Still coping

CaptureI still want to cry when I see the pictures of myself in the hospital and think about having her alone, being in the hospital alone. No one visiting. I just…I just need to be ok with all of this. It’s not about strength; it’s not about doing the right thing;it’s about trying to be happy with my life.  It’s about finding or being grateful for the things I’ve done for myself. It’s so hard when I have a baby that is very needy. Sometimes, I just want to leave her in the room to cry. I hate babies. I can’t wait until she’s four.

Finally, she’s asleep.

I hate when people ask me if I have support. All the times she and I have gone to the doctor’s or hospital that stupid question comes up I think, “Do I look like I have support?! I’m here alone, idiot!” Why even ask the stupid question? It’s not like anyone’s going to do anything about it.

My daughter has GERD.  It could be worse, much worse, but it’s difficult doing it by myself.

He wants to come around and babysit a couple of days out of the week, but I don’t even want to see him sometimes. I let him come over because I need a break or I’ll snap. I don’t know if it’s worth it.

I was over his place this weekend. I went upstairs to shower the next morning and saw a picture of him and the new girl on his floor. She’s stunning. Even more so than the last. perfect symmetry. So from yesterday, until today, I’ve had to keep telling myself, “I know I’m not beautiful and it’s ok.  Beauty does not make someone faithful. Lack of beauty does not make someone else cruel.  My life is the way it should be. The way I always knew it would be. Just accept it.”

So I accept it and I let him do what he wants. Then go home and bury it, not think of it. Ignore it.  I try to bury the memory of him putting a bag over my head while 5 months pregnant and asking me to kill myself. I bury him getting another woman pregnant after leaving me and telling me he wants to have a family, a life with her and their kids.  I bury the panic attacks I have when these emotions peek through after months of nothing and not thinking about my past.

You can’t change someone and it doesn’t matter if they treat someone else better. It doesn’t matter if they would never kiss your stomach and talk to your child. It doesn’t matter that they will never tell you they love you or pretend to be faithful or lie to you. It doesn’t change who they are. And it doesn’t change that I will always be lonely with only my children and demons to keep me company.


It’s not really winter if it’s 80 degrees outside.

maywinWish I could hit the treadmill.

“I hate you I love you.
I hate that I I love you.
Don’t want to, but I can’t put nobody else above you.
I want you, you want her, you need her and I will never be her.”

When other relationships ended I would beat my body up on the treadmill.  It felt great to hit the belt with my new black Asics while listening to music really loud and watching Grey’s Anatomy.  I would work my way up to 3 miles in 40 mins. Not great timing, but at least I could run 3 miles.  Sweat would pour down, my face beety blotches of red, hitting the treadmill with my flat feet, pound, pound, pound, mixed with the sheesh of the belt, fight back the emotion.

Check the time, another 10 mins. gone. Ok. Slow down for 2 minutes. Speed back up and make the next mile in 12.

God I loved it.

I did that the whole summer of 2014 when I first found out about her. I would go to the gym twice a day.  Swim laps in the morning and run in the evening.  He made fun of me after I lost 27 pounds and said, “I should have told you about Jennifer sooner.” Asshole.

We didn’t talk for a month after and then I showed up Halloween night. The first time I ever showed up unannounced. He came outside and tried to have me on his car. I told him it’s cold and his neighbors could see. We went inside, I met his friend Paolo, we went upstairs and I spent the weekend at his place. She was two months at the time.

To be fair I don’t consider myself a homewrecker. I was with him for a year and a half before she entered my life.  -Under the impression we were exclusive.  He spent the holidays with me and my daughter except for Valentine’s day. He spent that weekend with us, but didn’t show up until the 15th. I would stay on the phone with him until he slept daily.  He would call several times a day.  I would get a morning call, a call during my breaks.  We had a relationship. I loved him so much then and I still love him now.

She was with someone else. She says that he was with her all the time, but there’s just no way that is possible. We spoke too much for him to have been with her.  I saw him on the weekends.  Not every weekend, though. There were breaks when he was “traveling” for work. Those weekends he was with her and his son. January 2014 I heard her voice for the first time while he was in “Boston”.  He was in the background saying, “Is that mommy?”  I called him several times, no answer. The next day he called and told me he was staying at a friend’s house in “Boston” and they have a kid. I saw him that February and then two months went by. I didn’t see him again until May and spent every weekend with him. He told me then that I should move on and start dating. The next weekend she called me. I was devastated.  Sunk into a pit of depression, fought back with running.

Then I discovered she was with another person. He showed me pictures and texts of her with someone else.  She sent me photos of them together.  His son. It was back and forth that whole summer. Anyone else would have left and I didn’t. I stayed. I told her I was expecting one night when she called to ask if he was still with me.  She was screaming, “Are you still fucking him.”  I didn’t know what to say. I shook with confusion and anger.   I told her, “I’m pregnant.”  I wanted to be. I wanted to have his child and that family.  I was 31, my clock ticking, knowing I will never be married or loved.

Then August came around. He called me.

“We have to stop seeing eachother. Jennifer is pregnant.”
“It’s yours.”
“No. It’s not. It’s Brett’s”
“So why do we have to stop seeing eachother?”
“I just want to have both of you out of my life…I…I just want to move on from all of it.”

I spoke to her. She didn’t know who the father was. I didn’t let go.  He and I texted back and forth. I cried. I wanted him back. I didn’t want to lose him. He wanted me gone. I looked her up. She was still with the other guy. His page was all about her, and the boy.  The boy even had his last name. I justified pursuing someone who didn’t love me armed with that information. I year went by with monthly drama. May 2015 came around. She was due and he was with me the entire month. I saw him more now that I had ever before.  Things were back to normal before I knew of her.  I thought she was out of our lives. Then the pregnancy test came.

He left me.

She decided she finally wanted a family with him. They were going to be a family. I was never first, but he would have stayed with me if she

-I would have been good enough. I was loyal. I was there. I wanted to give him the family he didn’t have. The unconditional love and respect.  It just wasn’t enough. He never loved me. I spent the summer listening to him rampage obscenities on the phone. Calling me every name imaginable. Screaming at me, demanding I die, abort or give her up.  All he wanted was for me to be out of his life, gone.  He didn’t care how it happened just that it happened. On the other end was her taunting me. Telling me about how he would call her and tell her he loves her. Telling me that he’d put his head on her belly and would talk to the baby that maybe he’d come around and do that for me.

Pain, pain and more pain. Overtime, I got desensitized to it, buried it and continued to pursue.  We’d connect and disconnect, months of doing this and now here I am. December, 8 months.

I can’t really run anymore, but God, today I wish I could.


My partial confession



I never thought I would be this kind of person, although everything in my life pointed to her emerging. I wish I could be who I dreamed of being, but that isn’t what I really want, is it? I know why I’m here, I know how I got here, I just don’t know how to accept it. I guess I should be more clear.

I force people into relationships. I’m the kind of woman men are warned to stay away from. The desperate, clingy, needy, love-you-for-eternity-no-matter-the-consequences-or-your-behavior, type of woman. I’m the one men fall in love with at first and then try to claw their way from as I latch on.

I’ve been called a “duck” -at the first sight of possible forever love, I’ll follow blindly thus the day’s events.

I saw him today. I walked into his home uninvited, unannounced, my heart pounding wondering if he was alone upstairs.  I saw the platter of cookies on the counter as I dropped off diapers and made my way to his room. I lied down next to him and cried as I held him. He begrudgingly let me lie there holding him. My belly swelled up against his back.  Our daughter squirming under the sheets.  I wondered if he feels her too.

After an hour or so passes I run my hands down his body and kiss his neck. I want to feel connected to him.  I want to delude myself into thinking he is not gone from my life. He’s angry with me so I make my lips down his chest and ask if I can have him.

I’m not his.  He’s not mine.  I tell myself this everyday.  Soon, I won’t even have our daughter.  She’ll belong to her too.

She thinks I have no reason to be upset because I never had him to begin with. She’s probably right.

I’ve lost my dream again and I’ve fought frighteningly hard for it.  If only I could accept that I’ll never find the person who I want to be then maybe I’ll stop fighting and hurting others in the process.