After watching yet another marathon of Sex and the City, I found myself relating to several of the topics. This time the one that got the old brain going was the episode in which she her book and her relationship with Adian were under review. Her quote, "When it comes to life and love, why do we believe our worst reviews?" really rang true for me.
My whole life I have always believed the worst of myself and the worst of what others said of me. I know I am not alone in this thought process.
And why is that one bad review can destroy 10 years of good ones? It is the whole "one step forward ten steps back" mantra. But why? How can we value what others think so much that we devalue ourselves?
How is it that at a young age we are told we can be anything, do anything but as adults and adolescents we can never measure up? Why the double standard? Do we suddenly turn into frogs at the age of 13? Do we grow three heads and transform into hideous monsters?
No matter how good I feel now let me run into someone made me feel insecure when I was 16 and I revert back to that awkward teen, not the nearly 36 year old accomplished woman I am now.
Case in point: in surfing myspace for old friends I came across the girl who stole my boyfriend my senior year. She not only stole him but she managed to make the next 2 years a living hell form me by ruining my reputation, putting pictures of me in men's rest rooms in Bay St. Louis and Waveland with my home phone and what sexual favors I would do for them (all of which was NOT true) . I left town in 1990 by joining the Navy, and haven't seen her until I saw her on myspace this week. She went on to marry the guy and it appears they are still married.
Just seeing her face in her profile again brought me back to 1989 and the embarrassment of the whole ordeal. Gone were the published articles, the awesome kids I have raised and the amazing husband I have. I was 17 again. Why do I let her have that kind of power over me?
Why do we wear our insecurities as overcoats and our accomplished buried underneath?
I am not that girl she tormented, hell I wasn't even who she said I was then.
According to The Secret, I need to forgive her to get past it. Thank her for giving me the experience that came from it in order to move beyond that time in my life that I still harbor.
So here it goes…Regina Cuevas I forgive you for stealing Brian Breaux from me and destroying my reputation beyond repair. By forcing me out of town you gave me the chance to see the world and meet great people. I have a wonderful husband and awesome kids. The pain you caused me led to me writing which I wouldn't trade for the world; in fact I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. It made me who I am today: a great mom, super wife, successful writer, an accomplished student and one hell of a woman, scars and all.
You have been released….and so have I.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Random thoughts...
Since coming to myspace over a year ago I have gotten back in touch with alot of friends from grade school to high school. I don't know why this thought came to me today, probably because we are entering the count down to our 20th high school reunion, but I remember being teased relentlessly for 3 things growing up because they made me look different then everyone else.
No I don't have 3 heads but I have very distinctive green eyes, very full lips and a very ample chest. Now what I find hysterical is that women now pay a fortune for these three things. They buy colored contacts to have unique eye colors. They pay for injections to give themselves the pouty lips and you can order it with a side of boob job.
Now I am not saying anything is wrong with plastic surgery, and I am sure if I had the money to I would nip tuck things here and there. But todays sexy was yesterdays freak. Funny how life works out that way huh?
HNC eat your heart out!
No I don't have 3 heads but I have very distinctive green eyes, very full lips and a very ample chest. Now what I find hysterical is that women now pay a fortune for these three things. They buy colored contacts to have unique eye colors. They pay for injections to give themselves the pouty lips and you can order it with a side of boob job.
Now I am not saying anything is wrong with plastic surgery, and I am sure if I had the money to I would nip tuck things here and there. But todays sexy was yesterdays freak. Funny how life works out that way huh?
HNC eat your heart out!
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Sorry Daddy
I decided to look for a new song for my myspace profile. I wanted something up beat and that would make you want to dance. So I began looking for something. I love the song Ain’t No Other Man by Christina Aguilera and was thinking of choosing it. So I went to her page but when I opened it her song Hurt started playing.Now mind you, I have been listening to Country and Christian music for many months now so I have no clue what pop music is out unless my daughter is telling me about it, so I have not heard of this song before. So I watched the video and proceeded to watch and cry my eyes out. It touched a raw nerve with me.
Growing up, I was made to believe that my father hated me and everything I did. Now you might expect this from a divorced couple right? The old “he said she said” battle that continues to poison our society, when in fact my parents are still married. I grew up hating my dad in return. Wishing his demise because I believed he hated me. I wanted to run so fast from that house at every chance and did when I joined the Navy. It wasn’t until I was in therapy that I discovered the truth, my mother hated him so she projected it on me. With her mental issues that I wouldn’t understand the full scope off until recently, she made me believe that he was a monster, unfeeling and cruel. That he never thought I would amount to anything and that I was untalented, overweight and stupid. This went on for over 30 years and could have continued for many more until fate stepped in.
I had noticed that my dad was different then I remember when he was around the grand children. I chalked it up to being a grandpa and didn’t think twice about it. But when John was give the choice of being stationed in New Orleans, I took it as a chance to make peace with the life I left behind in 12 years prior.
We had to live with my parents for the first few months until we could get a place closer to the base. After 24 hours of being around my mother the blinders I had on suddenly began to melt. She was starting with her old tricks but this time because I had been around other people for 12 years; her tricks weren’t working, so she became craftier in them.
One such trick was telling me my mean old father wouldn’t pay for her much needed anti-depressants and sleep aids.So being an advocate for the people that needed such medicine should have them, I confronted this tyrant. To my surprise he said he just filled it a week prior. He also proceeded to tell me why he had cut off her funds and other things that my mother was working on convincing me he was this evil man. She had started drinking very heavily and would ask for money to get bread, for example, and keep the change or hide the receipt when she had bought alcohol. She would then hide the beer or whatever and often become so drunk that by the time my dad came home she could barely walk. She wasn’t taking care of the house, she was starving herself for sympathy and would tell the entire neighborhood that my dad was an ogre there for she drank.
It was all lies.
I would never have seen the truth if I hadn’t been forced to spend more then a week for vacation with her. I would have gone on thinking it was my dad that was wrong and put her on this pedestal. It didn’t dawn on me until then that all the times I wanted to ask my dad for things like getting to go to a dance, she would say “oh no let me ask him. He might say yes coming from me.” And he would always say no, that she never asked him and used the opportunity to build on my hatred by saying that he didn’t trust me or flat out said no. It worked for a long time, but this time around my parents seeing them in this new light stopped it.
In watching my parents over the next two years that we lived in New Orleans made me realize that my father should get a medal for what wounds he has endured living with her. While he is not a saint, he has put up with her for almost 36 years. How he has lasted this long is beyond me, I can barely spend 20 minutes on the telephone with her without wanting to strangle her. She lies and schemes and drinks so much you can never tell what is real and what is imagined. She does things that defy reason such as collecting bones from dead cats to make wind chimes for goodness sake. She says she does this because my dad won’t give her money for real ones. Poor, poor mother. And she has called me Miss Sarah Heartburn my whole life. Gee I wonder where I got it from.
Now, she will hate me for saying these things and that I only see what I want to see. But don’t we all. Our perception is our reality. If it wasn’t and I could have chosen something else for my reality, believe me it would have been happy and fun, not dark and grizzly. My whole life was formed in that reality. Everything I have done is a direct result of that universe I lived in. Every mistake, every decision, every step I took was a manifestation of the world I grew up in, which for years I blamed my father for, but now I place that blame where it actually belongs.
For the first time I feel free.
When I discovered this a few years ago, I immediate saw sings of my mother in my everyday life: the laziness, the poisoning of my children. I decided then and there that I would break the cycle. I would do what was best for my family- I would get counseling and become a stronger person.
I am a better, stronger and smarter person now. So if my mother doesn’t want to speak to me after say that then it is her loss. I broke the cycle, which wasn’t easy, I stand my ground and I love my family the way it should be loved. I clean my house, I love my husband, I care for their needs and care for my own as well. Without manipulation, without lies, without the elephant of weight on my shoulder that I was a sell out because I got my husband a cup of coffee when he asked for one, hat I wasn’t a failure because I wanted to be a mother and a wife. That I wasn’t wrong in choosing to be like my mother-in-law, my neighbor growing up, and my aunt who were women who cared for the men and their families with the same importance as a CEO of a company.
So I will end this saying I am sorry Daddy for believing the lies for as long as I did. “I’m sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn’t do and I’ve hurt myself by hurting you.”
Hurt
Growing up, I was made to believe that my father hated me and everything I did. Now you might expect this from a divorced couple right? The old “he said she said” battle that continues to poison our society, when in fact my parents are still married. I grew up hating my dad in return. Wishing his demise because I believed he hated me. I wanted to run so fast from that house at every chance and did when I joined the Navy. It wasn’t until I was in therapy that I discovered the truth, my mother hated him so she projected it on me. With her mental issues that I wouldn’t understand the full scope off until recently, she made me believe that he was a monster, unfeeling and cruel. That he never thought I would amount to anything and that I was untalented, overweight and stupid. This went on for over 30 years and could have continued for many more until fate stepped in.
I had noticed that my dad was different then I remember when he was around the grand children. I chalked it up to being a grandpa and didn’t think twice about it. But when John was give the choice of being stationed in New Orleans, I took it as a chance to make peace with the life I left behind in 12 years prior.
We had to live with my parents for the first few months until we could get a place closer to the base. After 24 hours of being around my mother the blinders I had on suddenly began to melt. She was starting with her old tricks but this time because I had been around other people for 12 years; her tricks weren’t working, so she became craftier in them.
One such trick was telling me my mean old father wouldn’t pay for her much needed anti-depressants and sleep aids.So being an advocate for the people that needed such medicine should have them, I confronted this tyrant. To my surprise he said he just filled it a week prior. He also proceeded to tell me why he had cut off her funds and other things that my mother was working on convincing me he was this evil man. She had started drinking very heavily and would ask for money to get bread, for example, and keep the change or hide the receipt when she had bought alcohol. She would then hide the beer or whatever and often become so drunk that by the time my dad came home she could barely walk. She wasn’t taking care of the house, she was starving herself for sympathy and would tell the entire neighborhood that my dad was an ogre there for she drank.
It was all lies.
I would never have seen the truth if I hadn’t been forced to spend more then a week for vacation with her. I would have gone on thinking it was my dad that was wrong and put her on this pedestal. It didn’t dawn on me until then that all the times I wanted to ask my dad for things like getting to go to a dance, she would say “oh no let me ask him. He might say yes coming from me.” And he would always say no, that she never asked him and used the opportunity to build on my hatred by saying that he didn’t trust me or flat out said no. It worked for a long time, but this time around my parents seeing them in this new light stopped it.
In watching my parents over the next two years that we lived in New Orleans made me realize that my father should get a medal for what wounds he has endured living with her. While he is not a saint, he has put up with her for almost 36 years. How he has lasted this long is beyond me, I can barely spend 20 minutes on the telephone with her without wanting to strangle her. She lies and schemes and drinks so much you can never tell what is real and what is imagined. She does things that defy reason such as collecting bones from dead cats to make wind chimes for goodness sake. She says she does this because my dad won’t give her money for real ones. Poor, poor mother. And she has called me Miss Sarah Heartburn my whole life. Gee I wonder where I got it from.
Now, she will hate me for saying these things and that I only see what I want to see. But don’t we all. Our perception is our reality. If it wasn’t and I could have chosen something else for my reality, believe me it would have been happy and fun, not dark and grizzly. My whole life was formed in that reality. Everything I have done is a direct result of that universe I lived in. Every mistake, every decision, every step I took was a manifestation of the world I grew up in, which for years I blamed my father for, but now I place that blame where it actually belongs.
For the first time I feel free.
When I discovered this a few years ago, I immediate saw sings of my mother in my everyday life: the laziness, the poisoning of my children. I decided then and there that I would break the cycle. I would do what was best for my family- I would get counseling and become a stronger person.
I am a better, stronger and smarter person now. So if my mother doesn’t want to speak to me after say that then it is her loss. I broke the cycle, which wasn’t easy, I stand my ground and I love my family the way it should be loved. I clean my house, I love my husband, I care for their needs and care for my own as well. Without manipulation, without lies, without the elephant of weight on my shoulder that I was a sell out because I got my husband a cup of coffee when he asked for one, hat I wasn’t a failure because I wanted to be a mother and a wife. That I wasn’t wrong in choosing to be like my mother-in-law, my neighbor growing up, and my aunt who were women who cared for the men and their families with the same importance as a CEO of a company.
So I will end this saying I am sorry Daddy for believing the lies for as long as I did. “I’m sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn’t do and I’ve hurt myself by hurting you.”
Hurt
By: Christina Aguilera
Seems like it was yesterday when I saw your face
You told me how proud you were, but I walked away
If only I knew what I know todayOoh, ooh
I would hold you in my arms
I would take the pain away
Thank you for all you’ve done
Forgive all your mistakes
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do
To hear your voice again
Sometimes I wanna call you
But I know you won’t be there
Ohh I’m sorry for blaming you
Ohh I’m sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn’t do
And I’ve hurt myself by hurting you
Some days I feel broke inside but I won’t admit
Some days I feel broke inside but I won’t admit
Sometimes I just wanna hide ’cause it’s you I miss
And it’s so hard to say goodbyeWhen it comes to this, oooh
Would you tell me I was wrong?
Would you help me understand?
Are you looking down upon me?
Are you proud of who I am?
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do
To have just one more chance
To look into your eyes
And see you looking back
Ohh I’m sorry for blaming you
Ohh I’m sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn’t do
And I’ve hurt myself, ohh
If I had just one more day
If I had just one more day
I would tell you how much that I’ve missed you
Since you’ve been away
Ooh, it’s dangerous
It’s so out of line
To try and turn back time
I’m sorry for blaming you
I’m sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn’t do
And I’ve hurt myself by hurting you
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