From the Beginning

 

You know, I'm an Ambivert; someone who is an introvert at heart for all intents and purposes, but, I CAN be an extrovert in certain situations however I definitely don't gather my energy from outside sources (well, maybe music, but surely not from other people). If I don't get my alone time, I become short-tempered, ill, impatient and sometimes down right mean. And most of the time its at people who don't deserve it. The ones I love the most and the ones who love me the most. The ones who I trust, which by the way, is so rare for me. The ones who show me they care for me, go to bat for me, rescue me when I need it, love me when I'm not worthy...and that's not fair. It just IS the way I am. I couldn't care less what other people think of me. I don't need to be validated by anyone, except for one...God. I am like Zacchaeus. I will scramble to the top of any tree (and I'm terrified of heights) just to get a true glimpse of Jesus and hope and pray He sees little 'ol me. THAT is whose opinion matters to me. And when I say "I couldn't care less what other people think of me", well, we all know that is not entirely true because we ALL care to an extent. I just don't NEED to be validated by others, especially strangers. But in all seriousness, I believe we are ALL looking to CONNECT with someone or something and when that basic human need isn't met...well, it isn't pretty. Which brings me to my reason for this being the first blog post of many to follow. I was once this vibrant, healthy, youthful, energetic, hungry (not in the literal sense) young stay at home, bored, depressed, opressed mother. I was about 2 1/2 years into my first marriage to a man named Josh from Maryland that I met actually because of or through my ex-boyfriend. Our actual relationship had been going for about 5 years with minor "hiccups" along the way as any relationship. But what I saw as "minor" issues or what I liked to call "quirks" about him actually weren't so minor. They were actually not so minor that they were the foundation for which most healthy relationships are built on and , yes, I knew this but I really, sincerely thought I could overlook t. Being the stubborn person I can be, I chose to ignore them and I was determined that I would not fail at that marriage. I could make ANYTHING work. Or so I thought, hence this introductory blog post because to understand my writing you will need to understand ME. So, 2 1/2 years into this marriage I thought I could make work (because I had made it work for 3 years so far so why not a lifetime, right?). WRONG! I'm in my nice backyard full of $800 palm trees, a serene hammock area, coy fish pond and a cozy fire pit pacing back and forth on the phone with my best friend Ella (or so I thought there as well) ranting myself into a full blown panic attack about how I just can't do it anymore. I couldn't take his weird ways (the ones that I thought were so endearing at first, yep those ways) anymore. I couldn't take him starting to strip down from the second he walked into the entrance from the garage leaving a trail of wet, sweaty, stinky, nasty clothes all the way through the house to the base of the staircase just to hop the baby gate and go up to his "man cave" where he would pour ALL of his energy into his "plants". And we're not talking about magnolias or orchids here. We're talking about marijuana plants...about 157 of them, in every stage from germination to full maturity. Yes, he was growing pot in our upstairs bonus areas. And BEFORE my daughter was born (on this day she was about 14 months old) it was fine with me because, 1-it wasn't my house and 2-I was a college kid so I didn't care and if I'm being completely honest I was a pothead, even though I did hold down a steady job and function completely normally. So on this day, it was Tuesday, October 5, 2010 to be exact, I just for some reason had had enough. He (the husband) wanted to move to Northern California where is was legal to grow medical marijuana and own his own dispensary with our toddler in tow. Yeah, that was a big fat NO for me. I told him after she was born I wanted him to stop because unfortunately for him we weren't in northern California we were in NC and it wasn't legal it was very much illegal and then we had a daughter to think about, before it was just us. We traveled a lot and did a lot of fun things. I was proposed to by a dolphin named Natasha at Discovery Cove in Florida, spent 2 weeks VIP status at the 2006 Cannabis Cup in Amsterdam, a weekend in Paris, a week in Aruba, 10 days in Mexico and a short but fun trip to Vegas not to mention the California trip to San Francisco that same summer of 2010 and the drive down the PCH to L.A. in a rented 4-door Jeep Wrangler stopping at this place in Sana Cruz that I had seen on the Food Network I just HAD to visit to get these famous fish tacos all to visit one of my other bestie's Lexi who had a fancy job in Production in L.A.. I felt I had done my living and "sewn my wild oats" and I was perfectly ok with being a housewife. But, not a house wife who was always doing the necessary tasks to take care of our daughter, cooking and cleaning, and picking up behind him as he peeled his clothing off down to his boxer briefs, knee socks and tennis shoes and all the while myself and our baby girl are being completely ignored for some plants in the bonus room. I would cook dinner and he would come down and eat and go right back up stairs and he wondered why we weren't sleeping in the same rooms, HA! But for that past year I had found my "niche" which was working out. I loved it. Couldn't get enough. He could. It seemed to be the only thing he DID care about and would get jealous over. He was controlling. He wanted me at home with our child and he didn't even really like it when I went to visit my family 45 minutes away and took our daughter. He had begun to alienate me from my family. I still to this day can't figure out why THAT bothered him but having me there and not paying any attention to me was satisfactory to him. But that is neither here nor there. On this particular sunny, beautiful Tuesday I found myself in the backyard pacing and ranting to Em about how I just couldn't take one more second in that house. I literally felt like a caged animal. So, I made the decision that not only did I have to get out, but I had to get out right then, that very minute. Ella agreed to let me pick up my little Ava and bring her over there just in case Josh lost his marbles when I told him I was leaving and I was leaving and that I was leaving right then and he knew that when I made my mind up about something, I meant it. So I took Ava to Ella and came home and waited to hear the garage door open. My stomach was in knots because I didn't want to hurt him. Then, I did. The garage door opened. The same routine commenced and him and his knee high socks, boxer briefs and tennis shoes marched up the stairs (yes, I'm serious, that is what he wore around the house especially when he was going to be taking care of his plants. The marijuana operation he was running in the attic space). It was like the giant from Jack and the Bean Stalk was coming up those stairs, boom, boom, boom! I called his name and had him come to the spare room past my daughter's room where I sat wrapped in a blanket shivering from nerves. He poked his head in the door and said, "What?" I sat there and finally choked up the words, "Come sit down." I think he knew then this was going to be serious. He sat in front of me on the bed not noticing I had things packed

up. And I just blurted it out, "I'm leaving. I'm leaving YOU. I'm leaving you RIGHT NOW. He looked stunned for all of 3 seconds and listened to me puke up everything that had been in my head all day and all he said was, "Please just don't take Ava. So my suspicions were confirmed. He DIDN'T care about ME but apparently he cared for Ava whether he had been showing the interest I thought he should be or not. And right here folks is where I messed up...royally. But we will save that for next time. ALL of this is going to be put together in my book (which is the purpose of this blog), called "The Best Worst Decision". Oh believe me, it gets better, or worse...which ever way you wanna look at it. No, it definitely gets worse, I promise, you won't be disappointed. You're about to be thoroughly entertained. In the mean time, do what I am about to do and enjoy my hot cup of coffee on this wonderfully beautiful rainy day here on the coast of SE NC.