I met him at a bar one night.... very nice looking guy and very polite. We hit it off almost instantly. We started dating... sort of... I wasn't ready for another relationship. I wasn't completly over Don yet. Steve and I spent HOURS on the phone. We talked and talked into the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes we'd talk until I had to go get into the shower and get ready for work. At the drugstore.
To spare the details, I got pregnant in October. I was in shock. But at the same time, happy and intrigued. Then I remembered my dad... OMG, he was going to kill me. I had gone to the local health center that day to get a pregnancy test, I know my body so well that I knew I was pregnant, but had to confirm it. The pregnancy test came back positive immediately. I remember the day like it was yesterday... my life had changed in an instant.... and I actually took the afternoon off and went home to my apartment and had a beer. I KNOW..... shut UP.
Steve was there, he was sleeping in my bed... he worked nights and slept during the day. I woke him up, beer in hand, and told him I was pregnant. He was absolutely fucking thrilled.
But my dad was always in the back of my mind... I couldn't really be happy about this baby growing inside of me because I was so stricken with fear about how my dad was going to react. I made a plan. I was doubtful that I could sustain a pregnancy because I had already lost one baby with Don. I swore Steve to secrecy. He complied. He knew how afraid I was of my dad. I told Steve that I would not tell anyone I was pregnant until I got past my second or third month, and that way I'd be almost sure I would not lose this baby as well. I did not want to tell my dad I was pregnant and endure his wrath if I was going to lose this baby in the end. How sad is that?
Well, the second month came and went. It was December, I believe. I was sick as a dog with morning sickness... the only thing that settled my tummy was a diet coke from McDonalds. It couldn't be a store-bought diet coke, it had to be from McDonalds. Funny how your body works when you are pregnant. I was so thin at the time that I wasn't anywhere near "showing". But I lived in a small town, and small towns are funny places. Small towns with Big Mouths. And the girl that worked at my doctor's office was a major gossip. I knew I had to tell.
I finally got up the nerve to call my mother. My mom and dad were still married at the time. I knew I could tell her I was pregnant, but there was NO way I could tell my dad. I felt so bad telling my mom, even though she was excited about the news, I asked her to please be the one to tell my dad because I couldn't. He'd kill me. Even though I was 22 years old, and living on my own, supporting myself, he'd kill me.
And sure enough, he went through the roof. "How could Kim shame me like that?".... "She's pregnant and not married"..... "I am so ashamed of her"...
Yep. That went over well.
He tried to talk me into an abortion. But I have never believed in abortion. It is SO wrong on so many levels. But that is a whole 'nuther bottle of wine.
At around 3 or 4 months of being pregnant with this precious baby, I had an ultrasound and found out it was a boy. I was thrilled. He was right where he should be in length and weight. I loved being pregnant. I quit drinking beer and ate clean. Except for the pallets of Captain Crunch I consumed. I could never get enough Captain Crunch. And I think I ate about 40 boxes of japanese mandarin oranges. I figured it made up for the Captain Crunch.
I remember laying on the living room floor of my one bedroom apartment at night... I slept there most nights... I would fall asleep to the TV. I remember I would put the earphones from my Walkman around my belly curve and turn up the volume. Within minutes, my baby would be trampoline-jumping all over my little belly. I could see his little jumps through my skin.... just barely noticeable... but it amused me... and it was SO wonderful having this baby inside of me. He depended on me, my every move, every bite I put into my mouth, it was all about him. And I loved it. I loved being pregnant. I remember there were days where he'd be silent, motionless, and it scared the crap out of me. So I would go lay flat on my bed, or on the floor, and start poking at my tummy.... just to make sure he was alive.... and to see if I could roust him. Sure enough, after a few minutes, he'd kick back. And then I was fine, I could go on about my day with my baby.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Rebound!
When Don and I divorced, I was working at a drugstore downtown, making about $7 and hour. While we were married, we had the house and truck, but had also bought a brand new boat and jacuzzi that we had put out on the front deck. Along with a little Chevy Chevette that we bought for me. Being a journeyman at his job, he had also accumulated a nice pension. But when we divorced, I left it all to him. I have never been a material girl, and in my heart I knew those things belonged to him, we were only married 14 months. By law, I could've had half of it all, but it really wasn't mine. I ended up settling for $200/month in alimony for a year after we divorced.
I moved into an apartment complex... it was a small one-bedroom apartment, but very clean, quiet, and just enough for me. I could barely afford it on $7/hour and $200/month alimony, but somehow I made it work.
I was lonely. I only had my best friend W, and we were always nothing but trouble together. We got into so much shit that that's a whole 'nuther bottle of wine.
I started going to the bars....
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I met a lot of guys, danced alot, and it filled the time. I hated to be at my apartment alone... most times I spent the night at W's on her living room floor, just to have company. I have never been a one-night stand kinda gal, and never will be.
Then I met who was to be the father of my son... we'll call him Steve. Cuz that's his name.
I moved into an apartment complex... it was a small one-bedroom apartment, but very clean, quiet, and just enough for me. I could barely afford it on $7/hour and $200/month alimony, but somehow I made it work.
I was lonely. I only had my best friend W, and we were always nothing but trouble together. We got into so much shit that that's a whole 'nuther bottle of wine.
I started going to the bars....
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I met a lot of guys, danced alot, and it filled the time. I hated to be at my apartment alone... most times I spent the night at W's on her living room floor, just to have company. I have never been a one-night stand kinda gal, and never will be.
Then I met who was to be the father of my son... we'll call him Steve. Cuz that's his name.
The Anorexia
Yeah, that. You see, when I was in HS and living at home, my dad had such control over my life that I couldn't make a move without him somehow finding out about it. He controlled every aspect of my life. Who my friends were, who I dated, where I went and when I came and went. Not to mention the pure hell it was living with him and his drinking.
I became very anorexic. I was 5' 8" tall, and weighed 110 pounds. Bones stuck out everywhere, my hips, ribs, collar bones, everything. I got to where I was only eating a few saltine crackers a day, along with a diet pepsi. That's it. Looking back, it was the only thing in my life that *I* had control over... what I ate. My dad controlled the rest.
It made me very sick, but I hid it well, until one day I ended up in the hospital. I had a 104 degree temperature, but was freezing my butt off. My dad had to practically carry me into the hospital, I was too weak to walk and couldn't keep anything down. I think my body had finally shut down from lack of food. I was in the hospital for about a week, and I think it was the first time that my dad was more concerned about me than his control over me. But that didn't last long.
I became very anorexic. I was 5' 8" tall, and weighed 110 pounds. Bones stuck out everywhere, my hips, ribs, collar bones, everything. I got to where I was only eating a few saltine crackers a day, along with a diet pepsi. That's it. Looking back, it was the only thing in my life that *I* had control over... what I ate. My dad controlled the rest.
It made me very sick, but I hid it well, until one day I ended up in the hospital. I had a 104 degree temperature, but was freezing my butt off. My dad had to practically carry me into the hospital, I was too weak to walk and couldn't keep anything down. I think my body had finally shut down from lack of food. I was in the hospital for about a week, and I think it was the first time that my dad was more concerned about me than his control over me. But that didn't last long.
I made the wrong decision
We'll call him Gary. Cuz that's his name. He was my second boyfriend... the first one wasn't worth a shit. I met Gary at our HS Prom. I went to the Prom with his best friend, and he went with my best friend at the time. I immediately liked Gary. Drunk as he was, I was like a moth to a flame. We started dating a few days later, and we were together about four years. We did everything together. I truly loved that guy. We went on vacations, 3-wheeled, snowmachined, camped... you name it, we did it all together. He was a year older than me, graduated earlier than me, and went on to a school up north for about six months. We stayed together the whole time. After that, he came home and as far as I was concerned, the earth could go back to spinning, I had my Gary back, my best friend. We were very happy. There came a time when he needed to go to school in WA for a few months. I was out of HS by then, and working, and we decided that we would put his VW Bug on the ferry, load it up with what we could haul, and I went with him. That was when the shit hit the fan with my dad. Even though I was 18, out of HS and working, my dad went through the roof. But we went anyway. We rented a small apartment on Queen Anne Hill in Seattle and those were some of the best days ever. We didn't have much, I wasn't working, and he was only getting a little money a month from his Alaska employer to cover rent and groceries. But it was all good. We would treat ourselves on the weekends, and go to a little restaurant for a burger and several games of PacMan. We were together every night, and that was all that mattered.
Then it was time to go back home. My dad was still pissed. Gary and I stayed together, but my dad wouldn't let Gary anywhere near our home. It made things difficult, and put a strain on our relationship. By that time I was working for a car rental company, and for whatever reasons I can't remember now, we started to drift apart. It had a lot to do with the fact that my dad hated him, and he made things very diffucult for us. Eventually, Gary found a little house to live in that his employer let him have rent-free. That place was probably 40 years old, but it was all his. We had fun painting and decorating it, and things were ok, but I was back living at home where my dad made my life with Gary a living hell.
While working at the car rental place one day, a man, several years older than me (who was related to my boss) came in to see me. We'll call him Don. Cuz that's his name. I was flattered... he was the "catch of the town" at the time, and he was there to see ME. He made up some lame excuse about why he was there, I believe he asked me to make some signs for him for his softball team's 4th of July booth. Would I mind doing that for him? Heck yeah!
And there it began.... the beginning of the biggest mistake of my life. I sort of ended things with Gary, and sort of started a relationship with Don. Don was very good to me, and after a while I "thought" I was in love. But my heart was torn. Gary and I had had everything together, life and love, not a pot to piss in, but I've never been a material girl. We could've lived on $50 a week, and been perfectly happy and content. Don was a journeyman at his job, made killer bucks, and had just bought his first house. Of course my dad LOVED Don, there was money in that family.
I had a decision to make. And it was hard. At the time. In retrospect, there never should've been a doubt in my mind that Gary was for me. We had it all.
I distinctly remember going back and forth between the two houses. I would go to Gary's house, help him paint and things, and then drive right over to Don's house, and help him paint. I was back and forth, back and forth. Gary wanted me... it was breaking his heart that I was dating someone else. I remember one night I was at Don's house, we were painting the living room, and I happened to look out the window, and Gary was parked across the street...he was just sitting there in the dark in his VW Bug with his parking lights on, and staring up at the window where I was at with Don. If I was smart, I would have cut and run at that moment, and Gary and I would probably still be happily married to this day with ten kids. But I didn't.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Don asked me to marry him and I said yes. I don't know why. Looking back, I "thought" I loved him, he was security, and it was a way out of my dad's house. Away from that hell house. But there was always something nagging at me, tugging at my heart, and telling me that this marriage really was not right. My heart wasn't 100% in it. Gary was in my heart.
Don and I attended pre-marital counseling at the church we were going to be married in... and I lied my way through it. I was going to make this work. We got married on 7/17/87, had a big wedding and reception, and I started pretending again. I was only 21, and didn't know what the hell marriage was. I became pregnant the following January, and I was thrilled. But within a few days of finding out I was pregnant, I had a miscarriage. I fell out of my tree for a couple weeks after that. Things were never really right between Don and I, we were living a fairy tale that wasn't meant to be. We divorced the following September.
By then, my Gary was gone. He had found another girl, and there was no going back.
Then it was time to go back home. My dad was still pissed. Gary and I stayed together, but my dad wouldn't let Gary anywhere near our home. It made things difficult, and put a strain on our relationship. By that time I was working for a car rental company, and for whatever reasons I can't remember now, we started to drift apart. It had a lot to do with the fact that my dad hated him, and he made things very diffucult for us. Eventually, Gary found a little house to live in that his employer let him have rent-free. That place was probably 40 years old, but it was all his. We had fun painting and decorating it, and things were ok, but I was back living at home where my dad made my life with Gary a living hell.
While working at the car rental place one day, a man, several years older than me (who was related to my boss) came in to see me. We'll call him Don. Cuz that's his name. I was flattered... he was the "catch of the town" at the time, and he was there to see ME. He made up some lame excuse about why he was there, I believe he asked me to make some signs for him for his softball team's 4th of July booth. Would I mind doing that for him? Heck yeah!
And there it began.... the beginning of the biggest mistake of my life. I sort of ended things with Gary, and sort of started a relationship with Don. Don was very good to me, and after a while I "thought" I was in love. But my heart was torn. Gary and I had had everything together, life and love, not a pot to piss in, but I've never been a material girl. We could've lived on $50 a week, and been perfectly happy and content. Don was a journeyman at his job, made killer bucks, and had just bought his first house. Of course my dad LOVED Don, there was money in that family.
I had a decision to make. And it was hard. At the time. In retrospect, there never should've been a doubt in my mind that Gary was for me. We had it all.
I distinctly remember going back and forth between the two houses. I would go to Gary's house, help him paint and things, and then drive right over to Don's house, and help him paint. I was back and forth, back and forth. Gary wanted me... it was breaking his heart that I was dating someone else. I remember one night I was at Don's house, we were painting the living room, and I happened to look out the window, and Gary was parked across the street...he was just sitting there in the dark in his VW Bug with his parking lights on, and staring up at the window where I was at with Don. If I was smart, I would have cut and run at that moment, and Gary and I would probably still be happily married to this day with ten kids. But I didn't.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Don asked me to marry him and I said yes. I don't know why. Looking back, I "thought" I loved him, he was security, and it was a way out of my dad's house. Away from that hell house. But there was always something nagging at me, tugging at my heart, and telling me that this marriage really was not right. My heart wasn't 100% in it. Gary was in my heart.
Don and I attended pre-marital counseling at the church we were going to be married in... and I lied my way through it. I was going to make this work. We got married on 7/17/87, had a big wedding and reception, and I started pretending again. I was only 21, and didn't know what the hell marriage was. I became pregnant the following January, and I was thrilled. But within a few days of finding out I was pregnant, I had a miscarriage. I fell out of my tree for a couple weeks after that. Things were never really right between Don and I, we were living a fairy tale that wasn't meant to be. We divorced the following September.
By then, my Gary was gone. He had found another girl, and there was no going back.
Nighttime thoughts
I miss him so badly at night.... I didn't think I could ever fall so much in love with someone. I'm 46 years old, been in love a handful of times.... but this is so completely different than anyone I've ever 'thought' I was in love with. We have the same ideas, dreams, hopes, interests, hobbies and just a very real attraction to each other. But we can't be together, he belongs to someone else. I wish that while she was gone that I could have held onto him so tight that even she couldn't take him away again.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
We'll call him TB...
TB and his family were somewhat of my refuge. I used to babysit for him years ago as a kid... his family was my refuge. I used to pray that they would call me to babysit so I could get out of my house and pretend. Pretent to be normal. In a normal family and setting. I did alot of pretending.
I always had a spark for TB.... it's just something that never died over time. Kind of like a hot coal in a fireplace, just barely burning over time, but never burned out. It was just there, something I'd think about from time to time, wondering where TB was. How he was doing. Is he married? Happy?
Then I crossed paths with him about a year and a half ago. Yeah, he's married, but it's complicated. Kind of like my life... but very different. And after several weeks of contact with him, it was like gas was thrown on that simmering little coal. And I could write a book about what has happened between us in the last year and a half, at least in my mind, and I haven't even seen him.
I always had a spark for TB.... it's just something that never died over time. Kind of like a hot coal in a fireplace, just barely burning over time, but never burned out. It was just there, something I'd think about from time to time, wondering where TB was. How he was doing. Is he married? Happy?
Then I crossed paths with him about a year and a half ago. Yeah, he's married, but it's complicated. Kind of like my life... but very different. And after several weeks of contact with him, it was like gas was thrown on that simmering little coal. And I could write a book about what has happened between us in the last year and a half, at least in my mind, and I haven't even seen him.
The Bad Nights
I wonder why I love him so much, and why I continue to take his abuse. I've lost my mother and my sister over him. Why do I feel sorry for him?
Some nights were bad.... very bad. If he was really drunk, he would get my mom and us girls out of bed... it didn't matter that my mom had to work the next day, or that my sister and I had to be up for school. We had to endure it. For hours. He would sit in his recliner, drunk into oblivion, and verbally abuse us while my sister and I sat on the couch and my mother stood nearby. She couldn't do anything but stand there. I felt her pain for us girls, but she couldn't do anything.... his wrath was something we didn't want to see. Just shut up and endure. Trauma. My sister and I were called bitches and whores. He would say my sister and I would end up nothing but a whore "just like our mother". We were always told we would grow up to be worthless nothings. We cried in front of him, but he didn't care. He'd get mad and call us weak for crying.
So why do I love him so much? Why have I let my relationship with my own sister and mother go over him?
Some nights were bad.... very bad. If he was really drunk, he would get my mom and us girls out of bed... it didn't matter that my mom had to work the next day, or that my sister and I had to be up for school. We had to endure it. For hours. He would sit in his recliner, drunk into oblivion, and verbally abuse us while my sister and I sat on the couch and my mother stood nearby. She couldn't do anything but stand there. I felt her pain for us girls, but she couldn't do anything.... his wrath was something we didn't want to see. Just shut up and endure. Trauma. My sister and I were called bitches and whores. He would say my sister and I would end up nothing but a whore "just like our mother". We were always told we would grow up to be worthless nothings. We cried in front of him, but he didn't care. He'd get mad and call us weak for crying.
So why do I love him so much? Why have I let my relationship with my own sister and mother go over him?
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