It's been days. And I feel like an invisible weight has been lifted.
It's been weeks. And I feel so rested its unreal.
It's been months. And I couldn't be happier.
It's been days since Chris has crossed my mind. Days since I've wondered how he's been, what he's doing. It's been weeks since I've woken in the night from dreaming of him. Weeks since the fitful sleep has been replaced by the restful. It's been months since I walked away and gave up. Months since I made the single best decision I've ever made in my life.
Victory can be so very, very sweet...
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Parental Guidance
I've never wanted children. As a child, I wanted to play with Tonka Trucks in the sandbox, more than I wanted to play with dolls, and I was taking Martial Arts Training when a lot of my girlfriends were taking Babysitting Courses. From an early age I knew I wasn't going to be a mother, much to my own mother's chagrin.
Yet, here I find myself, in the Shit Hole at nearly twenty-seven years-old, with a nearly twenty year-old son.
My Problem Private. He's mouthy. He's insubordinate. He's disrespectful. He has no regard for rank or regulation. He has caused me nothing but headaches since he fell under my charge. And yet I find myself trying to guide him onto the straight and narrow, shielding him from harm, while still wanting to beat his ass. I finally know how my mother felt when I was in high school and became her Problem Child. I never gave her enough credit.
I am a firm believer that it is Nurture, not Nature, that shapes an individual. You are what you are taught to be -- or what you make yourself into. Having been spawned from a bad apple doesn't necessarily determine a rotten offspring. It is with this mindset that I know some people should have never tried their hand at parenting.
And thus I blame Problem Private's mother... for where else could he have learned such disdain for authority, than from the woman who introduced him to the world through experiences tainted with jail stints and crystal meth? Where else could he have learned to distrust, than from the woman who washed her hands of him when he was small, with lies as to where she was, and why she wasn't taking him home? Certainly not from the preacher who opened his home to his daughter's son and raised him to a man, but instead from the woman who was too much a child herself to raise her own son.
I could pity him. I could despise him. I could count him off as worthless, like so many others have done. Instead, I push him to be better, nag him into doing more, and corner him into doing what's right. Am I pushing him too hard? Not hard enough? And how do I not feel the sting when he looks at me with eyes full of unresolved hate, frustration, and teen-aged angst?
I never wanted children. And yet, here I find myself in the Shit Hole at nearly twenty-seven years old, being the closest thing to a mother my Problem Private has ever known -- and he thinks I'm just as stupid as I thought my parents were once upon a time. I guess life has come full-circle after all...
Yet, here I find myself, in the Shit Hole at nearly twenty-seven years-old, with a nearly twenty year-old son.
My Problem Private. He's mouthy. He's insubordinate. He's disrespectful. He has no regard for rank or regulation. He has caused me nothing but headaches since he fell under my charge. And yet I find myself trying to guide him onto the straight and narrow, shielding him from harm, while still wanting to beat his ass. I finally know how my mother felt when I was in high school and became her Problem Child. I never gave her enough credit.
I am a firm believer that it is Nurture, not Nature, that shapes an individual. You are what you are taught to be -- or what you make yourself into. Having been spawned from a bad apple doesn't necessarily determine a rotten offspring. It is with this mindset that I know some people should have never tried their hand at parenting.
And thus I blame Problem Private's mother... for where else could he have learned such disdain for authority, than from the woman who introduced him to the world through experiences tainted with jail stints and crystal meth? Where else could he have learned to distrust, than from the woman who washed her hands of him when he was small, with lies as to where she was, and why she wasn't taking him home? Certainly not from the preacher who opened his home to his daughter's son and raised him to a man, but instead from the woman who was too much a child herself to raise her own son.
I could pity him. I could despise him. I could count him off as worthless, like so many others have done. Instead, I push him to be better, nag him into doing more, and corner him into doing what's right. Am I pushing him too hard? Not hard enough? And how do I not feel the sting when he looks at me with eyes full of unresolved hate, frustration, and teen-aged angst?
I never wanted children. And yet, here I find myself in the Shit Hole at nearly twenty-seven years old, being the closest thing to a mother my Problem Private has ever known -- and he thinks I'm just as stupid as I thought my parents were once upon a time. I guess life has come full-circle after all...
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Honesty and the Great Panty Caper
Prior to my now broken engagement, I had a lifestyle that people were often judgmental of. I avoided relationships like the plague, worked hard, partied harder, and answered to very few. It suited me, and I'm sure that once I get the hell out of the Shit Hole, I will return to a lifestyle very similar to that. But despite my assertive independence, open-minded nature, and arguably reckless behavior, there was still a line of ethics that I did not cross. There was a certain moral standing that I upheld, even in my most debaucherous of times. Within this personal Code of Ethics, I held an ideal that I will uphold until my last breath -- honesty with myself about who I am, what I want, and what I believe, because in doing so, I have become exceedingly comfortable in my own skin. There was a time when that wasn't always so.
You see, I learned some time ago that honesty is timeless. No matter how old you are, what job you have, or what style you conform yourself to, honesty always fits, is always the right color, and is rarely at too high a cost.
I was raised well, and have my amazing parents to thank for that. I was disciplined when I needed it, supported always, and loved unconditionally. And while my path in life may not have always been on the straight and narrow, my detours never ventured so far into the unexplored morass of moral uncertainty that I couldn't find my way back. I learned to be confident in myself, to trust my instincts, and to take nothing at face value -- and admittedly, I learned most whole-heartedly from my errors. No one is born all-knowing.
So what, pray-tell, happened to so many others in my generation that would cause them now to be suffering from an incurable bout of moral and ethical stupidity?
Case and point:
I don't know his name, so for sake of simplicity and an undeserved anonymity, he will be referred to as: Marine. Marine was seeing a very dear friend of mine, and though he was deployed to somewhere else in this breathtakingly miserable Shit Hole, they kept in close contact via Skype, email, Facebook, and various other electronic communications. This long-distance relationship was maintained for several months, seemingly without issue beyond the pain of distance, and my dear friend had grown quite attached to her military man. Then one day, she decided to import her contacts from her cell phone onto Twitter to find more Twitter friends. Low and behold, as luck would have it, she finds Marine on Twitter, and a wonderfully heartwarming picture of Marine... embracing and kissing his loving wife. My dear friend was the dreaded other woman, and had absolutely no idea.
Now... this is where you, my dear audience, are going to raise an eyebrow. Actually, you'll probably raise both of them before its over. But, please refer to the first paragraph of this post, take a deep breath, and read on:
I will never judge someone for breaking his/her marriage vows. While it is a practice that I cannot see myself engaging in, I can step outside of myself enough to recognize that my needs and the circumstances in which I find myself are very different than that of others. There are millions of people that break their marriage vows every day, and who am I to tell them they're wrong? I don't know them. I don't know what they're living through, living with, or living for. Quite frankly, its none of my business. Nor will I judge those that engage in affairs of the heart (though usually more often affairs of the flesh) with a married partner, as the same logic applies to them -- and again, its none of my business. So long as both parties are consenting adults, it is not my place to judge, criticize, or find fault. Morality Police, I am not.
But, there is a key phrase there that I want to focus on... Consenting Adults. Meaning both parties knowingly engage in the activity. To break it down a little more, both parties not only willingly engage in the relationship, but are aware that one (or both) of the participants are married to another person. Knowingly engage. If they don't know all the facts, is it really consent?
No, I'm not gonna go all oober-feminist and make some claim or comparison to assault. That's way reaching. But, I am gonna say that if you're gonna have an affair outside of your marriage, and not inform the woman that she is, in fact, an extra-marital affair, than you are the most spineless example of a human being that I can fathom.
To return to a sentiment I shared in the beginning of this post, I have not always walked along the path of moral impeccability. Actually, I've walked off that path more often than on, and while I'm not particularly proud of it, I'm not ashamed of it either. I drive too fast, occasionally drink too much, have had sex out of wedlock, dated multiple people at once, and (gasp!) been the dreaded "other woman," both knowingly and not. However, I don't lie or cry to get out of speeding tickets, I don't tell myself its "food poisoning" or "the flu" when I have a hangover, never convinced a suitor he was my "one and only" when he wasn't, nor lied to the significant other ont the two occasions my illicit trysts were found out. These endeavors have lead to a rather colorful personal life, as I'm sure you can imagine, but also a very straight forward one. And while its sometimes messy, I prefer it far well over a life of meticulousness.
In the times in my life when I have been avoiding true relationships and enjoying casual dating, I have never once convinced a man that he was the only guy I was seeing to get what I wanted, nor did I tell him I wanted a relationship when I didn't. Yes, this practice occasionally lead to some hurt feelings and bruised egos, but little more. If you're going to engage in a personal relationship with someone, you owe them honesty. Even when its not what they want to hear.
Now, I have been the "other woman..." The men that I knew were in relationships with other women when I dated them I still count as friends to this day. I could call either of them tomorrow, tell them I was in trouble, and either of them would drop whatever they were doing, and help me any way they could, despite our intimate relationship having been over several years past. Now, the one man who's wife showed up on my doorstep one fall day? Or the man who's woman sent me Facebook messages telling me my "boyfriend" was her "fiancee?" They and I haven't spoken in the better part of four and three years respectively, and quite frankly my feelings wouldn't be hurt if they contracted gona-sypha-herpa-litis, and had to have their penises amputated, and later committed suicide. Don't gasp... Hell hath no fury.
Why the difference? Honesty and trust. The two men whose significant others I knew about were honest with me about the relationships, and what they therefore expected, and trusted me to make a decision that I could live with. They made it my choice. I mattered enough to them to be given that. No, it doesn't grant them amnesty from blame, but it speaks to having a solid character, despite engaging in a behavior that could point to otherwise. The other schmucks lied, cheated, manipulated, and coerced, because they didn't have the intestinal fortitude to admit that there were shortcomings in their life, and were egocentric enough to believe they could pull off the Great Panty Caper. There was no trust, there was no honesty, and there were no ethics. I was a damn throw-away. A human being, regardless of circumstance and station in life should never be a goddamn throw-away.
So, this brings us back to Marine, and his now failed attempt at the Great Panty Caper, who used my very dear friend as a throw-away. Sadly, he's not the only instance of this I've heard about this week. An old friend from my hometown told me a few days ago that not only was the guy she was seeing dating someone else, but he seduced the other woman in my friend's car while she was at work. Another friend of mine got rather threatening phone calls when the man she'd been dating for almost a year turned out to be married with kids. One of my guy friends was dating a woman who turned out to be married... he found out when he was staring down the barrel of a Remington .308.
Honestly, people, what the hell? Personally, if some activity I'm engaging in is gonna potentially get my ass filled with lead, I'd like to know about it beforehand. I'm not saying I wouldn't do it anyway, but I'd at the very least take some extra precautions. How arrogant are you people that you feel you have the right to make those decisions on behalf of others? Yeah, kudos to you if you can have a affair without your spouse finding out. You've pulled off a successful Great Panty Caper. But hell, if they are gonna find out, and your Great Panty Caper is gonna turn into the Valentine's Day Massacre, wouldn't you rather have an ally? How stupid are you? Have none of your life lessons taught you anything of self-preservation, survival instinct, or situational avoidance? No one is born all-knowing. So for the love of God, pay attention. Learn from your mistakes, which admittedly, for some of you, may mean growing a pair and admitting that you actually make them, but at least make a damn effort. Some day, you might be the throw-away. Or your sister. Or your mom. Think about that, the next time you're fine-tuning the Great Escape after the Great Panty Caper. Would you want them to be a throw-away? No, you wouldn't. So have some sort of a moral compass and be honest -- with them, and with yourself.
You see, I learned some time ago that honesty is timeless. No matter how old you are, what job you have, or what style you conform yourself to, honesty always fits, is always the right color, and is rarely at too high a cost.
I was raised well, and have my amazing parents to thank for that. I was disciplined when I needed it, supported always, and loved unconditionally. And while my path in life may not have always been on the straight and narrow, my detours never ventured so far into the unexplored morass of moral uncertainty that I couldn't find my way back. I learned to be confident in myself, to trust my instincts, and to take nothing at face value -- and admittedly, I learned most whole-heartedly from my errors. No one is born all-knowing.
So what, pray-tell, happened to so many others in my generation that would cause them now to be suffering from an incurable bout of moral and ethical stupidity?
Case and point:
I don't know his name, so for sake of simplicity and an undeserved anonymity, he will be referred to as: Marine. Marine was seeing a very dear friend of mine, and though he was deployed to somewhere else in this breathtakingly miserable Shit Hole, they kept in close contact via Skype, email, Facebook, and various other electronic communications. This long-distance relationship was maintained for several months, seemingly without issue beyond the pain of distance, and my dear friend had grown quite attached to her military man. Then one day, she decided to import her contacts from her cell phone onto Twitter to find more Twitter friends. Low and behold, as luck would have it, she finds Marine on Twitter, and a wonderfully heartwarming picture of Marine... embracing and kissing his loving wife. My dear friend was the dreaded other woman, and had absolutely no idea.
Now... this is where you, my dear audience, are going to raise an eyebrow. Actually, you'll probably raise both of them before its over. But, please refer to the first paragraph of this post, take a deep breath, and read on:
I will never judge someone for breaking his/her marriage vows. While it is a practice that I cannot see myself engaging in, I can step outside of myself enough to recognize that my needs and the circumstances in which I find myself are very different than that of others. There are millions of people that break their marriage vows every day, and who am I to tell them they're wrong? I don't know them. I don't know what they're living through, living with, or living for. Quite frankly, its none of my business. Nor will I judge those that engage in affairs of the heart (though usually more often affairs of the flesh) with a married partner, as the same logic applies to them -- and again, its none of my business. So long as both parties are consenting adults, it is not my place to judge, criticize, or find fault. Morality Police, I am not.
But, there is a key phrase there that I want to focus on... Consenting Adults. Meaning both parties knowingly engage in the activity. To break it down a little more, both parties not only willingly engage in the relationship, but are aware that one (or both) of the participants are married to another person. Knowingly engage. If they don't know all the facts, is it really consent?
No, I'm not gonna go all oober-feminist and make some claim or comparison to assault. That's way reaching. But, I am gonna say that if you're gonna have an affair outside of your marriage, and not inform the woman that she is, in fact, an extra-marital affair, than you are the most spineless example of a human being that I can fathom.
To return to a sentiment I shared in the beginning of this post, I have not always walked along the path of moral impeccability. Actually, I've walked off that path more often than on, and while I'm not particularly proud of it, I'm not ashamed of it either. I drive too fast, occasionally drink too much, have had sex out of wedlock, dated multiple people at once, and (gasp!) been the dreaded "other woman," both knowingly and not. However, I don't lie or cry to get out of speeding tickets, I don't tell myself its "food poisoning" or "the flu" when I have a hangover, never convinced a suitor he was my "one and only" when he wasn't, nor lied to the significant other ont the two occasions my illicit trysts were found out. These endeavors have lead to a rather colorful personal life, as I'm sure you can imagine, but also a very straight forward one. And while its sometimes messy, I prefer it far well over a life of meticulousness.
In the times in my life when I have been avoiding true relationships and enjoying casual dating, I have never once convinced a man that he was the only guy I was seeing to get what I wanted, nor did I tell him I wanted a relationship when I didn't. Yes, this practice occasionally lead to some hurt feelings and bruised egos, but little more. If you're going to engage in a personal relationship with someone, you owe them honesty. Even when its not what they want to hear.
Now, I have been the "other woman..." The men that I knew were in relationships with other women when I dated them I still count as friends to this day. I could call either of them tomorrow, tell them I was in trouble, and either of them would drop whatever they were doing, and help me any way they could, despite our intimate relationship having been over several years past. Now, the one man who's wife showed up on my doorstep one fall day? Or the man who's woman sent me Facebook messages telling me my "boyfriend" was her "fiancee?" They and I haven't spoken in the better part of four and three years respectively, and quite frankly my feelings wouldn't be hurt if they contracted gona-sypha-herpa-litis, and had to have their penises amputated, and later committed suicide. Don't gasp... Hell hath no fury.
Why the difference? Honesty and trust. The two men whose significant others I knew about were honest with me about the relationships, and what they therefore expected, and trusted me to make a decision that I could live with. They made it my choice. I mattered enough to them to be given that. No, it doesn't grant them amnesty from blame, but it speaks to having a solid character, despite engaging in a behavior that could point to otherwise. The other schmucks lied, cheated, manipulated, and coerced, because they didn't have the intestinal fortitude to admit that there were shortcomings in their life, and were egocentric enough to believe they could pull off the Great Panty Caper. There was no trust, there was no honesty, and there were no ethics. I was a damn throw-away. A human being, regardless of circumstance and station in life should never be a goddamn throw-away.
So, this brings us back to Marine, and his now failed attempt at the Great Panty Caper, who used my very dear friend as a throw-away. Sadly, he's not the only instance of this I've heard about this week. An old friend from my hometown told me a few days ago that not only was the guy she was seeing dating someone else, but he seduced the other woman in my friend's car while she was at work. Another friend of mine got rather threatening phone calls when the man she'd been dating for almost a year turned out to be married with kids. One of my guy friends was dating a woman who turned out to be married... he found out when he was staring down the barrel of a Remington .308.
Honestly, people, what the hell? Personally, if some activity I'm engaging in is gonna potentially get my ass filled with lead, I'd like to know about it beforehand. I'm not saying I wouldn't do it anyway, but I'd at the very least take some extra precautions. How arrogant are you people that you feel you have the right to make those decisions on behalf of others? Yeah, kudos to you if you can have a affair without your spouse finding out. You've pulled off a successful Great Panty Caper. But hell, if they are gonna find out, and your Great Panty Caper is gonna turn into the Valentine's Day Massacre, wouldn't you rather have an ally? How stupid are you? Have none of your life lessons taught you anything of self-preservation, survival instinct, or situational avoidance? No one is born all-knowing. So for the love of God, pay attention. Learn from your mistakes, which admittedly, for some of you, may mean growing a pair and admitting that you actually make them, but at least make a damn effort. Some day, you might be the throw-away. Or your sister. Or your mom. Think about that, the next time you're fine-tuning the Great Escape after the Great Panty Caper. Would you want them to be a throw-away? No, you wouldn't. So have some sort of a moral compass and be honest -- with them, and with yourself.
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