably say something about regressing but in the end I began working thru some seriously hurtful/painful things. So I don't see it as regression but as a good thing.

I used to think that one of my issues was that I didn't "feel" enough but the truth is I "feel" too much and it's because of that I was so comfortable in the "darkness". I don't only "feel" my own problems etc... but I "feel" other peoples problems and issues around me. Empathy.... I'm very empathetic. A great quality to have but it sucks when you feel too much especially when what you have been feeling most your life is not happy or good. Like I've said before for the most part I attract people who have dysfunction in their lives as well so can you blame me for being in the "darkness" as much as I was?

It took a long time to get to a relatively good place in my life and be comfortable out of the "darkness" and I still am working on it. I try to be a good wife, daughter and friend. I know I don't always succeed... but I try. I pull away from people when things get too much for me because it's what I've always done. I still have trouble being a part of a family because I seriously don't understand it... but I try. I feel totally removed from people who are what is perceived as "normal", who didn't come from dysfunction. I'm pretty good at covering it up and doubt they really know it. I can talk to anyone about anything and all the while in my head I am wondering what they'd think if they really knew "who" I was.

Up until a few years ago and now with this blog people really didn't know me. I still was the keeper of the secrets, the one who had everything covered while I played down the bad and played up the good, well what good there was. I allow more people in now and I don't flinch as much as I used to when I do let them in. The one thing I have kept from my past is my "I don't care if you like me or not" attitude. I say what I mean and mean what I say, if you don't like that or me or whatever that's on you, not me. That's one thing that'll never change about me... I realize, now, that my step dad and my ex both tried to beat that out of me and it took me alittle while to get there and I realize they didn't. They just pushed it down.

Sometimes I forget how far I've come and then the anger comes. Today was one of those days. Writing today gave me the opportunity to slow down my mind and remember how far I've come and be ok with knowing I have further to go. This really has become a journey of healing but self discovery as well. Sometimes I have to take a step back and remember the road may change but the journey never ends.

More to come but for now I'm done.

~LilBitch

... My mind is a colorful place as it is fucked up... with a side of kinda healthy!

I've spent a lot of time in my head lately. A lot more so this past week since I have been home sick without work etc... to keep me and my mind busy. I've come to the conclusion my mind is a pretty colorful, semi fucked up but relatively "healthy" place to be (for the most part).  ;) 

I'm trying incredibly hard to work thru so much BS and not get pulled under by it. Which is kind of the exact opposite of what I need. What I need is to feel it all, every bit of it. Not allow myself to gloss over the truth of what my life was. Easier said than done... Trust me it sucks... Being totally honest with you all also means I have to be totally honest with myself.

I can tell hundreds of stories and add pretty little endings all I want and it doesn't change the truth of what really happened. My reality is many people's worst nightmares. There are some people who've actually said to me that they'd never let themselves become an abused woman. Really??? Wow, I used to say that too. Hello... over here.... Yea, look at me... I was an abused woman.

That all being said I have been thinking a lot about what if I hadn't come from an abusive home.?.? Set aside my Mama's drinking and what if my step dad loved me and we had a good relationship. Would I still have fallen for a man who did his best to kill me? It's a stupid question to ask because I live in the here and now not in the land of what if's and maybes.

Which brings me to what I'm really struggling with... My sister's perception of her father. It drives me nuts, in this regard, because I may never know the "what if's and maybe's" but I do know he put me on a road of self loathing/low self esteem from the moment he walked into my/our lives. She thinks he wasn't all bad, I say even if he did some good things he was a bad man. Agree to disagree?? Maybe but if I am supposed to be honest than I just plain disagree. I firmly believe he did just as much damage to her as he did to me and Mama. Maybe not in the same way but filling a young child's head with such garbage about a sibling, parent etc... being manipulative, controlling almost sociopathic with her, it did damage.

In the end the damage to our relationship is as close to irreparable as you can get. She and I have been trying and honestly it's not easy for her or me. I need validation of of my emotions and she can't give me much. Thru no fault of her own when she was an infant and a young child... But I do hold her accountable when she was older and able to look at things in a different perspective but she still chose his to view me in. Is that totally fair, probably not but I can't help feeling like that. It's one of the many things I'm still working on. I guess we'll both have to see how we can forge a new relationship... I'm just going along and trying to figure it out just like she is.

I heard something today that really "spoke" to me... You don't always get to pick the path you walk in life but you can choose the way you walk the path. I made some horrendous choices in my past due to my childhood and then my ex but now I have chosen a new path. This path actually uses all the BS in my life for good. Weird but true. Silence begets silence which in turn allows the past to repeat itself.

I guess that's why I have a troubled relationship with my sister... It's hard for me to hear of her love for an evil person and she doesn't understand how I was always so close with our Mom. Both of our paths weren't what we chose and we had to survive in our own ways. I'm not sure if it is my place to take that (her dad) from her.

I took care of her from the time she was born.... She was my responsibility. That's a lot for a child and in the end became more than I could handle, especially with him whispering in her ear, as she got older. Not surprising I became resentful and angry as hell. One of the last things he asked of me was to take care of my baby sister. Make sure she finishes school and reaches her full potential. She is the smart one... blah blah blah.... Easy to see why we don't have a relationship. Even when he was dying and breathing his last breath it was about her oh... and me absolving him of what he did to me. As soon as he died I was done. Not fair but I needed it... She and I have had momentary sisterly bonding here and there but the past always seems to find a way to push at us.

Well my lovelies.... I wish I could write more but unfortunately I'm still feeling sick. I promised my old man and my Mama I'd call the Doctor tomorrow, no worries.

Til next time...
~LilBitch

I own my mistakes & I'm doing my best. I make no apologies...

Some things change and some things will always stay the same. I have always known this to be true. Some things change for the best and some times things change for the worst. Fate and your choices make the changes... either way.

Funny.... one thing I have never really been afraid of is change. There is a certain kind of hopefulness to it. Everyday you wake up and you have the ability to make it a good day or a bad day. You choose who and what you want to be. You alone make choices that invoke change... good or bad.

I've  said before , I don't do guilt... Guilt is a useless emotion... You can't take back something that has been said or done. You can learn from it and move on and in doing so it can change you for better or worse but it doesn't change what happened.

Now, as my blog name states, I am far from perfect. I admit to being irreverent, inappropriate, opinionated, loud, passionate in my beliefs, I fight for what and whom I believe in. I love with intensity and hate with the same intensity. I am a bitch and I own it!! I don't believe in censoring who and what I am to make people (family or friends) happy or comfortable. I lived that way far too long and I won't go back to that version of myself. 

I was aware that starting this blog was going to bring up long buried issues for myself and for certain people. I told those involved in my past what I was going to do and say so they weren't shocked or taken unaware. I promised all of you uncensored and unvarnished truth of my life. Balancing both is difficult but I'm not stopping.

This is mine... this blog, the group page and yet it's also all of yours... I won't change what I'm doing because I feel like this is what I'm supposed to be doing. I always used to ask why bad things happened to me etc etc... Now, I feel like my writing this blog, telling my story and letting other people know they aren't alone is the reason why. I feel like this is my purpose. To talk and keep talking and keep fighting. Everyday is a fight for those who live in hell or those who have made it out. We all have suffered something only we understand... Only we know what it's like to fight towards the good and not end up going backwards.

All in all I'm doing my best to be a good person and yes, sometimes I fuck up. I am not perfect... I make mistakes... But I'm honest... I don't pull punches. I make no excuses... I am me, the imperfect little girl who grew up into an imperfect woman, against all odds. I'm by no means done with my journey, I still have a long way to go. I'm doing the best I can. No apologies and no excuses... I own my choices and my mistakes(for the good or bad). Life is too fucking short for anything less. If it isn't good enough for some people I can't do anything about that. The people who know and love me, know who I am and who I am trying to become and that is good enough for me.

I guess what I've been trying to say is that you should never feel like you need to change or censor yourself for others. Own the person you are and push towards who you want to become. Remember your past and learn from it. Choose to be happy...

Hope this made sense... All the meds from my bronchitis are kind of making me feel off...

Anyhow, love ya my bitches!!
~LilBitch



  

This is for everyone who suffered at the hands of someone who "loved" them.

I've always had nightmares, night terrors when I was a young child to vivid dreams and nightmares (to this day.) Ever since I've been blogging about my ex and our relationship, the memories I'd rather forget, have come back with a vengeance and so has the dreams/nightmares. I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to figure out why.

I still check at least once a month to see where he is living and working. It makes me feel safe knowing where he is. I have no doubt he knows where I am as well. I don't hide my life for his benefit... I guess it is one thing I can push in his face, from a safe distance, to show him I survived... I'm still here. He didn't break me he only fractured me.

I still admit to a very healthy fear of him and I have had more than one panic attack when I thought I saw him. Just a few weeks ago I was positive I saw him in a SUV parked next to mine and I lost it. Shaking, cold sweats, tears and hyperventilation. I drove to a business I frequent, in the opposite direction of my house, called my husband and wouldn't go home til he was there. Then I wouldn't walk into my house until my husband walked me inside. Logically the 2000+ miles I am from him makes seeing him a pretty big impossibility but my learned reactions and fear kicked in and logic meant nothing. Needless to say, my gun wasn't out of my reach for a few days after that.

There were a few things that gave me the impetuous to examine my life and start the my journey with my blog and group page but that day with the panic attack and sitting with my gun, afraid to leave my house... I'd have to say that was the most significant.

Fear really is an interesting emotion... It can take anyone down to their knees (if they are honest), bring them back to a dark place and remind you of life altering things. Fear in is a complex emotion that can bring on a myriad of other emotions in it's wake. It seems so much of my life has been a mix of pain and fear... my dreams have always followed in that path.

Last night I was talking with a friend about the last time I was in the presence of my ex and what happened. I got a bit shaky, just a little teary and I felt the fear. Last night I dreamt about it in crystal clear detail and woke up with the adrenaline charge you feel in your heart... where you can taste it even.

Even with the amount of times that has past I still remember that night and what happened so clearly, like it was yesterday. I can remember how cold it was outside, the smells, the dimmed lighting in the apartment and the surety I was going to die. I remember everything. This is one story I am not bypassing or glossing over. This is the story I have to tell in it's entirety not just because of what happened, what it did to me, still but because I know for a fact I'm not the only one that this has happened to. Not exactly the same or even as bad but I need to validate this for me and for others.

I can't tell you what it was exactly or if someone finally got thru to me but somehow I got the courage to leave Antonio. Naive as I was I absolutely believed it was over. That I had nothing left to fear of him. He knew how I felt and why I was leaving etc... He plead a good case for himself telling me how sorry he was, he'd try harder, we'd go and talk with someone. How his upbringing was so messed up he was a product of that... Blah, blah, blah... The usual statements and platitudes, the difference was that this time they didn't sway me, I was leaving!

I felt, what I now know was a false sense of safety. His periodic calls just to see how I was weren't seen as him checking up on me but him being friendly. His interest in me and my family and friends was just him being nice. In actuality it was him softening me up.

It was a day before New Years Eve and we had been apart for just about two months and aside from some phone calls he had made no overtures that placed fear in me. I was doing ok, even though I was back in the hell of my family home, and trying to figure out what was next for my life. I had even gone on a few dates and had one for New Years Eve. When he called the day before New Years Eve I expected the usual call but he asked me if I was free for New Years and if I wanted to go to dinner with him. I asked him why he didn't have plans with friends, stupid question but for the life of me I was lost. I mean in my mind we were broken up, right? So we didn't go out for New Years, right?

Anyhow, he went on to tell me how his Mom was away visiting his sister since Christmas and everyone had plans. He had been all alone for the holidays, he had the holiday blahs and was wondering if we could have a friendly New Years Eve? Right there the warning bells should have started going off but... I told him I was sorry he was feeling that way... and then I did one of the most stupid things I may have ever done... I told him I had a date for New Years Eve. Looking back on it I can say I felt a shift in him at that moment but it was so slight I didn't notice it at the time. He told me he hoped I had a good time and that was that. We hung up and for the most part I forgot about it.

I did go out on New Years Eve and I remembering making a wish at midnight. I wished that I'd find my place in the world and hopefully someone to share it with. Simple and straightforward... I just wanted to move on and keep moving forward.

New Years Day I planned just vegging out and relaxing. I remember when the phone rang around 4pm that afternoon being in my flannel pj's, in bed and reading. I had a momentary thought to not answer the phone and just keep reading but I ended up answering. I should have listened to my sixth sense.

Antonio was on the phone and immediately wished me a Happy New Year. I said the same to him and we chatted for a few minutes before he asked about my date and if I had any plans that night. I asked him why and he said he'd hoped we could go to dinner. He wanted to show me he was a good man and make amends for the pain he caused me. Yet again the alarms bells in my head were on mute. After hemming and hawing for a few minutes and him telling me how much his holidays had been a disappointment I agreed, with stipulations. I would drive there and ring up for him and then we'd walk to a restaurant that was right around the corner. He agreed.

I was stupid, I know it, now. As soon as I hung up the phone I had a fleeting thought of "WTF did I just agree to?" In the end I pushed it aside and I went and got in the shower. Later as I was about to leave, My Mom asked what I was up to and stupid move 2 or 3, depending upon how you are counting, all I said was "going out to dinner." Kiss on the cheek, an I love you and I was the door.

As I walked to my car I remember looking at my breath puff in the cold, wondering if it was going to snow again and shaking from the cold a little bit. I remember the drive, going over the Pulaski Skyway and singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs. I always fought with alternate side of the street parking or finding a close parking space to the brownstone when I was there on a daily basis but that night I was lucky and got a space right out front. Luck was one thing that I may not have put a lot of stock in but that night it would become the one thing that saved me.

Once I parked I did as I said I would and I rang up to the apartment. When he answered he sounded a bit flustered and told me he was running behind. Got caught up in a game, "why don't you just come up while I finish getting ready?" I hesitated and he said "come on it'll just be a few minutes." As soon as I pulled the handle of the door when he buzzed me up I remember thinking how weird it was not having keys anymore. Then I made the fateful trip up to the apartment.

As soon as Antonio opened the door I instantly knew something was wrong. I felt fear from him for the first time since I left, felt it in my bones. I should have turned around and left but I didn't. I walked right into the proverbial Lions Den. All of the lights were dim and he had candles burning. The TV was on but it was on low and he was even close to being dressed to go out. He had what I always called his "in for the night" clothes on. A v-neck white tshirt and sleep pants on which I jokingly made a comment about and he just shrugged. 

He asked for my coat and I told him I'd keep it on since I was still chilly, besides we were leaving in a few minutes for dinner. He told me he wanted to sit, relax and talk for a bit. Alarm bells were going off but I just stood there. I remember thinking, again, of just turning around and just leaving but instead for whatever reason I dropped my purse on the couch close to the door, not where I usually put my purse and then walked around the far end of the couch, furthest from him and sat down. I squeezed myself in the corner and he jokes about how I looked like I was afraid of him and like I was thinking of bolting.

Antonio was always a very controlled man. It was always a palatable feeling when you were around him. This night it was like a coil that snaked out and gripped me. I distinctly remember concentrating on my breathing and stamping down my fear. At this point I was no longer in la la land, doing something nice for someone. I really was just waiting for his move. I felt his control and saw him calculating his moves. His eyes had that coldness to them I knew far too well. For the most part I knew what was coming..... I was waiting for his first strike.

I felt incredibly stupid and terrified. I was trying to think of how I was going to get out of there all the while knowing no one knew where I was or who I was with. No one even knew he had been calling me periodically. As far as everyone was concerned he was no longer in my life. I had the off-handed thought of how anyone would ever find me.

Thru our whole relationship and all the abuse I had felt fear and pain but this was the first time I really and truly down to my bones thought I might die.... and he hadn't even made a move near me. He started talking to me and I guess I heard enough of it to give intelligent answers but I really don't know what he was saying. I also noticed by this point he was moving towards me at first I thought maybe I was seeing this because it was just a tiny bit at a time. Then he was almost next to me and that's when I flinched. He told me I had no reason to fear him and he moved right next to me.

I was instantly trapped, partly by the couch and partly by him. I remember feeling like my heart stopped and then started beating so hard I was sure it was going to explode. He was saying things like how much he missed me, how he was so sorry, how much he loved me and he needed me. He couldn't stand the idea of me with anyone but him. I chose that moment to look into his eyes and they were black... souless and cold.

I remember I started saying things like how since he wasn't ready to go out we could have a rain check... I said I accepted his apology and let's just forget it... and then I tried to get up from the couch. He didn't say a word he just leaned into and then over me, pushing me into the arm of the sofa. The next second I was aware he was kissing me and I was struggling so hard to free myself.

I didn't go to the dark place this time it was like I could see everything that was happening from outside of myself.  I could see I was crying and begging him to stop.. I saw his one hand holding my wrists together while his other was unzipping my leather jacket. I saw his hand sliding under my sweater and pushing it up and over my bra and him pulling my bra down and under my breasts. I saw the marks he was leaving on my breasts with his hands and then his mouth... I was crying so hard I couldn't scream and all I kept thinking was scream, yell, do something!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got my moment when he leaned back alittle to admired the marks he put on me... Somehow I was able to get my wrists free and I pushed him hard enough for him to be knocked back... I was crying and still pushing at him, trying to get myself out from under him. All the while he kept saying was how much he loved me and he knew I wanted this. He knew we were supposed to be together and I would too, again, if I just let him show me. When I told him I'd never want this again and he was wrong I didn't love him he went gone was the calm controlled man and he became insane. Grabbing, pulling, smacking, and hitting me....

To this day I don't know how I did it but I was able to get up from under him and off the couch... He kept pulling at me but I made it around the couch. He pulled at me so hard I spun around and was facing him, his arms so tight around me I couldn't move my arms. I felt like he was squeezing the life & breath out of me and yet I could feel his breath on my face. He was still telling me he loved me and he wouldn't let me leave til I knew how much. I was his... You are mine... MINE, MINE, MINE

My mind was spinning and I really thought I was a dying. I remember feeling the tears just roll down my face... the only noise I was making was gasps for air. All the while I was looking in his eyes.... Dark bottomless pits his voice was a garbled mess to me and I realized if I didn't do something... well....

From way back in my mind I remember a good guy friend of mine telling me I didn't need my hands to fight... when all else fails use your legs... From somewhere I got the energy I needed to swing my leg around and catch him behind the knees. His hold on my arms loosened as he started to fall and I forced my knee up as hard and fast as I could right into his face. Before he even fell I grabbed my purse, my first instance of luck since if I had put it where I usually did I would have lost precious time, I swung open the apartment door and ran.

As I was getting close to the elevators and the door for the stairs I heard his bellows of pain and him screaming my name. I wasn't sure how long I had til he came for me. I had a moment of surreal panic/insanity when I thought of all the movies I've seen where the woman being chased chooses the elevator and the bad guy ends up catching her... I shook the thought out of my head and looked at my boots with heels and realized the elevator was best. I pressed that button begging for the doors to open and just as they didn I heard him start down the hallway, calling my name.... Saying we needed to talk.... don't leave. Sounded good if the neighbors were listening, right. I saw his shadow just as the doors were closing and I began praying that the elevator would make it down to the lobby faster than him taking the stairs. It felt like forever before the doors opened.

As I ran out of the elevator and I am blindly digging in my purse for my car keys I hear him slamming down the stairs. I ran blindly thru the doors of the building and ran right up to my car, second time luck came into play that night. I know if I was parked any further away he would have caught me. I finally grasped my keys and somehow unlocked my car without dropping my keys from my shaking.

I remember just hitting the lock button as he ran full tilt to my car and grabbed the door handle while pounding on the window with his other fist. He was screaming my name and telling me I was a stupid bitch and I'd pay... I couldn't hide from him.... I just started my car and pulled away with him still holding onto the door handle. I saw him stumble when I looked back in the rearview mirror.

I drove around for a long time crying and thinking. I was terrified to go home and I felt completely alone. I berated myself for being so naive and stupid, I screamed because I had no idea what I was going to do and because I knew from experience no one would help me. The idea of telling my Mom meant my step dad would find out and I couldn't stand to hear what he would have to say. So I drove around and cried, and cried and cried.

Eventually I pulled over at a gas station and did my best to calm down and think logically. Only then I did I start to take stock of what he had done to me. I began to realize I had a starnge pounding pain on the side of my head which I realized was from a huge knot on the side of my head. My lips were bruised and puffy and of course I instantly was thinking of how I'd cover that with make up. I slowly lifted my sweater and realized I never pulled my bra back up and I could instantly see bruises, bites etc on my breasts and bruises lower on my ribs most probably from when he squeezed me so tightly. My throat was raw from crying and screaming, my eyes were swollen from all my tears and my knee hurt like hell. It was one pain I didn't care about... at least I got one good hit in, I'd take it.

I readjusted my clothes, zipped my jacket,  did my best to fix my face, put my hair in a pony tail and refused to cry anymore. If I learned anything that night was that tears got me nothing and I was all I really had... I saved myself that night. Which is partly good because it let me know I wasn't a weak little thing who couldn't take care of herself but it also was a bad thing because I blamed myself for everything and continued to blame myself for a very long time.

That was the last time I "saw" Antonio but it was only the beginning of the stalking... calling constantly, following me without my knowledge, the threats and his ability to still control me with fear. ***It may not be tody, it made not be tomorrow, next month or next year. One day even if it years from now I'll get to you and I'll kill you.*** I tried to live under that and with that for a very long time.

It kills me to say it but he still has some control over me since I do still fear him. I think I always will... obviously since I have to make sure I know where he lives and works, I have panic attacks when I think I see him.

I know I'm not the only one who feels like this... I know I'm not the only one who was naive enough and so under our abusers control that we put ourselves in a dangerous situation. I don't tell a lot of people this story because I hate how I feel when I think of it... I didn't even tell my Mom this happened until a month ago. Tonight I'm telling it for everyone who has suffered at the hands of someone who "loved" them and made bad judgement calls in regards to them. I now know I was so emotionally messed that what happened that night wasn't my fault. None of what he ever did to me is my fault.... I didn't do anything wrong. We never did anything wrong... we didn't do anything to deserve it.

Sorry... but that's all I got right now....

Thanks for listening... Til next time my bitches....

~LilBitch

Events in your past shape you.....

There are so many things I don't understand in life, as a whole, but there are a few things I am pretty certain of... *No matter what, time is never on your side, *I find it is impossible to let go of all the pain I have experienced (If you forget it aren't you allowing the possibility to repeat the actions that brought you there in the first place?.?) Which rolls into my other belief... *Events in your life shape you but it is your choices made from them that direct the path you take. You choose to do right or wrong, make excuses, repeat patterns etc...

Now I know some people will disagree or think it sounds pessimistic etc but haven't we always been taught that we must learn from both the good and the bad that occurs in our lives? I don't see it as being pessimistic but being realistic. I may not have done well with many choices in my past and I've tried to make better choices as I've grown older and moved out from under both my abusers. I believe in the statement and try to live it's sentiment... Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Ok, so it's isn't the direct quote but I think you get what I'm saying.

I remember being really young and watching my Mom and Step Dad interact. I knew it was uncomfortable a lot of times and scary a lot of times but it was what I saw, knew & learned of  marriage. I can so clearly remember my confusion once I was old enough to see my friends parents together and how their dynamic was so different than my parents. It insulated me even more and also pushed me to put that "perfect" facade up more and more. As kids we have enough trouble trying to figure out who we are and what we want to be. If you come from a dysfunctional family, like I did, it is so hard to make good choices and decisions about who you want to be.

Chaos does beget chaos... I'm a living example of that. My Mama married Ed in June of 1979... It is October 2012 and I am still trying to deal with and heal from my years in that house. I was shaped by those events in my life (my step dad, my Mom's alcoholism) and I fell right into bad decision making and ended up in a chaotic dysfunctional relationship just like my Mom. Minus the alcoholism....

I've just been thinking a lot about what each of my choices meant to my life.... I know why I did what I did and why I became who I did. Well, now I do but then everything just seemed to happen in a pre-destined way. Even though I was making the choices that led me there.

I still struggle with that. I can never get that time in my life back... Once time it's gone... it's gone... and until I pulled myself out of the hell I was in I lost years... Years filled with pain and fear and self doubt. When you are in something like that you don't live, you exist, not feeling or experiencing life. In the end you "live" only to survive.

I have to live with the choices I made and own them... My step dad, my ex and even my Mom made their choices and they dealt with them in their way. My Mom is amazing, she's sober for 3 years and we've always been close. We fought to survive together in a lot of ways and I can forgive what she did because she was doing what she could in order to survive. She inspires me and bottom line I love her and she loves me... I never doubted that.

As for my step dad he asked me for absolution the day before he died and I denied him. It wasn't and isn't my job to do that. I was so angry at him for that. The man who held God and church so fiercely in the face of death finally realized he'd done wrong..?? Or who knows but.... all I could do and still do is make my peace with it alittle at a time. Like I said I am still dealing with the fallout and healing, slowly but I'm working at it.

My ex is an entirely different story. There were never any apologies or asking for forgiveness aside from the token ones he gave after he hurt me. The final time I saw him I ran like hell... I made a mistake in judgement and almost paid dearly.... I've lived in a semblance of fear ever since... I google him so I know where he is, even. I have panic attacks when I think I see him and I'm 2000 + miles from New Jersey. The thought of going back to NJ for my 20 yr HS reunion brought on a panic attack. Sick but true he still controls my life in a way.

So.... Events in your life shape you. You in turn make choices based upon them, for the rest of your life.... I'm still struggling with the choices I made and trying to make good ones now.  Yea, Choices suck a lot of the time but I think I am finally making the right ones.

That's all for now my bitches... Love ya!

~LilBitch

Memories....?

I have been trying to think of any good times/memories with my step dad. We didn't have much in common though he did give me my love of football and baseball and pushed me to be interested in politics and our country. Now, those are good things but good memories, not so much. It always felt like those things were him showing he was "trying" with me not getting to know me etc...

I can think of one selfless thing he'd ever do for me and that was when I was suffering from a migraine. He had a way of pressing on the pressure point in a certain way that relieved the pain in my skull that felt like it was going to make my head explode. Is that a good memory?? Well, it was a nice thing to do... I have to admit fear at those times though because he would wrap his hands around my neck while working on the pressure point. Him being the person who struck out at me and generally went out of his way to be awful to me, having his hands around my neck was definitely disconcerting.

My sister said to me the other day she didn't believe him to be a totally bad person. I respect her opinion since her dealings with him were entirely different than mine. I just can't see him any other way than what he was. He took away my hope, stole my innocence in feeling safe with my parents, he turned my sister against me, he made me feel worthless and useless, like I was nothing. I was an emotional mess for years because of him and I believe his abuse made me easy pickings for my ex. Hell, I'm still working thru my emotional minefield even now....

Bottomline... bad people can do good things.... but I can't say that it over rides any of the bad (abuse etc) they have done. Everyone makes mistakes and can do something that's considered bad but that is far different than what he did on a consistent basis with me and my family. I guess I am respectfully disagreeing with my sister. It just shows that the family dynamic for me is still very difficult.

Family is a hard thing for me to understand. Since I didn't have one that was even close to conventional... then add in the dysfunction and stir in every ones opinion it always seemed like a big pain in the ass. My Mama and Granny and my Nanny were my "family". As I got older I "collected" a family I made out of good friends. I may not have great father daughter memories, big sister little sister memories but I made some great memories with the family I made....

So I rambled from one extreme to another... but it's what was going thru my mind tonight.

Love you, my Bithces....

~LilBitch

" 'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all. "

I'm not sure where we're going tonight.... I have so many things running thru my mind all at once. I hear stories from other women and I am instantly brought back to a certain place in time which then has me going in another direction. So, in essence, I think of one thing and then it moves into something else. My thoughts and feelings are so close to the surface right now I am pretty much all over the place.

Maybe that's how this is supposed to go..?? I doubt there is a rule book on blogging my fucked up life story. Well, other than the rules I gave myself at the beginning of this.... Them being, I wouldn't use any one's names without permission or because of a threat to myself and that I would write only the truth, unfiltered... I'm not changing and of that...

Last night I had to stop writing because I felt myself falling into a dark and ugly place that I've been successfully staying out of for a long time. I try not to think about those times where I went to the "black, dark place of nothing." But how can I tell you my story, and for some, our story, if I don't go there...? So, after I logged off I allowed my mind to wander there, I had to feel it again because I didn't really "feel" it back then. Once I left the "dark place" I felt the pain, and as sick as that sounds, well that made me know I was still alive...

There's a song, Pain by Three Days Grace, that has a line that says  " 'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all." Pain, in reality, is what I survived on. It really was the only honest and healthy emotion I had at that time. Like I said, even after everything my ex did to me I still could lay there and consider what he said as the truth. I convinced myself he was good to me, for me and he loved me. That I really didn't have anything to cry about. 

Why??? Because he said so. I looked at my life and it was, on the outside, really good. Nice things, a nice place, I didn't have to work, I didn't have to make any decisions on anything.... Here it is again... it looked "perfect". I grew up with if it looks perfect than it obviously is perfect. Demented is more like it....

Before Antonio I had dreams and hopes, ideas of who and what I wanted to be. Somewhere I lost every dream, hope and desire I had. He controlled everything... who I was friends with, what I did, where and when I went somewhere. From going out with my Mama to going to the doctor, in my mind he knew what was best for me... So him making the decisions or asking questions made sense.  

It happened so slowly and stealthily I didn't realize it was even happening. In all honesty at first it was nice to feel "cared" for and worried about. Now I look back and can see the way he maneuvered things so I only saw things one way while it really was the exact opposite. When things started to turn and I was absolutely controlled and handled by him it became my job/life to make sure things were how he wanted them. Which in turn became me doing my best to keep him from getting angry and taking it out on me.... verbally or otherwise.

That was my job.... I mean seriously, it was my mission in life to keep the peace... To constantly walk on eggshells and hope for the best. It very rarely worked. I still did something wrong or said something wrong etc etc...  All the while that tiny little voice was still screaming in my head, quietly. The trick was getting to a place where it didn't scream quietly anymore....

I guess that's what's on my mind the most tonight.... How did I go thru the shit with my step dad and walk, (hell no...) I ran right to the man who continued my hell... I still don't know how... Maybe I never will... You know what's crazy though??? I can see it happening to other women.... I always have.... I did when I was younger and even now I see it happening and yet I couldn't see it for myself.

If your wondering, yes I still fight the emotional of all of this. Pain is an emotion I can live off of even still. I can feed off pain in a way that sounds ridiculous but now I know I can pull thru. It's a test of myself in a way. I didn't say it was healthy because I know it's not... but when the chips are down and someone is suffering or the drama picks up in my life or when my past comes back to me with a vengeance something switches on...

I don't know if that'll ever go away. It is a part of me... Sick but true pain was always with me and I understand it. It isn't just an emotion to me it's a thing, it's tangible. There is something different about me now, though... I have more than just pain (physical & emotional) in my life. I have joy, love, acceptance, happiness... yes there is sadness, fear at times and pain and anger but I got some of the good stuff too. That's a pretty amazing thing to me... my 23 year old self didn't even think she'd make it to 25 and here I am at 38 and guess what??? My life isn't perfect... I'm not perfect, no one is... At 23 I was alone... at 38 I'm not. So I'll take 38, not alone and not perfect over 23, alone & in a constant state of fear and pain.

But I still have to let myself go back and feel the pain... If not then I haven't really come that far and I have so much further to go... So, yea... I'll feel the pain cause fuck the bastard, I'm alive.............!

Ok, my Bitches... I think I made some sense in a round about way tonight... I hope..???

Love Ya...
~LilBitch






 

The tiny voice in my head was silently screaming...

For obvious reasons I've been inside my head a lot lately. I'm literally going thru my past piece by piece and it's intimidating. I have had some serious moments of self doubt. My life is my story and I chose to tell my story... that being said I can't help but wonder if people's perceptions of me would change, for better or worse.?.? Obviously, so far, none of my posts have been sunshine and roses therefore I wouldn't and more than likely I am expecting a shift in peoples feelings.

I struggled a very long time to get to a place where I don't care what people think of me... (for the most part) I mean I am LilBitch and I am proud of it!! But there is still a little, tiny part of me that worries or cares. I guess it's something I still have to work on and to be honest I hate admitting that. I am learning I have a lot further to go in the whole healing process.

While my step dad put me down and tore me down all Antonio had to do was shred anything that was left. For some insane reason there was a small part of me that cared what they both thought of me while the tiny voice in my head, that was silently screaming, was never vocalized. The only time I let any of it out was late at night. I'd wait for Antonio to fall in to a deep sleep and I'd sneak out of bed,  go to the farthest corner of the bedroom and cry, silently.

One time he woke up when I was curled up, crying in the corner and just sat and stared at me. I'm not sure for how long, it seemed forever, and then he silently got up and walked towards me. He leaned over me,  grabbed my arm and drug me back to bed. He threw me down and laid down on top of me and smirked... his eyes were cold and he just smirked. He made a joke of my crying and said I was a stupid bitch... The tiny voice was still silently screamed... He said that I had nothing to cry about, I was his.... Then I just turned my mind off, went blank and waited for it to be over.

Later I remember laying where he left me wondering if he was right...??? I was in a nice apartment, I didn't have to work... Was it really that bad??? I was beyond lost at that point.



I'm sorry... I'm gonna finish this up tomorrow. I'm not doing to well with this trip down memory lane tonight. I apologize.

Bye for now my Bitches....
~LilBitch

To this day I can still hear his voice & know I hurt him.

The feedback I have been getting from all of you is amazing. Your positivity & encouragement have pushed me when it became extremely difficult to dig in and go back to some very painful times in my life. Writing this blog is allowing me to delve deeper than I have in a very long time. Not to mention it has oddly jumped started my love of writing again. Everyone keeps saying things about writing a book, I think it's becoming more of a possibility.

I've appreciate your words and your candor. Stating that I am good person and deserve only good things after the things I have dealt with really do humble me. So, if I am going to continue writing with honesty and candor then I have to put myself out there with things I've done that I am not too proud of. I have to own my past and what I've done or then I am no better than Ed or Antonio.

In my last post, on Friday, I talked about how emotionally fucked up I was when it came to dating and men. How even before my ex I chose men who were emotionally unavailable because I was such an emotional mess. You can't really be disappointed when you don't have high expectations.

Once I finally cut the physical day to day ties with my ex, for good, I took a few months just to hang out with friends again, be alone without a man and tried to forget. In a way forgetting was good... I didn't want to remember any of it, it was painful and embarrassing. Honestly though it wasn't a good thing.

The saying if you don't remember your past you are doomed to repeat it is true. I found myself gravitating towards emotionally unavailable men and ones that showed some possessive and abusive tendencies. I am not sure how I did it but I found there emotional fortitude to walk away from those men.  

I did eventually meet one man who was intelligent, funny, treated me well and he was honest. Oh and he was married. Which in my mind at the time made him a perfect man for me. After Antonio and his abuse, telling me what I could and couldn't do,  where I could and couldn't go. The yelling and screaming, verbal and physical abuse he "was" perfect. He couldn't have any overbearing expectations on me because he wasn't "available" to me in a relationship sense.

I have stated before I don't believe in guilt because I feel it is a useless emotion. I live my life by doing my best and trying to make good choices and I fully admit being with a married man was not a good choice by any standard whatsoever. That being said I was so lost and emotionally empty my common sense only saw someone who couldn't control me or hurt me.

So yes, I hate what I did because under normal circumstances cheating/adultery are not who I am in any shape or form.... but I have say that relationship, as it were, helped me. From the beginning he was honest about his life and who he was, what I could expect from him etc... He did what he'd say he'd do and he was good to me. I never felt fear with him. Bottom line, there were no deceptions between us. So, in a totally obscure way that relationship helped me. It showed me my worth again, what I did deserve in a relationship etc... No, it didn't help me heal but it gave me a glimpse into what I could and did deserve. So, I really can't say I regret it. I could make excuses but it is what it is.  

After the end of that relationship I dated here and there but nothing long term. I was still not processing the after affects of my ex or my step dad which in turn kept me very cautious and not too trusting of men/dating in general. I spent time with my friends, going out far more than I ever had before going to school and living my life on my terms. All of the things I never did because of my ex. 

Now, to show how much of a dichotomy I truly was and still am, to a certain extent, I actually feel more comfortable with male friends. I always have. I had/have female friends but they tend to be like me and feel more comfortable with having men as friends as well. I don't really know what that means but the men I was (and still am) friends with are good guys. I felt safe with them, they were nothing like my step dad or Antonio. They treated me like one of the guys, kinda but they always took care with me.

One of these friends I'd hang out with on and off, for years, at parties or out and about with our group. (Since we haven't spoken in awhile and he doesn't know I writing about my life I'll be calling him Billy.) I don't know any other way to explain Billy but to say he was a free spirited dreamer who could bullshit with the best of them and then turn to me during a conversation and quote Shakespeare. We had an easy friendship... he was funny with a dry sense of humor, smart as hell and extremely artistic. We could sit and talk for hours about anything and everything. We flirted and we teased each other.... It was different then with the other guys. He sparked something in me that no man in my adult life ever had. I don't know how else to explain it... I just could be myself with him.

Billy and I went on like this for a few years. Him being around here and there. When we saw each other we'd talk, catch up and joke around... and as always flirt. Then I wouldn't see him again for awhile. It's funny to me that I was always so aware of him when he was around but it took someone else to point out that he was starting to come around more often. Intimating I was the reason for it. Which I denied.... I still felt beat up on the inside and well... I just didn't believe it. We were friends...

That's not to say I wasn't happy he was around more because I really loved being around him. If it was sitting and talking with him while he was working on a car or out at a club/bar I always enjoyed being with him. Like I said even if my mind was slow to catch up he did spark something in me.

So.... One night a bunch of us were out at some bar and Billy was playing pool and as usual we were flirting etc... When he went to go and get me another drink, a girl, who hadn't been out much with us before asked me if he and I were together..?? Wait what??? I said no... I mean he and I were friends, only... right? He was the exact opposite of every man I ever dated. Long dark hair, jeans and t's... not a suit in sight. Most importantly we were just friends. Needless to say I started thinking about him and I and how we acted together, about what some people said about him coming around more etc etc...

Thinking but not acting on anything.... I didn't want to rock the boat... Until..... A week or so later the same girl who asked if we were together told me how sweet he was when she twisted her ankle blah blah blah and yes I saw GREEN! Pretty cliche but..... All of a sudden I was "really thinking" and what I was thinking was there was no way in hell she was going to get him. If anyone was it was going to be me. Kismet, cosmic or fate... who knows but things changed after that.

I don't know how to define our relationship I mean, were we dating, yes. Were we "together", yes. Did I believe it would last forever... No and that became extremely clear after a few months. See Billy was, like a said, a free spirited dreamer. He had so many ideas of what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go. His future was wide open. He had a beautiful case of wanderlust... Deep down, so did I.

We'd often talk about what we both wanted out of life and where we wanted to be. When I in passing talked of my wish to leave NJ (he knew my past more than most) he encouraged me to follow my gut. Anything and everything to him were possible even if they really weren't. From drunken talks of opening a biker bar to, my all time favorite, Kosher shellfish. No, seriously!! In the end I knew exactly what I could expect from him and him from me. We never talked about how damaged I was from my past but I knew he was aware and he never expected me to rip the wound open for him. He was who he was and I was who I was.

All in all it worked, for awhile... Until....I got pregnant... I think I could have bought stock in EPT. I bought box after box... boxes with two tests in each. I took them in the morning and took them at night. Each and every one of them came up positive... each one scared the hell out of me more and more. By this time in my life I came to the realization I wanted out of NJ (for my safety and sanity.) My ex was still stalking, quietly and being around my Mother had become so painful. Her drinking had taken on a life of it's own and it hurt to watch. I also realized that my pattern of behavior, out all the time etc wasn't conducive to me being even remotely healthy.

 A baby....???? A baby!!!! Me and a baby....???? Me, Billy and a baby....???? I didn't know what to do. I know it sounds ridiculous but I really didn't. I didn't tell Billy and well I just put it out of my mind... well as much as you can. Just like when things at home or later with my ex got bad... I just tried to block it out.... Yea, not the most adult, 26 yr old way of handling it but....

Then my best guy friends girlfriend suspected, since I was the walking cliche for all day morning sickness, and I admitted it to her and promptly swore her to secrecy. I needed time to think. I still didn't tell Billy... I was holding on to a huge secret and it affected Billy and I.

Things were weird with us, I was freaking out because I couldn't decide if I wanted the baby or not, never mind anything else. Everything seemed surreal... I wasn't sure I ever wanted kids and now I'm facing a tremendous decision that doesn't just affect me but Billy and if I keep it a child.

I started thinking about how great my adoption went. My birth mother assumed I'd go to live happily ever after and that sure as hell didn't happen... so I sure as hell wasn't giving my child away.... But could I keep it? Could we keep it?

Mid December rolled around and I still hadn't told Billy and I hadn't made a decision of what I was going to do either way and time was running out. I was playing at being fine and to be honest doing a shit job of it. I was still going out etc... It's amazing how one phone call inadvertently changed things and put things in motion.

Late one afternoon I got a call that a good friend of ours father had passed away very suddenly. Billy and I were not really avoiding each other but by then but things definitely weren't good. I remember going to the bar we all hung out at and picking up a few people to go to the wake, we went in and paid our respects, talked with my friend, his Mom & family. All of a sudden the door opened and in walked Billy. After he paid his respects he and I and a few others went outside to smoke & talk. Billy pulled me slightly aside and asked if I was ok..? I told him I had something I had to talk to him about. He just looked into my eyes and gave me a chin lift, nothing more. 

After a bit we decided to leave and go back to the bar. Have a semblance of a wake of our own, I suppose. As we all started walking towards our cars, Billy said he wouldn't be coming and started walking towards his car. I can remember standing in the middle of the street, it was so cold, just watching him walk away. I looked at my best friend and his girl for a split second and then turned to get into my car. (By this time they both knew what was going on and were both sworn to secrecy.) All of a sudden I heard Billy call my name... I turned back towards him as he was saying "What did you need to talk to me about?" I wanted to tell him... I just couldn't get the words out... As I was turning back towards my car I said "No worries, It'll keep".

That night in the bar I sat for hours and talked and talked and talked... I went over every reason why I shouldn't have it... I wasn't exactly living extremely healthy at the time, unsure if financially I could do it alone since my Mother had her own issues at the time which made asking for her help a no go. Then I went over every reason I should... there weren't many. I finally made my decision... I wasn't going to have the baby.  My friend would pick me up in the morning and then I'd stay with her and her man thru the weekend so I could just chill and not have to answer questions. And finally I decided that I would never tell Billy about the baby and I never did. Now that I think of it that could be the one thing I actually do feel guilty about.

If you don't believe in fate that's fine but I do... and it wasn't more apparent then that next morning. I woke up before the sun even come up with the worst pains in my stomach, cramps like I'd never experienced before. I rolled out of bed and saw blood all over my sheets and me. I quickly made it to my bathroom, turned on the light, started running the shower and stripped of my pj's and I was crying.

I believe in fate because I feel as though I was given that opportunity to make a decision. To really think about what I wanted for my life and out of my life. It was the first time in a long time I really thought about what I wanted and needed. I don't think I would have started to change my life in doing things like moving to TX  etc if I hadn't had to make that decision. 

Oddly enough when the time came to put up or shut up about moving Billy told me he thought I deserved a chance to get out and find myself. He told me if I stayed I'd just continue on and he knew I wanted more for me and so did he. So, I left NJ in February of 2001, never having told Billy about the baby.

Now I know you are probably wondering why I told you this story from my past. Because fate came and this time bit me in the ass. Flash forward a few years and for reasons I'll get into later I came back to NJ.

One night I went out with a guy friend of mine, Mike, and he took me out to see a few of his friends and just have a few drinks at a bar in town. As we were driving there I was thinking about the fact the town we were going to was where Billy lived... Then when we went to pick up his friend I thought I was losing my mind because he looked an awful lot like a friend of Billy's I knew from way back when... but the real shock..??? Who do I see as soon as I walk into the bar... Yep, Billy.

We all laughed about what a small world it was etc... I sat next to Billy and we talked etc just like we used to. I really was happy to see him. He still could light that spark in me.

When Mike went to the restroom Billy leaned in close to me, said my name to get my full attention and looked me straight in the eyes. The words he spoke stopped my heart... "I would have been a good father." I swear the room went silent and I started to shake. I felt like crying and laughing hysterically... all I could say was that I was sorry. He told me it hurt I didn't tell him...

But this is how I know he was and is a good guy, it turns out my best friend and he were hanging out drinking some beers and well my friend inadvertently told him, two years prior. He knew where I was he could have called, yelled and screamed but he never did. Even that night it really wasn't that he was mad at me. He said he understood but he was hurt... To this day I still can hear him say "I would have been a good father."

So.... I may be strong/er now, I may be a good person with a good heart and all of those nice things you all say but I have things I've done that I am not proud of... people that I've hurt. I own those things because I refuse to excuse them because of my past. I guess what I am trying to say is we are all human and we all make mistakes. Even so, we are still good people, we are just flawed. Flawed is ok....  

I know I wrote a helluva lot tonight... but I hope it gives you all a better glimpse of me.


Til tomorrow...
~LilBitch