Hyperventilating

Today was hard.

I knew it was going to be.

Mr. Wonderful and I have a rule that if our kids get C's or below, they don't get to play video games. This has never been a problem but with the lack of effort I witnessed Knave putting into his school work this semester, it was inevitable.

And the day we found out that he got a C was today.

What makes me crazy is that these rules have been set in stone for as long as I can remember so when Mr. Wonderful picked up the boys from school and Knave announced that he got a C "but it was just barely a C so can I please PLEASE PLEASE still play my video games?" and Mr. Wonderful, instead of enforcing our already-set-boundaries answered, "we will have to ask you mom" it makes me want to pull my damn hair out.

Now I'm the bad guy for following through with our rules and boundaries.

"Dad would have let me it's just YOU, YOU RUIN MY LIFE."

"I HATE YOU"

"I WISH YOU WERE DEAD"

"GO KILL YOURSELF"

"YOU'RE A BITCH"

It was the "bitch" comment that sent Mr. Wonderful on a dead sprint towards Knave.

Then Knave took a swing and it all went crazy.

I cried.

Like the hyperventilating, I can't catch my breath, cry. 

Now we are in the car, a cute little family traveling out of state to make magical Christmas memories.

I want to crawl in my bed.

-->

My heart is broken right now.

Here I am

I'm healing.
My marriage is healing.

But my heart is broken as the affect of pornography spread to another in my family.

This time it is my child.

We've done everything to educate and teach no shame and healthy sexuality like all the professionals recommend. I've read books and stepped out of my comfort zone to create safety and security for my family and my chil
dren.

We have filters.
We aren't rookies.

And yet... here I am.
With a broken heart.

MAD-CRAZY

I am feeling {for lack of a better word} CRAZY.  

There isn't anything BIG going on with me but there are a lot of LITTLE things.

They add up.

I'm feeling overwhelmed with my life AND this world.

I feel like I am behind, always struggling to catch up to everyone else.

Or, maybe the truth is that I am always struggling to catch up to the expectations I have of myself.

My expectations are relentless and demanding. Unhealthy to say the least.

Regardless of the reasons, I am feeling a desperate need to breath, like my body can't get enough air and at any minute I may pass out.  The anxiety constantly reminding me of what I need to be doing, where I should be as a mother, what I need to look like as a wife, where I ought to be in my recovery as a spouse of an addict, and where I should be in my recovery with my eating disorder.

According to my expectations, I am failing at everything.

And I just can't seem to shake it.

Slipping into Darkness

Hopeless Alice

I have been through some crazy shit lately.

I've been traveling non-stop for 2 months for work, weddings, family vacations, the Togetherness Project... it's been so great and I am so grateful but it was too much.  Then, when I finally returned home, I prepared my house for company and the celebration of my daughters baptism.  It was too much. My life became unmanageable... it still is unmanageable.

To top it all off, my dad had an accident.  While helping my husband cut down our trees he fell.  He just fell out of a tree from 20 feet up and smacked directly on the cement.  I saw the whole thing.  The whole damn thing.

TRAUMA - TRAUMA - TRAUMA - TRAUMA

I HATE TRAUMA

This post isn't about my dad falling from a tree, he is alright and very lucky only suffering from 3 broken ribs, cuts, bruises and a shattered wrist injury that resulted in surgery.  So he's okay.

This post is about a different kind of fall.  One that is MORE traumatic to me than my dad falling.

This post is about a man (not Mr. Wonderful) a different man, let's call him Art.  I look up to Art so much.  I admire and trust and love him.  Art is a man who has taught me so much.  Art is a man who stands for truth and righteousness, who loves God and his family.  I know that if I was every in trouble I could pick up the phone and Art would help me anyway that he could.

The same week that my dad fell out of the tree injuring his body was the same week Art asked me to look up something on his phone and I stumbled across a history of pornography.

TRAUMA - TRAUMA - TRAUMA - TRAUMA

I HATE TRAUMA

What do I do?  How do I process this?  

Art is a pornography addict.  I knew about this.  I also "knew" that he was in recovery.  So did his wife and family.

I adore and love Art, just like I adore and love my dad.  My heart is broken.  My hope seems to be diminishing.  This world, this addiction, is taking even the best hearted people.  I am overwhelmed and I'm feeling myself slipping down the rabbit hole.

I feel heartbroken.
I feel sad.
I feel confused.
I feel hurt.
I feel betrayed.
I feel angry.
I feel scared.

I am Slipping into darkness.  

I would rather have my dad fall out of a tree sustaining the injuries he received than have Art fall back into his addiction.

I CAN'T BREATH.

Dear Mr. Wonderful

Dear Mr. Wonderful,

I need to start jogging again so you think I'm in the category of all the "other girls" that you find sexy and attractive. That distract your eyes and heart and take over your penis.  

All of those "other" girls.  

The skinny, tan, young, blonde, brunette, red, blue, purple women that seem to be more than me. All the pornstars that you think are unbelievable, all the strippers that I can never be, all the bodies you've touched and dreamed of touching that aren't mine.  The random neighbors, random grocery store workers, hair stylists, the wives of your friends, etc… 

The list never ends. 

I feel like such a failure around you because of all of this. I feel like a waste of space, like I'm worth NOTHING.

It's suffocating.
It's debilitating. 

You make me feel like a mistake. Like the world is better off without me. 

And sometimes I actually believe this.
Today is one of those days.

I never would have guessed.

Thirteen years ago I never would have guessed that I would be where I am... thirteen years later.

Thirteen years ago on August 14th, 2001 I was at my wedding dinner celebration.
It was at a beautiful golf course.
We were with our family and closest friends.
We were getting married the next day.
It was a happy celebration.
I wrote and sang Mr. Wonderful a song.

Thirteen years later, on August 14, 2014 I was meeting with an attorney.
It was at a friends house.
I wasn't with any family.
We discussed the possibility of divorce and what that may look like.
I was so sad and confused.
I came home and cried myself to sleep.

I never would have guessed.