Good Enough

As any of you that have read this blog since the beginning (THANK YOU!) know, my divorce was rough.

You know the marriage was rougher.

Ward and June Cleaver we weren’t, that’s for damn sure.

Who cleans house in high heels and pearls??

Who cleans house in high heels and pearls??

I wasn’t spectacular to him. I’ll take responsibility for my share of blame in the collapse of our marriage. To be sure, he wasn’t spectacular to me. The only honest thing he did before he left with that other woman (I’m working hard at reining in my Bitter Bitch) was to admit that he had spent 16 years emotionally and mentally abusing me.

Yes, he admitted it. Shocking, no?

And, here we are, over two years since the separation and almost two years from the divorce and I’m still dealing with that crap.

hand tiedHow frustrating is that? I know that I can’t expect to be over it immediately. I know that I will feel the effects for years. But I have made so much progress in coming back to life that it is so defeating sometimes to know that I am still trying to untie myself from his definition of who I was.

It is so very hard to recover your self-esteem, your sense of self, when you spent 16 years with the person that you pledged to love and who pledged to love you, trying to do the best you could and it was never enough.

You were never smart enough.

You were never skinny enough.

You were never pretty enough.not good enough

You were never sexy enough.

You were never a good enough mother.

You were never a good enough housekeeper.

You were never…..

Nothing I ever did was good enough for him.

When the man that you have married tells you that you are subpar at every level on a daily basis, you don’t just get over that in a snap.

So, here we are, two years later, and I’ve met this guy. He’s pretty terrific. OK, he’s more than pretty terrific, but we’re not going to go into massive details. Let’s just say that he’s very sexy, very smart, extremely witty, a talented storyteller and so much more *nudge, nudge, wink, wink*.

He’ll tell me that I’m beautiful and sexy and smart. He does so with regularity and ease. You can tell that he means it, that he’s not lying to just get into my pants. I can tell he means it. Truly means these things that he says.

And I want to believe him. I do. I want to see what he sees. I want to feel that I’m beautiful, sexy and smart.

Sometimes, when we talk or when I’m with him, I feel it. I feel like I’m all of those things and more. I feel like Superwoman having a man as great as him think those things about me.

But, when our conversation is done, or I go home, or even sometimes when we are chatting, I wonder what it is that he sees.

I know he can’t be seeing the same woman I see. That woman isn’t smart, nor sexy, nor beautiful. She doesn’t have anything to offer to a great man like him. Why does he still talk to me?

For 16 years I was told that I wasn’t beautiful, sexy or smart. For 16 years I was told that I wasn’t enough. So, how can I be enough for this man who has everything in the world to offer a woman?

And therein, my friends, lies the issue.

I have to stop wondering what I should do to “be enough” for a man in my life and just be me. Be myself in all things.

Good enoughI have to stop trying to be anything for anyone and just be the person that I am.

I have to just be me.

I have to be that woman whose eyebrows are never plucked quite right, whose roots constantly need touching up, whose house is never clean enough, who feeds too many stray cats because she’s a sucker for them. I have to be that dorky lady who laughs too loudly at lousy puns, who thinks science jokes, Doctor Who and Cosmos are pretty awesome. I have to embrace my almost bottomless pit of trivia about nothing that anyone in the world cares about. I have to appreciate my love of all things J.D. Robb, Patricia Briggs, Laurell K. Hamilton, and J.K. Rowling. I have to be political and care about what is going on in the world. I have to be all of those things.

Because all of those things make up the person I want to be.

If somewhere along the way I happen to be lucky enough to find someone who is willing to accept me with all of my quirks and my dorkiness and my lame jokes and my obscure passions, and also finds me sexy and beautiful and smart, then that will make me a pretty lucky lady.

It doesn’t mean that I will not ever have periods of self-doubt. Bouncing back from a bad relationship isn’t easy and it takes time.

But I have to stop wondering what he sees in me, why he likes to spend time with me, what the attraction is. Instead of questioning it, I need to just accept it.

It doesn’t matter why. It doesn’t matter what.

All that matters is: He does.

That’s good enough for me.

Advertisements

An ending and a beginning

Well, my muse went on a vacation and came back all tan and relaxed (bitch!), but she’s back now and so am I.

Wish I could have gone with her. Instead, I was stuck in Jersey.

 

I hope that all of you have had a great couple of weeks while I’ve been absent.  I actually had a lot of things to accomplish before the 11th, including many handmade gifts for my friend’s baby shower.

I firmly believe that every single baby should have something handmade when it comes into the world.  Let’s just say that her baby is covered on that account!

It was a little over a year ago when I started this blog.  The anniversary came and went at the beginning of August.  I’ve enjoyed writing here and I hated that my muse left for her own fun during that time.

Since I’ve been gone, things have moved forward, as they are wont to do in the real world.  Time doesn’t stop moving forward.  The sun doesn’t stop rising in the east and setting in the west.  Even when we think it should.

The boys came back to me on Sunday.  I missed them terribly and I’m glad to have them home.  They’ve grown so much just in the 7 weeks that they have been gone from me.  They were ready to come home and I was ready to have them home.  Now that they are home, the silence is gone from my house, I don’t have access (too often) to the television and the living room looks like a bomb exploded in it.  But that’s alright.  That’s my normal.

Monday, 13 August, I had to attend 3.5 hours of economic mediation with him.  We discussed many things, many numbers and many issues.  We managed to settle a bunch of them by ourselves (with the mediator) till the lawyers walked in and mucked it all up.  At the end of the 3.5 hours, we were all ushered outside and his lawyer went on his merry way (he had an appointment I guess) with the agreement that we would all meet at the courthouse on Tuesday morning at 0830.

He contacted me Monday evening and we discussed some more stuff.  We came to an amicable agreement and transmitted such to the lawyers the next morning.  By 0930 we were in a courtroom getting the settlement read into record.

By 1200, I was divorced. 

The official seal on my official divorce decree

 

Yup, that’s right.  The asshole is now just the “ex.” 

It was funny, as we were sitting there listening to his lawyer read the agreement into record, how the weight of the world seemed to lift off of my shoulders.  I realized I didn’t hate him (that might have had something to do with the wonderful settlement I got in the divorce).  I truly didn’t hate him.

I pitied him.

Not because of the mountain of debt that he has (at least $25,000 – none of which I’m responsible for), or the fact that he has to pay me for the next 11 years.  Not because of the horrible credit situation that he had gotten himself in.

I pitied him because he didn’t look happy.  He didn’t act happy.  He didn’t seem happy.  Not with getting the divorce – we were both thrilled to have that over.  He just didn’t look like he was enjoying life at all.

And that’s sad.

I was thrilled to have it over.  I’m done with the stomach clenching feeling that I have whenever I have to go to court or deal with him.  The settlement is done, I’ll get my maiden name back and I can start living my life as a single woman.

That’s thrilling for me.

I understand that it’s the thing to have a “divorce party” these days.  Well, I partied last night.  A private, intimate, sexy party 🙂

It was terrific!

In 14-28 days, I’ll have the addendum to the divorce decree that spells out the settlement.  At that time, I’ll set about getting my maiden name back.

I know that my new life started the day that he asked for a divorce. 

But now I feel like I can move forward into my new life free and unfettered.  I dumped the trash in my life and I feel like I can fly.

I know there will be hardships.  It won’t always be smooth sailing.

But I’ll be the captain of my ship.

And that’s more important than calm seas any day.

Faking Phone Sex

How many women, by show of hands, has faked an orgasm at some point in their life?  *counts*

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Every woman has done it.  Maybe you just weren’t into it that night.  Maybe he was just that bad.  Maybe your mind was on what needed to be done for tomorrow. 

Whatever the reason, there are some of us out there that deserve an Oscar for making their man feel like a man by faking their satisfaction.

I’ve done it.  Don’t be ashamed.  We’ve ALL done it at least once in our lives. 

But last night, I think I stooped to a new low.

I felt like a phone sex operator….and I wasn’t getting paid.

I’ll admit, when my usual NSA (no strings attached) texted me earlier in the evening and started talking naughty, I couldn’t wait to have a little phone sex with him.  He was talking all kinds of stuff – tying me up, spanking me, using his tongue in places that are not mentionable in polite company.

Yummy!

But then I picked up the kids.  I ate a Subway sandwich for dinner and it didn’t agree with me, at all.  At all.

I definitely wasn’t feeling like any phone sex after eating my weight in Tums and fighting with the kids to take a shower and get into bed.

But, I had already promised.  And I don’t like to back out of my promises.

So, after the kids finally got to bed I called him.

And I totally phoned it in. 

I made all the right noises and said all the right words.  I talked sexy and dirty and hmmmm’d and ahhhh’d. 

I did all this while fully clothed and picking out my and the boys’ clothes for tomorrow.

Yes, I totally faked an orgasm on the phone.

He didn’t fake his 🙂

I have phone sex with this gentleman at least once a week.  It’s always enjoyable.  I like it because I never have to worry if I’m making stupid faces or my one-ab doesn’t look sexy in that light or that position.  I can just let go and totally enjoy myself.

But it just wasn’t happening last night.

I take solace in the fact that I don’t normally do this.  This was a one off deal, I hope! 🙂 

But I feel a little guilty that I did phone it in….but not enough that I wouldn’t do the same thing again.

Tums, kids and showers a romantic scene do not make.

Here’s to it being better the next time….and I’ll accept my Oscar whenever the Academy decides to call!