The Deception

FB_IMG_1459883574804-110 years ago today I practiced deception of which I’ve regretted ever since. I deceived a man who loved me. 10 years ago today I married the man I love and he thought he was doing the same but he married someone else altogether. He thought he was marrying a fun, carefree and happy woman who promised to love with honesty for rest of her days. He did not get what he bargained for at all, instead he married a damaged little girl holding in a deep dark secret threatening to end her life at any moment. This little girl looked like the woman he loved but under that mask she was slowly dying of shame and fear.

It wasn’t a deliberate deception but a façade that had been worn for many years with only small cracks allowing the black poison to seep through just enough to seem like “normal” wear and tear. She believed true love could heal the deeper cracks beneath the surface that only showed to herself in her black tear streaked reflection. Hope and love had to be enough so she pushed the pain down farther and farther until it was even deeper still and the cracks appeared to fade.

He was a good man, hoping to have finally found the other half to his whole.  He didn’t know what was coming so he continued to fall further in love with the façade. Over time he began to see some cracks opening deeper, he thought it must be something he’d done and tried to fix what he thought he had broken.  Day after day the cracks grew deeper, wider and blacker until the mask was almost unrecognizable and he blamed himself.  He saw this happening and knew for sure that it must be something he had brought on.

She knew he did not cause the cracks, they had always been there.  Hidden.  It became harder and harder to hide them, he loved her too much.  Knowing he would not want this woman with gaping and painful fissures, she tried unsuccessfully to masquerade them but they were strong.  After some time he saw them clearly, they were deep, black, ugly  and sometimes glowed red with rage and pain.  He didn’t know what this was or how he could possibly understand how they came to be.  He believed she must be a monster pretending to be the woman he married.  He pushed and pushed until the façade shattered and all the evil and disgusting truths came flooding out.  He tried to understand but it seemed impossible, he saw the little girl.

The little girl, a small and frail little blonde haired girl with tears pooling in her eyes seemed to be hiding, not able to give him the answers he so desperately needed to help his wife.  What can he do, he needed to help her but how?  She wanted to reach out to him and beg him to save her but she was scared, too scared and too scarred to let anyone touch her soul even though she needed it so badly.  He wanted to protect her and to heal her but how can he protect her from her own thoughts?

He did everything he knew how and still he could see that she was broken, maybe beyond repair.  She was so afraid he would find her scars to be too ugly and would throw her away with all the other putrid waste.  Was she worth fighting for?  Nobody else seemed to think so and she felt it was impossible that he would think any differently.  She knew that you can’t fix these cracks no matter how much tape, glue, make up or veils you placed there.  Now he knew, so could she ever be what he wanted or needed?

She tried to do everything in her power to put the shattered pieces back together but shards kept falling out and he was growing weary of trying to pick up those pieces when he found them.  It’s too much for one man and maybe he can’t help her, maybe he needed to give up.  She wanted to be whole for him but she is not strong enough.

She is starting to give up, the pain is too great and she can’t keep holding on to the thin wire of hope.  She has lost so many battles that surrender seems inevitable.



With This Vow

With This Vow

I feel this exactly. So therapeutic to find others that are tormented in the same ways I am. I hate it for them because I understand fully.



One day you wake up and you truly “wake up” for the first time in your entire life. Some would say it happens to everyone in “midlife” but I say that until then maybe it’s that you just don’t get it. Some people never wake up at all, I call these people blissfully ignorant. These people make every excuse for not living and then pretend that they enjoy the mundane.

Today the alarm went off at 5:30AM. I didn’t realize it was my alarm at first but finally hit snooze after a minute for the first time this morning. I would hit snooze 4 more times and then fall back asleep until 6:30AM when I awake to a whining puppy that’s ready to go out. The sun was trying to come through the gray and dismal clouds in the sky in our typical suburban Midwestern neighborhood, my eyes creaking open painfully but just enough to watch my puppy take a 90 second piss then try to come inside so he can shit in my front foyer (WTF). I’m not really awake but I push him back out to take a shit as I whisper “Go poop” over and over until he finally takes a sprint for the yard and squats to push out the turds that were already half creeping out of his asshole. I can only hope to go back to bed while wondering what our neighbors must think of my dialog with the dog at such an early hour. It’s late so I know I can’t sleep anymore, I get the dog safely back to bed with my sleeping husband and older dog.  I slip into the shower to wash the residue of at least 4 hours of sweat I produced the night before as I lay uncomfortable in my bed begging for sleep.

I don’t wash my hair every day but today I did so that I could just pull it back in a wet bun at the back of my head, brush my teeth, spray on some deodorant and slide back into bed for 10 minutes hoping I could lift some of the fog on my brain. At 7:05AM my husband wakes to get ready for work so I know I better get moving, throwing on the easiest outfit I can find (stretchy pants and belly/ass covering shirt) and since my hair was up, a pair of earrings I took both dogs out to make waste in the yard. I’m running late and know somehow that my co-worker will not make it in to work today so I need to get moving. I hastily toss a bit of chocolate and a breakfast drink into my purse and head out.

Barely out of my subdivision and my car dings loudly at me to indicate I am 18 miles to empty and as I’m running late I not so swiftly calculate in my head if I can make it to work without stopping. The answer eludes me so I just decide that I’ll be late and stop in for some gas. I can’t think enough to remember that I need to enter my card before selecting the grade and placing the nozzle in the tank opening so I must start over since the pump is dumber than me if you can believe that. When you are running late it always seems that the pump takes forever so in my mind I’m thinking the line must be dirty. Because apparently I have an extensive knowledge of the inner-workings of a gas pump all of a sudden. I can see that the 3 fella’s in the landscaping truck are watching me and I get angry because this to me is not flattering. Either they are making fun of me sleeping against the car or they are thinking they may have a chance with this less than desirable female with low standards.

Back in my car I see that there is no way for me to stop anywhere to get breakfast so I guess it’s day 135 of a buttered bagel and cup of hot tea. I’m not overly excited since I’m just now realizing that I forgot to bring anything to eat for lunch which means I will also be eating that for lunch. I put my make up on in the car while sitting in traffic.  Yes, fuck you…I have to, stop fucking judging me.  Shortly after arriving at work my psychic powers ring true and my co-worker has sent a note that she won’t be in. Of course this premonition is useless and I can in no way pick the winning lottery numbers out of my ass for the life of me.

In my windowless gray office, a breeding ground for depression, I slowly but surely start my work day and finding that I’m caught up with my work decide that I will check my Facebook updates. This is a huge mistake. I find that the post I’ve shared has comments that unintentionally point out the shortcomings in my “life” and I respond in my current state of “existence” to which my husband takes offense and responds with a nasty comment. This gets me thinking because that is what I do best, I think and then over think and then my life is suddenly in ruins because I start to mentally run through my morning as you see it here and then a typical day, then weeks, then months, then years and so on. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m missing out. Life is passing me by and I’m just existing. That morning routine happens every day of every week of every month…

BTW…I’m writing this at lunch and just realized the breakfast drink I brought is festering to room temperature in my purse.  FML.

I’m an accountant during the day in my dark and sunless office. I do typical accounting functions like running reports, updating or creating spreadsheets, balancing accounts, etc. In addition to that, I’m eating the food rations of an entire third world country causing my stomach to bloat in pain until I hate myself. I look at the clock on my computer about 3 times each hour and count down the time I have left until I can go home. Go home to what? After battling what has to be the US capital of shitty drivers I make it home to pull into my garage, grab the mail and greet the dogs. I take the dogs out where they piss and shit in the yard after a lot of prodding on my part then take them in to feed them. Depending on the time I either start dinner, update laundry and/or deal with the dishes. While cooking dinner I will continue these thankless tasks while listening to an audible book and rummaging through the mail removing our names from the junk mail and recycling the rest. My husband gets home we have the obligatory hug and/or kiss and then we eat dinner in front of the TV. After dinner I remove the dishes and sit back down in front of the TV and read or color. As soon as my husband walks in the door he greets the animals and after a few minutes they start to get on his nerves, he then eats dinner while checking his phone and then most nights he falls asleep until bedtime or makes calls to friends or family, occasionally we will watch a show or two together.

Before bed there is this dance where someone leaves the living room first and the other has to turn everything off and turn on the alarm. I have more shit to do so this is usually me. By the time I come out of the bathroom for bed he is already well on his way to sleep so I get in bed, listen to my book and color for several hours trying to fall asleep only to wake up 4-5 hours later to start the same meaningless day all over again.

I love my husband, the dogs bring joy to my life, at least one of my kids is doing well in life and my job is ok (it pays well) but there are things I want to do and I feel like my life is over about 40 years too early. I don’t want to be this person anymore, I want to enjoy life not merely exist. I want to wake up one morning and have something exciting happen even if it’s a small something.  Maybe I read too many books, or watch too many movies, or maybe it’s just social media that makes me think everyone else is living.

Is it a mid-life crisis? Or is it that I understand more than most about how short life really is and that I want to make the most of it? I know how quickly it can all be over, I could just not wake up tomorrow and what will they say at my funeral?

“Well she had the world’s shittiest childhood but thankfully she almost made it to slightly less than average in her adult life.”


“She had a lot of cool Pinterest Boards.”


I can’t let that happen. Here is what I’ve decided to do about it:

  • I read somewhere that simply planning a vacation, even if you don’t book it can be uplifting. I decided that I would start planning all of my solo trips around the world and then maybe sooner rather than later I will actually go somewhere. I will travel the world, whatever it takes.
  • I will block people from my social media that make me unhappy, starting today I’ve blocked one person and will continue to do so as needed. It’s SO simple!
  • I’m going to get rid of STUFF and maybe downsize my life a little so maybe I can do things more easily.
  • I won’t over extend myself trying to help everyone else. I’m going to do stuff for me.
  • I’m going to take more classes so I can do things I love.
  • Maybe just one side job. Also, to my jobs…YOU are NOT my first priority in life anymore. My nights and weekends are my own and I will work if I choose to.
  • Adventure, gonna try some.

Follow up…

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, I’ve been extremely overwhelmed with obligations as well as recovery from surgery that took some of my time.  I’ve promised so much to so many people and I can’t keep up with myself. In addition, I’ve been trying to be positive so finding it hard to write about my past right now.  This is always such a difficult time for me even though I like the summer.  It’s the anniversary of my father’s death 31 years ago so I’m especially raw and I’m pushing myself to keep from spiraling again.  I will just post this letter to my mother that I’m thinking about sending.

Dear Mom,

Telling me you love me is not enough, your actions tell a different story. I don’t believe your words because you choose to regard my rapist’s life and feelings above mine.  Most people can’t understand a mother that would ignore such a crime against their own child and for the life of me, I can’t explain it to them.  As a mother myself I just can’t imagine this and believe it’s some sort of mental illness that allows you to rationalize his behavior as well as your own.

I do miss having a mother and I wish we were close. I wish I didn’t get angry every time I think of how you abandoned me when it suited you.  Whether you believe it or not, it is abandonment. When I was young I told you what was wrong with me but you abandoned me then by ignoring my story and punishing me so I put the secret away again.  When I told you again as an adult you abandoned me once more by lying and protecting my rapist.

I can’t pretend that I’m ok with your relationship with him and your unwillingness to face the truth. I can’t turn a blind eye while you continue to put other children in danger by sending them to him.  I can’t turn a blind eye to you ignoring your granddaughter, also victimized by this monster that you continue to protect.  What does he have to do for you to treat him as you have us?  We were just little girls and yes it was too late to stop my torture but you did nothing to prevent him from harming others even after I asked you to.

I don’t believe you want a real relationship with me. It seems to me that you just want to continue some sort of fake family image you like to picture yourself in.  You have always tried to hide our real family from your friends and extended family.  I can’t be a part of your fantasy world any longer, I have to be honest to have real relationships.

It may seem like nothing but I wish you wouldn’t include me in your dishonesty. I was already hurting when I went to my uncle’s funeral but because you can’t tell the truth I had to navigate through all the questions about his absence and to top it off, you included my name next to his on the flowers and in your speech.  It’s not ok and you need to stop, he is not my family.  I should have just told them all the truth right then and there, next time I will.

Finally, I will just say that if you continue your relationship with him then you must stop trying to have a relationship with me. I will not waver on this decision.  I have felt so betrayed that it hurts to even think about a relationship with you.  He ruined my life and I have suffered for 38 years so I will do whatever it takes to finally heal from this.