Questions for little Kurtalina:
How many times did you stick your dick in her?
How many other teachers have you stuck your dick in?
Was Maria really worth becoming 'every other weekend Daddy' for?
Are you heartbroken now that you don't get to see your fuckwhore anymore? Poor baby.
Is Maria the one who gave you piss to pass your drug test? Classy. She'll make a great stepmom. Good choice faggot.
Does Maria know that you're pillhead? And she's okay with that? Awesome.
Just a point here. I've seen Maria. I know what she looks like. You're not allowed to say anything about Steve going from Leslie to Margi or anything else superficially derogatory about anyone again.
This is going to be a hard conversation (when we have it) because 1. you're a lifelong advanced bullshitter and 2. (and most importantly) you are a liar, and you think nothing of lying to people. So anything you say or explain, I won't believe you. I've known you for three years, I know what you're capable of. And its scary.
I know what I did to you. I apologized for about six months straight before it started to feel ridiculous and then kept apologizing and feeling bad about it. You never apologized for driving me to the hospital to deliver our daughter high as a fucking kite. You never apologized for leaving me stranded and alone in the hospital for over four hours while I was bedridden with fucking tubes all up and down my arms that were keeping me from having a seizure. You never apologized for coming back to the hospital even higher than when you left. You never apologized for insisting on sleeping in the room with the TV blaring -when I asked you to turn it off so I could sleep you said you couldn't sleep without it on. What. the. Fuck. The nurse had just come in and insisted that I had to sleep, my blood pressure wasn't coming down and I was in danger of having a seizure. (You remember her don't you? You only told her six times you were going to write her a letter of appreciation, asked her four times what her name was, wrote it down and the name of her boss. What a guy.) You never apologized for screaming at me while I was pregnant because I had finally got up the nerve to confront you about being a drug addict. You never apologized for getting angry and screaming at me because I was in the tiny bathroom crumpled on the floor crying.(Of course I was crying you dipshit. That was back before I became numb the ridiculous bullshit that is being related to you. It takes time to adjust.) You never apologized to going to the child birthing classes high as kite (as the half the class tried to ignore you while everyone, including the nurse teaching the class gave these sympathetic looks), not taking it seriously when i tried three times to tell you how terrified I was and how important learning this stuff was to me and our baby.
I know I'm a good mom. You know how I know? Because I know that if Kara ever finds herself driving into a trailer park to hang out with her drug addicted, drug dealer boyfriend I will drag her out by her fucking hair. She and I will have a long talk about how only a guy who really cares about you will not have sex with you until there is a mutual, rationalized commitment and will never make you feel guilty about not having sex. Kara, if you're reading, blue balls is not your responsibility and if a guy mentions anything of the sort, turn around and run, trust me, that bullshit is just the beginning.
For Kara. Ever notice how giving yourself the goal of being a better mother really means being a better everything? A better person, a better cook, a better housekeeper, a better financial provider, better at being healthy, better at dealing with emotions, better at being prepared, better at setting goals and achieving them... Here's to the journey of 'better': examining where I am now and clarifying where I want to be while striving to get from here to there.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Stupid Frank Sarno!
Hectic, crazy-feeling rushed weekend with no real actual rest time, but so fun. It was just me and Kara (I didn't even have to see L-dog, though I did 'entertain' a phone call. No Kurt from Friday at 6pm till Sunday 4:30pm. To be said only on this (private) blog, I think a few more days and I might actually have missed him. Maybe I was too caught up in trying to jam a fun weekend for Kara and I in what I knew was really just a short time. We got a little bonding time and what I realized was the big (mental) break for me was not having to food shopping!
I found emails from Maria (Sarno or K-something-y)(Kobrinsky). I'm wondering if he air quote cheated on me or if he really cheated on me. "Did you stick your dick in her?" is what I'd like to ask him. I'm keeping it to myself for now: I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, again the absence of shock and pain just like the pills -a little anxious which I think is just the adrenaline from 'snooping' (I never actually let him know that I thought I should have his email password since he has mine or that I actually already have it ((side note: how weird was it that he didn't hide better his password when we were in the shop signing up for our new smartphones?)). I thinking about how best to stick it in his face as well as waiting for that perfect when best. Anger should hit me first, as it is, but its making me jittery and all out of focus, which is how anger usually hits me, its a very uncomfortable feeling for me. I need some distance from this whole idea. But I also need to process this and how it affects my situation.
I hate Kurt for this, even more than I ever did. Or do I?... It's similar to the pills, I knew he was a liar, a horrible person, an evil force with no conscience, so this is just evidence.
I don't know how I feel. I know I need to calm down and be able to be calm when I think about this. I need to talk about this with someone but I don't know who. I have no one really, no true friend. (I would love to come back and update this...) I'll be writing a lot I suppose -I SHOULD BE! To-do. Every day till it dies.
This should spark my 'extra-income' initiative. Or totally depress and deflate me, as is wont to happen. This tears wide open the whole 'how much longer can I be with Kurt?' I was actually starting to have flashes of a vision that included us connecting later in life, after we put Kara through high school and college... There will be trust issues. It just dawned on me that he will need to make the same declaration of devotion that I have made after I air quote cheated on him. 'Kara is the focal point of any goal. You are important to Kara's well-being, you are important to me. This is workout-able, failure is not an option.' I will doubtfully ever trust him again, though I was never going to trust him anyway! I have been a little freer, a little more at ease, a little more creatively inspired since I let any preconceived notion of him being anything other than less than what I need and the most of the sadness that comes along with that (still working, though I don't want to be totally numb, a little wistfulness at my wasted youth is in order -and I can't blame that all on him).
I found emails from Maria (Sarno or K-something-y)(Kobrinsky). I'm wondering if he air quote cheated on me or if he really cheated on me. "Did you stick your dick in her?" is what I'd like to ask him. I'm keeping it to myself for now: I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, again the absence of shock and pain just like the pills -a little anxious which I think is just the adrenaline from 'snooping' (I never actually let him know that I thought I should have his email password since he has mine or that I actually already have it ((side note: how weird was it that he didn't hide better his password when we were in the shop signing up for our new smartphones?)). I thinking about how best to stick it in his face as well as waiting for that perfect when best. Anger should hit me first, as it is, but its making me jittery and all out of focus, which is how anger usually hits me, its a very uncomfortable feeling for me. I need some distance from this whole idea. But I also need to process this and how it affects my situation.
I hate Kurt for this, even more than I ever did. Or do I?... It's similar to the pills, I knew he was a liar, a horrible person, an evil force with no conscience, so this is just evidence.
I don't know how I feel. I know I need to calm down and be able to be calm when I think about this. I need to talk about this with someone but I don't know who. I have no one really, no true friend. (I would love to come back and update this...) I'll be writing a lot I suppose -I SHOULD BE! To-do. Every day till it dies.
This should spark my 'extra-income' initiative. Or totally depress and deflate me, as is wont to happen. This tears wide open the whole 'how much longer can I be with Kurt?' I was actually starting to have flashes of a vision that included us connecting later in life, after we put Kara through high school and college... There will be trust issues. It just dawned on me that he will need to make the same declaration of devotion that I have made after I air quote cheated on him. 'Kara is the focal point of any goal. You are important to Kara's well-being, you are important to me. This is workout-able, failure is not an option.' I will doubtfully ever trust him again, though I was never going to trust him anyway! I have been a little freer, a little more at ease, a little more creatively inspired since I let any preconceived notion of him being anything other than less than what I need and the most of the sadness that comes along with that (still working, though I don't want to be totally numb, a little wistfulness at my wasted youth is in order -and I can't blame that all on him).
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
More Notes: Transcribed
In a process of letting go. How does it go from seeing him at every odd, uncanny turn, to not. at. all, unless I deliberately walk by? Dreaming of redemption of some sort, and there's no chance to at all.
Found this amongst my 'rubble' and want to be done with it. Too many prying, insensitive eyes. Written while living with L-Dog when Kara was an infant.
"What have I learned? I know I've read a lot and even had quite a few experiences that should inform me on how to keep a level head. -how not to be so depressed.
There is something going on with me that triggers this response of despair that the node of may be misconstrued as having to do with pride. But I don't think its pride, I think it would be wrong to label the root of my issues as a lack of humility. I have a track record, no. No there is no track, no past... I was thinking about how I analyze myself to see if I am overcompensating, using pridefulness -self-righteousness- an attitude of "I have learned this!". But it may not be true. I analyze for it, but I don't remember saying to myself, "yes Jacki, you're overcompensating."
What could it be? the natual reaction of an intelligent being unable to live a life of basic needs... stifled creativity, lack of space to perform everyday bodily maintenance, difficulty clothing, feeding, bathing, sheltering and growing for the baby. The simplest expectations go unfulfilled.
And the attitude -hard to describe. The 'everything's wonderful', the 'I have time to talk about nothingness' attutude. The lack of commitment to do better. Unable to look ahead and see how much worse it will get. Its a psychosis of some sort.
I have no real people in my life... Real people, as in people who live in reality... not necessarily in a pessimistic way.
The starvation for the human-intelligent reciprocal acknowledgment of reality has been pinpointed.
Now, how do I deal in the meanwhile, since that issue is... the resolution of that issue will be an arduous journey and a long time coming, with... people. Other people. These fake people surrounding and stifling and depressing my life. How do I survive?"
The tone of this sounds so odd, robotic. What was I reading then? I got the house. That's how I got out of that. Thanks to my grandmother... and Mary Ann, whose idea I think it may have been when I was looking for our own apartment.
On the same sheet of computer lab paper was this: (Shows I was trying.)
Found this amongst my 'rubble' and want to be done with it. Too many prying, insensitive eyes. Written while living with L-Dog when Kara was an infant.
"What have I learned? I know I've read a lot and even had quite a few experiences that should inform me on how to keep a level head. -how not to be so depressed.
There is something going on with me that triggers this response of despair that the node of may be misconstrued as having to do with pride. But I don't think its pride, I think it would be wrong to label the root of my issues as a lack of humility. I have a track record, no. No there is no track, no past... I was thinking about how I analyze myself to see if I am overcompensating, using pridefulness -self-righteousness- an attitude of "I have learned this!". But it may not be true. I analyze for it, but I don't remember saying to myself, "yes Jacki, you're overcompensating."
What could it be? the natual reaction of an intelligent being unable to live a life of basic needs... stifled creativity, lack of space to perform everyday bodily maintenance, difficulty clothing, feeding, bathing, sheltering and growing for the baby. The simplest expectations go unfulfilled.
And the attitude -hard to describe. The 'everything's wonderful', the 'I have time to talk about nothingness' attutude. The lack of commitment to do better. Unable to look ahead and see how much worse it will get. Its a psychosis of some sort.
I have no real people in my life... Real people, as in people who live in reality... not necessarily in a pessimistic way.
The starvation for the human-intelligent reciprocal acknowledgment of reality has been pinpointed.
Now, how do I deal in the meanwhile, since that issue is... the resolution of that issue will be an arduous journey and a long time coming, with... people. Other people. These fake people surrounding and stifling and depressing my life. How do I survive?"
The tone of this sounds so odd, robotic. What was I reading then? I got the house. That's how I got out of that. Thanks to my grandmother... and Mary Ann, whose idea I think it may have been when I was looking for our own apartment.
On the same sheet of computer lab paper was this: (Shows I was trying.)
Notes and a Breakdown
(Started last week)
What a weekend. Not fun, but a lot to chew on. I'd like to think that I at least gave Kara a fun weekend, which is really all I care about. On Friday I cleaned her room, which she actually did notice. Saturday... I don't think we did much. Sunday we went outside and finger painted -I think she had more fun putting paint on all our noses and washing her hands in the bucket that actually painting. After her nap we went to Joe and Mindy's -she played in the sweltering humidity in their dirty (sorry) backyard with JD and little Mikey for hours. Monday morning I took Kara with me to the store, with a quick flower pick-up at Produce Junction -a fun adventure. After nap we did an early picnic table dinner (love, just so much more relaxing than inside, feel luxurious) then played in the water table and ran through the sprinkler.
Found more pills on Sunday morning. This time oxycodones. Journaled about it while resting (so exhausted all weekend), lost one of my diamond earrings that Mommoms had given me while getting ready to shower, cried while Kurt helped me to look for it and then he found the journal page. No talk... "Is there something you want to (talk to me about)?" WTF. "Is the something you want to talk to me about, Kurt? Whatever you want Kurt, whatever you wish." At this point, at least, his little pill addiction has very little to do with me and pales in comparison to the loss of my grandmother. No dipshit, I don't care to beg you to stop doing pills AGAIN and I honestly don't care to hear more lies, bullshitting and crybaby idiocy about your immature, unmotivated issues. BUT, if you want to talk, I will listen, I will lend a supportive encouraging ear. I will not make your addiction my life, I have to much to live for not to mention the huge responsibility of raising an incredible, beautiful, intelligent, loving human.
So this is what he found. And I don't feel sorry about it.
"Found oxcdn this morning! What is going on?!
He's acting really bad, worse. Jibberishing, defensive. My tolerance is low because I'm still not sleeping well. I feel so physically tired, I really worked my ass off on Friday and got a lot done. But I'm paying for it.
The doctor name on the bottle is new. Who is prescribing him this shit for back pain? Who would? What kind of bullshit scam is he into now?
I was feeling nauseous this morning and he was being obnoxious and loud with Kara. -which I mostly let go. Its not good for her, but she has to learn to deal with it and I can't shield her from everything. (At a time when she is mimicing everything, great that her dad's a drug addict :erratic, moody, up & down, loud and rammy, whiny, overly particular in one moment and distracted and clouded the next.)
I've been thinking that her childhood is way too close to mine for comfort, but now, with Kurt and his bottle full of oxys, it just dawned on me that it may be worse.
And me. He's being mean. We're going to a party at Joe & Mindy's when Kara wakes up and I feel it will end up a repeat of Ross' parents' house. Trying to psyche myself up, armor up and be prepared for some sort of emotional abuse. I am strong. He is weak. I can choose."
So he didn't want to talk I guess. He moved the pill bottle into the house (I don't even get the courtesy of a good hiding place) and there were less than half than the morning before.
If you and I break up, whatever the cause or reason, you will not see our daughter unsupervised without a clean drug test. I will let the court know that you have successfully and recently used someone else's urine to pass drug test for work and that you need to have a closely monitored test.
He may have also read these, which I also don't care, not to mention they are good notes. (This was written while we were living with Lorraine.)
And here, for posterity, the oxies. Effin druggie. Poor Kara.
What a weekend. Not fun, but a lot to chew on. I'd like to think that I at least gave Kara a fun weekend, which is really all I care about. On Friday I cleaned her room, which she actually did notice. Saturday... I don't think we did much. Sunday we went outside and finger painted -I think she had more fun putting paint on all our noses and washing her hands in the bucket that actually painting. After her nap we went to Joe and Mindy's -she played in the sweltering humidity in their dirty (sorry) backyard with JD and little Mikey for hours. Monday morning I took Kara with me to the store, with a quick flower pick-up at Produce Junction -a fun adventure. After nap we did an early picnic table dinner (love, just so much more relaxing than inside, feel luxurious) then played in the water table and ran through the sprinkler.
Found more pills on Sunday morning. This time oxycodones. Journaled about it while resting (so exhausted all weekend), lost one of my diamond earrings that Mommoms had given me while getting ready to shower, cried while Kurt helped me to look for it and then he found the journal page. No talk... "Is there something you want to (talk to me about)?" WTF. "Is the something you want to talk to me about, Kurt? Whatever you want Kurt, whatever you wish." At this point, at least, his little pill addiction has very little to do with me and pales in comparison to the loss of my grandmother. No dipshit, I don't care to beg you to stop doing pills AGAIN and I honestly don't care to hear more lies, bullshitting and crybaby idiocy about your immature, unmotivated issues. BUT, if you want to talk, I will listen, I will lend a supportive encouraging ear. I will not make your addiction my life, I have to much to live for not to mention the huge responsibility of raising an incredible, beautiful, intelligent, loving human.
So this is what he found. And I don't feel sorry about it.
"Found oxcdn this morning! What is going on?!
He's acting really bad, worse. Jibberishing, defensive. My tolerance is low because I'm still not sleeping well. I feel so physically tired, I really worked my ass off on Friday and got a lot done. But I'm paying for it.
The doctor name on the bottle is new. Who is prescribing him this shit for back pain? Who would? What kind of bullshit scam is he into now?
I was feeling nauseous this morning and he was being obnoxious and loud with Kara. -which I mostly let go. Its not good for her, but she has to learn to deal with it and I can't shield her from everything. (At a time when she is mimicing everything, great that her dad's a drug addict :erratic, moody, up & down, loud and rammy, whiny, overly particular in one moment and distracted and clouded the next.)
I've been thinking that her childhood is way too close to mine for comfort, but now, with Kurt and his bottle full of oxys, it just dawned on me that it may be worse.
And me. He's being mean. We're going to a party at Joe & Mindy's when Kara wakes up and I feel it will end up a repeat of Ross' parents' house. Trying to psyche myself up, armor up and be prepared for some sort of emotional abuse. I am strong. He is weak. I can choose."
So he didn't want to talk I guess. He moved the pill bottle into the house (I don't even get the courtesy of a good hiding place) and there were less than half than the morning before.
If you and I break up, whatever the cause or reason, you will not see our daughter unsupervised without a clean drug test. I will let the court know that you have successfully and recently used someone else's urine to pass drug test for work and that you need to have a closely monitored test.
He may have also read these, which I also don't care, not to mention they are good notes. (This was written while we were living with Lorraine.)
And here, for posterity, the oxies. Effin druggie. Poor Kara.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Man Trouble
Crushes work hard on me. Letting this one go is hard and sad. How many other good (warning: who MAY be good) men will I dodge and turn down? How many chances at happiness will I miss out on? And because of what?
These voice messages make me feel a little better.
Demitri the Creepy 'Catch'
Hilarious.
I have a conversation in my head where a friend asks me what my type is. "Projects. My type is projects. Financially irresponsible, some type of substance addiction, unmotivated... that's what gets me."
"I think marriage is for suckers."
"But you have issues."
"This is true." Nodding.
"Maybe you're not ready to start dating yet."
Smirking, "Maybe not."
In the rush and head-strong determination to start my 'real' blog, I've paralyzed myself. I don't know what to write, I don't know what pictures would work... I don't even know what I want to say here. Feeling uninspired and timid.
Yoga tonight. Maybe I could spend the time on me instead daydreaming about Jimenez. I was in good place, an almost great place a few weeks ago. A little closed off, but dealing well and being positive. Not sure what happened. ...most likely a series of things. I'm searching for a new perspective.
These voice messages make me feel a little better.
Demitri the Creepy 'Catch'
Hilarious.
I have a conversation in my head where a friend asks me what my type is. "Projects. My type is projects. Financially irresponsible, some type of substance addiction, unmotivated... that's what gets me."
"I think marriage is for suckers."
"But you have issues."
"This is true." Nodding.
"Maybe you're not ready to start dating yet."
Smirking, "Maybe not."
In the rush and head-strong determination to start my 'real' blog, I've paralyzed myself. I don't know what to write, I don't know what pictures would work... I don't even know what I want to say here. Feeling uninspired and timid.
Yoga tonight. Maybe I could spend the time on me instead daydreaming about Jimenez. I was in good place, an almost great place a few weeks ago. A little closed off, but dealing well and being positive. Not sure what happened. ...most likely a series of things. I'm searching for a new perspective.
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