Sunday, 6 September 2015

She Will Be Loved

"Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay awhile. And she will be loved." - Maroon 5

One of my girlfriends wanted to see a specific picture from my past life. She wanted to know what my ex-husbands new wife/my ex-friend looks like. I have about 20 photo albums. In my past life I was the one who took all the pictures. The rest of the group probably wishes they had asked for copies. Or maybe they don't since they just want to forget I exist.

My apartment is a mess because I dragged all the boxes out of my closet and there are photo albums I never look at all over the place.

Some people think I should burn them. But I was flipping through them looking for a picture of her (I know I have one) and I realized something. I wasn't crying this time.

All four of my therapists have told me that I got stuck in the sad stage of grief and I had to go through the angry stage to move on to acceptance. I messed up the order because anger is supposed to come before depression. I've had my moments but I don't really stay angry. I came back to Toronto and I was ANGRY. You know how the JWs have those rolling bookcarts on the streets now? They are everywhere in my neighbourhood. I used to hide when I saw one. But after my three month time-out down east, I came back and started yelling at them on the street. I probably seemed crazy. I just don't want them ruining anyone else's life. Plus they don't even have a license to be on the street so I'm pretty sure this kind of harassment is illegal.

My girlfriend's family is in town and so we went out for dinner last night with them and her dad. She has a sister. At one point she said "Did you know my dad calls you daughter #3 when he talks about you?" I looked at him and asked if it was true. He said yes. I guess not all Irish guys are bad for me.

And he's dad #3 to me. My favorite ex's parents and kid adopted me four years ago. His dad signs all his messages to me as "D" because he knows I have a dad and doesn't want to get in his way. He wants me to know though that he's always there for me.

I'm somewhat of a religious mutt. Technically, on paper, I'm a Jehovah's Witness. My therapist said I'm a very bad one and my friends laugh about it, but that's just the way it is. When I was looking through those pictures, I knew I will never burn them. I'll put them back in the boxes. It was such a big part of my life - the first half. Lots of smiles and hugs and beautiful people who I still love. I've said it over and over, it's not the people I blame, it's those billionaires in Brooklyn who control everyone's thoughts, cover up child abuse and tear families and friends apart with their cultish rules.

I relate to the Buddhist philosophies. Those are the books I read now. I wear a Celtic cross around my neck and go to Catholic mass on Christmas Eve every year. I've started praying again. I don't know who I'm praying to, but I'm starting to feel at peace with the chaos of this life. And I'm smiling. :)

I guess I just want to encourage you that if you're in an unhappy situation - abuse, cult, bad marriage, a cheater who lies to you...whatever it is...you can leave. I won't lie. It's years of blood, sweat and tears. It won't be easy. The Jehovah's Witnesses like to quote a passage from the bible that says if you leave your life behind and join them you will find "mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers" to replace the ones you've lost to go be in their crazy environment.

I have that again - here on the outside - although it's taken time. Out east, my family who took care of me when I needed it have proved they would do anything for me. In Toronto, I've got moms, dads, lots of brothers and sisters again and the best ex-boyfriends a girl could ask for.

I am very loved. The sadness and anger will come back sometimes in waves, I know that. But the big steps are over and the nightmares are less frequent. I'm starting to feel strong again and the JWs are not going to like that because I will keep writing. :)

Sullivan out.

Wednesday, 2 September 2015

The Fighting Irish

I have a problem. I can't stop dating Irish guys. I wish there was a program like AA or NA where it was "Irish Anonymous". You would think I would have learned my lesson by now. Even Irish #1 told me to stay away from them.

I got to Irish #3. We dated last summer. He treated me very badly. He was probably bored so he called me on Saturday night. I was home alone crying because one of the best friends I've ever had is dying. He said: Let me come over, I'll just cuddle you and make you feel better.

And he did. He was so sorry for his previous behaviour. He said he was coming back every day until he earned my trust back. To be there for me through this difficult time. I am an Irish addict so I believed him.

The next day? He had to go to work. Unfortunately if you want to be an asshole in the life we are living in right now, you should delete the person you are lying to on FaceBook. Instead of letting them scroll through their feed and see pictures of you on the beach, when you're supposed to be at work, with some trashy looking blonde.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. The Irish in me never lets me lose the fight. For that I'm grateful.

For the ex-boyfriends who have been such good friends to me since I've been back in Toronto - I'm grateful. For my dad and stepmom, I'm grateful. For my girlfriends who have been so loyal to me, I'm grateful.

One of my exs used to call me a "mother fucking piece of shit". It was and still is his favorite expression. It was all in fun. My girlfriend and I both adopted it. We're both Irish and it seems us Irish have some problems being normal. But...I don't need a guy. Especially a lying, cheating one. That mother fucking piece of shit. 

Irish #3? Please don't ever call me again. The rest of us? We'll keep up the fight. We're good people even when we're bad. :)

Sullivan out.