All Talking Donkeys Aren’t Messengers From God

Occasionally, I’ll look at the dashboard of this site, and one or more of the search terms will catch my eye. Mostly, even after the hellacious year I’ve had, the search terms that are the most likely to drive traffic here are “three boobs”, “motorcycle gangs”, and my personal favorite, “nipple shirts”.

Let’s face it.

Three Boobs and Nipple Shirts are subjects that aren’t really good foundations for a serious conversation about life. It’s just appalling to me that men wear shirts that showshrek and donkey their nipples. Ugh. I’d like that to stop immediately.

Motorcycle Gangs” is more interesting, but again, I doubt I have much to contribute to that subject anymore.

Ahhh, but today, I found one in my little collection that made me stop and say “hmmm”. The term was this;

meth spiritual enhancement

So, to the person who typed in this awesome search term, this post is dedicated to you.

In my quest to understand what Chef was going through, I studied everything I could find about this creepy drug. What I found out could fill up volumes, but for this discussion, I’ll boil down some things I understand about the drug that I believe should be considered directly in connection with spiritual enhancement, or any kind of enhancement, for that matter….physical, academic, cultural, etc.

Bird Fact #1: Enhancements when you are high are only Huge Brain Farts when you sober up again.

To my understanding, the drug affects the pleasure center of your brain. This magnificent computer we carry around inside of our skulls works like a file cabinet, storing stop dudeand categorizing things constantly. If a memory makes you happy, it tends to store that memory close by for future quick reference. If some memory makes you sad, it gathers that clutter up, and safely keeps moving it back into the recesses of your brain, out of reach of accidently being hurt by it. It’s the same for things that give us pleasure. Those things that give us pleasure are  stored safely within reach in our pleasure centers of our brains.

That being said, I do wonder if people actually stop and really examine what we each have stored there. Meth is an excellent way to find out, except who really needs to know that badly? The bad side of this drug greatly outweighs the good, so no, I’m not saying you should try it even once so you know what really makes you happy. Figure it out..You’re smarter than that!!

Bird Fact #2: Don’t be an idiot and try this drug because you want to know what really makes you flush with happiness. You might not like the answer, and you can’t unlearn what you already know. Frankly, neither can anyone else who finds out either.

If singing show-tunes on top of your roof in your birthday suit for the entire world to see is something that you derive real pleasure from, chances are this drug will enhance that desire in you, and your filter which considers consequences of such an action will be bypassed. You’ll dance, sing and traumatize the neighbors to your heart’s content, and you’ll feel good about it…

“I finally get to be me!”  you’ll be assuring yourself.

wrong if it feels good

Wanna Bet?

And then,  your filter comes slowly back to life again as you sober up, and you find yourself  in jail for public nudity, dressed in a discarded moomoo that smells like someone died in it, holding an eviction notice in your hand. To make matters worse, your best friend not only recorded your spectacular plummet from respectability, but then uploaded your shameful experience onto YouTube, and the creepy perv down the street that no one makes eye-contact with, has baked you a cake with a shank in it. Suddenly, the problems you were trying to escape from in the first place don’t seem as bad as the ones you’ve just created during your “mental vacation”.

See how that works? If God, spirituality, religion, or some such thing is something you get pleasure from, you bet your booties, it’ll come up when you are high. I know, because when I used this drug, God was foremost in my thoughts and actions. And yet, even in my intoxicated state, while I felt like God appreciates all the publicity He can get, my conscience kicked in at the same time, imploring me to wait until I was sober before launching into whatever ridiculous thing I was poised to do for Him, like what I’d learned about Him while I was high. I’m pretty sure He’s grateful I didn’t try to “help” the cause during those moments.

It is my opinion that most people, especially men, tend to have sex in their pleasure centers, and women tend to have love in theirs. Meth is considered a sex enhancement drug, but it didn’t work that way for me at all. Because of my complicated relationship with sex, it didn’t actually take up residence in the pleasure center of my brain; but love did. As long as Chef made me feel like he loved me…high or not…I was on board with the sex thing. But if he didn’t, he was on his own. Meth is a very selfish drug. Right there, you can almost see why this crappy drug ruins marriages. One person wants to feel loved; the other wants pure, animal sex. And for most people, there is the ability to love someone without having sex with them, and to have sex with someone you don’t love.

Hence, breakdowns occur.

Bird Fact #3: I’d always be very careful about anything that you “learn” on meth, or any drug. Without that consequence filter, we are susceptible to accepting lies, and turning them into truths in our own minds, which invariably leads to being slapped on the side of the head with our “Oh-Crap!-What-Have-I-Done” brain-gag reflex instead.

Can you learn spiritual truths when you’re high? Sure. You can probably learn anything on dope if it’s important enough to you.

Once upon a time, God made a donkey talk but just because you see the Donkey from Shrek  jabbering at you while you’re high, it doesn’t mean you actually a) saw a donkey physically speaking to you or b) that you’re a character on the next Shrek, or that c) all donkeys secretly know how to talk and are laughing silently at us clueless humans, or even that d)  God had something special to tell you from this lively donkey. It just means you burned your brain a tad too much, and you’ve hallucinated a fake donkey singing a Tina Turner song  to you.

My advice: Render that little nugget of experience to the mental trash can it probably deserves to be in.

If it was so important that God get a message to you that He’d use a donkey  or even more unbelievable, a Tina Turner song, He’d have probably waited until you were sober and there could be no question it was a miracle of God instead a miracle of Dope.

We all look for reasons to excuse something we’re doing that we know we are wrong to do, by finding something positive enough to justify it to others, and mainly ourselves. I’ve found that the “I’m spiritually awakened” excuse is pretty common amongst those of us that tend to like to have a little chemical uplifting from time to time, and frankly, it’s a pathetic one.

Here’s life choices in a nutshell — you don’t owe anyone a reason or excuse for what you do or want to do; but by the same token, you’re the one stuck with the consequences, so don’t be surprised when you’re eating a bucket-full of guilt, shame, and general self-loathing. Own your crap, pay your dues, learn from it, and start a blog or something. Most importantly, forgive yourself and move on.  Don’t waste a whole lot of time on coming up with an acceptable reason or excuse that people will buy. Nobody really cares about that but you anyways.

I’ll leave you guys with one more observation that I’m pretty sure everyone can identify with.

learnBy a show of hands, how many of us know at least one old hippie-wanna-be who’s burned out his/her brain so much, we roll our eyes when they head down Enlightenment Lane?

Yeah. That’s what I thought… :-)

Don’t be that person. Find your enlightenment and spirituality with a full set of brain cells working. That way, you’ll be prepared to defend your opinions and views, and not have people rolling their eyes as you walk away, telling their little children to stay away from you because you think you’re Shrek or something. I’m just saying…

Hope all the mothers had a wonderful Mother’s Day! Especially you, Diane! I love you!

– Bird

PS: I want to wish DJ, my son, a Happy Birthday! You’re my favorite son, little man! I love you!

How Algebra Is Hurting My Divorce Recovery

Algebra Equation

Algebra Equation (Photo credit: Evelyn Saenz) Bastard Subject crippled me!

Growing up, my stepfather moved us around a lot, so I went to a lot of different schools. But, inexplicably, we would move back to this one town periodically — maybe to re-group for the next move — and I would return to a private church school filled with people I’d known since I was little. I always loved returning. It felt like home, and it meant I didn’t have to go through that awkward “new girl” thing.

The school was basically set up so that we students taught ourselves. Does anyone remember the ACE system? PACES? The way our school was set up is that all the students in the school sat at a “cubicle”. After testing, we’d be given our PACE’s, which were basically little work books. We’d read our lesson and complete any assigned work. If we had any questions, we had a little Texas Flag or a little United States Flag that we would put in a hole at the top of our desk, thus indicating to the supervisor or voluntary school monitors that we needed help or we needed to go grade our work. Once given permission, we’d take our workbook (PACE) to an island in the middle of the room, find the answer key for our particular book, grade it, and returned to our desk. If I’m remembering correctly, we usually had 5 or 6 subjects each, so you’d basically perform this same routine for each subject. Frankly, I loved the system. You moved at your own pace, and there was never any reason to get bored. I flew through some subjects. English, English Literature, History, Bible….Some things came blessedly easy for me. But some things did not, and as a freshman in high school, my nemesis was algebra.

What an unholy, brain-freezing concept this was to me! X = Y – Z(A) * B/56….What the hell!? Who gets to decide what X equals? Is that a paying job somewhere? And why can’t he just give the stupid answer? Why all the mystery and games? I was baffled.

I mentioned a million posts back that I went to that private school with some of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met, so I was reluctant to let anyone know that while most of my friends were wading through calculus and trigonometry, I was struggling with a subject that, let’s face it, is just one tiny step up from learning our times tables. It blew.

I read and re-read those stupid workbooks, struggling to make sense of what was going on here, but my brain was completely uncooperative. It took very little time for me to decide that this was stupid, I was never going to get it, and my next step was to figure out how to get out of having to know it. Yes. I was a very optimistic person about solving my own problems.

The thing is, you don’t get to graduate from high school without algebra. Forget geometry, or trig, or calculus! And I didn’t want to be “the stupid one” at school. I was getting my butt kicked by this subject, and it was really starting to wear on me.

Enter, Mr. S. Mr. S was the supervisor over our entire school, and I was his and his wife’s baby-sitter. I’d had Mr. S explain this Algebraic Hell to me a few times at school, but I was embarrassed to have the other geniuses that sat around me to know I was struggling with something they had probably passed as kindergartners, so I’d quickly say I understood him, figuring I’d just figure it out by myself — alone — later on. Turns out, that would be a trait in myself that has caused me a lot more work than was probably necessary.

One evening, I was working on my homework at Mr. S’s house while he and his wife prepared to go out for the evening. I don’t remember if I asked for help or he just noticed I was struggling. My guess is that he just noticed I was struggling, because I didn’t want him to think I was a moron, either.

He told me something that has stuck with me all of my life, and many, many times I’ve reflected back to that moment when I realized something very, very true about myself.

He said, “Cathie, why do you make everything so complicated? If you take each step and focus on just that one step, before you know it, all the steps are done, and you have your answer! Don’t try to just jump to the end, skipping as many of the steps as you can. You don’t save time that way! You’ll come up with the wrong answer, and you’ll end up having to do it all over again.”

Then, he sat down and began explaining, in detail, each step of my algebra problems, and a light went off in my head. Suddenly, everything fell in place, and the logic was perfect. I love logic, and it is still surprising to me that out of all the subjects in the world, the one subject that simply is pure logic would be so hard for me. Without exaggeration, algebra became my very best subject, and I was able to apply that lesson to almost every aspect of my life from then on out.

Maybe the worst thing about going through my separation is that emotions aren’t dependable, yet they have this super-human strength to really belt us in the face. You can take a cheater + a co-dependent and still equal all sorts of different scenarios. Some women/men will stay even if they know without a doubt they won’t really ever be happy. Some of them flipped the offender off as they exit the door, and then fall apart in their cars. (That one would be me…). Some of them can walk away, adjust quickly, and seem to recover in minutes. It is all such a slippery, unpredictable mess and my very soul hates unpredictable, slippery messes. I want an algebraic logic to my life, and this whole situation hasn’t been easy for me to negotiate because I have freaking no clue how I myself am going to react next. I feel like my own personality is playing this game with me, and I’m kicking my own ass. The upside is, I’ll emerge the victor either way. :-) The downside is that, I don’t have a Mr. S around to make the light switch in my brain flip on.

What I really liked the best about the ACE program was that it taught me something more valuable than the schoolwork. It taught me how to teach myself. I’m always in the process of learning something new. I love to learn. I’ve held several kinds of positions in my life such as paralegal, book-keeper, human resources, network administrator, help-desk manager, IT, and a slew of other kinds of jobs. And every time I would begin a new “career”, I’d study, study, study so I would know as much as I could about my position. Hence, at 44 years old, I have this confidence in my ability to learn anything. Now that I’m dealing with circumstances that don’t follow any kind of logic to me, added to my fluctuating emotions, I’m frustrated with myself. And to make the experience really super exciting, I’m not a patient person either! I want this crap over with, and I want it right now! Yeah. I can be a lot of fun.

I tend to have way more patience for other people than I do myself, and one of the things I’ve been struggling with these last few weeks is with the question “why”. It isn’t the usual question…”Why did he do this?”. It the question, “Why am I doing this?” You’d think that since we inhabit these brains, we’d have a clearer picture of why we do what we do more so than anyone else, but I’m beginning to doubt it.

I’ve spent the last few weeks reading every single thing I could find about the emotional side of breaking up. I’m probably an hour away from being certified as a therapist. And you know what I’ve learned about myself? I’m a control-freak that doesn’t accept reality easily. I always think I can change anything, and even when it is clear as day that I’m going to fail, I’ll try anyways. I don’t know, but that feels a bit like a pride problem. Great.

What a bummer.

The truth…The logic in all of this creepy, painful mess is kind of the same as the algebra lecture Mr. S gave me. Stop skipping steps. You aren’t going to save yourself any time (or pain), and you are going to come up with the wrong answers. If you don’t really live in the process, it will become like a bone that wasn’t set properly. Yes, you’ll probably be able to use it, but it will always have a little ache to it and sometimes it just will never work properly again unless it is re-broken and set again.

I don’t want to have to “re-break” a wound that I didn’t allow to heal correctly. I’ve read a million other women’s stories on different sites, so I don’t feel quite as embarrassed about my different, pathetically weak reactions to thing. (Except, I’m still pretty mortified about the Drunk Dialing Incident). But one think that is perfectly logical to me is that if God wanted to  get me to really look at the areas in myself that needed to be addressed, this was the perfect way to get that accomplished. Just read all the posts since this started, and you’ll see how many different, somewhat alarming, lessons I’ve learned about who I really am.

While all of this has sucked the big one, though, I’ve also learned some things about myself that I can like, too. I was always a little fearful that I needed someone to take care of me…that I would always be dependent on someone else. Not true. I not only can support myself, but I can do it in a very rough part of town, and hold my own. I bought a tool kit, and I can now use every single thing in it. I replaced my own door-knob. Laugh if you want, but that is a pretty big accomplishment for me. I’ve learned that it is bad for the oil light to come on in your car, and then I learned how to check the oil and add the appropriate amount. I’m learning that I like living single. Who knew? I never have done that before! I think I like myself more these days than I did before. And it is based completely on my own opinion..not anyone else’s. Yes. My emotions are all over the place these days, but my reactions a bit more controlled. And I guess the thing I’m learning that I value the most is that even in the midst of all of this, I’m still able to learn something from it.

I’m okay. Feeling quieter, but in a good way.

Even when the occasional, overwhelming tears erupt, they are not the despairing kind that feel like death… They are more the sad homage to a life I really loved once, and while it is gone, it deserved the appreciation it is given. If I hadn’t been so content in the life, it wouldn’t have mattered as much that it was over. So, I’m giving myself a bit of a break that it seems to be taking FREAKING FOREVER to be completely, 100% happy and content again.

I will say this, though. After reading a ton of people’s thoughts, feelings, etc., about their own divorce fiasco’s,  I was struck by the sheer number of these women that were still very much caught in that painful time years and years later. I don’t have any judgments against any person living in their own hell, but someone just please shoot me right in the head if 5 years from now, I’m still talking about this!!!!!

:-)

– Bird

Pocket Full of Sunshine

Sorry I’ve been neglecting my site the last couple of days, but something happened today that was actually interesting enough to write about.

Thanks to my lessons in Colorado, my Divorce Dance was awesome!!!

Thanks to my lessons in Colorado, my Divorce Dance was awesome!!!

I got my divorce papers!

Now, I still have to dig up a little more scratch before I have the whole sad mess floating down the polluted canals of our justice system, but I have to say the joy pierced the flu symptoms I’ve been suffering from the last couple of days.

What has two thumbs, is going to be single soon, and danced around the living room singing Pocket Full of Sunshine into her hairbrush? This Girl!!! Being able to see an actual, physical manifestation of THE END for this crap chapter of my life is my best moment of 2013 so far. Let’s all hope this is NOT where it is going to peak, though. That would suck.

Anyways, I’m going back to bed now. Just thought I’d share.

Love ya, mean it!

Bird

PS: I did want to say thanks to the people who recently nominated me for the Reality Blog Award. I plan to accept it, I just haven’t been feeling well.

Burning Bridges Over Polluted Rivers

It’s been kind of a long week, but I have to admit I am feeling pretty peaceful.

It seems to me that each time I’ve interacted with Chef, I’ve lost some of that “loving feeling”. Which in my case, is a good thing. I’ve noticed that he even looks

Sometimes, you just have to let it all go. Some things aren’t worth saving.

different to me, and after all of the lies, the affairs, the blatant way he has been using the few(two, if you count me) people left in his life, I have to ask myself — Do you really want to fix this mess, Catherine? And I’m okay with the answer. No. I don’t. Not at all.

I’ve always used the cliché “don’t burn your bridges”, but I’ve never really thought about just what that means. I imagine this life I had as a river.  The bridge and the river that runs underneath it are mutually individuals, but without one, the other doesn’t matter. This marriage’s river is polluted by drug abuse, infidelity, broken promises, broken dreams, broken children, lies, deceit, disrespect, and a million other bad things. Why would I want to try to patch this bridge up? The river is ruined…forever.  No. I’m okay with it burning right to the ground.

I believe anyone who wants to can change, and I don’t doubt that God loves Chef and wants him to come to Him for help and healing. But that isn’t my job, and I’ve found that the more I’ve tried to help, the worse I get hurt because Chef’s meth-ed out brain has become a labyrinth of justifications, accusations, and excuses for some really horrific behavior. He seems oblivious to the truth and seems to happily live in his bubble of lies. I don’t understand it, and frankly, I don’t want to. And just being around him for a little while is enough to bring out the very worst pain I’ve ever felt. I’m okay with never seeing him again. In fact, I find that preferable. I’m on day 3 of no contact, and I’m finding it easier to breathe. I went hours today without even once thinking about him. I made plans this weekend with friends, have kind of started my Christmas list for the kids, and have enjoyed my animals. Milo broke his hip earlier this week and it was touch and go if he would make it or not, but thank the Lord, he’s going to be a little lame from the deformed hip bone, but he’ll heal up just fine. I have a ton of beautiful things in my life starting with my patient, precious children, real, loyal friends, and running all the way down to my broken cat. I’m actually happy as I sit here typing this. I know bad days will come again, but they don’t seem to take my breath away anymore, and while I know I’ve developed a bit of an edge, I’m assured by a high school friend that I always had one anyways…lol. Thanks for that, Scott. :-) I know God will teach  me a million more lessons through all of this, but today’s was pretty cool …. He was always there; He always cared; This breaks His heart too; but I’ll be fine. I can still find things to laugh about every day, and turns out, it was never Chef that gave me that…It was God. So, today, I have hope. A lot of HOPE!!

On a whim, I bought City on a Hill: Songs of Worship, and this song really touched me. I’m one of God’s stubborn children, and I have to admit that there have been times in all of this that I was afraid He would give up on me. My behavior hasn’t been exemplary by any means at times. There have been days I didn’t feel Him around, and I just wanted to know He still cared; that He hadn’t forgotten this one child’s heart-break. Turns out, He was there all along, because if He hadn’t been, I’d either be dead or in jail for taking ole Chef out of the game of life. The bond of marriage to someone for decades doesn’t unravel easily, and this has really sucked. But, it is loosening, and I’m optimistic it will be severed completely soon. Happy Days!! I included the lyrics to this song because they touched me. I hope you YouTube it and listen. It strikes a chord in a broken child of God’s heart.

 

– Bird

You’re Here – Sixpence None The Richer

My life is up and it is down
I try to keep both feet on the ground
Your love is all that gets me through
All I need on this earth is you

And I can hear your voice reciting:
“I’m here, I’m closer than your breath
I’ve conquered even death
I am still here
And just like I was then
You can’t remember when I was not here”

Jesus, you’re the author of my heart
Told me you wanted every part
And now my life and its demands
Are resting safety in your hands

And I can hear your voice inviting:
“I’m here,
I’ll never leave your side
My stubborn weary child
I am still here
Please let me lead you on
Your race is already won
I am your God”

And I can hear your voice inviting:
“I’m here,
I’ll never leave you side
My stubborn weary child
I am still here
Please let me lead you on
Your race is already won
I am…I am…your God”

 

My Pictorial Summary of the Last Year of My Marriage

I don’t know about you guys, but I love pictorial stories. And thank the Lord, the internet is just swimming with the perfect pictures, quotes, and general information needed to put together a fantastic pictorial story. So, since my day started off like garbage, I’ve decided to write a pictorial of the last year of my life that makes me feel better. This, added to all the encouragement and general outpouring of kindness you have all showed me, has helped me end on a more positive, happier note. You guys are the greatest!!

On October 16, 2011, Chef decided he was old and needed to launch into a midlife crisis to make himself feel better:

It only took me one whole year to decide that I was finished being shook up.

Because he always does things in a really big way, he chose the absolute worst drug on the face of the earth to play around with and lost his mind:

But it looked like so much fun!!! Trust me. It isn’t.

And who could have guessed that inserting Drano, Lithium, and who knows what else into his brain would make him insane? Well, I could. I’d seen it before with my first husband. But I was in love, and I just knew I could save him. How many people on this earth have thought that exact same thing?

Unless you become a meth addict. Then, I don’t want you anymore. Your flaw almost killed me.

For months, I tried to deal with his problem without any help. I didn’t tell anyone…our kids, families, friends…no one. I didn’t want to embarrass him. I thought I could fix it by myself, even without his help.

Everybody stand back! I got this!!

It was ridiculous now that I think about it. I used to think I was pretty smart. You sure couldn’t tell by this whole fiasco!

I mock no one anymore. I’m living in a glass house.

As the drug took over, my life turned into this strange roller-coaster of secrets, PTSD, lies, pain, and addiction. It was horrible. What was worse is that because of the nature of the problem, I felt like I had to keep his secrets, too, and I hate secrets. I seriously HATE them.

He had locks on all kinds of stuff. He had lots of secrets, I guess.

The up side of it was I gained some interesting skills that ensure me a place as a low level mob known associate. Either that or I can become one heck of a stalker. I can pick locks, break passwords, use an adapter to see what websites he’s been looking at, clean out viruses downloaded by porn, and run off bikers from the front porch with a shotgun. I’m flush with new skills!!

My favorite was busting his passwords and changing them to things he’d never guess. I know. But I had to have some fun somewhere.

Finally, I figured it all out, and it turned out he was being unfaithful. It was a kick in the gut, but I seriously already knew that was what he was doing anyways. I just wanted some proof. As things fell even more apart, I finally turned to my family and friends for help. Every single person thought I should leave, but I didn’t. I just didn’t want to believe he would pick a drug over me and the kids. But he was too far gone by that time, and I should have given up. I mean, he was doing bizarre things.

How crazy am I for trying to reason with this?!

He is always surprised at the level of hostility I have about him cheating on me. Seriously. What did he think I’d think?

Finally, after a seriously dangerous incident, I finally put distance between us, but I was a basket case. I couldn’t believe all of this was happening.

My pain and sadness was understandable, but I felt pathetic. I knew he had done things to me that other people would never have tolerated, and yet I couldn’t quit excusing him. I still excuse his bad behavior. I think that makes me somewhat pathetic.

Even though I am a Christian, there were times that I lashed out, wanting him to hurt like he had hurt me. I’m ashamed of that, but it is what I did.

This is pretty close to the terminology I used….

Finally, days started coming and going without the tears. I was able to not think about him, or my whole life, for an hour here or there.

Ahhh. I’d love a little amnesia right about now. :-)

I still harbored some hopes that one day I’d get a chance to talk to him about all of this hellish behaviors that cost us both so much, but he doesn’t want to address any of it with me. However, he’s still pretty upset that I wouldn’t move back in with him when his girlfriend dumped him and turned off his utilities.

Wow. This is him in a nutshell.

Now, even though I live in a new apartment, love my job, have my kids, friends — both online and in real life — I seem to not be able to shake that last little bit of codependency that strives to make me as nuts as he is. I wrote him off forever, and within 24 hours, I’d answered his phone call again. I felt low, low, low.

Wretched Addictions  Why couldn’t we have shared the same one? Oh, that’s right. We did. I’m addicted to him, and so is he!

But, thank God, I was able to get my feelings out, get great advice and encouragement, and I’m back on the path to healing again. Thank you all for your prayers and encouragement. Don’t count me out yet. This war isn’t over !!!

Ok. It’s a little off the message, but I want this sign for my bedroom. :-) It makes me laugh.

Love, Bird