vette...

It's very hard for me not to take anything he says personally... he goes for the jugular.

I don't understand the ugliness... why justify behavior on ugliness to another person? The negativity is killing me, and it makes me want to do nothing but make certain he hurts as well... sound sick? It sure as hell is sick.

Honestly, fantasies are just that. Nothing real. I know about how the grapevine rumore mill works... and that's another reality of all of this crap. You try to confide in someone and speak your truth clearly and quietly. Remember the Deserata prayer? if you don't know what that is, let me know. I'll post it.

But... back to the thought... you go out and seek some support or help through a problem. A nice juicy story comes out because there are interesting details. All of a sudden, you have fifteen minutes of fame because the details are so important to someone without the entire picture. And... I honestly could care less whether I am a victim of rumor mills or gossip. Somewhere in all of the hubub is a kernel of truth that I am trying to speak and seek assistance with.

I know how lonely you must be... and I know all of the platitudes in the world do not make up for the loss or make you feel an smidgen better. The defense mechanisms themselves are terrible... the prevent the human touch, to love, to share, to open up enough to do that. And yet... if the defense mechanisms are down or gone... you have to trust. I am in no position to trust again right now.

Trust me... anyone with a huge forehead, a bald spot, and a gap in their teeth is infinitely more attractive and desirable than someone who looks like a movie star but still lies, betrays, and hurts. It's what's inside that counts, and yet we are so focused on the external appearances that it's disgusting. I look in a mirror every day... I see an average looking woman... I look younger than I am, I have blue eyes and blonde hair... true, I'm not a willow thin model, but I gave birth to four children. True, I am not a rocket scientist nor will I ever save the world from hunger or war... and yet somewhere I have to believe I made a valuable contribution somewhere through my work and my family.

The little tid bits of information to me are just that... tid bits. They aren't the whole story. It's stuff you can build fiction around.

I never, ever confronted my ex with anything unless I had some validated, reliable information with a source. And still, he would lie and blame... and in the long run... it plain hurt to be placed in a situation where I felt I was between a rock and a hard spot, and no other options than two evils: try to make a marriage work and salvage a relationship with someone who clearly demonstrated addictive behaviors and was very cruel or to divorce him. To me, it was similar to choosing which limb to sever... did I want to lose an arm or a leg. He refused to admit he had any problems or difficulties. That forcing all blame on to me was the solution. I am not at all motivated to take care of anything else in this life of mine right now... and I'm not certain I wish to again. Everything I did that could have been construed as helpful, positive, or as rebuilding my life got fed back down my throat and I was forcefed with all of my mistakes... as if all I was worth was being constantly reminded of how much I failed. I have nothing to look at and say... "hey... I did this.. and it is ok." That too is taken from me, and either minimized or stomped on. No validation, no positive reinforcement. So, I feel if there is none of that in my life... if someone so clearly important to me cannot validate that... then to me it often seems as if perhaps the statements are true. I'm worthless, I've wasted my life and space and air on this earth. I'm not attractive or desirable, and nothing can cure that.

"Love your enemy--it will scare the hell out of them." - Mark Twain