Past, Present, and Future

I'm chilling in a coffeehouse, with a fresh manicure, and the world is right again. There are so many things to love about this time of year, but I love how it tends to lead to reflection about the previous year, and the hopeful things for the following year.

I'm still a bit perplexed about the rollercoaster that 2022 was early on. I was in a shitty (short lived) relationship, in extraordinary pain from car accident because of said dude, I had just started a new job after a long string of previous bad jobs, the new job was crappy too, still decompressing from having to move back to Atlanta from L.A. and having to rebuild my bond and trust with my son, after my ex pumped his head full of lies about my me.

At some point during the year, things began to shift in the opposite direction. I finally had enough of the shitty dude and decided that his problems were no longer my concern and put his ass out. I obtained a job that helped me feel more confident about my ability to be efficient and effective, and then I finally landed pretty much endgame of the jobs I'd been hoping to land since I finished grad school.

I was supposed to meet with Devon today. He told me he had more ideas to share for my book. I'm kind of taking a backseat on the book (just through the new year), although I'm still keeping it in mind. He and I are going to meet up early Saturday instead. I love and appreciate that Devon is so dedicated to helping me push this forward, while so many of my exes always blew things off that were important to me. Not only is Devon talking to his network for me to help me move in the right direction, he genuinely seems to be just as passionate about it as I am. Anyway, we were supposed to meet, but my family is visiting town for the holiday, and we made plans, especially since this is the first holiday after 2 loved ones passed away. Alas, plans changed last minute, allowing me to get these nails done and decompress for a few before I go grab groceries for tomorrow.

While in bed this morning, I read an article that showed various methods of husbands using "weaponized incompetence," which is where someone pretends to be bad at something in order to 1. no longer be responsible for caring for it in the future. 2. avoiding responsibility if it is done poorly. Suddenly, I was taken back.

At my son's birthday party, a few years back, while he was trying to urge me to go to counseling with him, my son's father said to me "I still remember the good times we had." And I briefly jogged my memory and explained that I didn't have the same good memories. I said to him that I'm sure they existed, but at that particular moment, I was honestly having a hard time recalling any good memories. But the article today slapped me in the face with the truth. I had no good memories, because there were no good memories. At least not for me.

But of course my ex had the good memories. He had good memories of the relationship, because I was good to him! I remember how I'd see him balled up on the couch, and although he'd always claim that he didn't want a blanket, I observed his body language, knew he was cold, and brought him one anyway. He only told me towards the end of the relationship, that he appreciated that I used to do that. When I learned that he loved frozen candy bars just as much as I did, I made it a point to always keep them on deck in the freezer. One year, I realized that he and a few of his relatives shared close birthdays, so I reached out to them for all of us to have a family celebration together. All of those little things that someone does to show you that they love you and they're paying attention to you? I did them.

And what did I get in return? I got insults. I got called stupid, and bitch. I recall him following me to my bedroom and hurling insults at me, hoping I'd open the door and fight with him. Sometimes I'd win, sometimes he'd win. But who really "wins" when you live like that? I remember the countless lies. I remember him picking me up from the hospital after giving birth to his child, with fucking HICKIES on his neck. I remember some other chick calling my phone and telling me she might be pregnant by him. I remember him bringing some "childhood friend" into my home, another bitch he was fucking. Say what you want, but I never showed up at a dude's house and tried to play nice with whoever he was dealing with. Grimy ain't my style.  My son  recently said in front of me and a friend of mine "I still remember when dad hit you." I will live with that guilt for the rest of my life.  I remember him allowing his absolute garbage of a "friend" to slash my fucking tires and break my windshield (which my dumb ass ex had to pay to replace). I remember him sitting back quietly and allowing his family to attack me and accuse me of ruining his life, in spite of the fact that I got pregnant based solely on the lie on top of lie he told me when we first met. On top of that bullshit, he continued to try to attack me and harass me, even after we broke up and he was openly fucking the booger wolf he ended up with because I left him. 

Good times? Fucking really?! Where?! WHEN?!

(So now that I got that out of my system)

So this morning, something in that article brought it out for me. I didn't erase any happy memories. They didn't exist. At least, not for me. Thinking back on that mess, it's really quite insulting for him to make such a horrible relationship all warm and fuzzy, just so the doesn't have to deal with the consequences of how terrible he was, and hoping that he'll slide comfortably back into a relationship with me. It's almost as if in his mind, I'll always be there waiting in the wings for him, no matter how horrible he was to me, and he put that mess on full display by suggesting we go to counseling, as if we'd hit a minor bump in the road of our otherwise loving relationship.

No wonder I didn't go to counseling with his ass!! Who wants to return to that shit?! I'm sure he did have great memories of me. I was loyal, funny, kind, understanding, naïve, and downright stupid. But that's my story, I was there, and I own my role in it. He had an amazing woman who was kind, loving, creative, fun, and supportive. And in return, he was allowed to show his ass every fucking time he wanted to. And he ruined her. At least he's another woman's problem now.

I was definitely bitter for a long time. But I'm not now. I'm the opposite. I don't consider myself ruined either. I'm still that warm, amazing woman that he first met. But he'll never in life get the chance to experience her awesomeness again, and I'm fully fucking okay with it. I finally found the joy in being alone. I've learned the value of blocking out men and not feeing apologetic when I needed to mob out, based on all the red flags. I now have the power and the knowledge to run like hell if stuff is crappy early on, rather than standing firm in the shit storm, hoping it gets better. I'm finally looking ahead at retirement. I put in time for my spring and summer vacations last night at work. Obviously going back to L.A., but considering spending time in Denver also.

I'm focused on my son, making sure he feels loved and supported. I'm focusing on becoming the best woman I can be and being unapologetically outstanding. I'm focusing on moving back to L.A. once my son graduates high school in  a few years. I love me. I like me. 2022 has been a hell of a year, and a hell of a ride. 2023 is almost here. Bring it.