Day 5 Freedom* from Caffeine

Very minor headache today. I suspect next week will be soooooo much better.

On the plus side, I have upped my water consumption which really means I went from drinking a swig of water per day to take my synthroid pill to drinking about 48 ounces (maybe more) a day.

We have FFA shows coming up this weekend and next week. The 12 year old is showing his goat, which will be sold next Friday (hopefully). Sadly, that left the 5 year old's goat, Fat Nannie, all alone in the goat pen and she cried all day yesterday.

Oh, and the 12 year old has offered to "train" me with my workout but says before we start, he needs a whistle, stopwatch, megaphone and . . . a cattle prod.



*See Hanlie's post.

Day 3 of Caffeine Deprivation

Other then the shaky hands, sweats, shivers, diarrhea, runny nose, bad-ass headache and visions of Jesus, I'm doing swell.

Can't wait until tomorrow.

Coffee

I've gone cold-turkey on caffeine (mostly coffee).

Woke up this morning at 4:22 and my head felt like it was going to explode . . . (grits teeth) I can do this.

I chose to quit coffee because that is all I drink. Coffee in the morning, coffee again in the late morning and coffee at 2:00 pm!

It had become a problem.

I cannot wean myself off the stuff, so it is best to just go cold-turkey.

I feel like shit and it is only day two! I know from past experience it gets worse as the week goes on.

I'll be white knuckling it.

Give the Best Years of Your Life to You

"I gave that bastard the best years of my life!" cries the over-weight, middle aged lady's reflection, while she is examining her facial creases. She puckers her lips and shakes her head at the amount of lines framing her upper lip. She had (erroneously) assumed only smokers would have that problem. She holds up her eyebrows for a makeshift eyebrow lift but that just produces deeper wrinkles on her forward. She stops and stares, then reaches both hands toward her hair line, pushing the forehead back and sees that the eyes get a bit of a lift. She thinks, "Oooh. That's nice. I may look like I'm startled but at least my forehead is much smoother."

As I walked away from the mirror wondering when this new found 'vainness' showed up, I asked myself, did I really give that bastard the best years of my life? Or were my roaring twenties the best years?

Was my life so perfect in my 20's?

Sure, I weighed around 110 pounds but my diet consisted of margaritas, tequila shots, and tequila slammers. Dinner would have been a wedge of lime.

I worked full-time during the day and attended college part-time at night. I lived paycheck to paycheck and lived to P.A.R.T.Y! My schedule looked like this: Monday night: (college classes) Tuesday night (nothing), Wednesday night (college classes), Thursday night (happy hour), Friday night (happy hour), Saturday night (club hopping) and Sunday (hangover recoop day . . . which always meant a little "hair of the dog"). This schedule would be repeated every week.

So I'm gonna say my early 20's to mid 20's were not my best years. Fun maybe, but not the best.

My late 20's had me moving to another state to attend college full-time. Looking back, I don't think those three years would be considered my best either. Mainly because I was waiting for my life to happen instead of making my life happen.

I met the vileman around 30 and though we spent a little more than a year apart from late 2001 to early 2003, during that time, he was always "present" (if that makes sense). In other words, I was unable to get rid of him back then.

I think my self-esteem took a dive off a cliff in 1995 and sunk like the Titanic.

My 30's and early 40's had me caring for others, yet ignoring my own needs. I worked but it was a job, not a 'career' and I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. I thought if I became a stay-at-home mom, I would have time to lose all the weight . . . I only gained more. My wardrobe as a stay-at-home-mom wasn't cute like I had envisioned. It consisted of shorts, tee shirts from Walmart and flipflops. Instead of getting more sleep, I got less. But biggest mistake of all, I quit living and experiencing things, using the excuse "I'm too fat" to meet new people, go to church, go to office parties, and so on.

The truth is, I haven't given anyone or myself the best years of my life.

The best years of my life are happening now. I'm happier, older, wiser . . . ahem; my drowned self-esteem has been resuscitated. I'm in rebuilding mode.

When you rebuild, you make it stronger and better.

And what about those wrinkles?

For now, I'm going to call them life lessons . . . I may have lost my way over the past 25 years but I know I'm now on the right path.

Thanks For Calling

***This is one of those Grrr (and not the good "grr") post. Feel free to ignore.***

Sunday night, I was caught off guard when my dad told me my ex-mother-in-law was on the phone and wanted to speak to her grandchildren.

Just to back up a wee bit, the vileman's parents have never wanted anything to do with me or my children. They had already done "grandparent time" as most of their grandchildren were teenagers and adults by the time my oldest child was born. Vileman comes from a very weird family and if you didn't travel down his mom's birth canal, you were shit to her.

I have spent many occasions being pushed out of family pictures - only vileman, his six siblings and parents were needed. At our first wedding in Las Vegas, there were 32 relatives in attendance and I wanted a picture of all of us. His mother said no, just the "kids" (her kids at that time, ranged in ages from 34 to 48). I asked another out-law (a brother-in-law married to one of the kids) why the spouses couldn't be in the picture and he told me to "get used to it."

It only got weirder as the years past. I could write volumes of atrocities performed by vileman's family.

At this point, I would like to say that just because someone is currently 81 years old and in fine health; she can still be a BITCH. That's right, a full-fledged, all caps BITCH.

Vileman has a dad too but he is spineless.

So Sunday's call was unexpected.

It was unexpected because it was the first time she tried to contact "her grandchildren" since vileman got into trouble.

I had expected a call from her on the day he was arrested. In my weird make-believe everyone is nice way, I had hoped she would call and give some emotional support to the kids and I.

Day after day passed, and no one in his family telephoned to check up on us.

My kids were never close to their parental grandparents and in fact, after the 5 year old was born, no one in his family called or sent a congratulations card and two of his brothers lived in the same town as us at that time.

I was beginning to think they didn't like me. (HA!!!!)


Anyway, Sunday's call . . . I know Grandma 'B' was put up to calling the kids by vileman. Sunday would have been our anniversary (the second time we married) and I suspect he begged his mother into calling the kids to find out what they know.

I wasn't going to allow her to tell the children anything about their father and how much "he loves them". I also suspected vileman was conferenced into the call somehow (paranoia - great destroyer!). He is about 2500 miles away from his parents but I still think you can do a conference call without the third party knowing.

When I got on the phone, I told her that the 12 year old needed his grandparents' support on the day his dad was arrested. . . not eight months later.

The 12 year old wrote them off a long time ago. He is very smart and has always known we were outcasts on vileman's side of the family.

Her excuse for not calling on the 25th or 26th was "there was a lot going on that day". I guess eight months later she had a free moment.

Needless to say, she didn't get what she wanted. The months of counseling/therapy that my children have gone through cannot be destroyed by a phone call with Grandma 'B' telling them lies about vileman. And that is exactly how it would go . . . Grandma defending her son. She won't be calling back.

I guess I'm a bitch too. But I'm just a lowercase bitch.

I'll Be Clogging on Valentine's Day 2022

A few weeks after my divorce was final, my older sister said something to me about being single again. I scoffed at that and told her I planned on staying single and wouldn't even think about dating until the 5 year old is in college. Should I survive that long, I will be 58 years old. I told the sister I would then take up clogging, since that seemed to be a great way to meet the old geezers.

Not to mention the cute little short dresses you get to wear.

But on a serious note, I have been told by 12 year old that I am "hyper-vigilant".

Well, duh.

His major complaint is that I watch his karate class because I don't trust the instructor.

He's right, I don't know or trust the instructor at this time, plus something about him gave me the creepy vibes. From now on I will trust my instincts and not suppress them.

During karate class, the parents sit on a bench in the studio where we are able to watch. So I'm not the only parent watching.

I'm just the only parent sending silent "don't touch my kid" vibes toward the Sensi. Ha.

I guess it's going to take some time . . . possibly until 2022.

Start at the Top and Work Inward

As you can imagine, I haven't felt my "prettiest" over the past seven months.

I have neglected my appearance, my body, my health and my skin.

If you knew me three years ago and saw me today, especially after my great escape, you would ask yourself "my goodness what happened to her?".

Does she smoke a carton of cigarettes per day? No.

Is she drinking dark whiskey? No.

Stress is a bitch and will age you overnight. If you don't believe me, just look at pictures of the Presidents on their first day on the job, then compare them to pictures six months later.

Astonishing.

The most noticeable (to me anyway) is the area around my eyes. Dark circles and wrinkles that were not present last spring.

The last seven months, I had two things on my agenda . . . keep the kids away from vileman and the divorce. I was able to check those two things off my list over a month ago, and now it is time for some self-love/self-care.

Before you think of me as a whipped dog, I must be honest and tell you that I started getting over six hours of sleep in September. This occurred after a few therapy sessions and the relief of talking it out allowed me to relax a bit. Unfortunately, the insomnia returned a few weeks before the divorce hearing and I'm still not back to six or more hours. But, I think once I'm exercising on a regular basis and taking better care of myself, I'll be snoozing like Sleeping Beauty.

One natural mood enhancer that occurred, was I got a haircut in late October. And a good one. Infact, it is probably the best haircut/hairstyle that I have ever had and I've maintained the cut by getting it trimmed every five weeks. The almost 45 years of bad hair days, including my years as an infant and toddler have, hopefully, come to an end.

Time to stop eating crap. The reddish brown dog loves to eat crap. He likes kitty cat crap, horse crap, and his new favorite . . . goat crap. Reddish brown dog craps a lot too. Keeping him away from crap on a small farm isn't easy.

I'm no better than reddish brown dog when I end up eating half a family sized bag of Doritos, washed down with a diet pepsi. It's crap. It won't be easy, but I can have self-control to say no to crap snacks and instead eat healthier.

Last week I walked four times. Today is the first non-rain day, so I will be out walking after picking up the kids from school.

I purchased my favorite face creams, luxuries that I did without for many months and decided what the heck, they make me feel better. I also picked up a multi-vitamin and a large bottle of glucosamine for the joints.

The DVD player is set up in my bedroom with my favorite exercise DVD's handy along with a 10 pound set of weights.

So, I have a hairstyle that I like and can maintain, I bought my face cream and eye serum (though I think only surgery is the answer at this point). Vitamins and minerals will be consumed. Walking is happening.

Need for improvement: food choices and weight training.

Wish me luck!

Sunday's Version of AI

The last time I attended church on a regular basis was when I was in high school and my family belonged to the neighborhood United Methodist church. That was 27 years ago.

I have been going to church since the end of October and may I just say . . . church sure has changed.

Back then, the only musical instrument was the organ, though at Christmas, the bells came out.

Today, there is an organist, pianist, guitarist, two violinists (old and young), a drummer and a bass saxophone player.

Back then, one hymn was sung before the sermon and one hymn after the sermon was over. Today, five hymns/songs are sung before the preacher says a word and a sixth song afterwards.

To be fair, I'm now attending a Baptist church and not a Methodist church, though my mom swears the Methodists do a lot of singing these days too.

I don't like singing.

I cannot hold a note nor can my mother. I know this, because we have sung many duets in the car while traveling. It is sad, what we can do to a beautiful hymn like "Amazing Grace."

I swear, 16 years ago, we were driving back to Oklahoma after visiting family in Dallas, just singing our songs like Naomi and Wynonna Judd. And as we drove past pasture after pasture, cows would look up at us in my tan Honda and tilt their heads, hearing our screeching. Horses too.

Every Sunday, at my church, there is a time reserved for "special music". I like to call it "karaoke" or "American Idol" time.

There have been some questionable solos and duets performed. I sit there in a Paula Abdul stupor, biting the inside of my cheeks and thinking of homeless puppies to try and prevent escaped giggles.

After each performance, I can't help but quote in my mind the same Randy and Simon lines: "that was a bit pitch-y" or "that was terrible".

I know. I know. They are praising God and I'm making fun. I'll have to answer to Peter at the gates, I guess. But I won't be the only one. . .

Three weeks ago, I watched, as the man in front of me, giggled quietly. His large body, shaking with uncontrolled fits while a lady attempted a song, with notes that she could no longer hit.

And last week, during the special music, the man behind me let a few laughs out . . . and he is a retired preacher with a PhD in theology. Of course, afterward he clapped the loudest and proclaimed "amen" after the man was finished with his solo. I wasn't sure the "amen" was for the singer's performance or that the singer's performance was over.

But today was different.

The special music was a mother and daughter duet. And not a young mother and daughter (they were probably around 60ish and 30ish). I quickly opened my bible where I have hidden a book that I read when I get bored. (I know. I know. I'll answer to Peter. . . but it is a religious book about financial armageddon.)

They said they were going to sing a-cappella.

Shit. (I know. I know.) Biting hard on inside of cheeks.

And they sang beautifully! They had an "Oh Brother Where Art Thou" Alison Krauss-ish style. And I got tears in my eyes. It was just beautiful!

Afterwards the whole congregation clapped widely for them and I whispered to my mom, "they got nothing on us".

A Swift Kick in the Bottom

Last night, the local news station highlighted a family of five children up for adoption. The children were currently placed in two separate foster homes and were hoping to stay together. I think the oldest was eight.

When the news anchor was introducing the story, the 12 YO said "don't worry Brad and Angie will adopt them". But after the end of the story, 12 Y/O asked with a lump in his throat, if we could adopt them.

Sometimes I need moments like that to remind me how fortunate we are.

The police records keeper that I met at the temporary order hearing and then again at the divorce hearing (the lovely lady), told me that most of the women immediately forgive their husbands after they are arrested. They bail them out, making excuses that this was just a big misunderstanding. That is so sad and probably has a lot to do with the wife not having family or other options to turn to.

So Vickie, is right, we were very lucky to have my parents and my sisters (though I will tell you, it is hard to go back home as an adult with children . . . but that will have to be another post!).

I know things will begin to fall in place . . . I'll find a job, the house will be sold, and the kids and I will move into our own place.

Vileman, though he has a good job (and Laura, my family and I have all wondered how he managed to find such a lucrative job . . . crazy), his future isn't so bright. All he has to look forward to is a prison cell. And I have vowed (well, in my revengeful imagination) to go visit him after he has been there for a couple of weeks (if he lasts that long) . . . I visualize myself taking big deep breaths and sniffing with my eyes closed. I then let him know I was smelling freedom! Maybe I will dance a little freedom dance, then skip out the door. (Hey, I can daydream!)

The Hotel California Roller Coaster Ride

Life over the past seven months has felt like a never ending roller coaster ride . . .

The day after vileman's arrest, I sat at my parents' kitchen table with a cup of coffee in my hand, thinking about our uncertain future. I knew vileman would lose his job, especially since he borrowed a company vehicle for his little jaunt, used the company computer for vileness and the nice detective had already telephoned his HR department to ask them to secure vileman's office.

I knew I was going to have to walk away from our house. My parents were distraught about the situation and kept telling me that was the wrong thing to do, that I should try and keep up with the mortgage. I was certain July's note would be paid, but who knew after that.

(Early July) This went on for days until I received a letter from vileman who was still in jail. He informed me that he was still on the payroll. Going up!

(Around July 8th) What he failed to inform me, was that he was indeed fired as of July 1st and that we lost our health insurance benefits. Going down!

Thankfully, on June 27th, I had purchased a six month, short-term health insurance policy on the kids and I, so we had no lapse in insurance. Going up!

The vileman was paid up to July 1st with no severance (ha ha ha) and no chance of getting unemployment benefits. Going down!

I drained the bank accounts and paid all bills due in July (including his credit cards) with money orders. Going Up!

I left enough money for him on July 15th to make sure that the mortgage would be paid in August. He spent the money on other things. Going down!

(Late July) We put the house on the market, with the realtor assuring me it was not priced too high and she could sell it within 10 days. Going up!

The mortgage bubble burst and we lowered the price two weeks later. Going down!

(August 6th) At the temporary order hearing, the judge ordered that vileman should have no contact with his children at this time. Going up! (By the way, the children last saw and spoke with their dad two days before he was arrested. Vileman called many times demanding to speak to his children: never was going to happen.)

(August 6th) He was ordered to pay $225/month child support based on an unemployed person. Going down!

(August 6th) The judge ordered early withdrawal of vileman's 401K balance (it wasn't anything to write home about) with me receiving 64% after taxes to live on as six months "spousal support" . . . Grrr. (Though it was good news, I knew 50% of his 401K would be rewarded to me after the divorce so I was a little peeved about them calling my 50% "spousal support".) Going up!

(First week in October) It would take 60 days before I would see any money. Going down!

The stock market begin to nose dive but his 401K was liquidated in August, so it didn't loose the 40% value that many people saw happen to their own investments. Going up!

(Late August) Vileman found another job making six figures (how nice, he got a big raise . . . she writes with sarcasm) and a fancy title (ohhh a promotion!). Still going up!

And we were immediately eligible for health, dental and vision insurance! Does it get any better than this. Up, up and away!

(September) He paid four weeks of child support based on his new salary then decided he couldn't "afford" to pay above and beyond the $225/month ordered at the temporary order hearing. What goes up, must come down! And it sounds like this SPLAT!

(October 2nd) Me: THAT MOTHER F*CKING, C*CK S*CKING, NARICISTIC, SON OF A BITCH, BASTARD!!!!!!

His insurance paid for the kids and I to go to therapy. Going up!

(Late October) Find out from our counselor, that vileman is a classic psychopath. Not serial killer psychopath but antisocial disorder psychopath. Read the book "Without Conscience" and realize he fits every description except he isn't mean to animals. Just the opposite, but than again, Tony Soprano was nicer to animals than humans. That is another post for another day. Going way down!

(Mid October) Decide to put the job search away for the time being and continue to be a stay-at-home mom because right now that's what the kids need. They need me to take them to school, pick them up from school, take them to counseling, take them to dance class and take them to karate. I feel good about this decision and live off the 401K distribution. Going up!

(Mid November) My lawyer (he's down there) tells me how much it will cost for him to come up here and diposition the kids' counselor. He says it will be cheaper for her to testify in court. Going down!

I tell the counselor and she says she will work with me to get down there to testify. Going up!

(Mid December) The counselor forgets she says she will work with me and wants $$$$ mucho money paid up front to go down to testify . . . it is almost three times more than what the lawyer was going to charge me for him to come up here and hire a court reporter. Going down!

(Late December and Early January) Win the following motions before our divorce trial is set to start: the detective and file must appear (the criminal DA tried to have it quashed/squashed), waived mediation (I was not about to pay a bunch of lawyers to argue over dishes and furniture), the counselor can testify over the phone. Going up!

(January 2nd) The vileman files a motion to have the children interviewed by the judge before our divorce trial. Going down!

(January 5th) Judge says she will decide after our trial. Going up!

(January 6th) The vileman settles and agrees (reluctantly) it is in the best interest of the children for him to not have access or possession of the children, agrees to pay me the back child support he owes, and reimburse me for all my lawyers fees ($12,000 it is very expensive to get rid of vile people but worth it). I'm soaring!

(January 14th) I get the bill from the counselor for file prep, court prep, standby and telephone conferences with my lawyer and his lawyer. Going down!

(January 15th) My lawyer says she is raking me over the coals and now I'm not feeling so warm and fuzzy over counselor . . . that will be another post. Still going down and now feeling a wee bit resentful!

(January 17th) Get a small check from lawyer of the remaining balance of the vileman's 401K after lawyer took out my final bill due him. It will barely cover the counselor's fees. A little up and a little down.

(January 26th) Time to start the great job search of 2009! I'm feeling good and ready. Going up!

(January 27th) The next day the media declares Monday as "Bloody Monday" with all the lay-offs. Going down!


I'm still waiting on my child support checks from January 15th and the 31st. The judge didn't sign our divorce decree until last week and the child support disbursement center wouldn't set up me until the decree was signed by the judge. I know I will be paid, but the redtape to set it up irks me. Going down!


I remind myself that my children are doing great and we are embarking on a new chapter with endless possibilities. Going up!

These Pretzels are Making Me Crazy

If you recall from the old days, I loved pretzel rods. Yet, I couldn't eat just one serving, it was more like half a bag in one sitting. So I gave them up.

Until the fall of 2008.

Wally's makes a brand that is quite tasty and cheap. So I purchased a bag and a jug of Clamato juice.

Several times during the week around 9:00 pm, the 12 Y/O and I would go downstairs and watch television. Sunday night was "The Unit"; Monday night the Christian Slater show that got cancelled, and Thursday was "Life on Mars".

Out came the bag of pretzels and a glass of Clamato juice.

And I had control. I would eat around five pretzel rods which equalled around 200 calories plus an additional 50 calories for the juice.

Since I rarely ate three meals a day, that usually was my dinner.

For three months, I showed a little control. I ate them slowly while sipping on my tomato juice. (Pretzels and tomato/clamato juice are a very nice combination.)

Well joyfulness and giddiness appeared and all of a sudden, a bag that would last me almost two weeks, was gone in two days.

Naturally, my pants started feeling tighter.

So, I had to banish them . . . again.

Dang.

Finding Inspiration from 12 Y/O

First, thank you all for your nice and supportive comments. The vileness of the situation is not only embarrassing - though I know we have nothing to be embarrassed about because of his actions; but also, I feel I will always be judged, as in "how could she not have known?"

The vileman was in expert in compartmentalizing. Knowing when to be "family man" and when to be "vileman". I had my suspicions, but no proof. Thankfully, he ran out of luck and was caught.

Up until I started this new blog, only my family and a few of my friends knew about our situation. I have waited seven months to start blogging the truth.

Due to the embarrassment factor, I chose to move the children and myself to my parents' house. New town and new schools where no one has to know about vileman.

***

Last spring, I purchased new shorts for 12 Y/O (who was 11 at that time), all of them a size 12. None of them fit - too tight. He went from a size boys 10 to 14, skipping size 12. He was in no way chubby or husky or plump.

Anyway, this past summer I noticed his belly was poochy and even saw a few cellulite patches. We of course, had a traumatic summer where we fled away from our home, the neighborhood swimming pool, greenbelt trails and a YMCA membership. So I was hoping he wouldn't be the new "fat" kid by the time school started. I think he might have weighed 110 pounds by the end of August and at 5 foot even, that is still no where near being fat. I was just worried about the belly unfitness (my problem).

School starts and up here, the kids have PE more than twice a week. And "coach" is lazy. He just looks like a former high school athlete who drank one too many beers. But he makes the kids run laps, do sit-ups and push ups.

Add karate lessons twice a week, by Thanksgiving, 12 Y/O had the makings of a six pack (I have a pony keg). His biceps and triceps have definition, thanks to those knuckle push-ups and planks.

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed his jeans were baggy (size boys 14's) and asked him to get on the scale.

101.4 pounds.


All I could think: "I sure wished I had started doing what he was doing back at the end of August."

Now is my chance.

Start today.

And in six months, I'm going to be telling myself "I'm so glad I finally started."