When will this nightmare called my life end?

My mind is having difficulty grasping the fact that he's left us. It can't be true.

As I stood there while mom told me, I kept closing my eyes hoping that when I opened them, I would wake up from a dream; a horrible, horrible dream; a nightmare. I kept wondering why she would play such a cruel joke. It just can't be true.

It took her two weeks to tell us. All this time he was simply away on his yearly trip to Mexico to visit his family. All this time my pup's been moping around waiting for him to come home.

But he's not coming home. After 25 years, he's decided we're just not a part of his future.

I don't even remember feeling this way when my actual father left.

Is it ironic that just the week before I had posted about the day my father left, not knowing my stepdad had left us also?

I'm pretty good about pretending it's not true. I haven't really spoken to anybody about it since the initial shock. I go about doing my normal activities, but then, there are these moments where it just hits me. My eyes burn as I try to hold back the tears.

Mom says we need to be strong. That we're strong women and will get through this. I want to believe it's true, but I'm completely heartbroken.

Everything is just piling up and I don't know how we're going to get through it all; how I'm going to get through it all. I'm trying to stay positive, but it's getting so hard to do.

I just want to hide from the world. Get completely lost. Not have to think about everything I need to think about.

When I think about what I thought my life was going to be like, how I wanted my life to be, this is definitely not what I wanted. I'm beginning to wonder if any of my dreams are even going to come close to coming true, if I'm even going to be able to make any of the things I want happen.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. There are decisions I don't regret making, but there are others that I wonder what would have happened if I had made a different decision. I don't want to think that way, but so much is just wrong. I haven't felt like myself in so long. Everything feels so wrong. Everything feels so incomplete.

How am I supposed to be strong when I feel so alone and broken?

Adding to my abandonment issues

My stepdad left us.

He told mom he had other plans and they didn't include her.

The day he left

It had been years since my parents were an actual couple. They still lived together, but there was no relationship. I guess you can say they were still together for the kids. They slept in the same room, but didn’t share a bed. Mom slept in the bed and dad slept on the floor. There really was no need; they both could’ve slept in the bed considering mom worked days and dad worked nights. They were never home at the same time. Dad would get home just in time to take me to school and he’d still be around to pick me up. Dad and I would go for ice cream every day after school, especially if I was sick. I always got ice cream when I was sick.

It's no secret. I am not ashamed. I was totally, big-time "Daddy's Little Girl." He bought me everything I wanted without really spoiling me, and whenever my mom or sister were going to punish me, I just had to run to him and he wouldn't let them touch me. He didn't even like it when my grandmother put me to wash the dishes. He always carried me off the milk crate set-up so I could reach the faucet, and she would put me back up there, and he would take me off...and so on and so on. He only ever raised his voice to me once and I can't really remember why.

It was early one morning and my sister had been trying to get me up for school, but I wouldn't budge. I was pretending to be asleep even though I wasn't. The phone rang. My sister answered and called out to my dad. He spoke a few words into the receiver, hung up and left, never to come back. All the while I was pretending to be asleep because I couldn't say good-bye. I knew he was leaving. I had known for days. No one had to tell me. I was 9 years old and I knew my father was leaving us.

He came by a few months later to get the rest of his things. It was around Christmas so he gave me $60 and even gave my little brother $10 even though he wasn't even 2 years old yet. Of course I pocketed the $10. What was a 2 year old going to do with $10?

For years we knew nothing about his whereabouts, and when we did know, we didn't go see him. When I was in high school and college, I would go see him to get money. I was his little girl and he always gave me money. I think that's why my sister resents him. He never helped her the way he helped me. She'd ask for money for college and he wouldn't give her any. I asked, and he handed it over. I was his little girl.

I don't visit my father. I don't call or write. If he calls me, sometimes I answer, sometimes I don't. He sends a Christmas card, but I don't send him one. My mom talks to him more than we do. My sister flat out refuses to speak to him. I love my father, but he has not been a part of my life since the day he left. For years he couldn't even get my age right. I know that when he dies, I will be completely shattered, but yet, I don't do anything to include him in my life.

I lived for my father. He was everything to me. And when he left, I was never the same. It's safe to say I have abandonment issues. I'm afraid of being left again and so I sabotage my relationships, I hurt myself before they can hurt me. Even though I'm fully aware of this, I've never figured out how to stop doing it, how to get past it.

Again with my writing

(Post begun on June 17, 2009.)

I have been thinking about my writing a lot lately. And so many are encouraging me to do it.

I hate to admit it, but I'm scared. I have very little confidence that my writing is even the slightest bit "good." I generally do not believe anyone that compliments me on it. Rarely am I happy with something I write, so the thought of even attempting to write a novel is terrifying.

Besides worrying that my writing just isn't good enough and the fact that I have no frikin' idea what to do in order to get it published, I just don't know what to write about. Mari told me to write about my life, my experiences.

A few issues with that:

1. My life isn't all that exciting. And I haven't done anything so spectacular to warrant writing my autobiography.

2. What exactly about my life would I even write about if I did decide to pursue this venture? I keep thinking about Jen Lancaster and her four autobiographies. They are not your typical autobiographies in , but since they're true to her life, that's what she calls them. Each one of her books has a theme. Like "Such a Pretty Fat" was her attempt to lose weight and everything she went through in a specific time period, while bringing in little anecdotes from her past. I think it's pretty clear I'm not going to write about that. So what would I write about. My work? My sex life, or lack thereof? My crazy ass family?

=====================

I've been looking for my old writings and I can't friggin' find them. I've looked everywhere. Not sure where all my notebooks could be. Must find them. Want to make sure I get them all typed up and stored on my portable drive.

Yay! I was digging through some boxes and found most of my stories, most importantly, the original written copy of a two-parter that was only half-written in Word, so now I can finish it. Unfortunately, one story I can't find anywhere and I'm not sure if I can rewrite it from memory. I remember the the major plot points, but not how I flushed them out. I'm really going to have to find that one. I MUST FIND IT!

And now, to finish typing up the other story. I can already tell I was rewriting as I typed.

False alarm

My period finally came and with it relief and disappointment. I'm in my head too much so of course I drove myself nuts thinking of everything, so much so that I couldn't sleep last night. I kept dissecting everything about the last two months; everything I felt and did, every ache and pain, everything I ate. Ack! I need to get out of my head.

All is well for now. I'm relieved because I'm not in a good place in my life to be a mom right now, but of course, complete and utter disappointment because motherhood is the thing I want the most and doesn't it usually happen that the thing you want the most is the thing you don't get?

Could I be pregnant?

Last week, as I walked to the bus to meet Uni for the day, I caught my reflection in a window and thought to myself, "I look pregnant in this dress." This isn't a rare thought in my head. Due to the cut, style or the way they hang, I think I look pregnant in certain dresses, shirts and blouses. With this particular dress, Uni said it was the way the purse strap hung right under my boobs, cinching the dress into an empire waist, and thus giving the impression of pregnancy.

When I saw my reflection in the window and that thought crossed my mind, in an instant, several other thoughts raced through my mind as well: the date, my last period, my last sexual encounter. In a time span of 10 minutes, as I sat on a bench at the bus stop, the last two months flashed before my eyes. It was almost the end of the month and no period had flowed. I couldn't remember if I had my period in May. Yes, yes I did, but it's late this month, very late. Of course, I must add that my May period was not the norm for me; it was lighter than usual and didn't last as long.

I quickly worked myself up into a frenzy. What would I do if I was pregnant? I can't be pregnant, not right now. It's a bad time for me to be pregnant. No, I can't be pregnant. But sitting there, I knew if I was pregnant, I would have my baby. As much as I believe in abortion rights, I also know I couldn't have one. (You can never make that statement without it sounding like a judgment against women that do, but I don't mean it that way. It's a difficult choice to make and truthfully, there are some women that I wish would have made it.) I thought about how I've always wanted a baby and my fears that I never will. I thought how nice it would be to be pregnant at the same time as my cousin and how our babies could be a few months apart. And I wondered if I would tell him I was pregnant.

Soon, my frenzy was over and I reassured myself that I wasn't pregnant. I thought about my pregnancy scare in 2004 when I was sleeping with P. I had been sitting in my office on the phone with my cousin and she teased me that I might be pregnant. I repeated her tease to a coworker and she ticked off a few symptoms:

• late/missed period - yes, it was late
• frequent urination - yes, but I thought it was due to all the water I was drinking
• tender/sore breasts - yes

Uh, oh, I had freaked out. Even though P and I had always used condoms, what if one of them had a hole and his semen had fertilized my egg?

Obviously, I wasn't pregnant then and the fact that I didn't have any of those symptoms this time was what reassured me. Plus, he didn't come at all.

Later, I mentioned my mini-freak out to Uni and we talked about it a little more. He didn't come, but he still could have secreted fluids and he was in the vicinity, so....

Now June is over and it's officially a missed period. Normally, in my cycle, I would be ovulating soon. I don't have any of the symptoms I keep reading about as the first signs of pregnancy, even though there is also the added stipulation that "every woman is different." Uni plainly said to me last week that I could take a pregnancy test and just get the doubt out of my head. Yes, I can, but I haven't because I'm afraid to know. One way or another, I'm afraid to know the results. There could be a million reasons why I missed my period. Stress coming to the top of the list and the fact that these last (about to be) 3 months since quitting my job I have wreaked havoc on my body with the topsy-turvy hours.

Yes, it would be simple to take a pregnancy test and know for sure I'm not pregnant, but I don't want to go through that disappointment again. Five years ago, I was relieved when it came back negative, but mostly, I was mostly disappointed. I was sad for a baby that never was.

But worse than being disappointed is the fear I feel if I am pregnant. How can I handle it? How can I take care of a baby? I'm not working. My baby wouldn't have a father in his life. (I don't think I would tell him, even though I wouldn't hide it and I'm all over the place on the Internet so he'd know I was pregnant.) The feminist that I am tells me I don't need him in my life, but the '50s housewife in me tells me I don't want to be a single mom.

I know I need to be a mature and responsible sexually active woman and just take the damn test. Know for sure that I'm not pregnant or face it if I am. Because I'm just driving myself crazy with all the what-if's in my head and that's not good. And if I don't, I'd probably have one of those psychological pregnancies (called pseudocyesis, just googled it) since I am emotionally unstable right now (ha ha, still milking it) and that would probably be worse.

I have never met anyone like you and I don't think I ever will. You challenged me to be a better person. You challenged my perceptions; you challenged me. People just accepted what I said because it was me, but not you. You made me think about everything I thought and felt and made me fight for it. You made me think about things I hadn't thought about before and never thought I would. You opened my eyes to prejudices I never thought I held. And best of all, you helped to undo them.

My old blog posts

Thinking about re-posting my old blog posts. An old friend was reading my blog today and I was a little sad that he wouldn't be able to read any of them. What do you think?

Probably not, right? I mean, the whole point of starting a new blog....

Yeah, you're right.

My brother is a cheating scumbag

Two weeks ago I came home to find my brother had some chick in his room that was not his girlfriend and no, they weren't "just talking." I knew someone other than my brother was in the house because the doggy gate was drawn to keep the dogs in the kitchen, except that he also locked them out in the yard. He came out of his room when he heard me open the front door and nonchalantly went into the bathroom, then locked himself in his room for another hour.

In that time, I had let the dogs back in and released the doggy gate so they had free reign of the house. I sat at the kitchen table working on the computer after my conference call. My seat at the kitchen table is at the end of the hallway and gives me a perfect view of all our doors and the front door. He came out of his room, went into the bathroom again and drew the doggy gate out again. By this time, I had also gone into the living room to check the mail, and had thus seen the purse on the couch and it did not belong to his girlfriend.

He goes back to his room and stands in the doorway. My brother is six feet tall and broad. This chick was short and petite and he was trying block her from my view. Puh-lease. They slowly and quietly walked into the living room, turning on the television to cover any noise. And then quietly tried to open the door so she could leave. Really? Did he really think I was that stupid?

Earlier I had felt inclined to pound on his door and scream, "Get that tramp out of this house!" But I relented. However, at this point, with him taking me for an idiot and trying to sneak her out of the house, I could no longer hold my tongue. Remember, from my seat at the kitchen table, I have a perfect view of the door. So I finally yell out, "Why are you trying to sneak her out?"

I believe he called me an asshole and said I am his sister and therefore should be on his side, once the slut was gone. (Why do I call her a slut when she could just be an innocent victim in all of this? Well, if you saw his room, you'd clearly see that he has a girlfriend and that she spends a lot of time here. Directly in front of his bed there is a collage frame with pictures of him and the girlfriend, their names, anniversary date and the words "I Love You." Plus of course a ton of chick-lit books, unless he's going to claim those are his.) I told him it didn't matter I was his sister, I was also a female and what he was doing was wrong. He has sisters and a mother. What if some guy treated his sisters or mother like that? He should think about that. I told him not to think I would keep this secret.

And secret I did not. No, I didn't tell his girlfriend, though I should have. I did tell my sister and mother. I'm pretty sure mom wussed out and didn't say a thing to him. Two days later he left to spend the weekend in Santa Barbara with his girlfriend and her family because she was graduating from UCSB. He played the role of dutiful boyfriend for a week, then brought her back to this house and later to Father's Day dinner with our family and an Angels v Dodgers game after spending the afternoon at our uncle's house.

I should also note that the following day, as I walked into mom's room to watch tv, I tripped over some shoes lined up in front of mom's bed. Unless my mom started wearing boots way too small for her, yes, you guessed it, he put his girlfriend's shoes in mom's room. I was tempted to throw them at him. Mom later put them back in his room when I pointed them out to her.

This past Monday, when she was back in Santa Barbara, my sister came down hard on my brother. Called him trash. Said how disappointed she was in him. That it didn't help being raised by three women and having his father in this house. Told him to ask mom how she felt being cheated on (my dad was a cheater) and if it doesn't hurt her to see him doing the same thing. She told him he wasn't a man. He was pathetic.

Two days later, when just he and I were in the house, we went at it about it. He didn't hear anything my sister told him. He told me to stay out of his life, just like I want everyone to stay out of my life. That's the thing though, I don't bring my life into this house. And again, brought up the fact that I'm his sister. Don't remind me. It amazes me that he sees nothing wrong with what he's doing. That he's not only disrespectful to her, to this house, to his sisters and his mother. I warned him that I would not keep his secret.

I warned him.

I came home tonight after a wonderful day out to find that my brother was not at work like he usually is on Friday nights. To find that the doggy gate was drawn and my pups were in the kitchen. Today though, my brother did not bother to come out of his room upon hearing me in the house. Oh no, he was almost defiant in that respect. I withdrew the doggy gate and let the pups have free reign of the house. At first I couldn't tell if he was in his room with someone or not. He had his stereo playing to cover anything. Soon though, I heard a female voice and I knew it wasn't his girlfriend.

He finally came out of his room and to the bathroom. This time defiant in his walk, daring me to say something. The dogs started barking at his door. They know a slut when they smell one. As they had roamed through the house when I freed them of the kitchen, they would stop at his closed door and bark. He went back into his room and locked the door. Then came out a few minutes later and drew the doggy gate. Back to his room and escorted her out. I withdrew the doggy gate before she was even gone, that curly-haired slut. I checked mom's room, no shoes lined up there.

I warned him.

And we all know the bitch that I am.

I text my sister first, saying her brother was trying to prove he could do whatever he wanted in this house.

And then I text his girlfriend. I asked if they had broken up and if not, that they should.

We'll see what happens. One thing's for sure. Mom is going to get an earful from me and she better do something.

Another thing...I'm no longer the middle child. I'm the youngest again. I don't have a brother.

Totally pooped

Tired and full of yummy food. The baby shower is over and done with - yay! I'm always glad when these things are over, regardless of my feelings for them. I'm just filled with utter and complete relief. It's always so much stressful leading up to them than getting through the day of the event. Everything turned out very well, I think.

The baby shower went on later than I thought it would so then we had to rush me home because my family was waiting to go to dinner for Father's Day since my step-dad has to work on the actual day. I know, I know. How was I ever going to make it through dinner considering I had just eaten, quite a bit of food, at the baby shower? It's the Cheesecake Factory, I had no intention of passing that up. I ate half my meal and brought the rest home. I also brought my slice of cheesecake home. They are both sitting in my fridge, waiting for me to eat them, tomorrow. I was the only one that didn't finish her food. Well, mom didn't eat her mashed potatoes, and since Cheesecake Factory mashed potatoes are the best, I couldn't leave them so they were put in with my leftovers. yum!

Off to bed to rest, relax and review today's photos. More tomorrow.