relationships – Page 3 – It’s All in Your Head

“Just stop! Cause I really love you.” ~ Captain and Tennille

So, when are words not enough, and why am I thinking about this now? Well, the sweetie students in my Marriage and Family classes (shutty the mouthies 🙄) had to write their own original definitions of family and marriage, and what I got was great: some students insisted that blood defined a family while others agreed it was love/support/understanding that made a person family to you. In terms of defining marriage, I got a lot of people talking about commitment, loyalty, etc. and the word ‘unconditionally’ was used a lot. Then, one of my sweetie students wrote this: “What couples have is indescribable to me…it’s so much.”

As always, I was gobsmacked by this insight and she is absolutely right. How do you find words that encompass all that a couple has? How could words ever truly be enough? Our textbook (and I also saw this on spruce.com) states that: “…marriage is a formal union and social and legal contract between 2 individuals that unites their lives legally, economically, and emotionally.” Is this really ‘all’ that marriage is? A contract that unites people on these 3 levels? I don’t know about y’all, but there were times in my marriages (😳) where there was a lot ‘more’ to that definition.

I remember when O’s dad and I were married and how we faced a lot in our first few years together: O having severe asthma that led to hospitalizations, living away from all of our family at all and knowing just a handful of people in a strange state, ma being diagnosed with breast cancer, me going to graduate school, B working overtime so we could save up a nest egg since we were living paycheck to paycheck, and the list goes on. And this is nothing different…and much much less than other couples face…in that we ALL have sicknesses, financial issues, family trauma (and drama too), etc. that we have to deal with. It’s true that B and I were legally a couple, economically tied to one another, and had an emotional connection, but there was just ‘more’ to this time in our lives than what was seen on the surface.

We went deeper than just ’emotions’ and acted as anchors for one another…support. We sacrificed for each other and made decisions that put both of our interests out there. We worried and cried over O more times than I can count and held hands or hugged while we did…we knew we couldn’t live without him. We went ‘deeper’ than just the mental state we call ’emotion’. But what other word is there?

Then, I think about my sonshine. There is no way I could ever completely express the love I have for him…as John Candy says about his wife in the movie “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” (my ALL time favorite film EVER 😎), “Words just aren’t big enough for what I feel” and he was referring to his wife. Hmmm…think about that: words aren’t big enough. You know, I wasn’t a mama yet when I first watched this movie in 1987 (I was 5 at the time 🙄) and when John said this, I teared up. But when I watched it again after O was born, I got it. I truly got it. There’s not words that encompass all I feel for my boy. And there never will be.

I also think about my ma. The other day I told her that I forbade (my favorite word to use with her…she hates it 😐) her to ever die. Period. Yes, she’s 75 but she’s going to live to be 150…I won’t have it any other way. Anyhoot, how do I put into words what she means to me? What she’s done for me? How she supports me every single day of my life?

Being mentally ill is a challenge for me, but it’s just as big of a challenge for the people around me. Ma has been there through my ups and downs, and I wouldn’t be here today if she hadn’t nurtured me through the breakdown I had. I don’t say that lightly either. I don’t throw around the words: “Oh…you saved my life!” when someone brings me a sandwich. No. I mean…she SAVED my life. Literally. So how do I put all of that in a word? How do I define that dynamic? That support? That love? That commitment? Well…I can’t.

Today Bill and I are both getting COVID tests…he was exposed at work and we both have some symptoms, so he was home for the day. We were fixing lunch (I found out he finished off our chocolate chip cookies…I had words for that…🤨) and I asked him if he loved me. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me and said: “Why are you asking me that? You don’t know?” Well, yes…I guess I ‘know’ he loves me, but I need to ‘know more’ that he loves me. Does that make sense?

One bad thing about having bipolar is that my brain is never fucking (sorry, ma 🙄) off. It’s always on. And I don’t mean just ‘on’…it’s always on at full-blast 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It’s constantly imagining, ruminating, wondering, fretting, deciding, etc. and so I told him this: “Yes, I know you love me…but what does that really mean to you?” Isn’t that a tough one to answer?

I don’t know if I can answer that myself. I know what love isn’t…it’s not manipulation, retaliation, distrust, disloyalty, etc. but what IS it? I guess that’s what I was after. You know, after you’ve been in an abusive relationship, you question so much in other ones. J said he loved me all of the time…everyday (except for the days he was cheating on me and sometimes, even then) so was what we had love? I look back and know I loved him, but have also accepted that he couldn’t have loved me. You don’t purposefully hurt those you love. You just don’t do it. I can’t imagine laying a hand on my son or dog…I can’t imagine ever saying something cruel to ma…I can’t imagine ever PURPOSEFULLY hurting anyone I love. So…maybe that’s why we say actions are louder than words…they simply ‘show more’.

When you think about it, words are finite…they have some definitions to them and then the entry in the dictionary ends. Maybe what’s important is to figure out what words mean to you, and then try to express that in any way you can…sort of like the Love Languages. What says love to me might be different than what says it to you.

Sometimes I think we get too caught up in words. We give words way too much weight. We give them way too much power. After contemplating all of this, I realized that words are something that we need to sometimes throw away. If Bill got mad at me today and said something hurtful, I’d still know he loves me. He’s human…he’s going to say unloving things just like I will. Maybe instead of getting bitter about this and racking up all of his ‘mistakes’, I could instead look at his actions all of the other time…his behavior…his loyalty…his support. Maybe we all need to work on ‘showing’ than on ‘saying’. Words can hurt and sting and destroy…no argument there. But actions and future behavior can heal that…if we let it.

Kristi xoxo

“Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.” ― Sarah J. Maas

So, in my sociology classes I lecture a lot about socialization and how men have such a small ’emotional’ box in terms of what feelings they’re allowed to show as opposed to women. For example, we talk about how women can show vulnerability, sadness, humility, nurturance, etc. in a way that men really can’t. When men feel these things, they often have pressure to suppress them…and that suppression can shift these normal human feelings into what men are allowed to show which is anger. There are countless resources about this and my male students talk about how they have been ‘forced’ in their lives to wear that ‘Mad Mask’ as well. In their papers, they write about fathers telling them to ‘toughen up’ and ‘don’t be so girly’ while validating the same feelings in their daughters. They talk about messages from their peer groups about ‘growing a set’ and ‘not being a pussy’ (no ma, I’m not talking about a cat 🙄). I’ve even had some come to my office and cry about how hard it is to maintain this tough exterior and it breaks my heart how they are deprived by society in expressing what they truly feel.

But, I’ve been thinking about this lately in regard to women and after doing some reading and contemplating my own behavior, I’m now convinced that women are in an emotional ‘cage’ too…however, it has to do with not showing negative emotions instead.

For some reason (perhaps having always wanting to be an FBI agent 😎), I love true crime shows and watched a great documentary on the JonBenet Ramsey case this past weekend. JonBenet was the 6 year old little girl who was murdered on Christmas night, 1996 in her home in Boulder, Colorado. When she was first reported missing, and then later found in the basement of the huge family home by her dad, the police immediately started to suspect her parents were guilty of the crime. They were very rich…she was a pageant girl (which apparently means her mom was a horrible person which she wasn’t from all accounts)…they called friends over for support after the discovery…etc. And because the police had this suspicion so early in the game, nothing could sway them until a man named Lou Smit worked day and night proving that an intruder was actually responsible for her murder and was able to prove it to a grand jury. Anyhoot, as the investigation was in it’s early stages, police officers talked about how ‘weird’ the parents were acting…how out of control Patsy seemed…how angry both parents were.

Heh? Are you fucking (sorry, ma 😳) kidding me? Tell me…how the hell are you supposed to ‘act’ after you find your murdered daughter and the police are focusing on the 2 people, for YEARS, who had nothing to do with it? Hmmm. When you figure out that nugget my sweetie peeps, let me know. In one interview, Patsy yells to the detectives questioning her: “I DIDN’T DO IT…FIND THE DAMN PEOPLE WHO DID!” Guess what, grasshoppers? I would have yelled a lot worse.

Anyhoot, why is it that when women talk about their anger, hate, jealousy, being offended, being distrustful etc. they are demeaned? Seen as being ‘bad’? Seen as being ‘wrong’? Even in the above, where Patsy had every single right in the world to act out, she was still seen as ‘guilty’ simply because of these normal reactions. If a man says he wants to kill whoever hurt his family…OK…damn straight. If a women does? Hey! Hold on there!

And then in everyday situations? I don’t know how many times I’ve repressed my anger at something said or done…just so I wouldn’t look ‘ugly’. You know, like a party pooper. Like a trouble-maker. I’ve had things said to me that I had every right to be offended by…but I have ‘gone along’ to get along. How sad is that?

Some studies show women are even hesitant to say NO in situations that are potentially dangerous so they won’t be seen as troublesome. I’ve seen that myself! I teach about sexual assault in some of my classes and talk about steps women (and men who get raped as well…we can never forget that 😥) can take to possibly lessen the chance of being raped. For example, I tell my students that if someone is following them while out walking, face them and say: “Hey! What are you doing?” in a loud, strong voice. A lot of my sweetie peeps titter…some even saying how embarrassed they would be doing that. When I ask why, they say it would make them look paranoid. My response: So?

As much as many men want to fit into the ‘manly man’ stereotype, women want to fit into the ‘nice gal’ one: Don’t rock the boat…Don’t show anger…Don’t yell…Don’t confront.

A few years ago, a man stalked me and then threatened to rape and kill me in a series of drunken texts. I went for an emergency order of protection which is, in the state of IL, supposed to run like this: The judge will hear the case for the Emergency Order without the abuser present. If an Emergency Order is necessary, a temporary one will be enacted while a date is set in which both the victim and abuser can be present, with legal representation, to then state their cases to see if a long term order can be obtained. (Illinois Department of Legal Aid).

When I went to my Emergency hearing, my stalker showed up…with his lawyer no less…and the judge actually allowed them to go ahead and present their side. Meanwhile, I had no one there…no representation…no idea what was going on. The lawyer (a previous student who must have hated me big time…go figure 🙄) attacked me verbally, threw papers down on the defense table where I was told to sit, and because of the breakdown I was in the middle of experiencing, I couldn’t take anymore even though I did call out 2 lies the stalker said which I proved. So bawling, I walked out and never went back.

I told others about what happened and they said it was terribly unlawful…I should get a lawyer and go after the judge who did that to me…talk to the State’s Attorney…blah blah blah. I did nothing because I didn’t want to look ‘angry’…unhinged…out of control. So, I did what countless women have done for ages…buried it and went on with my life while pushing those feelings down and taking them out on myself. Thank you legal system.

I also did this a lot with ma’s abusive ex (the fucking bastard 😠)…I learned VERY early on in their relationship that I had to be the nice, appeasing girl in order to not rock the boat. The consequence if I did? Ma could get hurt.

I experienced this with J as well: after his abuse and infidelity I was angry as hell, and justifiably so! But when I showed it, I was in the wrong. I just needed to ‘get over it’ and go back to my sweet self. 🙄 If I would have been allowed to express what I needed too and had it validated, the anger would have went away much sooner than it did. If you aren’t allowed to release something…you have to hold on to it. That, my sweetie peeps, isn’t healthy.

You know, I truly believe men and women both have emotional boxes they are forced to live in that greatly stunt them: men having to suppress the sweeter side, and women having to do the same for their tougher side. How sad is that? That both sides have to cover up these perfectly normal human emotions. That both sides have to ignore 1/2 of all they could be and then suffer the consequences: depression, anxiety, etc. Isn’t it sad how we are so freaking ‘gendered’ in our society still? How we have to follow in the footsteps of one path or the other? Yes, we’re getting better in terms of accepting those who are transgendered, but we are failing in releasing some of these gender stereotypes that guide so much of our behavior. I wonder when that will happen?

Kristi xoxo

“But I do know one and one is two…” ~ Sam Cooke (Wonderful World)

So, a couple of things made me happy yesterday and I couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. Here goes.

First, I attended a virtual workshop on how to ‘Humanize the Online Experience’ in your college classes. The speaker was wonderful and talked about how students need connection, rapport, feelings that the instructor is genuine and real, etc. I totally agreed with this but after a while, I realized that the necessity for this workshop made me sad. You see, this to me is a no-brainer. Really.

I guess I was a ‘humanized’ professor before the ‘humanization of professors’ was ‘cool’…suddenly, what set me apart is now ‘vogue’ in academia. I have always believed that unless you see your prof as someone you can connect with, you won’t learn a freaking thing from them. I’ve had bosses who I had no connection for…no respect for…no investment in because they stifled any hope of that happening. “We must remain objective and somewhat cold in order to maintain order” seems to be a common mantra amongst some college personnel. But why?

I’ve been hugging students longer than most of you have been alive (shutty the mouthy, please 🙄) and I’ve gotten looks from it over the years. I also share with my students. I share my experience of being sexually abused. My experiences regarding my divorces (another shutty, peeps🤨 ). What it’s like to have a mental illness. What it’s like to self-harm and attempt suicide. What it was like having a batterer married to ma for so many years. And what it’s like to get yourself out of a very very dark place in order to see the light again. I answer any questions honestly, and there are times when I cry with my students. When we’re tackling the hard stuff in my psychology and sociology classes, I might stop the lecture, walk over to someone who is tearing up, hug them around the shoulders (I ask…I don’t want to invade space), and tell them we are all supporting them. I had a dean once tell me I was ‘being too nice’ to my students and my job wasn’t ‘comforting them or being their friend.’ Well, my retired dean, it was. And still is.

When you take a gander at the definition of ‘teacher’ you get this (courtesy of Merriam-Webster): ‘to impart knowledge’ and ‘to instruct by precept, example, or experience.’ How in the world are you going to be an effective professor if you show nothing of yourself? Don’t help students learn from your own experiences? Don’t show students how their own bad experiences don’t have to shape them forever? How do you expect students to learn when they are needing ‘more’ from you? A smile. A hug. An empathic ear that listens and validates and doesn’t just spout platitudes. Why in the hell would a student want to open themselves up in anything less than this type of environment?

You see, something I was reminded of yesterday was how thinking and emotion go hand in hand. They both originate from the mind and both need each other to survive. If a students feels lonely or like an outcast…has depression or is anxious…is fighting a battle that’s not readily apparent, how can they learn? Seriously. How effective are YOU when you are emotional? How well do you do your job? Remember what you read? Retain what you heard? I don’t know about you, but when I’m in an ’emotional state’ it pretty much supersedes anything else. Period. And, if you don’t address these issues by not inquiring how students are doing or noticing a student who is suddenly quiet and down without asking if they’d like to talk…they aren’t going to learn from you. And, if they see that you can’t be real in the class…how the hell do you expect them too?

I think teaching is more than imparting knowledge. I think it’s building connections with people where they learn the academics but also more about themselves. Where they come out of a class feelings stronger. Better. More supported and supporting. More understood and understanding. And this is a NEW concept? Well spank me hard. I was ahead of my freaking time.

Then yesterday, a student shared a video with me of a woman doing a talk about how a professor helped her deal with her rape by speaking up about her own sexual assault. My student wrote “You are this professor to me”.

I’ve had students say a lot of things to me over the years (some not so hot 😐) but these words hit me the hardest. It showed me that opening myself up…providing students with the atmosphere to do the same…means something. Can do something. Something more than memorizing who the Father of Sociology is (Auguste Comte…my sweetie students better have known this 😉).

Look, I’m going to let you in on a secret. Teaching isn’t fucking Rocket Science (sorry, ma 🙄) . And for those who think it is, you’re doing it wrong. Just like when Michael Keaton is “Mr. Mom” and he’s dropping off his kid incorrectly at their school and a room mom tells him: “You’re doing it wrong.” It should never be ‘hard’ for a prof to connect. Build. Encourage. Motivate. Validate. And if it is…you just might want to go into something else.

Professoring is a people ‘job’. It’s bringing a room full of strangers together for 16 weeks and creating a bit of a family out of them. A family where they feel comfortable sharing and voicing opinions and asking questions and opening themselves up to what you say. It’s creating a place where students can be expressive…vulnerable…willing to learn from everyone around them. It’s not the brain that’s hard to use when professoring…it’s the heart.

But, I’m here to tell you this: when you can use the heart as much as the head in a classroom then you have come to the point when real learning takes place.

Kristi xoxo

If at first you don’t succeed…

So, I don’t have writers block because I’m always ready to yap about anything but I’ve been going back and forth on what I want to write (I’ve been grading my butt off 😳)…but this is something I’ve been thinking about and I’ll tell you why.

Here’s a question for you: how do you know when you can trust someone? When someone is a ‘good guy’? When you can open your heart again and not worry that it will be crushed? I always tell my students to ‘trust their guts’ because I’m a big believer in our intuition. If something doesn’t feel right…or sound right…or smell right (tossed that in there because I drank some milk that smelled iffy once and greatly regretted that action 🙄), then guess what? It’s probably not right. (Question: am I the only one that when I smell something bad, I want everyone else to smell it too??)

But, what if everything does look and sound and smell OK? How do you know you are beginning something with someone ‘good’? Kind? Real?

Here’s what sucks balls about being thrice divorced (shutty the mouthy 😳) and having my heart crushed by J. I have a hard time trusting my intuition in terms of men. You know, I don’t think my past choices were ‘bad’ per se, but I do think I was sometimes blinded by red flags my gut was pointing out but that I chose to ignore because let’s face it, emotions aren’t logical and hindsight is 20/20.

So, I’ve been talking to a guy I know from high school for about a week now and he currently lives in another state. He’s coming to visit me tomorrow (he’s going to sleep in the basement, ma…don’t worry 😐) and I have so many thoughts going through my head.

In high school, he was a really nice guy and although we didn’t interact much, he was always very kind to me. About a week ago, he commented on one of my FB posts and then messaged me and we have been talking, basically non-stop, for these past several days (he’s got a voice like butter…just sayin’ 🤨). He’s respectful, funny, understanding, sweet, smart, etc. and my gut is telling me “YES”, this might be ‘the’ one. When we first spoke on the phone I was nervous we wouldn’t have enough to talk about (hard to believe, huh?), but the more we talk, the more we realize how similar we are and we always have so much to say.

He’s actually an empath like me (not as strong, but very ‘feely’ 🤨), and when I talk about things, he validates and sympathizes and makes me feel heard and understood. That feels good. He’s a giver…something I haven’t experienced a lot of in a couple of previous relationships, and whenever we interact with one another, I smile. A genuine smile.

What’s the problem then? Well, I’m scared.

I got involved with J right after Hubby 3 and I separated and I know that was WAY too fast. I was crushed that 3 left me like he had and J really comforted me and helped me through that our first couple of months together. But then the ‘devaluation stage’ started and I went from being on a pedastal with J to being on the ground. And that happened very quickly.

I would never be with someone I didn’t see good in…didn’t see potential in…didn’t feel love for. I felt all of those things with J and I’m feeling all of them now. But, the good didn’t last very long with J.

He was lying to me from the very beginning of our relationship regarding his ex-girlfriend and taking his anger of being away from her (I now can understand that was the source of often seemed like having hatred for me) out on me. He also had some anger towards his ex-wife and I was the scapegoat for that as well. The thing is, I didn’t understand this at the time so I kept trying harder and harder in the relationship which actually made him angrier and angrier.

But I believed in J. I truly did. He can be so sweet and funny and kind and he’s extremely intelligent and that’s why I think I gave him so many chances because I had seen the good and knew it was there.

So now with this new guy, could it be the same? Him saying all the right things and acting all the right ways until…later he ‘changes’ into someone else? We actually talk about this (because he’s had his heart broken numerous times as well) and he says he will never lie to me, etc. But, how can I believe that? I’ve been told by hubbies that we’ll be together forever, no matter what. And, well…we all know what happened there 🙄. I was told by J he wasn’t lying to me (and he made me feel ‘crazy’ for thinking so…gaslighting anyone?) and after the cheating during our first year together, he swore that would never happen again either. He also would tell me I would be his ‘last’ since we’d be together…through the good and bad. Hmmmmm.

How can I know it’s different this time? That this guy isn’t lying or pretending or in this for the wrong reason? He’s never given me any reason to distrust him, but losing trust in other relationships where you’ve been betrayed unfortunately carries over to new ones…whether that’s fair or not.

People say this: you have to put those past experiences behind you and just move forward with a fresh start and attitude. Okey Dokey. Roger that. I’ll tell my heart to forget all of the breaks it’s had and pretend they never happened.

And, I also worry about this: what if I do fall for this guy? What if it is ‘the real thing’ for me, but he breaks my heart too? Can I handle another heart break? How many times can your heart break before it can’t be repaired ever again?

So I’m excited about these next couple of days (you’ll love him, ma 😀) and hope that we click in ‘real’ life as much as we do talking and video chatting. He’s certainly not a stranger to me and that helps. I’m going to try to be careful and not just ‘leap in’ like I normally do, and I know I need to take my time with this and really make sure I go in with open eyes. And I guess an open heart too. Maybe risking it just one more time will lead to that special forever I’ve been looking for. 💖

Kristi xoxo

“What becomes of the broken-hearted?” ~ Jimmy Ruffin

So, the tagline of this blawg is “just being me in this bipolar life” and that’s what I need to do right now. Just be me.

See, I have a great post I’ve been working on for a couple of days almost ready to go and was going to finish it this afternoon. Instead, I feel like crud, I’m having a super shitty day, and I guess just need to talk. I hope that’s OK.

I felt pretty super until yesterday at lunch…I don’t know what I ate (and no, I haven’t been experimenting in the kitchen, ma 🙄) but it may have been some bagged salad. It tasted a little ‘off’ but not so much to stop me from shoving it down my gullet. See, I knew eating healthy would eventually backfire. So, from then until now (24+ hours later) I still feel like crap and my bathroom has been busier than usual. Charmed, I’m sure.

Anyhoot, it’s no biggie…just some ickiness, a bit of clamminess, and that general feeling of blah, but it’s my mood that’s taking a toll on me today. I think that started early this morning when I woke up from a pretty bad nightmare. It always sounds so freaking stupid when people try to explain their dreams to you because first, it bores the shit out of you and second, they never sound that bad in the light of day. This one was a doozie though…it involved black snakes laying on my bed and ma’s ex husband (that fucking bastard 😡) being the only one who could kill them for me. Hello…calling Dr. Freud. I don’t know what Siggy would make of that (however, I can guess) but I know it was really bad at the time and I was quite shook up.

So, after getting up and visiting the bathroom (yet again 😳), I finally fell back to sleep and I’ll be damned, I had another nightmare. This one was troubling as well. Thankfully there were no snakes (yes, I’m absolutely petrified 🐍) and no R (fucking bastard 😡), but instead it was all about J which is weird because it’s been almost a year now since I’ve seen him.

The whole premise was me being hunted by someone and J was the only person that could help me stay hidden away and safe. Except he didn’t. I was trying to hide myself in this area of a town that was out of the way, and I tried and tried to get him to help me do this, and he’d keep disappearing for days and days while I was trying to stay out of danger. Then, he’d come by where ever I was hiding, and instead of bringing me food or water or whatever else I needed, he would just drive away in his car and pay me no mind.

I guess I don’t need the good doc for this one…it’s a pretty easy one to figure out. But for some reason, it brought up a lot of stuff that I know I need to put to rest. And Lord knows I’m trying.

I hate that I still care so much about him, when he hasn’t spoken a word to me since the day I caught him. I know I shouldn’t, and I know it pains my ma and sis that I still have this hurt in my heart. But I do. I’m not the type of person who can say “Done…NEXT!” I wish I could. I don’t know if this is a curse or a blessing because I suppose you could argue either side, but when I love, I love so hard. So so hard. And to be honest, it’s very hard for me to understand when people don’t do the same.

The first year we were together was hellish to say the least. He was lying to me about his ex-partner and making me feel I was ‘crazy’ (not hard to do, huh? 🙄) when I would question him. His PTSD was not under control and he took a lot of things out on me that I didn’t deserve. But even though it wasn’t OK, it was “OK” to me because when you love someone (to me), you love them through the good and bad. Unfortunately, it was mostly bad. A year after we started seeing each other is when he finally cheated multiple times on me. I know there are a lot of you out there that can relate to this, and I’m so sorry you do because it’s one of the worst feelings in the world. Also, I’m older and him doing this made me feel so horribly unsure about myself.

In between cheating, he would tell me it was over…he loved me. Only me. I was the one he wanted. Then, he’d be with her the next day. Literally. Now, I’ve had my heart broken before…numerous times 🙄. But J shattered it with this behavior…something I’d never experienced with another man before. Couple this with everything else going on that summer and that’s when my breakdown occurred. NO…the breakdown wasn’t his fault…but his behavior didn’t help and his cheating had further consequences I don’t talk about.

Anyhoot, a couple of months after not seeing each other, we got back together and things were so much better. He really did try and I could see that. It wasn’t perfect…not by a long shot…but I felt better with him than I had and it seemed he was feeling the same.

But, I was angry. Very angry. And I had a right to be. Sometimes I could push that to the side, and sometimes it came out with a vengeance. But regardless, I knew I needed to work through him cheating so blatantly and I tried very hard to do it. We had great times during the next 2 years…vacationing in Tampa (and getting to hug a penguin!), being with his kids and feeling like a little family, getting him set up in his apartment so his kids could stay with him and have their own room and all (I loved helping him decorate and get things nice), fixing dinners together, pulling the carpet off my floor and cracking up while trying to roll it up, taking Eddie to the dog park, watching the stupidest horror movies we could find, snuggling on the couch…basically, just doing the best we could.

Last summer, I really took a step back from him though. I needed too. I needed to resolve the anger that was still in my heart and also get strong enough to realize I would be fine if something happened to us. I needed that reassurance. Of course, that didn’t sit well with him and I can understand that. But I also understand that some people never try to forgive, or work to forgive, infidelity, so I thought I was ahead of the game. Apparently, I wasn’t.

Finally, last October we had a pretty bad argument and I was being really rough on him because I was worried about his son and wanted so bad for J to get him the help I felt he needed. This wasn’t well received and that was it. He was done. I caught him just a couple days later after being ghosted, and later he messaged me saying I was a day late. One day.

See, when I went to see him that Saturday, I had realized something during the couple of days we hadn’t spoken…that I had a choice I could make: I could forgive him for cheating, let go of the anger I knew was hurting the both of us, and move forward with him as a team. But, when I went to tell him this, well…you know what happened.

By saying I was a day late makes me feel like if I had forgiven him just a tad earlier, we’d still be together. Remember how those of us with bipolar ruminate, personalize, over-react, etc. I know in my brain this isn’t right…he had to have known this gal for a while…but there’s still this whisper that says I could have saved this.

I know…I know…it’s not right. I truly do understand that. He deserved anger and tears and recriminations after what he had done…and I wasn’t some shrew constantly berating him. In fact, I doubt most women would have given him a second chance, let alone the numerous ones I allowed him.

So why did I do it? Give him so many chances? Well, love I guess. Sometimes I think I’m an anomaly in that I can’t turn love on and off easily. I just can’t. Never have been able too. I ‘expect’ people who love me to love me through my good and bad, but only because I’m willing to do the same for them. It’s only fair. I also pray a lot, and every night I say “The Lord’s Prayer”. When I say “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…” I feel I need to take this seriously. So I try.

Maybe it’s because the ‘anniversary’ of what happened is approaching that I’m thinking about this. Maybe it’s because I’ve been single now for a while and am starting to feel lonely. Maybe it’s just because he’s not completely out of my heart yet. People have said to me: “You need to forget him…get him out of your mind…throw him away!” but I’ve been thrown away (by him ironically as well as 3 other hubbies 🙄) and I can’t do that to others.

Maybe that’s the problem. Feeling like I was thrown away after all the work and effort and forgiveness and love and patience and kindness I tried to give him for the 3 years we were together. He came from a horrible home…I wanted to make his life better…show him that there are loving people out there that really care. I wanted to make up for what he hadn’t had all his life. Yes. I’m a fixer. No. It’s not necessarily healthy, but it’s who I am. At least I can recognize it, but not acting on it is really really tough for me.

I was actually going to write a letter to him on here…you know, like I’ve done for others. It was going to be my ‘goodbye’ letter that cut those remaining threads that I have (I know he has long since moved on). But I can’t do that. Not yet. I’m just not ready. Sometimes I think he’ll see the error of his ways and call me or message me and tell me how much he still loves and needs me. Other times I get ‘real’ and understand this will never happen (IF it ever did, I’d buy a fucking lottery ticket immediately). That’s the shittiest thing about relationships: it takes 2 to make it work and 1 to make it end. Go figure.

I know I’m having a bad day and that the nightmare I had, and time of year it is, brought up some feelings I just haven’t put to rest yet. I’ve come so far in a year and am so proud of all I’ve done and accomplished. But I’m also lonely. I want someone to snuggle with. Someone to laugh with and cry with and share my plants with and talk to and feel like I’m not quite as alone in this world like I’ve been feeling. My ma is fucking wonderful and I don’t know (truly) what I’d do without her, but she also has her own life…lots of friends and social stuff and things to do every week. My sissy has a great husband and grandkids and friends and I envy her that…but in a good way…she deserves it. My sonshine is building a life with his girlfriend and throwing himself into his career…and he should be doing that (have I ever mentioned to you all how freaking proud I am of him?)! But then there’s me. The cheese stands alone. 🧀

I’ll feel better tomorrow. I’ve gotten a lot of tears out and my poor neighbor had to come over and help me un-stick a shelf from my doorway (don’t ask ) and as I was bawling to him about all kinds of stuff (when you feel shitty about one thing, others always follow) he assured me that ‘this too shall pass.’ And he’s right. It will. But right now? My heart hurts. Aches. And I’m feeling pretty durn down from being thrown away yet again in my life. I’ve never…ever…had a guy (actually, a hubby 🙄) leave me and then come back with regrets. Never. Maybe I’m just that forgettable. I hope not.

Kristi xoxo

“Walk Among Us” ~ Recorded by the Misfits

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So, I was contemplating about how I often feel like I don’t belong in so many different situations, and I think I am starting to understand why a bit better.

I kinda hate the word ‘misfit’ but if I am honest with myself regarding the definition (“a person whose behavior or attitude sets them apart from others in an uncomfortably conspicuous way”), it really does describe well how I often feel when I’m around others.

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Only about 1-2% of people in the United States have bipolar disorder…about 2.3 million people all together. If you play around with the numbers (I’m I’m no math whiz, I actually still use my fingers at times…just ask ma), it’s about 46,000 in each state, and in terms of the number of counties in IL where I live (I’m sure you’re all jealous I live there since it’s such a great state right now 🙄), that’s about 450 people in my entire county of over 104,000. Now here’s my point: I really am an outsider in terms of having bipolar. Statistically, it would be pretty unlikely for me to interact with anyone else bipolar on any given day since it’s relatively rare compared to other disorders. For example, about 20% of the population deal with anxiety disorders and about 14% have major depression every year; so although these are horrible disorders to have there are still many more people who might understand what others are going through because of their own personal experiences with them. By the way, if you’re thinking you know numerous people with bipolar, ask yourself if they’ve actually been diagnosed by a psychiatric specialist or if they are assuming they are because of their mood swings. It’s so easy to self diagnose in light of info online, and I’m guilty of it too. Just this month, I’ve told my son I have 3 different diseases since I love to peruse WebMD. Just sayin’. (P.S. O doesn’t worry about my diagnoses like he should…I wonder why 🤨 ).

When I’m around other people, whether it’s at school or at a family function or in the gym or where ever, the chance I’m the ONLY one there with bipolar is huge. HUGE! And since I’m most likely the only one there, how can I feel like I fit in with everyone else? How can they understand how my mind works? Or how sensitive I am to criticism or rejection? Or how I might not be able to control how ‘manicky’ I am, despite others possibly saying, “C’mon, Kristi…just calm down!” How can others understand how I might be really happy when I get somewhere but then get really down if something was said that seems silly to them, but actually hurt me pretty badly (“Kristi…you have to stop being so sensitive. It’s getting old!”)? How can I tell them them that even though I was so excited to plan on being somewhere, I’ve cycled into a depressed state where I can now barely interact? When you think about, it’s no wonder I feel like I don’t fit in…like I’m always on the edge of whatever group I’m around.

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Now let’s throw another wrench into the equation: research is showing that those of us with bipolar might experience either very HIGH levels of affective empathy or very LOW levels of cognitive empathy. What’s the difference? Affective empathy is when you basically ‘feel’ and ‘mirror’ another’s emotional states, whereas cognitive empathy is understanding someone’s emotions, but not actually feeling them yourself.

Well…we all know how lucky I am so…drumroll please…I was blessed with the VERY high level of affective empathy! Yea. 🙄 What does that mean in terms of my everyday life? Hmmmm…where the hell do I start?

I know this can be hard for others to understand, but I literally (I hate that overused word, but I’m too lazy to open up another tab and take a look-see at the thesaurus for another 😳) feel what others feel. When someone is crying in front of me, I cry…not just because I see their tears and feel bad for them, but because I ‘absorb’ their pain like a sponge. Empaths soak up the world of feelings that surround them and this can be so fucking exhausting (dammit…I was trying not to say it, ma…but…). It’s hard enough to deal with my own feelings since those are plenty to handle as is. But pour everyone else’s feelings into the mix, and it can wear me down completely.

This is a particularly huge problem in relationships. Empaths take on the other’s emotions, absorb their stresses, feel their pain, etc. It’s like we’re living the relationship on both sides: their feelings seeping (or actually madly rushing) into us while our own are bubbling in there too. Now, couple that with being mega-sensitive and personalizing things like those of us with bipolar often do, and I think it’s clear why relationships can become all consuming very quickly.

Even though I’m not always conscious of this happening, I am conscious of how over-whelmed I can get in relationships and how that can affect my mood and behavior. When I get frustrated or distressed or upset, it can come out in anger. Like I’ve said before, anger is more of a reaction we have which actually has other emotions buried underneath it (embarrassment, fear, grief, shame…). And since people with bipolar have a lot of stuff happening under the surface, anger is something else that’s common among us. Go figure.

When I think about my marriage to my son’s dad, I see it as the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in. Hubby 2 came from a really solid family and had one of those wholesome upbringings with nothing ‘bad’ really ever happening to him. I didn’t have to absorb much from him because he was usually on a pretty even keel and my emotional stresses were fairly low.

Hubby 3 was much more of a challenge. He brought a lot of baggage into our marriage and couple that with the bipolar suitcases I carry, it was a lot. R’s moods were very unpredictable, especially those first couple of years, and having that load on me was problematic, to say the least. His stresses became my stresses. His anger became my anger. His insecurities became my insecurities. This is such a hard thing to explain to people who aren’t empathic sponges. Sometimes he would say, “Why are you so upset? It’s my problem!” What he didn’t understand was this: his problems were passed onto my little empathic heart and TA-DA…they became mine too.

The same thing happened when J came along. I’ve said before that he has PTSD from being in the military and has also been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Both of these cause great fluctuations in mood and behavior and I wasn’t just watching that ride, I was on it with him. Sometimes he’d wonder why I was so stressed or upset. How do you explain it’s because everything he’s projecting/feeling/acting out on, I’m taking in…’literally’ (that damn word again 😐)? His pain. His anger. His instability. I was a passenger on that roller coaster with him, along with riding my own. No wonder the weight of it often became too much for me.

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After he cheated a couple of years ago, I was angry. And rightfully so! But I also felt so much more: I personalized the affair to the point I just knew it had to be my fault. Cognitively, I know that’s not right. Emotionally, that’s how I felt. And then after, when we ‘started over’ and he became so much better to me, I not only had all I was feeling from the affair, but I was also absorbing all he was feeling too, whether he realized that or not (and no, I strongly doubt he ever reads this blog…someone asked me that the other day). His own anger over his guilt. His own doubts about our chances. And even his own grief over the woman he loved and had been with. Somedays this would be so freaking overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe, and the only way I could handle things was to channel them into anger. It’s the quickest release there is when you get that overwhelmed with feelings…it’s like a pressure cooker easily exploding if you fiddle with the lid.

I used to wonder why I’ve had such a hard time getting past our relationship and it’s finally beginning to make sense to me. When I caught him cheating the last time I saw him, he started crying and hugging me when he realized I knew someone else was in the apartment with him. That emotional outburst pained me so much and it was extremely confusing to me. I had so much running through my mind and my heart and then I had that to deal with as well. I had my anger and confusion and disgust and disappointment but all of that was connected with his pain too. It was so much to handle and it was a horribly complicated time for me. You know, I totally understand that being empathic like this isn’t something that’s rational, but it is something inside of me that I can’t control. How I wish I could!

I’ve also been able to understand my need to be alone at times. Being so overwhelmed by all of this ‘absorbing’ (like I’m a Bounty paper towel) means us empaths need time to get away from it all. We need to process all of these feelings and stresses and moods so we can decompress.

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So many empaths can’t sleep with their partners (actually sleep with them all night…we like the naughty stuff 😳) because the stresses of the day and the burdens we’ve absorbed are simply too much. We need that space to come down again. To unload ourselves. To be able to focus on our own stuff only. I love to sleep alone. There’s only 1 partner I’ve ever been able to sleep with and besides him, I’ve always had my own bed. I used to feel SO guilty about that, and I know it’s probably very hard for other people to understand. It’s almost like you’ve been running a race all day, with others on your back, and you finally have a chance to put those burdens down, stretch out, and have it just be you without that sponge taking over. There were times in my marriages where if I hadn’t had that, I would have burst. Like a big zit. 😐

Anyhoot, not fitting in is actually starting to make sense to me. I don’t necessarily like it, but I know I’m different. My brain works differently. My heart works differently. My moods work differently. My feelings work differently. It does make me a ‘misfit’…I’m not like everyone else. There are so many times I want to be and I think about what it would be like to be more ‘normal’. More relaxed. To be able to be around others without taking all of their ‘stuff’ in, along with my own bipolar issues.

But then again, sometimes I think that maybe it’s ok to be different like this. Maybe others need me to be. Maybe helping others with their burdens is a gift I’m able to give. Maybe it pays others back for having to deal with me being bipolar. Maybe, in a way, it’s what others should be more like. Just a little. Because think about it…if we could all ‘share’ our burdens, feel other’s emotions, take on some stress from others, wouldn’t that lead to more understanding and insight? More compassion? More appreciation for all of our different situations? Wouldn’t that empathy make us better people that don’t cause pain because we feel it so intensely? Hmmmm. Kinda makes sense, doesn’t it?

Kristi xoxo

“Happiness depends upon ourselves.” ~ Aristotle

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So, what does it mean to be happy? Really think about it. Everyone says that all they want from life is to be happy…but what is it? Contentment? Security? Being loved? Having a family? Enjoying your career? A minimization of stresses? Is happiness the addition of good things/feelings, or a subtraction of the bad? Is it a concept like ‘love’ that has a different meaning for everyone?

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I’ve been contemplating this a lot lately for a variety of reasons. I used to think that my happiness stemmed around having a family. The white picket fence, “Leave it to Beaver” type family I always wanted for myself, and I pretty much had that when O was a little guy and his dad and I were raising him for the 13 years we were together. I can honestly say that was the ‘happiest’ time in my life since being a mama and wife meant so much to me. It was also then that I was hired as an adjunct instructor, got a full-time position, and then was rising up the ranks to being a professor. It was almost like the stars were aligned just right and everything that I had ever wanted came together.

Fast forward to my life now, single and living alone, and I ask myself if I’m happy like this. I never thought I’d be because here’s a secret for you: I was always VERY scared to be alone. VERY.

Even when others were at home with me, but I was upstairs while they were downstairs, I’d still be scared! Sometimes sissy would spend the night with someone and my parents would get me in bed before they went down to watch TV. I would lay in bed shaking…literally. My family used to laugh at how I’d sleep with all of my stuffed animals in my bed to where they surrounded me like a fence, but it was my safety net, so to speak. If anything could scare off a monster or axe murder, it was my pink bunny with the ears pulled off. I don’t think they know this or not, but I often snuck out of my room and would sit on the steps for a time just so I could hear them talk and the TV playing. I felt much safer then.

02052019_ted_182643-780x516 — Ted Bundy…Seattle Times.

Then, it was around the time I was in the 6th grade or so that ma started working outside the home full-time (and yes, I used to roll my eyes at that expression but after raising a son, I’m here to tell you that professoring is a freaking breeze compared to the work load of mommying) and my sissy was in High School. Ma would drop her off and I’d get myself off to school. No biggie…right? I had 2 blocks to walk and I was only home for a half hour or so before leaving. But I was petrified every single morning (which is why I often called T in sick to school so her friends could come over for a skip day, courtesy of my excellent imitation of mom’s voice that the school secretary never questioned) and having T at home for that 1/2 hour before I tottered off to school made me so much more comfortable. If anyone could stave off a Ted Bundy wannabe, it was T!

Even as an adult, I was scared. When M (Hubby 1) and I were married, he often had to work 3rd shift and I was alone in our green trailer (if I never see a toilet the color of a rotten avocado, I’ll die content). I’d pack up Scooter (my first ever dog), Sheldon (my parakeet) and myself and traipse over to ma’s to spend the night in my old room. She was married to R at the time (get ready for it…the fucking bastard) but even spending the night in the same house as him was preferable to being by myself. That, my sweet peeps, says a lot.

When O’s dad and I got married, we moved a couple of states away and sometimes he’d have to go on 2 day trips around Kansas (very exciting stuff) while I stayed at home with my baby. I couldn’t go to moms unless I wanted to drive 14 hours, so I’d barricade me and O in my bedroom with my German Shepherd posted outside the door (God bless you, Tessie) and would count the hours until morning. Hubby never understood why I was so freaking tired when he got home since O could sleep through the night by that time.

unnamed — The real Bloody Mary – First Queen of England

I don’t know what did it, but being alone started to change for me when I was married to Hubby 3. He spent his summers riding with his motorcycle club (gang 😳) and I was alone for 3 day weekends all through the season, as well as during his 4-5 day trips. I hated it at first, but then started savoring more and more of the aloneness (is that even a word?). I liked having the time to do whatever it was I wanted to do, but yes, I was still really scared at night. Do you remember the game “Bloody Mary”, where you look in a mirror, chant that phrase, and then you’ll actually see her ghost appear? Because of that damn ‘game’, I couldn’t sleep in a room with a mirror for ages. So, when Hubby was gone, I’d put a blanket over my dresser mirror that faced the bed, and hoped for the best. Eventually, I took it down…believe it or not, that was a huge step for me! (P.S. She never appeared…go figure 🙄).

So here I am now…alone. Everything I didn’t want to be but suddenly the situation I find myself in. Surprisingly though, I don’t hate it and in fact, sometimes I really love it! You see, I used to depend on others to make me feel secure. Safe. And to go even further with it validated…important…needed…and yes, happy too. I sought these things from everyone I had been in a relationship with. I wanted them to be the one stop shop where I could get all I needed just from them. I wanted them to be responsible for the things that made me ‘happy’ and as you well know by now, those situations didn’t last.

You know, I used to hate it when people would say: “You are responsible for your own happiness.” OK…I’ll jot that down in my little book of advice. But actually, it’s true. I think I turned away from the gist of that phrase because I didn’t want the responsibility of my own happiness. I didn’t want to learn to depend on me. Feel safe with me. Feel secure with me. That sounded like a crap load of work, and it was so much easier to put that onus on someone else and then blame them when I wasn’t happy. Right? Why take on a job when you can pass it along to another? (By the way sis, you still owe me a vacuuming from 1980 when I did it for you that one afternoon before ma got home…just sayin’).

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So, I’ve been put in a situation where I’m having to depend only on me. If I want to feel secure, I am the one to make that happen. If I want to feel safe, I have to understand I can take care of myself. If I want to feel content…fulfilled…’happy’…then it’s up to me to create that environment to do so. Period. Me. Just good old (cough cough) me.

And guess what? I’m doing it! Over these past months, I’ve learned so much about myself. I’ve learned how much stronger I am. How much more capable. I’ve learned to take care of me…by myself. I’ve come to understand I can weather storms with just me, Eddie, and Little Dot and it’s empowering every time. I have finally come to see that depending on me is something I’ve needed for a long long time. I’ve also learned something so so important: that being with someone who creates unhappiness for you is so much worse than simply being alone. I don’t NEED anyone to fulfill my needs now (although having one of those fulfilled…ahem…would be sorta nice), I’m doing just fine on my own.

So, back to my original question: is this what happiness is…at least for me? Yes. I think it is. I know when I wake up, I smile. I know doing things around my house to make it exactly the way I want it makes me proud. I know that watching Eddie and Dottie play out in the yard makes me laugh. I know that watching stupid movies and eating dinner on the couch with Eddie’s head on my lap makes me feel a sense of contentment. Maybe this wouldn’t be enough for someone else. Maybe it’s too ‘little’…after all, I’m not traveling the world or jumping out of a plane, but it’s what I like. And for me…that seems to be my happiness.

I still cry. I still deal with issues relating to being bipolar. I still get scared at times…lonely…sad. I still miss having a partner at times. I still want a picket fence family again. Right now, I’m cycling through a bit of a manic stage but with some depression in the mix (it’s such a weird feeling to be on top of the world while crying at times), and the other day, I was really struggling. I reached out to a friend and asked if they could come over for even just a few minutes to give me a hug and reassure me I was going to be OK. They couldn’t so I weathered the storm on my own, and came out just fine. By myself. All by myself. And…I was so proud.

For me, this is all happiness. Knowing that no matter what happens to me in life, I’ll always have myself. I’m happy with being ‘just’ me. I’m happy with how I’m living right now and what I’m doing. Maybe happiness is different for everyone, but sometimes I think people seek it too much in things…or in other people…or in constantly striving for that ‘something’ else that will miraculously fulfill them and make them believe they have finally reached the nirvana they sought. I’m thinking it’s a little more than that…and a little less. I’m thinking that it really does come from within…that it’s not money or cars or houses or others. It’s you, and being content with who you are. That, grasshoppers, is enough…at least for me.

Kristi xoxo

“Number 47 said to number 3, you’re the cutest jailbird I ever did see.” ~ Elvis Presley

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So, my sissie and I were yapping the other day and during our conversation about her new LPN position, she said her boss had told her something she’d been thinking about a lot regarding love. Basically, it was how we are all given only 3 true-love relationship coins in our life, and because of that, they need to be used wisely and sparingly…with great care.

Wow. My first reaction was why the hell didn’t I hear this 40 freaking years ago, and my second (which I know you are all thinking so I’ll just put it out there 🙄) was “Son of a bitch…mine are definitely spent.” 😳

Hmmmmm. Is this true? Do we really have a finite number of times we can experience true, fulfilling, ‘real’ love with another, or can we actually have that time and time again in our lives? I think back to my past relationships and question how deep and meaningful that love really was, and whether or not I had experienced it with everyone I’d been with. I adore Robert Sternberg’s Triangular Theory of Love which states there are 3 aspects (sides) to love: passion (the sexual chemistry), intimacy (the emotional connection), and commitment (the cognitive decision to stay with the person long-term, through thick and thin). If you have all 3 of these components in your relationship, Sternberg says you are experiencing ‘consummate love’ which is what we all (well…most of us) strive for with our partners. Just having a couple of the sides represent different types of love…for example, passion plus intimacy is a romantic love without any commitment to weather the storms that might come along.

So, have I experienced this ‘true’ love in every relationship I’ve had? Is this idea of consummate love something like that of Maslow’s idea of self-actualization where it’s the ‘goal’ of life, but not necessarily something that everyone can achieve? Is having ‘just’ 2 sides of the triangle mean you haven’t had ‘true’ love? Can you feel ‘true love’ without having a solid 3? Can you be satisfied with having less than the 3? If you start out with just a couple of the ‘sides’, can you build the other with conscious work and determination? What if you feel the 3 sides, but your partner doesn’t? Does that negate the ‘true love’ in your own heart? Hmmmmm…

gettyimages-153477096 — My Lord…it’s like looking into a mirror. 🙄

OK, so let’s take a look-see at my relationships (yes, this is going to take a while since Elizabeth Taylor and I are twins… 🙄). My first one was in high school when I didn’t know beans about what love really entailed. I ‘loved’ my boyfriend, but didn’t have any idea how to create something meaningful outside of high school ‘love’…writing my first name with his last name in my notebook and making out with him in my basement on ma’s nubby green 70’s love seat, praying she wouldn’t traipse down the stairs with a basket of laundry to start (by the way, she did do that at a very awkward time…cough cough…and if that doesn’t kill the mood, I don’t know what does. Thanks for that one, ma.). Does anybody in high school really have the experience and cognitive ability to love fully? I don’t think so. YES…I know high school sweethearts who have married and are still together, but I have a feeling their love matured a great deal from what it was solely in high school.

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How about Hubby 1? I was besotted with him and was definitely in love with him, but still, at 21, pretty darn immature regarding the significance of marriage. We were WAY too young and had some really stupid beliefs like we could live on love, and not money. Obviously, that worked out well. With Hubby 2 though, I had all 3 sides of love. I actually consider him my first ‘real’ marriage. We had our son, raised him together for 13 years, built a couple of houses together, moved out of state together, and really got close to each other’s families. It was a much more mature love in which both of us had divorced and wanted to work to make this marriage the one that lasted. And #3? Another true love…and one that was different than that with my son’s pa, but still all encompassing.

So, the question you are probably shouting is “Then why the hell did they fail, dumbass?” (You don’t need to cuss at me, grasshoppers…you know ma doesn’t like that 🙄). The answer? Beats the fuck out of me. More on this later.

Now, with J? I had all 3 sides…bad. I definitely had the passion and intimacy going into the relationship, and the commitment grew quickly for me. In fact, my commitment was almost too much since it held on to him during situations when I should have let go (e.g. cheating). But, to be honest, that’s what commitment is, isn’t it? Holding on? Getting through the bad? Learning from it? OK…sounds good…but does that mean abusive behavior should be ignored because of commitment? Nope. Of course not. So with J? The biggest issue I think that was inherent in our partnership was his own ‘triangle’. I know he had intimacy with me because he shared so much of his childhood trauma and war experiences with me. But passion? Obviously not. And commitment? Uh huh. Unfortunately, as I readily found out, a relationship is only as strong as it’s perceived by the lesser invested member.

Now, why did the ‘real’ ones fail? Why did they end in divorces? Why didn’t the commitment we apparently had not win out? I think a lot of it had to do with me being bipolar. Let me rephrase that…me being a not yet diagnosed, untreated bipolar.

When I was in manic phases, I was high with so much impulsivity, poor decision making, and feeling so freaking good, I didn’t think anything bad could ever touch me. So why work on negative things in a relationship when I’m having just too much fun being up? Screw that. The result? I did things and said things during these times that contributed greatly to the erosion of the marriages, and at those times, could not even begin to see what the consequences of that were. Not real proud of that. And then when I was cycling through a depression? I didn’t have the energy, desire, or even the capability of knowing what was happening in the marriage…I was too deep down into my tunnel to see anything but that terrifying darkness those of you with depression can readily relate too.

So, what if I would have had more insight (or acceptance, since I knew something was very wrong) about being mentally ill? What if I had been treated at that time with meds and counseling (as I am today)? Would that have saved these marriages? Could I ‘blame’ being bipolar for being a pretty shitty wife at times? Is that fair?

Well yes…in a way it is. I literally can’t help what my brain is like…how it operates differently from others. I can’t control the cycles on my own. I can’t prevent myself from the emotional states and related behavior of being bipolar without meds (and meds don’t prevent the states…it just works to lessen them). Or can I? Do I sometimes use my ‘brain’ disease as an excuse? Or do I have more control than I might think? And, does anyone who is mentally ill know the answers to these questions in terms of their own experiences?

What if I had gotten help when I should have growing up (wait…let me rephrase that: what if I would have gotten the right help from a professional that wasn’t sexually abusive)? Would I have had more insight into my behavior, emotionality, and sensitivity? Would my spouses have (I sound like a freaking polygamist)? Would they have understood these issues better, and worked with me to handle being bipolar in the context of our marriages?

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So, back to the 3 coins. Let’s say this is right and we have only these 3 coins to spend on love relationships. We’re given these coins at the start of pubes, and are told that’s it…you can’t have more. Would we be more careful in jumping into relationships? More understanding of what we are truly looking for instead of just ‘trying’ things out? Would we become more selective? I wonder if I would have made different decisions based on this. Even though everything was telling both of us that marriage #1 (sigh) was probably not a super idea, M and I did it anyway. Maybe I would have saved that coin instead. Using a coin on O’s dad was the best freaking coin I could have ever spent though. And #3? I think I would have spent that one too…we had 10 years that were definitely worth it and are still great friends to boot.

Now, what about J’s? Oh wow. This is a toughie. I definitely spent my last coin on him, and this relationship hurt me the most emotionally than any other one ever did. I know I was in ‘true’ love with him and thought he was my soul-mate (the only time I’ve ever said that about anyone). So, was the coin I spent worth it? Yep. If not for anything else, just the fact I was in his kids’ lives for 3 years.

Well…the problem is obviously this and what I’ve been thinking about: my 3 coins are spent. Used up. My piggy bank is empty. Does this mean, if the 3 coin idea is true, that I’m out of ‘loves’? Here’s what’s weird: I think I kind of am. Sometimes I think my heart has been broken and then glued together so many times that it’s just not up to the task of trying again. And even if it is up to the task, is my head? Will I ever invest the ‘commitment’ side into someone else again? Trust to do that? Or, can’t I help but invest that, no matter how bad of an investment it might be? (Like me investing in bitcoin, lost on that one 🙄). Maybe the banker in charge of the coins will have mercy on me…give me another one as a ‘tip’ so to speak. Hmmmmm…if that happens, I’ll tell you one thing…it’s staying in my pocket until I’m damn sure the money is going to be well spent.

Kristi xoxo

“I can tote it, I just need an egg.” ~ Angela (90 Day Fiance)

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So, it’s no secret that I’m not the greatest at relationships (shutty 🙄) and thought it might behoove me to take lessons so to speak. The experts I’ve decided to turn too, who I know will guide me through the perils of relationship dynamics and teach me lessons I’ll take with me for the rest of my life, are known around the world. Their platform? A very serious and insightful show called ’90 Day Fiance’. As I’ve been watching it these last 7 seasons (as well as all the seasons of their many spin-offs) I’ve gleaned knowledge that’s applicable to any future partnership I might have and I’m certain that the secret to relationship bliss is mine.

For example, did you know it’s not necessary to learn about a mate’s culture, even though they have a different religion, a different language (tip: learn at least a few words in their native tongue…just so you can…you know…communicate 🙄) are half-way around the world, and live in a way you have never experienced yourself? I’m mean hells bells, that’s just tiny stuff…right? So, when a woman who dresses like a stripper falls in love with a man who practices Islam, this will be super. When she visits or even moves to his country (which many of them do), he’ll want and expect her to wear the hijab per Muslim tradition, but why do that? It’s not fashionable and we definitely don’t see those on American catwalks, so obviously this doesn’t apply to these gals. They’ll go on wearing outfits with their boobs showing, sans nipple, and wonder why their man is angry and others in his family don’t accept them. Well…guess you can’t please everyone…huh?

And food? Don’t try to learn about a cultures food before visiting or moving to the country your sweetie resides in. Why would you do that? Just traipse over there, and then when the very poor family sacrifices a goat for you (which is an extremely gracious gesture), don’t eat any. After all, you prefer steak. When a future ma-in-law makes you a beautiful dinner she spent hours on, be sure to make faces, spit food out in your napkin, and stage whisper to the lucky sap who’s going to marry you that you’ll puke if you actually swallow a bite. That way, the ma gets a very good impression of you as a independent thinker with distinct tastes. 🙄

Did you know that houses in the poorest of our world’s nations aren’t built of wood, brick and siding? Some are little more than huts with no air-conditioning, no running water, no bathroom, no electricity. Yes, it’s uncomfortable for the 3 days you’ll be staying there on your visit (God forbid you actually move there, it would just be ‘too much’ for you to ever get used too), even though the ‘love of your life’ has lived in these circumstances all their lives. And if they take you to a local hotel for some, ahem, private time? Be sure to bitch and complain, because I’m here to tell ya, they aren’t the Hilton. If there are lots of bugs or animals roaming the street or stores that are carts with torn awnings, it’s always a good idea to make fun of these things or complain bitterly. Nothing brings a couple closer together than a great deal of mocking. (Also, did you know that countries on the equator are hot? Apparently, not a lot of people realize this so don’t realize they might sweat a bit on their visit).

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Here’s something I truly didn’t know but is quite exciting if I ever marry a 20 year old: even though I’m 53 (blech), I can still have a baby! YEA! Actually, I would sorta ‘have too’ since my future hubby is expected to have an heir and is wanting his own shot at raising a brood (even though I have a kid older than him 😳). Now, it doesn’t matter that I’ve gone through menopause (which at 53, one would assume I have) or that my eggs are as old as dirt (if I even have any of the little boogers left), I can still get an egg from someone else…preferably in my immediate family so the baby will be my blood…and then have that little nugget inserted into my nice, healthy, still like 18 pink uterus I presumably have. Well for piss sakes…this is an epiphany for me! Here I’ve been wanting a grandbaby, but instead I’ll just have a little cutie myself. As Angela (who is my age and whose YOUNG hubby wants a little guy running around that’s his own) says to her daughter: “I can tote it, I just need your egg.” (Starts picking out names, ma!). Nuff said on that one.

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And age doesn’t matter! Whoo Hoo (let’s face it…a LOT of guys from my generation are pretty much set in their ways and aren’t quite as exciting as a 25 year old)! OK…some of you may not know this, but J was significantly younger than me. No, I’m not going to tell you by how many years, my sweet and nosy peeps. Suffice it to say we got a lot of looks, and yes, I was often self-conscious about it! I was the wrinkly elder with this younger guy on my arm (for balance since I’m so old I could fall and easily break a hip) and folks would stare. Like I’ve said before, aging is a sin in our country and many of you younger people are apparently going to figure out a way to dodge it (but still be alive)…best wishes to ya. Anyhoot, a 65 year old and a 30 year old are actually fine and dandy (no peeps, J was not that much younger 🤨). And just because my new man will have to wash my hair for me and help me up out of a chair doesn’t mean things won’t work out in the long run. He’ll love doing that and more when he’s 40 and I’m 75. And families love these age differences too. In fact, I’d love for O to marry someone older than me. We could be besties and eventually room together in the old age home. That way, O would only have to make one trip to see us both.

Were you also aware that lying doesn’t matter? No wonder I’m thrice divorced, I didn’t lie enough. Well spank me hard…I know what to do next time now, don’t I? Seeing pics of a body builder from Great Britain who actually speaks with a Nigerian accent when you chat and doesn’t know where London is on a map does NOT mean you are getting catfished. And if you are? Well, they must have a good reason and actually be an ok guy to hook up with anyway. If you’re already married and wait until you’re engaged to your new baby to tell them, whatever. It’s just a teeny little detail you forgot to mention. If you’re moving halfway across the world and your darling hasn’t shared with you the fact they are broke and don’t have a job…no problemo. Just live on love. And the best kind of lie? If you say you’re 40 and use a filter during chats and while sending pics that make you look 20…it’s ok. Your beloved will be so happy at your 55 year old self complete with lines, sags, spots, etc. It’s just a cool surprise.

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Now, not every one of these relationships work out (why, I have no idea). So, if that happens here’s a sure fire way to feel better: get some plastic surgery like HUGE lips…butt fillers…DD boobs…liposuction. It’s because of YOUR bod things didn’t work out, so the more fake you look, the more you’ll be loved. Who woulda thunk that? No wonder I’ve been divorced…I’ve still got my original breasts. 🤨 Another idea if things don’t go perfectly with this soulmate of yours? Just get your newly rounded butt back online and try again. It’s really as easy as that.

This next one is a shocker to me. Truly. SOME people are out there to take advantage of you. To use your for a green card. To get to America the only way possible for them. I know…I know…that would never happen to any one of US. That only happens to people who aren’t truly in love. So, when your parents, friends, colleagues and neighbors pull you aside and say they think the behavior of your intended is pretty bad and they don’t seem to love you (look, they only go out by themselves to a bar a few nights a week…we all need our space 🙄) tell them they’re crazy. In fact, the longer you’ve known this friend, the angrier you should become. People in love always know what’s best…they are always the most rational and most objective. Look, if I want your advice that could save me from getting into a marriage that’s going to last 6 months and then bankrupt me after, I’ll ask. Got it?

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And this brings me to the last lesson I’ve gleaned thus far, and that’s about what love really is. True love comes from texting and face-timing with no physical interaction what so ever. It comes from jumping into bed the minute you land in their country, and then pointing out all that’s wrong with the area while praising your own fatherland. The love is seen in little spats that end up with a drink being thrown in a face…smashing a cake over a head…or storming out of a restaurant screaming the entire way. And the little sweet names you have for one another (and did you know that nicknames are truly good for a relationship)? Here are some ideas from the show: bitch, cow, douche, jerk, asshole, idiot and f##ker (you’re welcome, ma). Those are sure to help your love bloom even more.

So thank you, 90 Day Fiance. I now know what I’ve been doing wrong in finding a soulmate and I’m going to remedy it now. I’m staring my search for a 22 year old guy from a very poor country (whose language I can’t speak), who sends me pics in which he looks different in every single one in terms of his hair and eye color, body shape, & height, who wants at least a half dozen little ones running around soon, whose parents are horrified I’m of a different religion, and who I’ve caught lying (but hey, none of us are perfect). When I find this gem, I’ll let y’all know right away. I promise.

Kristi xoxo

Sexy is as Sexy Does.

So, a friend and I were yapping yesterday about sex (I’m running out of words that basically mean talk, since every post has me yacking to someone else) 😳. Both of us have, ahem, been ‘without’ for a while (she a bit longer than me) and we were discussing when it’s appropriate to have it in a new relationship.

We live in a hook-up culture, don’t we? My students and I talk about this in our Human Sexuality class, and I’ve had so many girls tell me it’s easier to find a ‘fuck buddy’ (sorry ma) than a relationship. I’m not saying all younger guys are like that by any means (my son better not have been); however, in our society men are socialized to equate sex with masculinity and scoring means you’re a ‘real man’. Look at the language used to describe sex with women: tap that, bang, get lucky, bone, slay, get busy, bump uglies (😳), nail, ride, etc. Hmmmm. It’s a conquest. And if a guy doesn’t take advantage of an opportunity to be with a woman (imagine a man turning a woman down and then telling his buddies…hmmmm…), well…he must be gay. 🙄

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And in our society? Sex comes first in relationships. It’s almost like couples have sex and then decide if they are emotionally compatible with all of the things that go along with it. In addition, with society telling men they need to have sex to show they’re a real man, this might be pushed to the head of the line for that reason alone. I’ve had so many male students tell me they lost their virginity at 14, 15, 16…just because their friends already had sex and they were being mocked for being a virgin. They felt enormous pressure to show they were a ‘real man’ too, so they just had it. No love. No intimacy. In fact, how do you even know what those things are at 15? So they did it just to ‘score’ points with their buddies. Isn’t that sad?

And then women? We are so objectified and are ‘told’ that the worst thing in the world (I’m being a bit dramatic here) is to ‘hold’ out on your man. Or really any man that wants you. If you do? OMG. You’re a bitch. A tease. Something must be wrong with you…are you frigid? After all, we’re here to please men and not doing so sets us apart from the women who do. Why go through all the rigmaroll of a relationship, when you can just hop on a futon with someone else?

Last spring, in my Marriage and Family class, we were talking about these issues, and 2 of my girls stated they were virgins. Actually, 1 did, and then when there was so much heated discussion, another admitted to the same. Just that alone should tell you something is very wrong. For an 18 year old to believe, and often justifiably so, that she will be berated for being a virgin is very unjust to me. Anyhoot, one of my older male students (40’s) said he didn’t believe the girls because “No girl stays a virgin anymore…it’s just not done.” So, I asked: “Tell me why isn’t it done? Why can’t this be believed?” And he said: “Girls need to put out or they won’t have their guy.”

OK. Girls need to ‘put out’ or they won’t have their guy. Really? That’s what keeps a couple connected nowadays? Her ‘putting out’? Hmmmmm.

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And the funny thing is this: 50 years ago, the ‘girls’ who weren’t virgins would have been the ones looked down on. Not the girls who were. It was right to ‘save’ yourself for marriage. It was Biblical. It was expected. We’ve done a complete turn-a-round and now women have the pressure to keep their man happy or lose him to someone else who does.

I hear a lot of teacher talk and in some of the local grade schools, girls have been caught giving oral sex to boys in the bathroom, around the corner of the building during recess…pretty much anywhere they can. See, this is status to them! It’s sex! It’s ‘putting out’ and making these guys like you.

Are you fucking kidding me? Our GRADE SCHOOL girls are saying they need to do this in order to have status and boys around them? OK. Where do I even start? First, when I was in 5th, 6th grade, I didn’t even know what a BJ was! (I can’t type it…my ma would probably have a heart attack or call me yelling…either one is bad…). Seriously! And then when my sissy taught me about sex (over pop tarts one morning and with napkin drawings) when I was in Jr. High, I was disgusted by the thought of oral sex…as were my friends! In other words, we weren’t ready for anything like that, and didn’t feel pressure to do it. Actually, the girls who did ‘do it’ were looked down on as ‘sluts’.

These poor girls break my heart. How did they learn so early that pleasuring a man is the way to be ‘liked’? And bless them, because they are being liked for what they can do with their mouths. Not who they are. Where’s their self-esteem? Where is their understanding that doing what you are being pressured to do is wrong? Where is their self-respect? Where the hell are their parents who should be teaching some freaking values to them? I don’t get it.

Capture — This ad is a horrible statement about women.

I also think about how they are learning that pleasing a guy is the most important thing. What about their pleasure? We talk so much about all of the meds and devices that are out there for men to continue to enjoy sex in regards to impotency, but around 75% of women don’t orgasm from vaginal intercourse, they need extra help (toys, hands, tongue…). And, 10-15% never orgasm under any circumstance (abcnews.com). Where’s the help for this? The outcry? Why don’t we take the pleasure of women as seriously as we do the pleasure of men? Doesn’t that alone say something about sex and gender in our society?

Before my son started the 6th grade, I bought him a book…complete with drawings. I gave it to him in the summer (we always had a summer school project) and he read a chapter a day, filled out the info, and then we talked about it. Yes, it was uncomfortable. Yes, it was probably mortifying to him (I’m sure he’s nodding his head vigorously now), but guess what? He learned the mechanics of sex along with the physical, emotional and social consequences of it. Then, when he was around 16, we were driving home from dinner and he asked me some direct questions about sex (he always talked better in the car when I wasn’t looking directly at him). Basically, he asked me about sex before marriage, whether he should always use a condom, and what I would have thought if he had been gay.

So, here’s what I sad: “I don’t think it’s realistic to think men and women wait until almost 30 to have sex (that’s around the average age people are getting married now), but that’s a choice you need to make. All I ask is that you be respectful, loving, and kind to any partner you have. Yes, you provide the protection even if she’s on something; for the love of all that is holy in this entire universe, wear a freaking condom every time. Never have sex with anyone you can’t raise a baby with, because you will accept full responsibility if she gets pregnant. And who gives a shit if you would have been gay? (His friend came out as bi-sexual so I think that’s where that question came from). All I know is I want grandbabies…one way or another.” 😐

Our poor young people need guidance. Conversation. But instead, according to my scores of students over the years, they aren’t getting it from their parents. They see it TV, look online (8-11 is the average age kids start to see porn online), and hear stories from their friends. Wow. I know people who have kids that are at the age where they need information now! Yet, these parents refuse to bring it up. Refuse to sit their kids down and talk to them. So…what’s going to happen when they are around this pressure? These expectations? How will they ever be able to make informed decisions? And, will they be punished if they make the wrong ones? Believe me when I say this: Ignorance is NOT bliss, and not talking about it will NOT make the issues go away.

But, here’s the kicker (as if all of this wasn’t enough already), even people my age live in a hook-up culture at times. One of the guys I dated this past winter (he was a real winner) was pissed when I wouldn’t sleep with him after seeing him twice. What? Really? Just because I’m, ahem, a bit over 50 doesn’t mean I don’t want to build intimacy…need connection…and for piss sakes, need to be in love! C’mon now. Why is that so wrong?

I hate that sex is used as a tool nowadays. As just something to do because it feels good (sigh…I’ve kinda forgotten ). As a way to gain ‘status’ or keep a partner (believe me…the keeping part doesn’t necessarily work…sigh again). That it’s ‘expected’ just because ‘everyone else is doing it.’ Even infidelity is becoming common. More than 40% of couples experience this in their marriage, and so many will justify it by saying: “It’s just sex.” Okey dokey. Glad you took those vows.

What happened to love? Seriously. What happened to waiting until sex will have a deep meaning for you? Part of a relationship that has built intimacy and trust and respect? Why have we weakened what sex is all about? When did it just become another thing to do? Another Saturday night?

It makes me sad. It makes me sad that guys have to prove themselves sexually to be accepted and it makes me even sadder that women are succumbing to pressure. I don’t have an answer for this, and maybe there isn’t one. It’s awfully hard to move backwards rather than forward. But I just wish sex wasn’t such a ‘goal’, but a personal, intimate, loving connection that means something very special. And, it breaks my heart that so many young people will never know that experience. 💔

Kristi xoxo