Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Wicked Wednesday...now with more Wednesday!


Oy. Let's make today's Wicked Wednesday short and sweet.

Food Poisoning.

Having just come off of a two days complete body purging, I can tell you it is definitely one of nature's most hideous afflictions.
Everyone is familiar with the symptoms of food poisoning...throwing up, being crampy, cold/hot flashes, pissing out of your ass...it's not cute, but that's how it goes. We all know. And this will bring us into a very oooooold wicked action, perpetrated by dear old Dad.

When I was 4 years old, I got sick. Really sick. Barfing, diarrhea, the whole nine yards. I was living in New York at the time with my mom and my dad, and I had no idea, but my parents were on the cusp of seperation. That doesn't really tie in, by the way, I just want pity. Just kidding. Anyway, my dad was a bartender, so having a long night shift, he slept during the day and left at night. I didn't get to hang out with him very much. I took every opportunity to be with him that I could, and I had no idea, but I really should have just let him sleep. Most of the 'quality time' I spent with my dad as a little girl has had long-term negative effects on my psyche. My father is why I'm afraid of the dark (deathly afraid. It's fairly pathetic that at 25, I am STILL scared of the dark and have to sleep with some sort of light on in my house, but that's how it is. Thanks, Dad!), why I'm afraid of spiders, and why I'm writing this wicked wednesday post about him.

So, back to having the flu at age four. To this day, when I am sick, I am a total baby. I cry for my mommy, I whine until I get my way...generally, there are tears all around. I was that way when I was little...but at least back then, it was excusable. So, let's paint a picture, shall we? I'm an adorable little four year old with a moppy head of curls, all plastered on my face from sweat and raw exertion (best portrait of me EVER!) and I am absolutely bawling my ass of for my mommy. My mom wasn't available, so my dad comes strolling in, cool as you please, eating an apple. You may think this is a lot of detail for me to remember, but this singular scenario has fucked me up completely. I will never, ever forget it. I'm crunched over the toilet barfing out whatever jar of play-doh and mud clumps I consumed (one of my favorite games when I Was little was "Kitchen"...and I would take all kinds of horrible for me ingredients, turn them into something even more horrible for me, and eat them with great gusto. At four, I didn't have that picky a palate) and my dad sits down on the bathtub rim, and starts cleaning off my face with toilet paper. I am still crying, of course, and my dad looks at me and says exactly this : "Drea, there isn't time for tears right now. Every time you throw up, you're so much closer to dying."

I'll give you some space so that can really sink in.

Are we all on the same page of how the fuck could he? Cool.

So, yeah. With one sentence, my dad completely fucked up my make-myself-feel-better sense of preservation. I have been so completely scarred by that experience that I now REFUSE to vomit.

So, in summation :

Today's Wicked Action : Any number of things my father told me as a child, but most importantly, that throwing up will fucking make you die.

Today's way of coping with it : Refusing to vomit.

Now, today's way of coping might not sound so bad to you. In fact, let me just throw in here that I have not thrown up in 14 years. I don't know many people who can say that and not be lying. But I really haven't. Her's why it's a really fucking stupid way to deal with my phobia - I dry heave instead. This sicks out my fiance like nobody's business. It sicks me out, too. Because with my dry heaving, the only thing that's actually making it not vomit is the vomit coming OUT of my mouth. I just sort of keep everything in my throat and make sure it knows that there is no way on God's Green Earth I am letting it leave the premises of my throat. So, I taste it, I feel it, I heave...I just send it right back from whence it came. In retrospect, vomiting is actually a lot less disgusting. But I just can't bring myself to vomit. I've actually...in a fit of dry-heaving, tried to let myself just puke. And after 14 years of repression, the vomit just knows where to go. I am powerless to control this. I just hold my nose and essentially hold my breath, then I get REALLY intense hot flashes, and then I shiver for a good hour until the next wave comes along. I am convinced that if I could just let go and puke, I would instantly feel better. But not for this 25 year old that's also afraid of the dark....THANKS, DAD!!!!!

I need therapy.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Wicked Wednesday, Starring Bruce Willis


It's another Wicked Wednesday!

First thing on the agenda is to bitch about this stupid honker of a zit I have on my forehead. It's like a talisman of anti-sex. What's even worse, is it's a deep under the skin kind of pimple, and there's no way of properly attacking the fucker without blasting it with tank missiles. This is not attractive.

Today's actual Wicked Wednesday post is about Ex-lover....again. Now, this might seem bitter, but I promise you. It is.

Ex-lover and I met when I was very, very young. I was 17, he was 23. We were extreme polar opposites, and still are. In retrospect, I cannot think of any solid reason why I got involved. Aside from the fact that he was EXTREMELY charming, I wasn't attracted to him physically, he wasn't very well-read, and he cared more about his car than he did about anything else. I name my car (Izzy is who I currently drive. Don't tell her this, but she's almost ready to die. And I personally think she's a nasty, dirty whore that can't pull her own weight and wants me to fix all of her inner problems. I can't stand that shit. I'll be replacing her with a newer, younger model in the very near future) and I talk to it, but Ex-lover constantly looked like he was about ready to shove his dick into the exhaust pipe and whisper sweet nothings into the sideview mirrors. And he gave it a total stripper name. Candy. Ew. Long story short, he was in love with his car. Back to me and Ex-lover.

When ex-lover broached the idea of being an exclusive item, I wasn't really ready for that kind of thing. My previous boyfriend had asked my best friend if she would read his tarot cards to see if she'd sleep with him (and really, you can't make that kind of stuff up. Matt was gorgeous and completely doofy...but why not cut out the middle man and ask her yourself? She was sitting right there) so, instead of seeing that as a one time fluke of a seriously silly boy, I decided that all guys wanted to sleep with my best friend and I wanted to play the field for awhile. Plus...I was seventeen. Totally not the time to be tied down. But, ex-lover charmed the living daylights out of me. Nobody had ever told me "I don't think of anybody but you, and thinking about you makes me smile". Oh, it seriously made my vagina wrinkle with monogomy. So, I fell for it hook, line and sinker, though at the time I thought I was taking someone for their word because I pretty much rule, they recognized it and wanted to surround themself with it. I was so wrong (although I do rule).

Ex-lover also had an ex-lover that he was still friends with, and I didn't find this out until I started spending the night over at his apartment. One gorgeous, sun drenched March morning in Las Vegas, I slowly opened my eyes and watched the sun break through the blinds, and then I stopped to listen to a female voice cooing through the house. I thought, at first, that one of ex-lover's smarmy roommates had found some girl and brought her home, but because Ex-lover's room was in the den, I could see everyone's rooms from where I was sleeping. Everyone was asleep, alone, except Ex-lover, of course. So, I continued to listen, and finally figured out that it was the message machine. I won't ever, ever forget that message. "Sorry you couldn't be with me last night. I missed you, baby. Can't wait to see you again. Oh, and Ex-lover...*mmmmmmuah*" Ok, so she didn't call him ex-lover, she used his name. And she actually DID leave a big, fat, whore sounding air kiss at the end of the message. I had no idea then that it would be a common theme in their conversations. Depressingly enough, I can chalk this Wicked Wednesday action up to my complete and utter gullibility and stupidity, but I'd prefer to not make this my fault.

Before I came into my own, I had this ridiculous need to be "the girlfriend that was so completely cool that you had to brag about her to your friends". I acheived the latter part of my goal, but I wouldn't call it bragging about how awesome I was. It was more like boasting about how getting away with cheating was never easier than when you're dating me. It probably sounded like a fucking infomercial.

"Tired of all those girlfriends that have enough self-esteem to know when you're cheating on them?" :::cut away to a very flustered man in a heated screaming match with a girl holding up a pair of panties...it is obvious they aren't hers. He will then turn to the camera and frown, holding up his h ands in the ' I don't know!' position while his girlfriend continues to yell:::
"Wish you could parade your dick around town and stick it in whoever you want while simultaneously keeping your 17 year old girlfriend from having any fun whatsoever?" :::man is obviously interested and nods....girlfriend is still yelling:::
"Sound like you need a Drea! Yes, a Drea. Having a Drea means you can complain about her having male friends, but still be allowed to keep your own female friends! Girls can call and leave you risque messages, and she'll just smile and nod! But wait, there's more! If you order in the next twenty minutes for a Drea of your very own, we'll throw in her believing you aren't sleeping with those girls on the message machine for free! That's right, free!!"

All of those things I did, and more. I cried, and got angry, and yes. I ditched all of my guy friends and waited at home for Ex-Lover while he clubbed it up with girls and fucked anything that was willing and walking. Maybe not even walking, he wasn't all that picky. During the year we lived together in Vegas, I was so positive he and his ex-lover were still nailing each other. He told me they were just close, and since she was married and he was with me, I had nothing to worry about. Her husband was the nicest man in the world. I am also a fairly nice person. And we were both hopeless fucking idiots.

After Ex-lover and I split, I moved in for a short time with one of his good friends. A good enough friend that he spilled the beans about every single nasty thing that ex-lover ever did to me. On my 18th birthday, I had a deluxe and severely pimpin suite at the Flamingo. My 'rents took me to see Cirque Du Soleil and we had a gorgeous gourmet dinner, but ex-lover couldn't come because it was a special just me and my parents evening. He met me at the suite, told me he'd go out with his buddies and he'd be back by ten and would wait for me to get there. I got back to the suite at around 9, called a few of my friends to dish about my evening, and took a bath. Ten came and went. At around midnight, a few of my friends from my dad's work came and visited me, hung out for about an hour, and then left. To go home. Because it was fucking late. so, from around 1 am to 4 am, when I finally saw his car on the Strip, I sat with my head against my suite window, tears torrenting down my face, watching for that stupid red Mitsubishi. If you're curious about what happened, I was too. For years. Until Matt gave me the skinny. Ex-Lover told me that he and his good buddy Matt (the same Matt I lived with, doi) had gone to a bar and gotten pulled over for speeding. The cop searched their car and found...surprise of surprises...marijuana!!!! Now, up to this point, it's pretty believable. Ex-lover was an avid pot smoker. I think he loved it almost as much as he loved his car, but I'm probably wrong. I know he always carried someon his person, because he couldn't go more than 20 minutes without smoking. Calling it an addiction is selling it short. Anyway, so they get pulled over, cop finds weed, and then KEEPS THEM THERE FOR 5 HOURS. Which was illegal at the time. Anything over a half hour for a pull-over needed to be brought to the nearest station. Did ex-lover go to the station? Nope. He tells me that afer 5 hours, the cop just ever so nicely releases them and doesn't give them a ticket, just confiscates their marijuana. Sends them on their merry way. And the worst part is I BELIEVED EVERY WORD. I was rehashing this event with Matt, and he stopped me to tell me that no, that is not what happened in the least. Ex-lover was with HIS ex-lover. Matt was the person who informed me that a cop cannot, by law, keep you on the side of the road for 5 hours. Fast-forward a few years.

Because in my heart of hearts I knew something wasn't right with Ex-lover and his ex-lover, I had a very destructive relationship with her. Remember when I said that I wanted to be the cool girlfriend? I had decided that being the cool girlfriend entailed making friends with his ex-lover. And I despised her. She wasn't very pretty, but she definitely unique looking in a way that I could understand was striking. Ex-lover constantly compared everything in the world to her. She was a measuring stick that was impossibly tall and the shadow of it hung heavily over my head reminding me that all I could be was second best. Anyway, I did some incredibly spiteful things to her, because I was jealous and hateful and mad at ex-lover. For instance, I found a bunch of nude photographs of her...taken in Ex-lover's room AFTER we had changed it around so there was no mistaking when they were taken...and I posted them. On her journal. Just to be a bitch. We stopped pretending to be friends after that. But I sent her an apology email a couple of years ago, and once I sent that to her, she said I was a "breath of fresh air" and then she spilled her can of beans, as well. More proof I was a doucheface for sticking around.

There are other things I won't go into detail about, because I've already winded everyone half to death. He was a cheating, lying bastard end of story. So, the final part that makes this all so wicked.

Today's Wicked Action : Being such an incredibly dickfaced shoe-fucker that you poison your now ex-lover into never trusting anyone ever again, because she sees what a fat lot of good that did her the first time around.

Today's way of coping with it : I prescribe to several different doses of coping. First of all, I slander ex-lover horribly. Both to him and when he can't defend himself. I made sure to tell his new lover (the lovely woman that usurped my daughter. She's a bitch, anyway, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't have a soul or feelings) that he told me...word for word...."If I brought our daughter down to come see you, I'd have to fuck you." This was said while his new lover was living with him, and pregnant with their child. What a catch, can't believe I was fool enough to let him go. Secondly, I slept around with reckless abandon to insure that I didn't get in a relationship where I would get my heart broken again. That was probably the best one. Also the most lonely, so I cut that. It was most definitely NOT too legit to quit. Third, and the most bitter, horrible way to cope of all, but it's a compulsion I cannot stop for the life of me : I project my fear of being gullible and looking stupid onto my main squeeze. I rarely trust a thing he has to say. Granted, as much as I love him, he has lied. A few times. About incredibly stupid, mundane shit. But this distrust has spread like a disease. We've almost broken up over it at least once. I have serious, serious issues because I think EVERYONE is lying to me.

This is precisely why it's so wicked. He managed to not only fuck with me for 7 years total, but he is still fucking with me. And unless I get some SERIOUS therapy, he will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

Well, now that I'm done with that, I can feel safe to not post for...oh, 8 years.

Tune in next week....it'll be shorter (I hope) and I'll be the spotlight of Wicked Wednesday next time. I love hanging my flaws and the horrid thingsI do out there for judgement.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Welcome to Wicked Wednesday!

So, my best friend told me about having one set day a week where you do the same thing in your blog. A little weekly ritual. I'm doing Wicked Wednesdays. Every Wednesday, I'll write about something incredibly wicked that's happened to me, and I will pretend that everyone cares. Ready, set, go.



In that rather gloomy looking picture is myself and my ex. Please don't be taken aback by the angle of the picture making me look like a tranny. I promise, all girly parts are and always have been there. A bit of back story on the ex-lover and I :

Him - awkward chubby dude that lived in the building across from my apartment in Las Vegas.
Me - Obviously stunning girl that thought he was totally interested in my best friend.

Him - Ridiculously good at very literally charming the pants off of anyone.
Me - Very willing to take my pants off.

Him - 23 (at the time) and living with some grody dudes, selling pot and living the high life (ha! puns!)
Me - 17 (at the time) and living with my roommate, doing practically any drug given to me and not really thinking much about the penis I allowed myself to enjoy INCREDIBLY frequently.

Him - Able to con me into caring while being the most horrible fucking boyfriend ever.
Me - Refusing to recognize what a dick face he was being, and continuing to make myself find things to love him for.

That about sums it up, at least for the beginning of our relationship. I wasn't able to drink at the bars he went to because I was underage, he didn't want to spend time in the sandbox with a child, etc, so we never shared the same activities. We also never shared the same ideals, ie monogomy. Which is ironic, considering that it was him that wanted to make everything exclusive. Funny how that works. Anyway, we had a baby together 6 years ago. Her name is Rhyann Krystine Dana and she is seriously the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen in my life. We split 4 years ago and some change, and I left where we lived and moved out of state sans child. This all gets complicated, and I will save it for another wicked Wednesday, I promise (incentive to stay tuned!). Anyway, he's kept her hidden from me with the help of his girlfriend and family. I have been damn near destitute and have had to wait to be able to afford a lawyer, and I eventually did. I pushed for joint custody, and ex lover brought out the big guns: money. With said cash (from another family member, because he can't do things on his own), he filed a motion to have my parental rights taken away. Aaaaaaand, now I'm prepared to officially go into a Wicked Wednesday post.

I spoke to my lawyer on Monday, because we had yet to hear from ex-lover's lawyer, and we were set for court on Tuesday. Since I made the decision to relinquish my parental rights, I have been stressing over whether or not I need to appear in court. I didn't, and James even managed to get ex-lover's lawyer to appear in court for both of them (himself and my lawyer), which saves me a bunch of skrill and saves my lawyer a ton of time. Both good things in my book. So, the end result of the conversation was James telling me that in 30 days, give or take, this fiasco will all be O-V-E-R. Of course, that means more bad things than good things. I will no longer be allowed any kind of access to my daughter. While I've had to literally beg for photos and phone calls and any kind of information over the last four years, at least Iwould eventually get it if I persisted enough. Now, I won't even have that. Ex-love is the kind of man that does things out of spite, and his spite will burn your fucking face off. I know I won't even get so much as an update. I won't be acknowledged as even her birth mother. Again, this is par for the course. I'm used to it, though it doesn't mean I like it or have accepted it. I've just grown accustomed and been quietly irked for fear that ex-lover and his lovely familia would decide to shut me out completely. No, instead little miss yokel herself will continue her charade parade, and everybody will be fine with that.

Since the final stages are drawing to a close in hardly the fashion I had imagined, I decided that I needed to make a few things clear to Ex-Lover and his slack ass of a girlfriend. So, I wrote them a letter that I am having sent over with all of the finalized paperwork, and it goes a little something like this :

Ex-Lover –

This is it. You win. I am refusing to let my parental rights be forcibly taken from me, and I will instead relinquish them on my own. But there are some things that I want you to hear, because I know the second this is over you will never again speak to me or keep me in any kind of loop. Why would you, when you haven’t for the last four years when I had my parental rights? I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to be rid of me. Shame on you, Ex-Lover. Shame on you. You are a disgraceful human being, and it gives me no joy in knowing you are the father of my child. I have spent the last 7 years loving you for every reason I could think of, but I have no love for you left. Not even for being the man I had my first child with. There is no valor or honor or courage in the exhibition you have put forth the last four years. The motion you set in court is the icing on the cake, and while I will not be glad to no longer have the possibility of Rhyann, I will be grateful to be rid of you and your childish behavior. You are selfishly motivated, and I know in my heart that this isn’t truly about Rhyann, this is about you and me. Ironically, you ‘believe’ that my wanting joint custody of Rhyann was all about money. It is obscene to me that you could first make that judgment on my character and motivations when you know full well that’s not the case, and secondly have the absolute audacity to say this is about money when you are having someone else pay for this so you can outspend me. And you know I’m broke, you make several references to my lack of financial freedom. And I do not have the money to fight this battle. It is a consolation and almost laughable that you don’t, either. Were you a decent, hard working man that could fight his own fight without resorting to someone else with deep pockets doing it for you, I’m sure this would be a different matter altogether. But the fact is, you’re not. I shudder thinking about my daughter growing up in a house bankrupt of morals. I hope that the best of me takes over in Rhyann, and she doesn’t grow up to be like you; Content to have someone else shoulder her burdens for the rest of her life. You’re 31 years old. When are you going to grow up and take care of things yourself instead of relying on others to do it for you? Is this really the example you want to set for not just our daughter, but the other children in the home as well? You give yourself too much credit when you say you take care of Rhyann 100% of the time. The state takes care of her. You and NewishYokel Girlfriend are just glorified babysitters, and until you recognize that it takes honesty and making tough decisions and doing things you don’t want to do so your family can survive, that is all you will be. And I know that you’re fine with that, you always have been. And I hope when you’re on your boat and taking your vacations and doing whatever ridiculous things you do with your scores of free time because you can’t get a real job like everyone else that you think about the sacrifice other people have given so you can enjoy living off of the system.

I hope you think about the other things you are imparting on our daughter, as well: A lack of enjoyment for anything scholastic, simply because it is not something that you and Newish Yokel Girlfriend can do. It’s not your fault the two of you are borderline illiterate, I suppose, but you don’t seem to be driven to change that, and I have no hope that it’s something you want our daughter to overlap you on. For the record, Rhyann was still not reading the last I talked to her. At 6 years old. That’s disgraceful, and truly shows lack of effort on your part. My son is 2 and is right on the cusp of reading. Do you know why? Because I work at it. You are free to vilify me all you want, and I know you have. The truth of the matter is, I’m a good mother, and I want my children to surpass my every accomplishment. I hope that our daughter inherits that from me naturally, because you are not setting a good example for it yourself. I am fairly positive that you will do your best to forget about me the second this is over, and Newish Yokel Girlfriend will go ahead and adopt the daughter that I gave birth to. I can only imagine the things you will justify this with. But I can assure you, as I always have, that my actions are not about me not wanting my daughter, or about not wanting to pay. You have pushed me into this corner because you know money is the one thing I can’t fight back with. If this were about the law, there is no question about the interference you have bogged me and my daughter’s relationship with, to the extent where Horribly Backwards and Not Well Liked Step-father, who went ahead and put his hand in this lovely little cookie jar, told me himself that when you found out he was sneaking me pictures and information that he was no longer welcomed in your home, and that you also cut him off from Rhyann. I can’t imagine why he would lie to me about that if you truly wanted me to have access to my daughter and her daily life. To having your own mother tell me, when I needed your address to get papers served to you, that she couldn’t go behind your back and give your address to me. You know what truly happened here, so congratulations if you can fool everyone else. But I know the truth, you know the truth, and one day our daughter will as well.

While I may be begrudgingly signing my rights away and giving Newish Yokel Girlfriend the freedom to adopt Rhyann, I hope the both of you remember that no signature can take away from me the fact that I gave birth to her, and I will always be her mother. No matter what paper says, no signature in the world can change the fact that you had Rhyann with me, not Newish Yokel Girlfriend. No lies that you tell Rhyann about Newish Yokel Girlfriend being her real mom will change that, either. And because of that, Rhyann will grow up and look more and more like me, and this will mean that you have to look me and your grievously sinful actions in the face day after day. I hope you are prepared to live with that.

I have sacrificed so much just so I could come this far and be forced to throw in the towel. My great-grandmother, whose death you saw me mourn and watched me while I cried, left me the money I used to pay for my lawyer, and I made up the balance. That money was intended for me to use for my wedding, or my schooling, or buying a house. I gave all of that up so I could be reunited with my daughter, and your underhanded selfishness has ripped that away from me. Be satisfied, because your happiness will not last long. I have paid the price for my mistakes, and I will continue to pay for them by not being able to even HOPE about Rhyann living with me ever again. But I have every faith that God will turn my pain and my sacrifices into something glorious, and I will have something good to show for what I’ve done. I also have every faith that Rhyann will come looking for me one day, because she will remember, and she will find out that I am her birth mother, even if you do your best to hide it. The truth has a funny way of surfacing, and when it does…it will be your turn to reap what you have sown. Enjoy your shallow, heartless victory, and enjoy your new life free of someone else having the audacity to try and share Rhyann’s. That part is over for you.

Even though I know you will wipe me out of your thoughts, I will continue to hope the full brunt of what you have done will weigh heavily on your heart, and I hope that you and Shila both think of me every single day for the rest of your lives. I will continue to hope that you will soon realize I started this out trying to play fair. I bided my time and did the best I could with the circumstances I had, and all I asked for was not even 50 percent of Rhyann’s time. I asked to be informed of everything that went on with my daughter, and you cruelly told me that you didn’t think I needed to know. I had to go to court to get your address, and you know I have had no idea where you lived. Sleep well covered in your lies, and continue to build foundations for yourself and your family on laziness, lack of courage, and a sorely underdeveloped sense of right and wrong. I will continue to work hard, earn everything I own, trust in God, and love my daughter fiercely.

So, that's the mark I want to officially end the 'relationship' that ex-lover and I had. His continued actions for the last four plus years have been extremely wicked, and I'm sure he will take up my Wicked Wednesdays for years to come.

So, to sum up. Today's Wicked Action : Being forced to give up my daughter. Today's way of coping with it : Not applicable.

Until next Wednesday!

Author's Note : I realize that I am leaving out huge, huge chunks of the story. They will surface, I promise. But I would have to write an entire novel to get it all out in one sitting. Any questions, go ahead and ask!!! I'm fairly open about all of this, and please don't be put off by my attempts at humor to diffuse what is other wise a heartbreaking situation. It's the only way for me to pull through without breaking down every ten seconds.

This situation is why I started this in the first place, so please. If you're going through a similar situation, now is the time to commiserate and find comfort and understanding you might not get anywhere else.