Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Happy Birthday Asshole

Happy conception day douchebag....ironically it's not only your birthday but the day that our son was conceieved. I remember it well, more than I should. So the day our son was conceived, yep the son you forsook when you has sex with another woman in the apartment we shared you worthless piece of horse manure.

Fuck you for every birthday of mine you have ruined and for everything you did with her that you were unwilling to do with me, fuck you for all of the lies, the pain, the torment, the basic assholish fuckery that I had to deal with for the past ten fuckin years. Fuck you. Fuck you up the ass so hard. I wish you more pain than you can ever fucking imagine.

I was sweet once, not innocent, but sweet. I was happy and pure and unaware of the pain associated with heartbreak. I was like a newly forged clay pot. So fresh. No holes or dents or cracks orscratches. Then you broke my heart and created the biggest fucking crack in my pot...and as much as I cover it with plaster or fill it in, it will never be that clay fucking pot again.

I am forever damaged and all I want to do, all I really want to do, is to keep filling that hole with pieces of your flesh, your blood, with bits of your soul until those holes are bursting at the fucking seams. And I've done that, and that crack seemed to hunger, to yearn, instead of filling it thrives on blood and gore and hate and this lust for blood and flesh and anything else I can tear off your body.

This crack thrived on darkness and madness..the crack didn't fill...it splintered into a million other cracks furthering the damage done to that clay pot.

So here I am, full of cracks, of darkness, and I can't go back to being shiny and new again, nor would I want to. But this claypot is getting very difficult to hold water and be half full. This clay pot doesn't have the capacity it once did. This clay pot isn't wanted by people anymore because it is not beautiful. It sits on the shelf, watching the world pass it by, wanting so desperately to take another trip to the well to become full again.

I will never feel full again.


Monday, April 15, 2013

on change....

It's no secret that I've changed...a lot....and it's hard to do and it's stressful and I thought I hated it. And now I look back at the past year....and it's very hard to see where I've come from.

But this new Shanna, the one that looked at herself this morning in the mirror, well she didn't seem the least bit familiar....and that made me incredibly sad.

As much as I've changed, as much as I've become better, I still like that old Shanna, I still wanted to retain a piece of her. I've spent the last year trying to run away from that Shanna, the one that got really, really hurt and didn't want to be Shanna anymore.

I lost 45lbs, dyed my hair blonde, cut my hair really short, started wearing different clothes, stopped playing video games.....just way, way too much. I went too far. I lost myself.

And as strange as it may sound, the one thing that has been bothering me, the one thing I've changed the most in my life, my hair, it's been on my mind. I've tried it all lately. Blonde the brown then more blonde and it's crazy.

And then I realized....I like my red hair....no fuck that, I LOVE my red hair. I want to be that redhead girl again. I like that person.

Something so very simple that I had attached to my personality, to a set of characteristics that were inherently mine....and one of those things just happens to be having red hair. I was called "red" for years by several people and still am....that's how much it identifies me.

So I'm sitting here with the second round of hair dye on because the first round turned my blonde hair pink....fucking pink....really? Ok so round two... twenty more minutes to go.

That Shanna is very, very far away, but I still can keep bits and pieces of her without sacrificing the person I have become.

I can still have red hair, I can still like video games, I can still watch our (yes our) favorite shows and not have to feel like I'm mourning that person sitting beside me, I can enjoy them alone. I don't have to stop myself from saying "we" when I talk about stuff that my ex and I have done or are doing for Seth. "We" do do those things. I may do more, but "we" are still Seth's parents. I can still call him and discuss our son. I can still have Easter dinner at his moms house because we are fucking cool like that. I can still care about his family because I've known them for ten damn years.

And I can still have red hair and not love my ex.

And next week is my ex's birthday....and I don't have to buy him a fuckin gift either. I stood there on line in Target yesterday, I was buying several things, but there I was, last item in hand, a Green Lantern tshirt for him. And I dropped it in the fucking basket (you know the one that all those chips go in when people are judging you and what you are buying) and told myself "hell fucking no". I don't have to do that. I don't have the be the only person who gives a fuck for him anymore....I'm done being THAT Shanna.

So I'm Shanna...I'm Shanna the redhead....and I fucking love it.


Tuesday, April 2, 2013

my life imposed Lent

I'm baptized Roman Catholic but I'm not a good little Catholic girl like I should be. I know a lot about the holidays and Lent and Easter and whatnot, but I don't necessarily celebrate or partake in them. I was thinking about Lent this year, I was going to give up thinking about my ex and the many ways in which I could kill him...but then life kind of got in the way. And I realized that life imposed it's own kind of Lent on me.

I got a job three weeks ago...this is my fourth week working. I haven't worked in over six years, haven't done anything but be a mom and nurse and laundry person and person cook and masseuse and teacher and physical therapist and speech therapist and doctor and so many other roles that a mom has to take on, not only just a mom of a child with special needs.

So I work at a daycare now...I'm their teacher and that doesn't mean I just teach. For about 50 hours a week I'm changing diapers, overseeing breakfast, lunch and snack, controlling games and activities and arts and crafts, changing diapers, initiating nap time, administering discipline and the many other things that go along with my job. Did I mention that I change diapers???

I like my job. I enjoy the kids so much. And in so many ways it's like raising the kid that Seth never was. These are typical kids. Kids that can speak and walk and play and run and that aren't always sick. And it made me realize how much I do want another child of my own. . . a typical child....one day.

So about Lent. . .  I worked 50 hours a week, I got sick, I lost my voice, I took care of Seth, Seth was with his dad all of spring break, Seth got sick with a bad ear infection, I got to have a great sushi dinner with a good friend, I remembered my own self worth.....and in a way I got my Lent.

Lent is a period that shows you about yourself. That makes you realize that you are something stronger than what you thought yourself to be. I know I am strong, people tell me all the time, people see my strength, but part of having strength is not always feeling strong, but pretending to be strong. Because these last three weeks I have not wanted to be strong, I've wanted to dig my head in the sand and pretend that the last year had never happened, that I was in the bed with Andrew again and that Seth was sound asleep in the other room.

And every morning when I woke up alone and every night I came home to a different home with my mom and dad and Seth waiting for me, I felt a twinge of sadness, and some nights tears did come and I let them flow.

But this is a chance for a new Shanna, a new life, a new start and just knowing that I can do it all, that I have been doing it all for so long. . . this renewed confidence in myself knowing that I'm so capable. I've not felt like this in a very, very long time.

So life imposed my Lent. I started my new job which taught me that I can do more and be more without some asshole loser in my life. I don't need him to feel good about myself. I don't need anyone to tell me how I should look or talk or act or be like....I'm like me now.

And as much as I miss my old life, and I really, really do, I would never give it up for this feeling of pride I have in myself right now. That is worth a million Andrews, a million kisses, a million hugs and a million meaningless nothings whispered in my ear.

And my first paycheck felt like a million bucks. . . and I'm so going to enjoy spending my own money without worrying about anyone else or needing support from others. Let them say that Shanna can do it all by herself and that she is absolutely fucking amazing. Let them say that there is nothing she can't do when she puts her mind to it. And let them say that Shanna is one of the most intimidating people in this this world because there is NOTHING on or in this world that can get her down.

Let them say that this is just one more medal of honor that she has to show off after the many she has already obtained.

Let them fucking try to get me down again and watch what the fuck I do. I'll be fucking fantastic.