Thank you for being honest

It’s funny that we feel the need to thank someone for being honest, but I understand why. It’s hard to be honest—with our friends, family, strangers, ourselves. I never really understood the power of truth until I saw how much damage one simple lie can cause.

It’s no secret I’ve had some rough patches in my life. I also think women tend to carry more guilt than men when it comes to life. And I tend to carry more guilt than most women—as least I feel that way sometimes.

I know there are things about my life that some people will never understand. I also know that most people understand more about my life than I give them credit. I never knew how common the problems that caused my divorce were until I started being honest. 

We all have our secrets. Some are bigger than others. Some have the power to destroy not just one life but many lives.

I had the chance to interview former reality show star RubyGettinger last week. She made me realize the important of honesty and how much power just one secret can have on our lives.

If you’re familiar with Ruby’s story, you know that she cannot remember her childhood. That’s the power of a secret. It can make you suppress memories, it can make you hurt yourself, it can make you hurt others.

Some of you know that I’ve been working on a memoir. I’ve been back and forth on it. I decided a few months ago to finish writing the memoir but publishing it as a novel.

Why? Because I worry about my children.  I worry about how they will handle the truth. I worry what the truth will do to others, too. What about my parents? What about other family members? What will people think about me as a person? The guilt and shame I still carry is almost disabling at times.

But then I see how much damage a secret can cause and realize that the truth may be painful for a little bit, but it won’t destroy anybody’s life. It cannot even hurt anyone unless they want to hide behind their secrets forever.

So, to everyone who has always been honest with me, “thank you for being honest.” And I hope you will say the same to me one day, too.

A letter to that hurt child inside most of us

A good friend of mine wrote to me last night and asked if I could help her out. She remembered that I had written a blog about the feelings I had toward my bio dad and his decision to not be a part of my life. She asked if I could send her links to those posts so she could give them to her college-age daughter to read—she’s having similar issues with feeling abandoned by her father and trying to figure out her feelings.

I was surprised when I sat down to write a letter to her daughter how much advice I felt I needed to give her to help her to deal with such a painful part of being a young woman who feels like her own father doesn’t want to be around her. I began to slowly see every male relationship in my own life and realize how much that hurt and abandonment affects those relationships.

It brought up a lot of feelings I didn’t realize I still had. And it really made me look at myself and see how that one painful relationship paved the way for years of self-torture and self-deprecation.  

Combine that with a healthy dose of other bad relationships and it’s no wonder I ended up where I was—rock bottom and hating myself, embarrassed of the person I became.

I realized that feeling “less than” as a young girl, defined every relationship I had or will have. That’s why that John Meyer song “Daughters” is so powerful to me even though I think Mayer is a DB. We all know the power a father has over his daughter, but we don’t always fully appreciate how much damage can be done with an unhealthy father/daughter relationship.

I worry about how my own daughter will navigate the world—how she will deal with the constant “here today” and “gone tomorrow” her own father seems to bring to her life.  I pray the good outweighs the bad and he can turn things around with her and make her realize she’s worthy of love from a man.  

I can only hope that I am providing the healthy mother/daughter relationship that my children need to become “normal” adults with “normal” love lives.  I’m sure I’ve done a few things to screw up my kiddos, but I’m doing the best I can.

See, not all bad fathers produce bad kiddos

Here is a bit of wrote I to my friend’s daughter—maybe it will make you realize something about yourself, too.

Dear Young Lady,
Sorry to hear you have to deal with so much. It’s not an uncommon issue really, but I know you probably feel like most people don’t understand.
I remember when your mom …
I understand why she allowed you to have a relationship with your dad despite his selfish nature. Her brain doesn’t work like your dads and it’s hard to understand how anyone wouldn’t drop everything to be with his kids. I know my brain doesn’t work that way either.
You have to realize that his actions have absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s hard to understand that until you have children of your own. I know you adore your brothers and feel a responsibility to them, but it pales in comparison to how you will feel about your own children.
I grew up thinking there was something wrong with me—why would my bio dad not want to be around me? What could I do to make him realize I was a good kid?
I finally started to figure things out when I was about your age, but it never really clicked until I held my daughter for the first time and I realized there isn’t anything in the world that could keep me away from her—not even for a day. That’s how normal people think. That’s how my brain works. That’s how your mom’s brain works, too.
My advice to you is to define your boundaries so that you don’t allow yourself to get hurt.
…If they wanted to see me or the children, I would gauge the situation and see if it was something that would cause me stress. If it was complicated and required me to jump through hoops or make myself feel stressed or uncomfortable, then I didn’t do it.
And when they just showed up or called and wanted to see me or do something, I learned to say, “Let me think about it.” That gave me time to look at the situation. If they said, “just give me an answer now,” then my answer would always be “no.”
Take time to set up your life and find your routine, then you can decide where your dad fits into your life—you don’t need to fit into his. He is a grown man and your father, and if he really wants to be a dad, he can figure it out. He’s a smart guy. It’s amazing what people are capable of when they really want something.
Just remember, if he really wanted to do what it takes to be a good father, he would already be doing it and you wouldn’t be in this situation.
Always be honest with yourself and don’t worry about hurting his feelings by saying “no” or “I’m busy, maybe we can do something later.” From here on out you have to protect yourself so that you can have healthy relationships with other people in your life.
Your relationship with him is going to affect all of your future relationships, so you need to find a way to give yourself some kind of peace. I highly recommend talking to a counselor or social worker who deals with family counseling.
A counselor can see things you cannot. They also offer great advice and will help you find a way to articulate your feelings and come up with a good plan for how to deal with this part of your life. You are going to have strong days and weak days, and a counselor can help you with that.
You don’t want to end up like me and afraid that everyone is going to leave you and that you are not good enough for anyone—that you are not worthy of true happiness and real love, or that you are unlovable and understand why people can’t love you. You have to understand your feelings are just as important as anyone else’s.
You may not even realize you have these feelings inside you—that’s why I suggest counseling.
Just remember, everyone deserves to be happy. You are worthy of real love. You have to redefine your relationship with people who don’t treat you with respect and real love.
Trust me, your life is full of people who truly love you. Most of the people I am closest with in my life are not blood related to me. I learned to redefine the term “family” and choose my own family based on three things—they have to love me for who I am, I have to love them in a healthy way, and they have to treat me with respect.
Focus on you future and getting yourself to where you want to be in life. It may be that you have to deal with this situation with your father before you can move forward. But once you clear out the bad, you will be able to make room for good. And as long as you carry around the bad, you have no room for good.
And once you start clearing out the bad, you will probably find yourself crying for no reason—that’s good, it means your body if finally letting go of those hurt feelings.
Take care and please feel free to contact me any time you need someone to talk to.
Kim

Escalades, Entourages and Me

I got my new insurance card in the mail Saturday. Robby, laughed and said, “Now you’re considered a real person in America.”

I haven’t had health insurance since I split with my ex four years ago. I’ve been lucky and only had a few minor trips to the ER and a few doctor visits during that dry spell. But what Robby said stuck a chord with me because I was treated differently when I didn’t have health insurance.

I couldn’t get a decent doctor to accept me as a patient even though I would offer to pay in advance—no insurance, no appointment. The doctor I did see was nuts, and I decided I was better off just hitting the urgent care office.

I don’t really understand what happened in our country when we felt it was okay to look down on people who can’t afford health insurance. As a matter of fact, I’ve realized this week how some people don’t think they have to treat other people with respect.

For example, I had to go to the T.I. concert in Savannah last week. I was the only media person invited and I was promised backstage interviews with all the talent—rapper T.I., EVE and Ashanti.

The EVE interview went great—she was very sweet and friendly and her handlers weren’t too bad.

Then with the Ashanti interview, I was turned away before the concert because they were running late. Then after the show, I had to wait for about 45 minutes and had to bully my way back into the dressing room. This is standard and I didn’t feel singled out—I just hate feeling like my time is not important.

Then, she wouldn’t turn to face me while I was talking to her—she was busy fixing her hair for photos. I said, “I guess I’ll just start asking questions and you’ll keep fixing your hair?”

Okay, I know I’m just a newspaper reporter, but come on now. Really?

I thought "she's one of those celebrities who refuses to make eye contact." I was relieved when she did finally turn around and look me in the eye while she was talking. I asked my three questions and left-- I realized I was getting tired and ready to go home.

T.I. still hadn’t shown up and I was really getting tired of being backstage. I started looking around and noticed that there are a couple of different groups of people backstage at a concert.

There was the entourage—of course that was the biggest group there since it was a hip-hop/rap concert. These are the people who don’t really have a purpose but find a way to seem important.

There are the people who are so star struck that every little glance at a celebrity makes them jump around and giggle—even grown men.

Then there are those of us who would just like to see the celebrities, ask a few questions, get a photo or two and go home, and if that doesn’t happen, then it’s no big deal.

I know there was definitely a time in my life when I used to look down on people. I didn’t understand that we have little control over our lives and the paths we may be forced to go down. I didn’t know that 

everything could change with the blink of an eye.

I never would have thought there would be a time when I was divorced with no health insurance and getting government assistance for my children’s health insurance. I never would have thought that I would have to start over financially and have to struggle so much. I mean, things like that don’t happen to good people who make good choices, right?

When you’re broke, it’s easy to envy people who have money. Sometimes I think, “If I just had a little more money in the bank, then life would be so much easier.”

I don’t doubt that’s true and I would be happy to try that experiment, but we all know life doesn’t work that way.

I would rather be broke than broken. I would rather be poor than treat people poorly. And I would much rather be right here where I am than back in my old life where I was miserable and not living the life I was meant to live—even though that life had a healthy monthly pay check, retirement fund and health insurance.

I never thought I would be backstage at a rap concert feeling sorry for the biggest star there—yes, I’m talking about T.I. who showed up very late and struggled to get out of his Escalade while everyone stood around staring at him in shock.  

Just because you pull up in a big shiny new Escalade doesn’t mean you have life figured out or that you are living it right. But, I’ll give T.I. and Tiny the benefit of the doubt and say maybe they were just exhausted from the tour.

I may not have much in my bank account, but at least I know I am a good person and I’m trying to live my life right.

But what’s more important, I now know that just because someone doesn’t seem that they are trying to live life right, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t trying. Maybe her downfall is not all her fault?

All I know is that you can keep your Escalades and the entourages. I’ll take my simple life and my little plastic insurance card. Of course, if money does happen to fall out of the sky, that would be okay, too.

It's time to celebrate

I realized this morning that I hadn’t done something I needed to do. I never stopped this week to celebrate another milestone in my new life—I finally have a full-time job!

I did my typical routine and kept on going, never stopping to let it all sink in. I don’t know why I always do that. I am truly grateful for all I have, but I fail to see the big picture sometimes.

It really is pretty amazing to look back at these past 4 years and see how far I have come. It’s amazing I never stopped moving forward and I didn’t give up even though I wanted to give up many, many times.

I went from trying to fix a troubled marriage to realizing the marriage was over to trying to find a way to take care of my children and finding a way to live the kind of life I knew we deserved.

But stepping back and looking at the big picture makes me realize that nothing happens overnight. I didn’t get into that mess overnight and I couldn’t fix it overnight. Those really bad days seemed endless and there were times when I had no idea how I would make things work.

The hardest thing for me to learn along the way is that I can’t control everything. I can’t know all the answers or know how things are going to work out. I find myself in bed at 4 a.m. in a panic—wondering how I am going to take care of everything.

One thing has been constant in all this madness these past years—everything always works out the way it is supposed to work out. In the end, I really have little control, and most times things work out better when I just have faith and step back.

About 4 years ago, I had to battle with my daughter’s school over a nurse who authorized a physical therapy evaluation in the foyer of the school without my permission—as a matter of fact, I had specifically told her not to do the evaluation. She thought she was smarter than me and did it anyway.

I scheduled a meeting with the principal to file a formal complaint against the school district. After days of planning what I would say at the meeting, I arrived at the school and realized I had left all my paperwork at home. All my notes were gone. All the planning and the script writing and the phone numbers with dates and times—everything was gone.

I started to panic and I thought I was going to lose my shit in the parking lot. My husband was leaving me to go back to Iraq and we were most likely going to divorce. My children were dependent on me to take care of them. I was broke. I had no nearby support. I was lonely. My life felt like it was falling apart and now I had forgotten my papers at home—it felt like the final straw for me mentally and physically.

For some reason, I caught my breath and closed my eyes and began to pray. I said, “God, please help me find the right words to say today. God, thank you for giving me a brain that works so that I can take care of my children. God, please take hold of me today and let the words that come out of my mouth be the right words to help my child. God, please help me.”

I calmed down and walked into the meeting. Everyone from the entire school district that had any interest in the case had already shown up and were waiting for me in a closed room.

I sat down and began to speak. The words never registered in my brain and for some reason they all came out perfectly. I said everything I wanted to say and more. I stood up for myself and my child. I had confidence and the more I spoke, the more I became sure of myself.

The meeting was a success for me and left the nurse and her counterparts in tears and apologetic.  

I realized that day that I don’t have control over most things in my life. I cannot control what others do around me. I cannot make things happen the way I want them to or when I need them to happen. I need to let others help and trust in a higher power.

I don’t know why it took so long for me to find this job—it’s actually the only job I didn’t apply for, it was offered to me.

I don’t know why I had to go to hell and back to find this life I have now. I don’t know why I have to keep 

learning the same lessons.

But I do know that I need to stop and smell the roses. I need to take in the victories and the blessings. I need to stop and take a deep breath and be thankful for what I do have whether it’s a brain that works (someone may question that fact) or hands that work so that I can write or having someone tell me “don’t worry, things will work out.”

So, today is going to be a day about celebrating the good and taking the focus off the negative. The negative will always be lurking. I choose not to acknowledge it today. If I’m smart, I will choose to ignore if more often and have faith that things seem to always work out so long as I don’t give up.

Laughter is the best medicine

I had actually written another blog yesterday about how it feels so weird to know I’ve been graduated from high school for 20 years. It was filled with sweet heartfelt stories about my former classmates and how we had this really great connection because they all knew the real me and where I came from…

I need to finish that one up because it had some good stuff in it, but I just don’t feel like I have the energy today to bring up serious emotions or reflect on the happy times of my youth.

Today was one of those days where life is almost so exhausting that I have to really push myself to take care of business. I took the day off work so my daughter could go ride horses—that was a high point of the day. I love to see my children truly happy and she is happiest when she is on a horse out in the county.

Then on the way home, reality began to sink in as I remembered why I took off the rest of the day—to take care of business.

I knew I had to call my attorney (again) and try to get a grip on a recent issue that has dinged my credit. After over an hour of phone calls, I realized it was going to be harder than I thought and this is going to take me weeks to file all the paperwork and make phone calls and once again fight to be treated with respect and dignity. *

The exhaustion that stress brings on began to settle on my body—I felt tired and my face felt old and wrinkled from scrunching up my face. I wanted to just go to bed and forget about everything I had to do to get this stuff resolved.

I also had to make more phone calls to push off my student loans a little longer and re-file paperwork so my children don’t lose their health insurance. I have more bills to pay and I don’t want to even start going through the stack of mail that continues to grow on the coffee table.

Then I started to think about how happy it made me yesterday to think about the funny stories I shared with my former classmates back in Dublin, Texas. Those memories make me laugh every time.

I think about all the crazy parties I used to throw when my parents would go out of town—which happened a lot. We floated kegs, invented some awesome drinking games, and laughed a lot—we actually laughed all the time.

One of the things that I love so much about Robby is that we laugh a lot. I forgot how much I missed 

laughing until I met him. We laughed so much on our second date that I wanted to just stay in the car and keeping driving around talking for a few more days.

I love to laugh like that. When I laugh like that, I forget about how crappy my day was or how tired I am from stress. I forget that there is unfinished business looming or that I don’t have any money.

I grew up very poor. Most of the people I went to school with in Dublin were also very poor. I don’t think any of us realized how poor we were—we didn’t care. It didn’t matter if you were poor and lived in Dublin because it was expected that you had to be poor or else you wouldn’t live there.  

It’s easy to not focus on the negative parts of life when you are surrounded by people who make you laugh—people who understand you and accept you just the way you are.

I was fortunate to have that experience in school—most people I know hated their classmates and vow to never go back to their hometown ever again. I used to hate Dublin and I hated going back there until a few years ago.

I finally realized that I couldn’t pretend to be someone else when I went back home—everyone knew where I came from and that I wasn’t any better than any of them. I couldn’t pretend that I was from somewhere else.

I wish I had the money to go back home and see my old friends for our class reunion. I’m sure we would laugh a lot. I’m sure I would forget about all the bad stuff for a few days and catch my breath. I would love for them to meet Robby and see my children.

I’m glad I have those memories. I’m glad I still have those friends. I’m glad I have new friends that make me laugh. I’m glad I can still laugh after everything I have been through these past years.

I guess I’ll know things are really bad if there ever comes a day when I cannot laugh. But for now, I’m going to wrap this up and wait for my husband to get home so I can tell him a funny story I’ve been saving up all day.

I’m sure he’ll have another one for me and we’ll laugh for a while and I’ll forget about the bad stuff and find the energy to keep moving forward and living my life the way I was meant to live.

*When you get a divorce, have a credit company run through your credit history and make sure you don’t have any joint accounts with your ex—there may be an old credit card on file that you haven’t used since 2001 and you forgot about. I called all the banks and asked them to check on my old joint accounts, but one of them told me the wrong information and now I’m totally screwed with an unpaid credit card bill that I had nothing to do with. A credit check would have solved that issue instantly. Don’t let yourself be too exhausted to take care of this before you sign your divorce papers.

Come on, get happy

It’s been one of those weeks and it’s only Tuesday. I haven’t felt this drained in a very long time.

I’m exhausted by life. I don’t understand why some people have the right to affect so many people? But more importantly, I don’t understand why anyone should have to live with so much stress.

I want to honestly pour out my heart and tell every tidbit of what is going on with me right now, but I can’t. I can’t tell anyone about what it is like to have to deal with insanity on an almost daily basis.

The backlash of what I write is not worth the struggle. I don’t have the energy to fight any more and I have had to resolve myself to just sit back and wait this out…again.

I’m torn. Part of me hopes this new “partnership” is the beginning of something positive. Maybe things will be different this time. I always believe people can change and I also firmly believe everyone deserves the chance to change for the better.

Then there is the bigger part of me that believes this is just another phase in the long line of “second/third/fourth chances.” These chances seem to come and go and I feel as though I have no control over them.

Control is the key word here. I strive to have control in my life. The other day while I was putting together my son’s birthday party, my husband pointed out to me that I like to control everything.

He thought he was pointing out something new to me, but he wasn’t. I don’t deny my need to control everything. I also don’t make excuses for it. I’m not ashamed of it and I don’t try to hide it.

Yes, it’s true. I like to control everything.

I know it is very unhealthy and I have really tried to change. I look at where I am today and I know it is starting to really wear on me…again.

I feel like I’m doing better, but at the end of the day, I can feel the exhaustion set in and I realize that my need to control everything is wearing me down.

But how I am supposed to turn a blind eye to what could possibly turn into a dangerous situation? What did I ever do to deserve to be treated this way?

How hard is it to treat me like a “person?”… A person who would move heaven and Earth to make sure my children are happy, healthy, and safe.

You can write what you want about me. You can try to convince everyone that I am crazy. You can continue to constantly point out how I am dangerous and “out of control.”

Sure, I’m sure you have a handful of people who believe you. I’m sure there are people who would stand by you and condemn me.

It’s okay. I realize I have no control over that. I don’t want to control that. I want you to move forward and have a better life. I want you to do the things you say you are going to do. And if you feel that making me look bad is the only way to do that, then go ahead.

I honestly do want you to be happy. I truly do. You don’t have to believe that, but if you would, things would be better between us.

Everyone deserves to be happy. Everyone deserves to experience a happy life.

You’re not happy because you choose not to be. I can only imagine why. I have a pretty good idea though…

My control issues have gotten me into this mess. I know I tried to control the wrong people to make them happy. I wanted them to be happy because I thought it would make me happy. The funny thing is, I was never more miserable.

Well, look at me now. Am I happy?

Yes, I am. I’m happy because I know I cannot control anyone else’s feelings. I can only control my own.

I choose happiness. I wish you would, too.

(another) New Chapter

I’m so glad I decided to go through with my graduation ceremony Saturday. It was great to see some of my old classmates and catch up on where everyone is heading and what’s going on with others in our little group.

Even though there were 1,700 former students in the graduation ceremony yesterday, only four of those were WRITers (that’s what we called ourselves in the writing dept.) I was one of those four and two others didn’t participate in the ceremony.

I was a little embarrassed to go back and face them and admit how hard it has been to find a job. One of my friends said, “I heard you are an editor now at the newspaper—that’s so awesome.”

I had to inform her that it was only temporary and they had just hired someone permanently for the job—and guess what—it wasn’t me.

Everyone’s faces got serious. We are all in the same boat—big, expensive degrees with no full-time, permanent writing jobs.

I’m not sure why, but it seems that I tend to get to be the guinea pig of life for my friends. I was able to catch them up on the freelance community in Savannah and point them in the right direction for part-time work.

With the bad news behind us, we got to move on to the good stuff in our lives. We made it through graduate school.

I thought I was the only one who struggled. We compared notes on the number of times we got into bed and cried and wanted to quit. We laughed about papers we hated to write and how that weird guy with the bushy hair who looks like he’s always wearing pajamas keeps his job as an Art History professor.

I even got a little award...not too shabby

And when the ceremony started and the music played, we leaned in close to each other and teared up. For the first time in a long time, I felt really proud of myself.

I felt like I finally achieved something really great…actually I know I achieved something really great. I started something and I followed through with it. That’s not very easy to do these days.

It’s funny because with each new task and struggle, I realize how much I learned from my mother. Nothing was ever good enough for her—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.

She is always satisfied with the simple things in life, but she is always looking for a way to make a little more money or to turn an old piece of furniture into something really special.

When we were kids, she would make popcorn every Friday night and we would watch television. It was never simple popcorn—she would go around her humble kitchen and put together a mixture of whatever she thought would taste good. And it always did taste good—it was also a taste that could never be replicated by someone else.

When I got married the first time around, Mom wore a red, Asian-themed dress to my wedding. We lovingly called it her “Chinese hooker dress.” While my grandmother didn’t approve, I loved it. Everyone who knows me well, knows my favorite color is red and I was happy Mom honored that.

After a few years, she recycled the hooker dress into a chair cover for an old padded rocker she found at the flea market. It made for a beautiful chair and a keepsake for a special day.

I know there is something really amazing about the ability to take the old and unwanted and turn it into something beautiful and unique—something no one else can fully replicate.

Life gave me a crappy divorce and left me at rock bottom with two children to care for and no job or healthcare. Somehow I have managed to turn that unwanted, ugly thing into something beautiful and unique—something no one else can ever replicate.

It doesn’t mean that my degree is better than everyone else’s because I feel I had to sacrifice so much to get to that graduation—there is no telling what other stories filled that giant civic center.

But, somehow I made it look easy. I found a way to make it work, and I found a way to make it my own.

I’m glad my mother taught me to be humble and to live simply. She taught me to find happiness in myself and my family. She taught me to take charge of my life and make things better even when the bank account is on empty and no one else knows how to help.

She also taught me to take a moment and enjoy what I made--and I plan to.

I have this renewed since of pride that I should have had when I finished classes in November. I realize now how important this degree is and how hard I worked for it.

I’m not desperate to find “just any” job now. To be honest, I decided to turn down any future job offers that aren’t worth of my talents and education because at the end of the day, I know I am worth more than an hourly wage desk job.

And, if no one wants to hire me, then that’s okay. I will just take another page from my mother’s untitled book and open my own business and create my own job—a job that no one else can ever replicate.