A New Adventure Takes Place...(or "Has she lost her every-loving mind?")

     Over three years ago when I started my new job at the Marriott, I thought I had the coolest job in the world. I remember walking the back hallways where only employees could go and seeing how everything runs behind the scenes. To me, this was an amazing place to be. I loved my job. It was actually fun to go to work and be around happy, fun people. Those were the people I worked with! We were friends! We would laugh over things we dealt with that only we understood, what we experienced. Non-hotel people just didn't get it.  I was excited to go to work more days than not. Even the cranky, entitled guests didn't phase me. It was their issues and had nothing to do with me. Work became my escape from a scary, depressing home life.

     And then I was promoted last December to restaurant supervisor. I was so proud of my new position and the fact that someone thought I could handle a position I'd never even considered taking on. The job was exhausting but I loved it. Loved my co-workers and my employees. I felt like I had a purpose, like I was making a difference. I was proud of my work. I was proud of me. Loved making guests happy when they came into my restaurant, bar, ordered from room service, bought a coffee at Starbucks. I was proud to be in the position I was in.

      I was never bored at work. We welcomed the days or a week of lulls between busy conventions and meetings, because when we were busy, we were really slammed. It was exhausting. Until three months ago, the exhaustion wasn't a bad thing. Have a couple of days off, or a couple quiet, low occupancy days at work, and you recover and were ready for the next slam. We were a team. We worked together, especially during hard times, or when we were short-staffed and made it all work. Those were fulfilling days. I loved being part of a team. Somewhere in the last few months, that opinion, that pride shifted. Going to work was no longer fun. At least more times than not, I didn't want to be there. School was suffering. Creativity was gone. I know, isn't that normal for a "job'? Who really wants to work? Isn't that why it's called "work" and not play? But that wasn't it. That shouldn't be it.

     I was in New York visiting my oldest son and his family for my 53rd (yes, I said it. I'm 53!) birthday last June and somehow it became a time of reevaluation of my current life. I had ten days where I had stepped away from my home, my job. I'm not sure what triggered it. Maybe because it was time. Maybe it was because I was another year older and I was stuck. I felt stuck. I always said that I felt like I was standing on a cliff waiting for someone to build a bridge to the other side. Even before getting this position. Somewhere after my divorce. I didn't know what I was doing or where I was going. I'd lived in Utah for three years, not the place I ever thought I'd spend a year of my life, let alone three. I was planning on moving into a new place because the old place seemed to have become a dark spot in my life and Luke's. Bad ju-ju so to speak. I didn't want to be at work and I didn't want to be at home. I felt like I was lost. I felt like I was just hanging there, with no where to land. It was time. Major changes had to be made.

     I came home from New York and decided that I would be making a pilgrimage next May to Spain. One more thing that I wasn't sure how it had come into my life plan, but it had. I had watched a movie last year called "The Way," about a man who goes to Spain to pick up the dead body of his son who had been walking the Camino de Santiago, but that's a whole 'nother story for another blog post. I knew it was something I absolutely would be doing. I had to do it. Until then, I knew I would stay at my job until next May to save up money and then I would quit to walk the Camino de Santiago for 45 days (because I figured they'd probably never give me a month and a half off for "vacation"). After that, I'd figure it out. Wherever life led me. Or Heavenly Father. You know.

     Then about 5 weeks ago, after an altercation with an employee that was so out of the blue, so unneeded, so ridiculous, it hit me. I couldn't do it anymore. There wasn't one more day, one more hour that I could continue as restaurant supervisor. Funny thing is, I had been warned by this same employee last November that taking this job would be a mistake. She said it was a hard job, one with very little satisfaction and even less pay. She was telling me as a friend, because we were friends at the time. Anyway, this altercation sent me home that night to make a very hard decision. After 9 months of no respect, hearing "You're working alone tonight?", or "Do you know what you're doing?" I couldn't do it anymore. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. An ulcer that had been long dormant and caused as a result of the ex-boyfriend, was flaring up again. I spent many nights crying after work, during work. Not because of angry guests or problems at home. It was because of what I was experiencing right in my own office, my place of work. 75% of the time, depending on whom you were working with, it was a very hostile work environment. Being me, I was taking it personally, and I was taking it home with me.

     I'm pretty laid back. Really. I feel I expect very little from my employees other than doing the job you're paid to do. Work ethic. Most of the time, I prefer laughing with my employees and co-workers, even when we're busy. Especially when we're busy. I feel that part of gaining respect from your employees is that they like you a little bit too. Having fun at work, even while doing your job, makes it easier to clock in. Even when we're slammed from a convention, we could still have fun. That was part of being a team. I saw a sign once: "Being part of a team means making sure everyone is on the bus, not being thrown under it." I was being thrown under the bus way too often.

     That night after the altercation, I laid awake until 5:30 in the morning. I was upset. I was physically sick. I cried off and on for hours. I really didn't take what she said personally. It was that she had cornered me in my office and yelled at me, not over work related things. She was angry over personal things. She said I had changed since getting this position. It was about un-friending her on Facebook, telling her what to do at work (essentially asking her to do her job), "dating" her ex-husband (three dates...over a year ago). Nothing to do with work. Absolutely nothing to do with work. What got me was that it was SO personal. The last straw. I couldn't trust the people I worked with. Backstabbing, gossipy, under-the-bus throwing, lack of respect. Things that had been happening for so long, long before I was hired, that it had become acceptable behavior. Not just to me but other departments as well. This wasn't a job I could stay at. Not even until my trek across Spain. Not even until my one year mark in December. Realization hit. It hit hard. I was done.

     Two days later I was back at work. The two days off had given me time to think and time to talk to Luke to make sure he was okay with my decision. This was his future also. I was quitting a job that helped me contribute to the household. I was still getting spousal support but, without a full time job, things would be really tight. Strangely enough, neither of us were worried about it. We weren't stressed about it. We both knew it was the right decision. Just in case, so I wasn't rushing into anything that I would regret later, I waited two more days of work before sending my boss an email that would end my job as the restaurant supervisor. I told no one. Didn't tell my family, didn't post the announcement on Facebook, didn't hint at it to anyone, didn't tell my co-workers. I kept it quiet. I wanted to make sure it was the right decision. And I cried as I typed up my resignation letter. It wasn't an easy decision to make. Not at all. I loved working for the Marriott. My boss had planned an important trip to North Carolina mid-August. I told him I would wait until he got back from vacation. Then a few days later, when word was out, my co-supervisor mentioned that she had a family vacation that she had planned and she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to do it. I said I would wait until she got back. Essentially I gave a five week notice. I am that nice. It's what I do.

     I realized throughout all of this that my true passion, writing, was something I hadn't done since last November. I had stopped feeling the joy. Stopped feeling inspired. Was there a correlation? Probably. That's when I decided that what I really wanted to do was find a job I could do from home. With that, I could finish college, pursue my writing goals, and even have time for much-needed creative pursuits. With that, I could also avoid the back-stabbing, screaming, angry, rude, drama-filled, throw her under the bus, gossipy co-workers. I could sit at home and do what I had always intended to do: Do your job and go home. No drama. Nothing more than a job. I would figure out how much work I needed to do, how much income I needed to have to be able to pay the bills, and find that job. Every Facebook meme that passed my way mentioning making that risky step, pursuing the dream, or being fearless spoke to me. And I felt at peace. I knew I was making the right decision.

      So, without fanfare, after five weeks of knowing I was leaving, yesterday was my last day as restaurant supervisor at the Marriott. Those that liked me told me how much they would miss me and how much they wished I wasn't leaving. One of my employees bought me lunch, another bought me a Starbucks lemonade as a way of saying goodbye. I was hugged, told I was loved, and wished well by so many. Those that didn't like me never said a word. Just asked when my last day was. Luckily, those employees/co-workers were the minority. Four, maybe five people. That said a lot about who I was. Because a part of me really still loves that place, I went on "pool status," meaning that if they need me in the restaurant department, whether running trays in room service, covering a hostess shift when they are short-staffed, or filling in as "lead" when a supervisor or manager needs time off, I would be there. The fact that they would rather put me on pool status than lose me completely also said a lot about who I am. And I took great pleasure in telling those four/maybe five people who didn't like me that I was going on pool status. (insert evil grin here)

      So, today is more than just another day off. I am officially unemployed. I haven't really had time to fully pursue a new job. I've applied at a few places, even have a virtual interview with one at-home job (that I'm not sure I really want). I still have my painting instruction classes at Michael's and I can increase my schedule there. I haven't fully unpacked my boxes since moving into my new apartment almost a month ago. Today I have cleaned, listened to inspiring podcasts by my favorite author, Elizabeth Gilbert, relaxed, and hung out here on Blogger for the first time since last November, writing my heart out. I don't think that it has completely hit me that I don't have a job. Give me a few more days. Right now it feels like another day off from work. Except that I'm not dreading clocking in tomorrow. Tomorrow is kind of another day off, I guess. It is finals week in my Spanish class so I have that. I still have unpacking. And so many creative things I am going to do. The weight has lifted.

      Look out world, here I come.

Epiphany

     I started "seeing" a life coach last week. It was just one of those random moments when you are talking to someone you've known for over a year, assuming you know them pretty well, and then discovering something about them you never even guessed. One of my (what I thought) dear friends and I were chatting online one day and he started to ask me how I was doing. It was one of those low days I've had lately and I couldn't hide my mood. That's when he told me he wanted to help me. Suddenly he's telling me that he's a life coach and he has been for almost ten years. I had no idea. This guy owns my favorite pizza place (authentic Italian, no less) and dabbles in several different businesses. I never thought this was one of them. Next thing I know, I have an appointment with him that afternoon. 

     It's awkward to sit down with a friend and tell them your deepest, darkest secrets and fears, especially in person. I know. If they are really your friend, it isn't awkward. So, I guess he wasn't my "friend." He was someone I admired, loved and liked to be around but I never showed him my "real self." I showed him my happy self, the one most people actually see. He never heard about my vulnerable side. I never let him see that. I let very few people see that. I don't like whining and I don't like talking about my problems (even though I really don't have any problems). You understand, right? This blog, right here, is where I put my thoughts, my hurts, my dreams. Everything. I share it with you, dear strangers because I do not fear your judgment, and you are not going to tell me to snap out of it, right? You just read and move on. 

     Not this guy. I thought he'd be more gentle in his approach to me exposing myself. Instead he has become one of those people that just doesn't put up with my crap. I love those people. They make me think.

     So, my first week in a five week plan is to write letters to those I feel have hurt me in some way. 

And apologize. 

Wait. 

You want me to what, exactly? 

      Apologize.  

     Apologize for expecting them to be more than they were. Expecting my dad to be the 60s/70s TV dad I always wanted. Expecting my ex-husband to be a great father, be honest, and want me more than he wanted pornography. Expecting my ex-boyfriend to control his temper. 

     I cannot expect people to be someone more than they actually are. Wow.

     Apologizing to them releases their bond over me and stops me from being the "victim." Playing the victim card.
Blaming them for who I am, or how I feel about myself today. 

Easier said than done.

Or is it?

     So, the other night when I couldn't sleep, I wrote a letter to my dad. Just on my phone. In the dark. While my mom slept in the other bed in our hotel room. I told him that I knew that he had always loved me, I knew that no matter what words he used to upset me, not matter how he treated me when I was growing up, I always knew that he loved me. And I knew that Heavenly Father loved me, so it shouldn't make any difference what words my father used, I should have always known otherwise. I should have always known. 

So, why didn't  I? 

     I chose to listen to what was being said to me. I interpreted what my dad was telling me as "I don't love you," or "You are unloveable." He never said those words. Not in my entire life. He never told me that I was stupid, or ugly, or fat, or unloved. He may have said things in anger, or even just without thinking, but he never said anything I should have interpreted as being unloved. 

    I keep a lot of motivational (feel good) thoughts that I find on the internet, or they just happen to wend their way through my Facebook page. I save them for later use, share them with my friends, or I think they might inspire me later. Yesterday, when I was struggling with "apologizing" to those who hurt me, I came across this:

Number 4 is the one that hit me. 

"4. Where did we get the idea that if we don't forgive people, they suffer?"

Exactly.

Where did we ever get that idea?
How does holding a grudge against someone hurt THEIR feelings? 
And then I felt peace. Seriously. 
A really calm feeling came over me. 
The calm feeling I get when Heavenly Father speaks to me and tells me that whatever I'm doing, whatever I'm thinking, is right.

    And I "got" it. 

     The rest of "Happiness in a Nutshell" is also great and something I want/need to remember. It's all true. 

     I think I passed the test for week number 1 of my 5 week lesson on loving/healing myself. I have a feeling it's only going to get harder as the weeks go on. It may take me 5 days every week to actually understand what my life coach is trying to teach me, but 5 days is better than continuing to beat myself up over something that never actually happened. 

     It's okay. I got this.







    

Do I Feel That I Am Unworthy?

This article was waaaaay too close for me. It touched on so many things that I am going thru/feeling right now. I feel like I need to tattoo this on my forehead to truly embed it in my head so I can just move forward in my life. 

The One Thing That's Keeping You from the Life You Want

The author of The Seat of the Soul and co-founder of the Seat of the Soul Institute explains how unworthiness keeps us from our happiness.

By Gary Zukav

What is unworthiness? It's the experience of having parts of your personality say, "I'm not worthy." For example, they might say, "I am unworthy of the love that I have in my life, or the wealth that I have." More commonly, they might say, "I am unworthy of the happiness that I feel." Thoughts such as "It's too good to be true," and "This can't last forever because it is too good" are experiences of unworthiness. You feel unworthy of what the universe has given you, you feel that you do not deserve it, that the other shoe will fall, and it is only a matter of time before you will get what you really deserve, which will be painful. 


Unworthiness is the inmost frightening thought that you do not belong, no matter how much you want to belong, that you are an outsider and will always be an outsider. It is the idea that you are flawed and cannot be fixed. It is wanting to be loved and feeling unlovable, or wanting to love and feeling that you are not capable of loving. It is the feeling that no matter what you do, it is not enough and that you are incurably inadequate, intrinsically and permanently flawed. It is the fear of people seeing you as you really are and the belief that if they did, they would not want anything to do with you. 


Beneath all of this is the experience of powerlessness—of feeling powerless to be a real part of life, to love, to be loved, to affect the world, to be heard, to be worth hearing or to have something worth saying. It is self-loathing, self-hatred. The pain of powerlessness is excruciating. It is the most painful experience in the earth school, and everyone shares it. 


Until recently, the pain of powerlessness has driven our evolution. It has caused us to reach outward continually, relentlessly, to change the world around us. Pursuing external power—the ability to manipulate and control—has been our way of avoiding the pain of powerlessness. Anything that we do to make ourselves feel worthy and safe is a flight from the pain of powerlessness. Every pursuit of external power—every attempt to change the world or a person in order to make yourself feel valuable and safe—is a distraction from the pain of powerlessness. All the distractions in the world cannot uproot the pain of powerlessness inside you. 


Our history is a chronicle of the ways that we have attempted to escape from the pain of powerlessness, or said another way, the ways that we have pursued external power. Tribes fight tribes, siblings fight siblings, nations invade nations, individuals strive to become stronger than one another, or more seductive, educated, wealthy or famous. The list is as long as it is familiar. 


The pursuit of external power surrounds us everywhere. We are continually attempting to mask the pain of powerlessness from ourselves, and others are continually doing the same. Driving every avaricious banker, sexual predator, workaholic, perfectionist and all attempts to exploit anything or anyone is fear of the pain of powerlessness and the need to escape it. 


Our perception is now expanding beyond the five senses. We are becoming able to see the pursuit of external power for what it is and the futility of trying to escape the pain of powerlessness by changing the world. When we look inward, not outward, we can dismantle the parts of our personalities that have controlled us for so long—such as anger, jealousy, vindictiveness, superiority, inferiority. We realize we need to change ourselves instead of the world in order to liberate ourselves once and for always from the tormenting experiences of unworthiness. 

Spiritual partners help one another recognize when a frightened part of the personality is active. They can alert you when you're striving to mask the pain of powerless, for example, by becoming angry, jealous or a victim. When you are not aware that a frightened part of your personality is active, you forget that all is perfect. You forget to relax and enjoy yourself. You become serious, concerned and overwhelmed. But if you were able to say, "I am doing it again! A part of my personality is feeling like the most unworthy person in the universe," then you could all laugh at this. 


The pain of powerlessness is still driving our evolution, but in a different way. Instead of reaching outward to change the world in order to avoid it, we must look inward to experience it, to change ourselves, to create authentic power, and act on the healthiest parts our personality that we can access in the moment. For example, we choose to act with patience when we are angry, or to act with appreciation when we are judging. 


This is a very big change. It is a change in the way that humanity is evolving. Our evolution now requires us to experience consciously all the painful impulses that have created all the painful consequences in our lives and then choose consciously to act instead from the healthiest, most wholesome parts of our personalities that we can access in the moment. 


Each time we do this, we create authentic power. When we create authentic power again and again, we become authentically powerful. Each experience of unworthiness reminds us, if we let it, that now is the time to create authentic power. 


To learn more about worthiness, visit SeatoftheSoul.com and read The Seat of the Soul. You can send questions to Gary Zukav at gary@seatofthesoul.com, and he will answer as many as he can on his website. 

Early Morning Thoughts (Or thank you, dog, for waking me up)

     I'm laying here, wide awake, because the dog decided she needed to chase a cat she heard outside. How do they hear a cat walking by? Seriously. Anyway, I hate waking up before I need to because my brain starts working and digging out the old "stories" for early morning perusing, and then I end up staying awake until it's time to really get out of bed. "Come on, you got four hours of sleep. Let's talk!" And I think I was even dreaming about being a pirate before I woke up. So random. Kinda fun.

     So my brain starts beating me up. Same crap as before. "You're not worthy," "You're unloveable," etc. 

     And then I had this total moment of clarity. 

     The usual thought popped into my head, "What is wrong with ME?" 

     And I had no answer.

     Because there is nothing wrong with me. 

     

     It was as simple as that. 

     There is nothing wrong with me. 

     I don't think it is vain, or cocky, or narcissistic to think that. Trust me, I have seen my flaws. I know what and where they are. But when it comes down to loving myself, or whether or not I am deserving of someone loving me, there is no reason why it shouldn't just BE. I was placed here on this earth to love and be loved. To be happy. To truly live. I am a soul living in a body, not just a body with a soul. I am more than what you see. I am not damaged or broken like a car or a piece of glass. I have made mistakes and behaved stupidly. I have had a billion regrets. But I have loved every part of me back together and moved onward. I know who I am inside. The parts of me that nobody sees. The parts of me that my children know and love me because of it. 

     I can be small and vulnerable, but I am ridiculously strong when I need to be. I am love and devotion. I am art. I am spiritual. I am peace. I am a caregiver. I am gentle and kind. I am warmth. I am sweetness. And more often than not, I am a little too loud when I laugh, and can be slightly inappropriate at times.  All of these parts are what makes me who I am. I was designed this way. For a reason. 

     I don't know the answer to everything. But I do know that when my head asks me, "What is wrong with me," the answer will always be, "There is nothing wrong with me!" And I will believe it. 

   

     

Blog Challenge #6: A Vulnerable Post

     I think this one was a little tougher for me because I thought I had already been vulnerable with my personal post. As I said before, I am an open book. What you see is what you get. I don't really hide anything. Just ask me and I'll tell you. 

     Fine, let us revisit #10: My self-esteem. That's about as personal as you can get, don't you think? Revisiting something that I try so hard to ignore is pretty "vulnerable". 

     Being raised in a home where you were never pretty enough, you were overweight, had bad acne, a bad haircut, your hair was too short, or too long, the only girl in the family with thunder thighs (my personal favorite), OR if a guy stopped dating you it was because you made him feel things he didn't want to/shouldn't feel (sexually) and he got scared (college). This makes it my fault that I can't keep a long-term relationship. I wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be popular (who doesn't?). I wanted to hear that I was beautiful and hey, I wanted to be told that if a guy left you it was because he didn't deserve you. I never did. I kept waiting. I was always insecure about my looks, my life, and my relationships. On the outside it didn't look like it, and no one believed I had low self-esteem. I was loud, friendly, happy. How could I have a low opinion of myself? But, I craved attention. My senior year I had three boyfriends all at the same time. One at my school, one in college, and one at another school in another district. I'm not bragging. I'm not proud. Of course, it all blew up in my face eventually. I deserved it.  I NEEDED to feel loved. I went from one relationship to another. I was never NOT in a relationship. If I didn't have some sort of relationship, I felt empty and unloved. What was wrong with me? Why am I single? It must be that I didn't deserve someone who would love me. Really love me. Like forever. 

      Jump ahead twenty-something years later. I was married to a pornography addict. Now my "story" becomes that I am not attractive enough for my second husband to pay attention to me instead of the computer or tv. Wherever he could find it. Even going so far as to look at it while the kids are in the next room. He even told me at one point that he wasn't attracted to me. It was about me. Too fat, short hair, mother of four kids. The spark has taken a vacation, the thrill is gone. 20+ years of this and you truly believe it is all about you. Something was wrong with me. 

     Add in the next four years with an abusive boyfriend/friend and you are back to when you were growing up. You deserve the abuse. It is something you are doing. You can love someone with every fiber of your being but if they have issues of their own; a low opinion of women, depression, anger issues, low self-esteem, suspicion, jealousy. You become the target. You are their punching bag, literally and figuratively. And all of their behavior is your fault. They will not take the blame. If you had acted differently, if you had done something differently, this never would have happened. 

     And now I find myself single again. It's tough. Once in awhile the old story, the one that was written for me but not by me, pops up in my head and says, "What's wrong with me?" I learned a year ago that I could erase the old story and rewrite a new one. It's hard to let go of 50+ years of fiction. FIFTY YEARS. 

     And it really WAS fiction. All that crap that I was raised to believe was never true. Whether I had long or short hair, acne and no makeup, fat or thin, thunder thighs or not (and I have fully embraced my thighs, thankyouverymuch), I was beautiful. I was loved. It was learning to love myself that was the hard part. I had made many many mistakes in my past, most of them fueled by my self-loathing. Can you imagine if I had grown up differently? Learned about healthy relationships in my youth? Viewed myself with "God's Goggles" my entire life? But I didn't. Would I have grown into the woman I am today? Probably not. And that's okay. I like the woman I am today. I really do. 

     So, yesterday I had one of those POF first dates. He was one of those guys that skipped "Let's get to know each other" (and chat online for a few days) and went right for, "Let's go out." I didn't really want to go out with him. He wasn't my type. But the day he asked me out for a second time I felt vulnerable (there's that word again). I felt lonely. (Beware of feeling sorry for yourself.) So, I said okay to his request but kept it neutral. Coffee. Broad daylight. Here's the funny thing: the date was at 11am. I was required to drive north about twenty miles because he didn't offer to come in this direction. This meant that I should have been in the shower at 9:30 at the latest. I was up at 7:30am. It was possible. And then I got sidetracked by my last blog post. I wanted to get it written and online. And the next thing I knew, it was 10! I had to leave by 10:40 at the latest!! I hadn't even showered!! AND I cared enough to make sure I looked good for this "date." I texted him and asked if we could move it back to 11:30. He was fine with that. I got ready, out the door, arrived at said coffee shop at 11:31. He was no where to be seen. 

    I texted him, "I'm here. Where are you?" No reply. I waited. 11:35. 11:40. I see a car pull up right in front of the coffee shop and I get a text: "Are you inside? I just pulled up." Seriously? Wouldn't you just go inside and check? I texted back, "Uh, yeah." It was the only thing I could think to say. I was past the point of no return. I was annoyed. That still didn't make him come right inside. Nope. He sat in his car for two more minutes. I was already rehearsing what I was going to say. He would have every opportunity to fix it. He didn't take advantage of that opportunity. He walked in wearing an old ratty t-shirt that he had worn in at least three of his pictures on POF. Must be a favorite. I get that. BUT, it is a first date. Isn't the point to impress your date? He was wearing sunglasses. He never took them off. Inside. He walked across the small shop, said hello. Not "I'm sorry I'm late," and make some excuse. Not a word. He hugged me and purred, "Mmmmmm." I stepped back. "Nice to meet you. I'm going to buy myself an iced coffee and go home. You are ten minutes late. I understand that I moved the time to later but..." He just looked at me and said, "Okay. Bye." and walked out.

     Now, this was something new for me. I had never ever stood up for myself like that. Had it been about four months earlier, I would have just put a smile on my face and endured the date, thinking I would never go out with him again. Once he walked out of the coffee shop, I just laughed. A loud belly laugh. I don't know if it was because I was releasing stress or if it was suddenly realizing that I deserved better. I spent the next 10 minutes chatting with the little barista boy about ballroom dancing. Better conversation in ten minutes than I would have had on that entire date had it have happened. I got back out to my car just in time to get a text from Mr. Wonderful: "Good luck dating with that attitude." I laughed again, so hard. I texted him back, "Yeah. You too." and then I blocked him.  

     I felt liberated!! Look what I had done! I had stood up for myself. I had found self-respect and self-love. I realized my own self-worth. It was about time! I had often said "I am lonely but I am not desperate." When I accepted his date, I was most definitely desperate. Why would I accept a date from someone that I knew would not be what I was looking for otherwise? It would not happen again. 

          I still have those days of feeling lonely but they are getting fewer and farther between. Even without a date, or a text, or a phone call from whomever I happen to be attracted to, I am okay. I don't blame myself. I don't wonder "What's wrong with me?" I'm not sitting by the phone. I am enjoying the peace and quiet in my soul, my head, and my heart. I know what I have to offer the next man in my life. And I know I don't need someone to complete me, or fix me, or make me happy. Whomever I let into my heart next will simply add to whom I am now and whom I will become. I have years of adventures, travel, and love ahead of me. The next guy is going to have to be amazing for me to make room for him. 

AFTER the date...

Flipping That Switch (or How to Make Your Heart Stop Hurting)

      I have a switch. You probably have one also. I discovered that switch after my marriage fell apart. It really appeared when I begged my husband to take me back one last time. I had asked him two other times before that (I guess it only takes three times for me to get the hint), wanting him to take me away from Port Orchard and my problems and the dumb situation I had gotten myself into. I knew that if he took me away, even for a couple of weeks, everything would be better.  Our marriage would be back on track. We'd survive another 22 years and beyond. I told him I'd do anything he wanted if he would come back to me. I remember sitting on the phone late one night, crying to his answering machine begging him to come home, praying to Heavenly Father that he would. I texted him over and over again that night, waiting for his reply. I'm sure I knew what the answer would be but it was still devastating when he texted me back in the morning, "I'm sorry. I have promised my heart to Jennifer. We have promised each other that we will never hurt each other. Heavenly Father loves you and forgives you." BAM Just like that. 

     The second time was when he showed up at my father's funeral. I didn't want him there. He had no personal relationship with my dad. I hadn't told him the details of the funeral and neither had his children. He got the information from one of my nieces. Why he wanted to be there, I had no idea. I hadn't cried when my dad died. It's not because I was happy that he'd died. It was because my dad had suffered with dementia for probably ten years and it was his time. He was at peace. But when my husband arrived uninvited to the funeral, I cried. I thought he was there for me. I hugged him, told him I loved him. His words? "I will always love you." BAM He wasn't there for me. He was there to make an appearance. To look good to my family. The switch started to flip that day. It was halfway there. Two weeks later he filed for divorce. 

     The final trigger that flipped the switch was when I called my husband about a misunderstanding regarding a ticket I had received (dumb Tacoma Narrows Bridge). Suddenly I found myself telling him that it was a mistake. He said, "What is?" "The divorce, the whole thing, it's a mistake." Then he said, "You want to settle out of court?" BAM  "No. I don't want a divorce." Dead silence And then the switch flipped for the first time. We were done and I knew it. I wasn't going to beg him anymore. I loved that man but I was not going to beg him to love me back. 22 years was gone. He was in love with someone else. Our marriage no longer existed. All he cared about was settling out of court. It was another year before the divorce was finally over. I never settled, by the way. Switch Flipped. 

     The Switch for me is something in my head. It's the armor I put on to protect my heart. It's my survival skill. It's self-preservation. Call it whatever you will. It helps me to stop crying. Stop being depressed or blue or whatever. Stop thinking about whatever is upsetting me. It helps me to move on. It helps me to be strong. It's not as easy as it sounds, though. I may go through a day or two of sadness and loss but I finally just stand up, shake it off, and move the freak on. I have to consciously remind myself that the switch has been flipped. I tell myself that I am too important to continue to let myself be hurt. I deserve better. Whatever mantra works at that moment. I say it until I'm "cured" of that hurt. 

     One of my favorite Switch Flippers is a visual tossing of whatever has upset me. I put whatever thought or love or hurt into a tiny virtual box, pack it up tightly with virtual string and virtual brown paper, say goodbye to whomever it is I have placed into the box, and throw it away. I usually do it epically, like over a bridge or off of a cliff. Something so huge, I can never get that little brown paper package back. Kind of like burning the love letters or pictures of someone you want to forget. Right up there with dancing around a bonfire to cleanse your spirit. I recently had a picture of me and someone I had cared about for a really long time. That picture was important to me and, even though it was small enough to fit in my wallet, it meant everything to me. It symbolized a great time spent together when I thought there was a future for us. I brought it along with me on this last trip up to Washington, knowing full well it was probably going to be the end of a possible future with this person, and I was ready to release my heart from it. Driving back from Washington, once I had Flipped the Switch and realized that this person could no longer have control over my heart, soul, or mind, I literally tossed that picture out of my sunroof and watched it float onto the freeway behind me. I was crossing over the bridge that divides Washington from Oregon. To me it was fitting to leave those thoughts and hurts behind, never to be thought of or be hurt again. I loved that person but our relationship together was toxic. He was toxic. I deserved better. I love how the symbolism of leaving our "relationship" behind in Washington worked so cleanly. I laughed as I released the photo. I said goodbye.  It served its purpose. Weight lifted. Happiness found. Switch Flipped. 

    I perfected the Switch over the last year. Crazy ex-boyfriend was a huge contributor the the strengthening of the Switch. You can only go through so much abuse, anger, verbal and mental beatings, suspicion, and defending yourself, etc,  before your defense mechanism kicks in. When you reach that last straw, you know, the one that breaks the camel's back. The one that says "I am done taking this." The final straw was over two weeks ago. Friendship gone. Door shut. Switch flipped. Peace. 

     And I've had other moments of Flipping the Switch. Whenever I want to move on from someone or something quickly. Generally thinking, "It wasn't meant to be," works extremely well. Or analyzing what wasn't good about the relationship or experience helps me break it down into quicker reasons to Flip the Switch. I have learned that I am more important and deserve better than whatever is upsetting me or hurting me. 

     Over the last four years, and especially the last year of self-discovery, I have learned to love myself and see that whatever drama or anger or sadness or depression or stress, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, that slams into my heart, soul, mind, and body, is not what I want or deserve. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to love and be loved. I deserve everything my little heart desires. We are placed on this earth to be happy. To live epic lives of loving, making ourselves happy and of course, making others happy in the process. We cannot love others if we do not first love ourselves. 

     Flip the Switch, my friends. We deserve better than what we have been accepting into our lives. I am a warrior of love and light against those negative and toxic forces that seek to drag me down into their personal darkness. Join me. Let us make this world a better place. I don't know about you but I have an adorable little grandson who deserves to be as happy as he can be the rest of his life. Let's do this. Switch Flipped.

Addendum to last post

***Addendum** (Updated October 7th)
     Said stalker seems to think that this whole thing has not affected me at all. I lost my friend. This was someone who has been in my life for four years. He's been involved in every facet of my life. I didn't just let go of four years of abuse. I lost someone who was important to me for four years, practically my whole life, even throughout the crap he put me through. Had he not been important to me, I would have walked away the first time he ever picked a fight with me over religion. Told me my birthday was just another day of the week. Picked a fight on Christmas. Got mad at me because I didn't need him to leave work early because I had cut my foot. Or the time he got mad because I didn't need to wake him up when I went to the ER with heart issues. I would have walked away the first time he kicked in the cabinet doors in our bathroom. Or kicked a hole in the bedroom door. Or shoved me into the wall hard enough to leave an indent in the sheet rock and a bruise so big on my arm that I had to wear long sleeves in the summer. Or sent me nasty emails and text messages when I was at work. Or decided at the last minute he wasn't going to help me with a school presentation he promised he'd help me with so that I got a zero for my grade. Or shoved me to the ground in the parking garage at work so that I slammed my head into the cement. (This was the first time I filed a police report.) By this time I had been dating him for 2 1/2 years. 
     Let us not forget June of 2013 when he got mad because he didn't think I was paying enough attention to him while he was out of town. And when he assumed I was picking him up from the airport (when he had never actually asked me if I would), and I couldn't because I had an appointment, he lost his ever loving mind. It was midnight on my birthday and suddenly I'm receiving alerts from Amazon, my bank account, my email addresses, my cell phone account, and Netflix all telling me that someone has logged into my accounts and is making changes. He locked me out of Amazon and ordered an iPad mini plus the supplies that go with it all using my debit card on file. (I need to add here that Amazon is really amazing at fixing stuff like this almost immediately. The order was canceled/no money lost). He locked me out of Netflix and attempted to order gift cards using my debit card on file. (Thank you Netflix for being so diligent in getting everything switched back to normal). He even changed the language on Netflix to Spanish...because I can speak Spanish? Nope. (He really should have been more creative and changed the language to Chinese) He attempted to hack into my bank account but he didn't know the password so his attempt failed, thankfully, and I received an immediate notification. He even went so far as to create a new Facebook account in my name and friend request me. Seriously, I was friend requested...by me. Luckily he was crazy enough to use my email address to start it and I began to get those emails also. He hacked into my email addresses and began reading my emails looking for something suspicious. As all of this was happening, I was frantically chasing after him online changing everything back and changing every single password into something he could never even guess. Then he sent me messages admitting he had done it all. I spent the next two days in a police station filing a report against him, trying to get an order of protection against him. They wouldn't do it. He wasn't violent enough. Don't they know that this is how women are killed by their spouses, boyfriends, etc? Not violent enough? How violent does he have to be before it is enough? 
     And yet, even then, I did not learn. I should have walked away right then and there and never looked back. 
     He has packed up his belongings and threatened to leave so many times, it was more packing than he did when we actually moved. He continuously threatened to take things away from me that he gave me because to him "THINGS" were more important than a human. Than the heart of the woman he supposedly loved. His way of controlling things. In his mind. When I could FINALLY walk away and stand on my own two feet, even THEN I never felt safe. 
     And now, even though I have told him to stop contacting me or my family or my friends, or even ex-friends, or I would contact the police, he STILL CONTACTS ME. Even after his Bishop tells him to stop contacting me twice in twenty-four hours, he still does it. He creates a fake profile on POF with a fake picture, fake description, fake name, fake age and starts a conversation with me pretending to be a nice guy. And thinks it is okay. Does anyone else see a problem with this? Is he for REAL? 
     And, the thing is, I have NEVER mentioned his name in any post, whether here or on Facebook. Because I don't want to cause OTHERS to look at him badly. Only those in my family and those closest friends even know who I am talking about. Does he do the same for me?
      I lost my movie buddy, my Comic Con buddy, my sushi buddy, my Walking Dead buddy. I lost someone I could talk to about anything. If I was upset about something, he was the first person I called because I knew he'd be there. I lost SO MUCH MORE than he thinks I realize. I lost my best friend. And more. 
                     But I need to remember all of this so I don't do it again.
     Why did I stay? I couldn't tell you. Nor can any woman involved in an abusive relationship. I think it's because I am not sure I don't deserve it. I've spent the last year trying to fix not just four years of abuse, but a lifetime of abuse from practically every male influence in my life. SO, when the ex-boyfriend tells me all of my relationship failures are my fault, why not believe him? He would tell me that the common denominator in my failed relationships was me. It must be true. Why should I deserve a loving, honest, sweet man? WHY SHOULD I?  We attract what we feel we deserve. When he tells me that any issues my children have is my fault, why shouldn't I believe him? I've spent the last year trying to change that mindset. Yet, one blow-up from him brings everything rushing back. Every old story that was written for me, but not by me. It must all be true. Just when I think I have healed and worked towards seeing the light inside of me, he reminds me that I must be garbage. It must be true.
     And that is why I must walk away for the last time. It's survival. He will never change. I'm sure even now he believes I will let him back into my life and forgive him. Again. It is not going to happen. EVER. Because he will never change. There will always be something I am doing wrong. The eggshells will continue to be laid out before me, waiting for me to walk on them. I have told him a million times over that if he was sweet all of the time, because when he is sweet he is amazing, I would marry him. When he is good to me, he is wonderful. But Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde dance around me so often that I cannot exist in that same space with them. He will not and cannot promise me he won't hurt me, and he has told me that many times. And I have told him that I need that promise. He will not change because he does not see that there is a problem. He continues to blame me for his behavior. So, if I am to survive any longer I must walk away for the last time. When my family and friends tell me they fear for my life, it's time. 
     There is a commercial running right now during football regarding domestic violence and rape. I've never been a victim of rape but, because of my life with the crazy ex-boyfriend, I am an authority on domestic violence.

http://youtu.be/I6zKqx5srts

     Dear Ex-Boyfriend, seek help. I know you are reading this. Read it again and again until you understand. Before you start a new relationship. Before you damage another love. Before you hurt one more love. Before you help bring life into this world and pass on what you have been taught that causes you to be this horrible person, seek help. Stop the abuse now. I know you can be a really wonderful man. If I know that, someone else will also. But, before you seek the love and attention that you crave so desperately, seek help. I am sorry that you feel you can only be in this type of relationship. That, after watching the abusive relationship your parents have, you think it must be the only way to love. Stop the abuse now, before it's too late.