Cruise

One thing that I’ve stressed over the last three years is that I like to be in control of my own life.

Not “let’s make MH think she’s in control while we make her think what we want is her idea” or “let’s keep MH guessing so she feels out of control of her life,” but legit in control of my life.

Unfortunately, life rarely allows me the pleasure of being 100% in control of my life. The girls’ schedules & routines, my work schedule, and the insane things that could only happen to me seem to keep things from following my master plan. Things like the clusterf*ck move from Hell (it hasn’t even happened yet & this is how I feel haha), the first date that became a last date, all of these things keep me from feeling like I’m in the driver’s seat. It’s times like this when I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something & I get annoyed and all weepy & whiny & stuff. Yuck.

So, I changed that.

I decide to take my mind of the stressful things I cannot control & throw myself into things I can, like fitness. I’m working out seven days a week as well as doing a 30 day squat challenge. I’m focusing on my diet & healthy choices & watching what I eat. I’m trying new recipes & things. Next month I’m starting a 30 day ab challenge to go with my workouts. I’m super excited about it too.

I cannot control crazy things, people, things that seem crazy. But I can stop letting the stressors get to me by channelling that into something that makes me feel & look better, not to mention helps me feel in control of myself. I’m making decisions about food, exercise, etc. while setting a good example for the girls, improving my overall mental health through yoga and endorphins & the feeling like I’m still in control of my life helps me sift through the day to day weirdness with a happy smile! Also, I’ll have an amazing ass. This helps.

Instead of trying to control the world, I’ll control myself & make improvements that will help me make the right choices to get through the move & my “change at a moment’s notice” work schedule and all the things that come with parenting. Maybe I’ll be less anal retentive…

…or I’ll just be anal retentive with a killer ass. That works too.

Dear Olympic Committee, Sponsors & Networks: Why I won’t Watch Your Games

(I understand this deviates a bit from my normal formula of self depreciating wit, I promise to bring it back tomorrow.)

Dear IOC, Major Television Networks & Corporate Sponsors,

Let me introduce myself. I am a 30 something single mom who lives in works in Canada. I’m not a celebrity, of anyone important by any stretch of the imagination. I have never won an Oscar or an Emmy & my only medal is a silver medal when my eighth grade class represented Thun, Switzerland in the bid for a pretend Winter Olympic Games.

I am, however, a huge supporter of the Olympic Games. Every four years, a school project was dedicated to an Olympic sport. I waited with baited breath & stayed up all night to see if you would let Ross Rebagliatti keep his gold medal. I stayed up all night to watch the Beijing Olympics live. I forced my then boyfriend to sit through events we had never heard of (Keirin? What?) & even saluted when the US teams won medals (even though I’m a proud Canadian). I have six pairs of those red mitts, stuffed mascots & books everywhere. I cry when Canadian athletes stand on the podium & stand for my anthem with pride. I love the Olympic Spirit…

…but I will not watch one moment of the Sochi games.

There are things in life that I love more than the Olympic spirit & those are my daughters, my family & human rights. I cannot in good faith celebrate a host nation that punishes people for loving whom they choose or people who support them.

I’ve read about the state-sanctioned corrective rape, the sickeningly high suicide rates & Vladmir Putin’s claims he’s defending “traditional family.” Fifty years ago, my family was not traditional. A single mother, that wasn’t a widow, working full time while building a career was unheard of! Mariah Carey & Nick Cannon would have been stoned in the street for their interracial marriage & children. Traditions change, families are redefined every day. Same sex families are every bit the new normal. I can’t imagine how anyone could look at photos of Neil Patrick Harris & David Burtka with their children & not see a beautiful & loving family. Traditional is so subjective. BDSM isn’t traditional, is that banned? No Fifty Shades of Gray? Or is that okay because it’s heterosexual relations? But I digress.

As much as I love the Olympic spirit, I love people more. I love my LGBT family members & friends who would be forced to live a horrible life if they were in Russia. I love my daughters, whom I need to teach right from wrong & the Russian law is WRONG. I cannot support the spirit of the games when your host nation breaks human spirit every day. So , you can keep your games; I’ll watch reruns of Glee. I won’t be enjoying any sponsors during the games either. Sorry.

I know I’m a nobody. I’m not Lady Gaga or Stephen Fry or George Takei. I’m just one woman & I won’t affect your ratings or your games. But I’ve always taught my girls that one person has a voice & I am using mine to tell you that what you are doing is wrong. I’m also using it to implore all athletes to use their time to perform well & if they support LGBT families, use this chance to support them. Use the spirit of the games to support the human spirit, the greatest thing we as people have.

Sincerely, MHC

Do What You Want

I wanted to kick off 2014 with a big announcement, so here goes;

I’m really freaking happy.

I feel the need to stress that there is nothing new or exciting about my life. Yes, I have a date with someone I’m really attracted to, but we all know what happens on my first dates hahaha. I do not have a new media gig, I do not have a house (but my trip at the end of the month should fix that). There is nothing new or different about my life. I’m happy because I choose to be.

Last July, when the Texan & I started the ASH Life, a multi authoured parenting blog, I had reached a really confusing point in my life. I had cut ties with people I saw as my best friends, but I didn’t miss them & felt like I should (I do miss one of them now, and hope they like their life & maybe someday we’ll apologize for being douchers & trash talk movies & be life mates again) & I was in the midst of dealing with a lump in my breast & other health issues & I wasn’t terribly happy. So, I started aggressively writing out my feelings & I felt better. When I was done & I got good news about the lump, I decided that I was going to make myself happy. The reason I wasn’t happy was because I wanted others to do what I did for them. I was tasking them with making me happy. It worked, but what one giveth, one taketh away. They would take my joy away & watch me crumble on the sidelines & feel powerful. So, I chose to make myself powerful.

I stopped blaming myself for why people are douchebags. I stopped trying to reconcile friendships or maintain them with toxic people. They would get in the middle of my interpersonal relationships or force their opinions on me & then get angry @ me for being in the middle or because I would fall to pieces because they dangled things in front like a carrot. They toyed with my emotions or were dishonest & those are their actions. I didn’t make you do it; you chose to. I slip up sometimes, but I had to stop internalizing the actions of others & feeling like I make people do bad things. People do bad things because they suck & I allow it. So, I stopped allowing. I stopped rationalizing people’s behaviour away & focused on my own. How am I treating people? Am I walking my walk? Am I the role model I want to be for my daughters? The answer was no. I was becoming a needy sad sack dependant on others for survival & draining, so I needed to check myself.

To check myself I focused on what I needed to do to be happy. People laughed @ my choice not to date, but I’m so glad I did it because I got to know myself. If I wanted to feel pretty, I had to tell myself I was pretty. When I was sick, I had to take care of myself. When I was sad, I had to cheer myself. I had to depend on myself, and the more I did it, the more I learned to like myself. I can’t expect someone to love me if I hate myself. This is what everyone does; we hope the love of another person will heal our past pain or fill the void of that rejection or mask that we hate ourselves & we destroy those who love us the most. I refuse to join that cycle so I went into my shell. But by going into the shell, I realized I was in a relationship. I was with myself & I need to cultivate that one.

I took care of myself & found joy in everything from my daughters to a great Christina Aguilera song (hail Queen Xtina). I stopped accepting responsibility for other’s actions and focused on accountability for my own. And one day, I realized I was truly happy. I said this on this blog once before, but the difference is that no man or beast has made me happy. I’ve chosen to make myself happy every day. Even if the day sucks, I’ll find something and no one can take this sunshine away, because I made it myself.

I hope each and every person reading this right now finds their own happiness. I stress your own, because even if you’re partnered or not, a parent or you have a cat , it’s YOUR job to bring yourself joy. Revel in that job. It’s the best one you’ll have.

Happy new year.

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Walking on Air

When my ex husband & I split up, I deleted all of his family from social media.

I had to block a few of them for referring to me as a “slut” when I moved on, but I always kept one cousin and a maternal aunt on my Facebook, mainly because they kept their opinions to themselves & focused on my photos of my girls. I now have a paternal uncle as well, mainly because I have tremendous respect for his political opinions (even if I don’t always agree).

The cousin has grown from a quirky teen in love with boy bands & devoted to the Red Wings into a beautiful wife (who is devoted to the Red Wings) & woman who is loyal to her friends, her family & most of all her husband. She LOVES her husband. Worships him. Her husband is her whole life. She can’t wait to start her family with him & 85% of her status updates are about her pride & love for a man who took a job that keeps him from home to support them.

…cue the haters.

She’s constantly called immature, childish, love should be private, etc. I used to talk more openly about my love life on Twitter, gushing when someone did something great, but I was still fairly private about the ins and outs. My blog is high level (sometimes). I’m not the super open person, call my girlfriends to over share about our sex life, kind of gal. But I will admit, I LOVE her shmoopy status updates. Why? Because she’s happy.

She’s a happy woman! She’s in love! She’s a newlywed! She wants to shout from the rooftops that she is over the moon happy about her marriage, her husband & his sacrifices for their family. Yes, you may want to puke in your mouth or it may not be how you live your life, but to belittle a woman for being happy proves what a miserable sad sack you are.

Another fine example is one of my dearest friends. She’s getting married in July to the love of her life. I was privileged enough to attend their engagement celebration last night & her Facebook & IG was littered with comments about her happiness, friends, family & the man who is to be her husband. Every one made me smile. She’s a beautiful person, inside & out & her fiancé is a warm & loving man, devoted to his bride to be. I wish for this for myself someday. But my heart burst with joy as my dear friend revelled in her happiness. Revel with her.

Whether you’ve been married for 10 minutes or 10 years, if it’s healthy, you’re going to sometimes want to gush about your mate. The Texan STILL gushes about her husband the Dentist once a week, because even though it’s been over 10 years, she’s in love like a Newlywed. It’s amazing; not immature.

If it’s not your thing, then do things your way. But if you can’t say something nice about someone saying someone nice, then say nothing at all. The comment box is a suggestion, not mandatory. Spread your misery on your own social networking & let others spread joy on theirs.

Seven Things

AKA: The seven rules for dating MHC.

After meeting (& casting out) “the guy,” I realized more than ever that I have a series of unwritten rules when it comes to dating. That’s why no one gets past date one hahaha. I asked my therapist who told me it’s good that I’m being picky, as I’m finally looking out for me. I’m in a place where I love myself more than I care to protect people around me & I need to protect myself from ending up hurt again or settling. Settling is how you end up married & miserable. So, while it may not be ideal for the guys, I’m not willing to compromise what I’m looking for (it doesn’t hurt that no one is giving me butterflies or has been someone I’ve wanted for a long time. Less attachment is better). But, I talked to my friends the Psych Major & the Gleason Table & told them my unwritten rules for dating & they agreed that it’s not a bad list. I figured I’d share them in case there’s any I missed.

1. Don’t spend the entire time telling me how pretty I am. I know this. I OWN A MIRROR. That might sound horrible, but I think all women should feel comfortable in their own skin. I love a good compliment, but there’s got to be more than wasting oxygen telling me what I already know. The guy spent all of his time telling me I’m gorgeous. That’s great, but I have a brain. I’m smart. I’m funny. I have great opinions on politics. Why aren’t we discussing current events? ANYTHING?! I love good conversation & I’ll want you to keep up. If you can’t discuss pop culture or politics or even a book you read, please go away. There’s more to life than looks.

2. I don’t give a rat’s ass how much money you make. See this house? I pay for it myself. All of the bills in it too. Everything I’m wearing too. This is because I HAVE A JOB. I don’t need a sugar daddy, I’m not impressed by your bank statement & no one takes care of me but me. While yes, I feel a gentleman should offer to pay on the first date, I’ll likely pay my own bill.

3. This doesn’t mean you can be a broke ass, you MUST have a job. The Gleason table always wants me to add “and not at a call centre, because only losers work @ call centres.” I’m not that picky though. I don’t care if you dig ditches; you have a job. A legit, gainful form of employment with a T4 and everything. I support myself & my daughters; I expect you can support yourself. If you jump from job to job, I’ll probably send you packing. I think you should be able to hold said job.

4. How you treat others is how you’ll treat me. Do you continuously belittle your friends behind their back? Do you talk down to the waitress and badmouth every ex lover as “insane” or “a bitch” and every relationship you were wronged because you’re perfect? Well, that’s how you’ll treat me so goodbye. I may not have 100% glowing things to say about everyone in my life, but I’ll try. I’m also quick to point out my part in the failure of a relationship. No one is perfect, least of all me & my life has no room for narcissism. My foster dad always taught me the true measure of a man’s character was how he treated those in his life, including the waitress & his mother. So, if you treat those around you poorly, you’ll treat me poorly. Also, I don’t tolerate any racist or homophobic remarks. I walked out on a date because the guy said the beers on tap were “gay.” Respect goes a long way.

5. Trust is EARNED. You don’t just get it. The guy said I seemed mistrustful of people because I wouldn’t tell him which store in the mall I worked in. I don’t want you visiting me @ work (his intention). I don’t think it’s your business after date one. I won’t add you on FB either. My friend got flamed for saying that he has “social networking rules” for his girlfriends. I have them too. I don’t advertise my relationship on FB (I once changed the status as a joke between myself & the Gleason Table) & I don’t add photos of us until we’ve been dating for at least four months. I was once more open on my Twitter, but I learned not to do that. Keeping a separation until the relationship is serious isn’t a bad thing. It’s like my children; you won’t meet them for at least one year. I don’t need someone to play quasi stepparent & then leave them & hurt them. They have a dad; he’s not the best, but he’s their dad. If you’d like to step up & be their stepdad, then you’ll show me that you’re here for the long haul. But let’s get to date two. Shall we?

6. My name is Mary-Helen. Simple right? I abhor nicknames (although there are still about six people left on Earth who still call me Melon, but they’ve all known me for over 10 years), short forms, pet names of any kind. Like A LOT. If we ever progress into a real relationship then I will tolerate your need to call me some cutesy name, but until then my name is not “honey,” “sweetie,” “Dollface,” or “baby.”

7. Remember how I said that looks aren’t the number one thing? That applies to you too. I don’t care about your muscles or abs; if you have a feature that attracted me, it’s your eyes & smile. That makes you attractive to me. You know what else is hot? A man with a brain. A guy who starts a conversation about books. A guy who’s read Edgar Allen Poe and didn’t just see the Simpsons version of the Raven. A man who is passionate about something, whether it’s his sports team or the world around him. A gentleman who still holds doors & calls when he says he will. That’s attractive.

Those are my simple rules. Anyone who follows them may make it to date two! (Hey, it could happen!) I don’t think they’re that hard; I think they’re common sense honestly. I don’t need to be impressed by big talk & the like. I want to be impressed by actions, something tangible, a real person.

Through the Dark

***I apologize in advance that this is all kinds of ADD. I have about four things that I’m thinking of and they’re all like minded. We’ll see how this works out.***

My decision to start dating again had a lot to do with the fact that I was interested in a guy I met casually by chance. He was cute, seemed funny, and he was the first man in 15 months that appealed to me…until I got to know him. We had literally NOTHING in common. He didn’t care for pop culture (you know, how I makes my livings when I’m not schilling phones), thought the media was biased, only liked documentaries, and didn’t understand how one good song makes life magical. So, when I mentioned that maybe we were meant to be friends, he said his only interest in life was me…ew. I like having a life separate from the men I date. I don’t like us sharing friends, I like being able to go out with my friends if I want while he’s out with the guys, no asking “permission,” etc. So, it was curtains.

That’s how it works. One tiny mistake, or tell me one thing I don’t like and out you go. I guess it’s why I recognize it in others, because it’s what I do. My friends tell me it’s because I’m still standing by the water, frantically trying to say the right thing (without saying the one thing I cannot say), stammering with tears trying to fix what I didn’t know was broken, but the truth is, I’ve always been fairly closed off and now it’s worse. My best friend the Psych Major mentioned that because she didn’t feel nutured as a child, she loves to cuddle now. I’m the opposite. I’m detached. My marriage wasn’t a love match and I’m afraid of going through the motions and finding myself wishing I could blow out my brains than spend one more second in this loveless joke where we fight and hate life. I’m also afraid to fall in love. Because if I do, we’ll plan a life and he’ll leave me…and I’ll have to start over again. Because I’m hard to love and I don’t want to fall in love and risk them leaving me again. I’m scared of giving someone my blind, unconditional love & them throwing it back in my face like it was nothing…like I was nothing. I’m sure eventually I’ll get over that fear, I’m working on it, but right now, you likely are sent packing after that one mistake.

My girlfriend challenged me about my love life and I realized I’ve always been the dumb girl with the long term crushes, aside from that guy in high school I crushed on and Gigi and I laugh about it to this day. My first crush was on my friend’s boyfriend’s brother when I was 15. I crushed on that guy all through high school and when I ran into him at the beach 4 years later, I jumped @ the chance to date him to make my ex boyfriend jealous (Trust me, I learned how BAD an idea that is). That boyfriend I was interested in for two years before I made a move. My ex husband was the only guy I sort of just fell into a relationship with. Even my quasi attraction to my former best guy friend simmered for a year and even then, there was another man that held my interest, so much so that I was a total bitch and wouldn’t even add him on Facebook because I was married and I shouldn’t have been thinking such impure thoughts. I’m always a long term, awkward, I want this but I’m too chicken to do anything sort of girl.

This made me think of the kinds of men I would want and I realized that it’s a guy like Christian Bale.

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It’s not just because he’s the hottest guy on the planet. It’s because he tears up talking about his loving, supportive, patient wife Sibi Blazic. He doesn’t need to flaunt her and his daughter everywhere. In fact, no one even knew his daughter’s name until a couple of years ago. He wants to keep their marriage private and away from the meddlers and the instigators. He even cut his mom and sister out of his life to protect Blazic from their unkind thoughts. He adores her, worships her, is happy that she accepts his temper and physical transformations for work and the separations and loves her. He loves her so much that he breaks down in interviews talking about her. Candid photos show him opening doors for her, pulling out chairs, etc. They do their charity work in private. He may yell @ sound techs and sound like a douchebag in interviews, go through dramatic weight losses (the Machinist) or gains (American Hustle) to play a part, but the reason Christian Bale is the hottest man on Earth is because he respects his wife and daughter.

So, I want someone like that, but I’m so afraid that if I fall, they’ll leave me like everyone else I’ve driven away by you know, the crazy. So, I want someone to share my life with, but I won’t look, I hold them to unrealistic expectations, send them packing the minute they displease me and I still leave that front light on. This probably means I shouldn’t be actively pursuing a relationship, so it’s for the best that I’m not. I just don’t know how to let go of that fear of that boring, blah life that I hated or getting my heart broken again. Also, part of me likes my life. I like being alone. I love being left alone. I like that I’m home almost every night. I like that no one is nitpicking my life under the guise of “helping me.” I like that I talk to my friends once a week or so and I’m good. I like that I play with my kids and hang with the angriest tween @ night and I sleep alone and sprawl like a starfish. For my entire adult life people have controlled me. First my ex fiance, then my former husband, then my own best friend (which everyone noticed but me) and I don’t want to give up control of my life. If I could have my independence, and a partner, that would be kind of awesomesauce. But I don’t feel lonely, like there’s a void. So, these are the new things I need to work on so I can continue to be the most awesomest MHC I can be…or unless Christian Bale calls (although he breaks my dad rule). I also need to get this move done and out of the way and get situated in my new life before I think about adding anything to it.

But I think it’s a good thing. It’s good that I’m not afraid to be alone. I don’t fear life thinking I’ll die without a companion. I love my life & I love that it’s MY life & that I do things MY way. I love that I make my own choices & I’m working on loving my body image & I’ve even embraced that I’ll always be a little skittish, a little anxious & that I need to work on those things. I needed to work on not allowing my friends to take over my life, interfere because I’m a shy bunny who needs protecting. I needed to learn that I matter too & I can’t expect someone to make me happy because I give them the world. I have to make me happy. But I like me & that will help me when I’m finally no longer gun shy about falling in love again. Because I know I’m awesome & you should too. Like Katy Perry said recently, this time helped me love me so that the right person can love me the way I deserve & I’ll find my John Mayer (only not Douchey) & we’ll realize that “Who You Love” was about us too.

Been There Done That

Have you ever been so close to everything you’ve worked for, prayed for & wanted, but it’s been dangled in front of you so many times that you’re sure that it just won’t happen?

Welcome to my life.

I hate being so pessimistic, but every time I get so close to figuring out this move thing, something blows up. My hippie friend says it’s because there’s something in my past that should never have happened & the universe wants to make it right. I say, the universe can go f**k itself.

Imagine my surprise when my realtor calls me THE WEEK AFTER I DECIDE TO STAY LONGER to tell me that my second choice house is available! I’m pretty sure I’ve left 45 voice nails hoping to take it for February or March, but my goal to leave Windsor is almost here!

However, this has happened to me sooooo many times this past year. Something would happen & everyone would tell me that I was finally getting everything I’ve ever wanted & it would end with me in tears with a broken heart over & over & OVER again. So, I’ve learned not to get my hopes up. I’m not going to get excited about anything. I’m not going to be hopeful.

My friends worry that I sound pessimistic, but I assure you I still believe that everyone is capable of goodness & my life is amazeballs. I’m just not going to get excited about long shots anymore. Chances are this house can’t wait & I’ll have to continue to aim for May 1/14 to move. But it’s hard not to get excited when it’s just so close & it could happen.

I figure I’m challenging the universe, “it’s your move. Surprise me. Make it all come together. I’m not gonna do anything or get all my hopes up to end up crying & depressed again.” Because in the end, everything will work out & I’ll have my amazing new life in a new city. It will just take longer. I just want to be realistic & not cling to tiny shreds of hope that likely mean nothing & won’t turn out like I had hoped because it’s not good for my psyche.

But I’m not going to lie, somewhere deep down, I’m looking @ all of those little shreds of hope & wanting one of them to work out. Because no matter how much I try to be objective, I’ll always be a child-like optimist who thinks this time, it’ll be okay.

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I’ll Fight

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The best laid plans…*grumbles*

I’ve heard everything from the universe is trying to right something in my life that is off of its axis to London just sucks, but all of my house hunting has been futile this far. I had a lovely place lined up for the first of this month when certain situations (my landlords here wanted me to stay longer & I didn’t realize I needed to give 60 days notice, angry tween spazzed & after I moved my timeline to January, I was presented with an implication of the possibility of getting everything I ever wanted) arose, I had to decline, as they couldn’t hold it for me. Now I can’t find anything suitable for my family. I’ve been down to London 4 times & each time have found nothing. Balls.

But setbacks are simply setups for comebacks, so instead of moping about, this has strengthened my resolve to leave Windsor & start over. It’ll just take a little longer than I planned. I’ll get through the holidays & save up a little more & then move.

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My friend Gigi asked me if there was anything worth staying in Windsor for & I presented her a scenario in which I said I would have “won @ life.” She laughed. However, I’m not big on waiting for my future to come to me, or for the universe’s grand design. If the universe is keeping me here for a couple of extra months, then it best get on providing the reason why, because I’m in no mood to play games hahaha. I can be VERY stubborn & I AM LEAVING. I am starting over. I will do that in a new city. None of these setbacks mean anything, because I’m determined to make my life what I want. I want to be happy. I want a great life for my girls & a place to build my portfolio & maybe even a happily ever after with the love of my life. In order to do that, I need to be focused on the things I need to do to make that happen. So, I’ll research what city is best for me, I’ll keep striving to be the best Mama that I can be & I’ll keep writing my “how to not screw up your life by doing the opposite of what I do,” manual known as this blog, because it makes me a stronger writer. Focusing on those things that make me most happy while continuing to focus on my relocation will keep me grounded & will make it that much more satisfying when it all comes together & I’m sitting in my new home, in my new city, enjoying my new life.

So, challenge away universe. I’m pretty determined & when I set my mind on something, there’s no stopping. I’ll get what I want…just watch me.

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Mirror

A good friend of mine sent me this article last week & I’ve been reading it & rereading it for about a week.

I guess it hit home because it could have been written by…me (save for a few parts, as the article references adultery, which was not an issue & some of the character definitions were a little strong. But the jist of it).

For a year I struggled to get over the man I thought was so amazing, but everyone, even his best friends said was a psychopath & a jerk. I just recently wrote a sobbing piece because I love him so much that I would literally do anything for him & he wouldn’t do a damn thing for me. This came after he told my friend he was coming back for me after a year of healing. I couldn’t take the pain anymore. But now, I think I understand.

There was NOTHING I could have done.

He’s too damaged.

He’s too broken.

He’s a narcissist who uses women to feel happy & then crushes them to rebuild an ego broken long ago. He’s as bitter and broken as everyone said. I am very flawed, but this wasn’t me. I could have been PERFECT but it never would have been enough. Like my girlfriend said that night, “he’ll always just want more.”

So, I’m going to do what I was unable to do for so long. Not just because I had been conditioned by him to believe he’d come back, but because of all the things the article said. I feel better, knowing it took others just as long to heal. But now I’m going to find someone who loves me & wants to make me happy too. Because I deserve that.

I can’t promise follow through if he were in front of me, but I would never initiate a conversation if I saw him or even go over to say hi. No. But I’m not going to punish myself for his actions anymore. He proudly manipulated me. That’s him. Not me. It’s not my fault that he’s that person that destroys people. I gave him the best I had; not perfect, but I tried. By his own admission, he never put in a single ounce of effort. He was happy & then when he got spooked, he made the choice not to talk to me & push me away. HE chose to reach out right when I was moving on & then watch my heart break from the sidelines, boosting his ego. He didn’t have to put my friend in the middle, further straining my relationship with someone I’m wondering how much of a friend they were. He could have called, sent flowers with a card, come to my damn door. But no, he needed to feel loved & I was an easy target . He likely needs help (& I wanted to help him so badly), because my friend was right, he’s everything she said he was & I was just another notch, while he was the love of my life…for now. But like 80% of the population, he deflects it on to the women he crushes. Always them. Never him. I wasn’t perfect, but I was good to him. It’s all I wanted to be. I forgave all the jerk stuff. The number of times he walked out for no reason. Gave him a free pass to walk back in. I made mistakes, sometimes I needed reassurance. Sometimes I overreacted. Sometimes I pushed too hard to get to know him because I was so afraid that he’d turn out like the others & physically hurt me. I let my own past scare me & I would get afraid that he’d walk out again that I would try too damn hurt. But I was good to him & his child, better than I had been to any man. But, it’ll always need to be more. Even after all of this time & his claims he manipulated me for fun, etc. I still believed that he was the facade he created. But now I know they were right. He is everything they said & not worth the tears I cried.

So, I’ll meet someone & they’ll be the one. Or the one that sticks. But it doesn’t scare me anymore. Because he’ll never love anyone, not me, not himself, to evaluate why he continues to hit & run, only to look back & reach out & hurt me over & over. I used to believe that he loved me, & that he needs to work on himself because he leaves all of these people in his wake, & that I wanted to help him figure out why he did this to himself so I could give him the emotional support he needed, but I think maybe my friend is right & he’s too screwed up to love someone (or himself) & be happy. He’ll never love anyone, not me, not his child, not himself to admit that underneath all of the narcissism & bravado & vanity, he hates himself & still asks “what if” about every choice he makes. He punishes himself so much for past sins & women for the mistakes the one he loved first made & had he let me in, I would have helped him have the life that he wanted. But he’ll never admit that he hates himself & always hide behind his ego. Every woman will fail him, because he wants everything & nothing & complete control & to never have to make a choice to be second guessed & judged. He’ll never let someone close enough to him to let him see that he doesn’t need to push everyone away, he doesn’t need to play the jerk womanizer. He’ll always want perfection (while giving next to nothing) & no one is perfect. He’ll never see that someone loving him the way he wants isn’t “clingy” or “too invested” & he’ll always hold onto to the ghosts of the few women he did love & that hurt him (or that he hurt) & use that as an excuse for why he hurts women. He’ll always do this, to every woman & hide behind the masks & he’ll never truly be happy. Somehow, that is the saddest part of it all. Because he deserves to be happy. Not “happy with me,” but happy in life, even if his source of happiness was tearing me apart for sport, because while he may have lied, I didn’t. I only wanted him here if he wanted to be, because he loved me & because he knew that no matter what happened, I’d love him unconditionally & I’d do anything to make him happy. But if he didn’t want that, then I wanted him to find what he did want. I only believed it was me because he always found a way to talk about me, observe me. I never chased him, he sought me out, to the point where it strained my friendships because they felt in the middle. I let him go, just like he asked, but he made sure I knew he was around, just close enough to keep his hold but not enough to be here. I didn’t think it was a game; I thought he loved me & didn’t know what he wanted. I thought he was torn between doing the right thing & his own selfish ways. He always said I knew him better than he knew himself, so I thought if I just waited & lived my life, he’d sort through his desire to be the “family man” & “the man whore” & his love for me & my girls would win out in the end. I wanted to give him every chance to come back, finally let me in & I would love the person he truly was. I knew how hard it was for him & I was going to love him so much that he never had to feel like anything less than my Prince Charming. Had he ever shown up, he told me to tell him no, but I wouldn’t have. No, I would have told him that I love him & I understand. I will always understand & I’d hold him & tell him we made mistakes, but we’ll learn & get through it. I was going to give him whatever he needed to feel happy & comfortable & he’d finally have what he always wanted; someone who loved him enough to make him a priority, & look past all of the self sabotage, love him when he’s his worst & take the meanness & see the man he truly is; the vulnerable & sweet person who just wants someone to love them but fears losing them or letting them down, so he has to push them away, hurt them, break their heart so his will never get broken again. I wanted to show him that as he got closer, he wouldn’t get hurt, because I couldn’t hurt him, because it’s not in my nature. Even now, I couldn’t hurt him because I’m in love with him & want him to be happy. I could never have hurt him on purpose & had I by accident, I would have done anything I could to make it up to him. I was going to love him enough to make up for all the women that broke his heart. But, in the end, he’ll always pull away so he doesn’t get hurt again. Kill or be killed…& I got slaughtered. He lied; I didn’t. I meant what I said; I love him & only want the best for him, because he is a good man somewhere in there. The man I love was real. So, I’ll choose to remember the man I love, and not the man he showed me he really was and someday, I hope he becomes the man I saw, because he’s amazing & could change the world. He is the sweet, gentle man I fell in love with & he could be so much more than he allows himself to be, if he would heal the wounds that forced him to become what he is; a broken man who refuses to let anyone near him & pushes away everyone who truly loves him in favour of boosting his ego, not realizing that if he would let someone truly love him, he could be happy, the greatest ego boost of all.

Far Away

I have a love/hate relationship with social media.

I have enough of it; Facebook, Twitter, Instagram & Tumblr (the last mainly exists for my 12yo to re-blog various photos from her fave shows). Most are controlled, with advanced privacy settings, except for Twitter, because apparently as a writer I need a social media footprint or something.

Then, my mom joined Twitter.

After that, I would have conversations with my mom about my various tweets:

Mom: “are you mad @ me? You tweeted that you’re mad.”
Me: No mother.
Mom: “Why did you tweet about pancakes?”
Me: Because I really like them mother.
Mom: “Why did you re-tweet that sappy thing & what’s a retweet & should I be doing it?”
Me: because I was bored on a bus & it sounded pretty & it’s…no, no you shouldn’t.

(Also, let’s all wave to my mother, who is now a huge fan of this blog. No, I’m not mad @ you. Enjoy Twitter)

But it does annoy me that we have regressed to the point where we think we understand someone’s life from 140 characters or who they follow on Twitter. WWE websites were abuzz when former Diva Maryse Ouellet unfollowed the shared account of current WWE Divas Brie & Nikki Bella. Gasp! What does this mean? That Ouellet is passive aggressive? That the Bella Twins & Ouellet had a falling out? Why is this news? Miley Cyrus unfollowed former fiancé Liam Hemsworth as reports of his serial adultery surfaced. Again, why is Twitter news?

I am not passive aggressive by any stretch of the imagination. I may not be confrontational, but if I’m mad, YOU WILL KNOW. If I want something, you’ll know, because I’ll get it (just ask the good people @ various record labels who told me I couldn’t talk to their artists. I’m like a pitbull. PS with the exception of two, I got every single artist I asked for. My current boss learned this when I said in my interview I was not leaving without that job), and if I have something to say, I’ll tell you. I hate when someone says “Oh hey, I saw on FB that you like pancakes!” (I’ll assume you’re new), because I miss conversations & I hate that social media is sort of replacing it. As a writer, I’m conflicted. I need to have a social media footprint to encourage readers, but I’m also tired of my friends & family using it to learn about me in lieu of talking to me. Not to mention the weird habit of creeping people, etc. Yuck.

Because it annoys me so , I decided to reject all forms of indirect communication. Passive aggressive Facebook statuses (if you do it, you’re unfriended. The end), subtweets, and third party message delivery service. No mas. I’m going to bring back the lost art of conversation if it kills me. Like I told the angry tween, if someone wants to talk to me , I am easily found. My address hasn’t changed (yet), my number either (yet) & thanks to Facebook, generally people know where I am when I’m out socially, which is almost never. Short of me boasting a neon sign that says “MH IS HERE” with an arrow pointing down, I am most definitely not Waldo. I also do not tolerate third party conversations that can get lost in translation. As my coworkers have learned, I won’t even discuss things over text, because they can be misconstrued. If someone wants to talk to me, be around me, be in my life, etc. then talk to me, be around me, etc. I firmly believe in direct contact, not playing telephone or leaving messages with a friend or whatever. I believe that if someone wants to be around me, no matter what’s happened , they will summon every ounce of courage in their body, swallow their pride & come find me, much like Gigi did a year ago. But I will not chase anyone. If you left my life for any reason, it’s up to you to walk back in. Much like Gigi learned, I’m not really a grudge holder & there is one person in this life that I will forgive absolutely everything. If you want to be around me, then it’s up to you to make that step, & if you choose to make that step, I’m pretty easy to find. Just ask…or appear. I’ll be found.

I must seem a titch hypocritical, writing about my annoyance with social media, which I will then blast over social media for you to read, but I don’t hate social media. I hate the misuse of it & when it replaces real human interaction. It’s like my thing with television; as an entertainment reporter, I obviously need it to makes my living, but I do not need to be a slave to it, which is why the girls & I lock up the phones, turn off the computer & TV twice a week & have technology free days where we go outside & play with toys & such. So, let’s stop using our social media accounts as our sole way to interact with people & actually talk to them. You’re likely missing all the important stuff that you can’t find in a status update or 140 characters.

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