It took me some time to think about this. I even thought maybe I shouldn't write about this, but I have to write about it to get to marriage number 2. I only thought marriage number 1 was a complete dark part of my life. That is until I met the rebound guy.
When I was introduced to the rebound guy through his sister, who at the time was not only a
co-worker, but a good friend. She and I were the same age, and had very similar interests. So when my divorced became final, she said, you should me my brother. He is 29, and just got a divorce too. I told her I wasn't ready, and that I didn't think it was such a good idea. She insisted, telling me that she had already told him about me, and he would be in the mall shopping later, and was going to stop by. It was almost time for our store to close when she walked up to me with a nice looking guy with her. She made the introductions, and left me alone with him. We talked for a few minutes and he asked me out. I agreed to go out with him. We went to Tallahassee for dinner on Thanksgiving Day. There was literally nothing opened, and I think we went to Denny's or something like that. I had a nice time with him. We talked and overall the first date went okay. When he drove up in front of my aunt and uncle's house where it just so happened I was living at the time, he leaned in for a kiss. It was okay..... But nothing to write home about. He asked me if he could see me again, and I said no. Well, he wouldn't give up. Finally, tired, I agreed to go out with him again. This time we went out on a double date with his sister and her boyfriend. We went back to Tallahassee for dinner, and to walk the mall. He would pick up things in the stores and ask if I liked them. I would say sure or no. So he said something to his sister, and she disappeared. She came back with some bags, and I didn't think much about it. Later that night when he brought me home he pulled out gifts. He had purchased me some of the things. I felt bad. Here I had refused to date him, had only agreed to the second date to get him to leave me alone. So we started seeing each other. The first time I stayed over at his house (which was gorgeous) was about a week before Christmas. We had decorated the Christmas tree and had laid down on the floor by the tree and were arranging Christmas gifts for his sons when his cousin dropped by. He introdued me to his cousin then told his cousin to give him just another week, and he would have me living with him. I laughed and said I didn't think so. So the dating went on, and on Christmas Day he handed me a gift bag from the local jewelry store. I panicked. I did not want to pull out an engagement ring, when I knew that he was not right for me. I guess he saw my panick, and took the bag back removing a pretty little jewelry box out. I thought that box is too big for a ring box. He opened the box, and there was gold and diamond watch. I felt bad because my gift to him was a polo shirt that I got off a clearance rack at Belk's Department Store....lol! So hear I was dating someone that I did not care about, much less love. Finally I was able to end the relationship. It did not go over well. He accused me of still being in love with my ex-husband, and that he knew I had been fooling around with him behind his back. Not true of course. I had recently moved from aunt and uncle's house into my own little apartment. I felt somewhat safe because my neighbors, a couple who lived above me were paramedic and cop. During this time my paternal grandmother was in poor health, and had to be taken to Tallahassee Memorial Hospital. I did not have a phone, but my sister had met me this one particular day for lunch, and told me that the doctors were not sure if she would make it through the night. She prepared me that she may come by and get me if we needed to go down there. After work I went for a bike ride, and worked out some. I had come home, and had not yet taken my shower. I didn't even think about it when there was a knock on my door. I didn't look out the peep hole or ask who its was. I just opened the door. It was him. He had his cousin drive him over because he was so drunk. I asked him to leave, and his cousin tried to reason with him. He would not listen. He demanded that I speak with him in the hall by my bedroom, going on past experience I thought it was better for me to agree. His cousin sat in my livingroom. Then I went back to where he wanted to talk without thinking about it. He had never been agressive with me, so I thought it would be okay. But he it didn't. He pushed me backwards into my bedroom. He shut the door and shoved me on the bed. I tried to get up, but he restrained me. He wasn't a big guy, but when drinking he had all kinds of strength. He was trying to kiss me while having me pinned to the bed. I squirmed under him, telling him no over and over again. He said you are going to give me what you are giving that loser ex of yours. I started to cry. Tears streaming down my face. I fought...... I didn't scream for his cousin to come to my rescue because I was afraid of what he might do to me. I finally gave up, and laid there crying quietly as he finished with me. No clothes had come off....just enough to do what he wanted to do. Finally he got off of me, zipped his jeans up and adjusted his clothes, and walked out calling to his cousin to come on we're leaving now. I was a mess, and his cousin stared at me with knowing look. I didn't think anymore about it. I went to work, came home, and slept a lot. The I started not feeling well. My mama and little brothers came to visit for the boys' spring break. My ex husband had decided he would spend time with my brothers who actually liked him. My mama and I were suppose to meet the ex with my brothers for us to go go-carting after I got out of work. So on the way to meet, we come across an accident. As things would go it was my youngest brother and my ex husband who had been in a motorcycle accident. They had been hit head on by a full size truck. The ex had internal injuries, and my brother had a broken leg, and lots of cuts and bruises on his body. It was at the hospital they were transferred to, that I experienced my first morning sickness. Yeah it was early evening, and I had morning sickness. After a few days of not being able to able to keep anything down, my mama insisted on me going to the doctor. I went to my OB/GYN because in Small Town USA that doctor will see you for just about everything. So he checked me out. I had a sinus infection, and what we thought was the flu. Then he said let me check you out to make sure everything is okay down there. I said, there is nothing to worry about down there, but okay. Legs spead, feet in stirrups, he said those words that still to this day ring in my ears...... YOU MIGHT BE A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT! What the f&%#@ is that? You might be a little bit pregnant? Either you are or your not. But I was taking the pill and was not sexually active at the time. I literally sat up on the table legs still spread and feel in the stirrups, and screamed......I CAN'T BE PREGNANT!!! His reply, if you're fooling around, you can be pregnant. He said he wanted to give it a few more weeks, and then he would examine me again. He gave me the mildest form of antibiotics for the sinus infection, and something else, and sent me on my way. I remember telling my mama who was staying at my apartment with my brothers that I just had the flu. About a week later I started spotting, and my doctor met me at the hosptial on a Sunday morning, straight from the gym, and took me in a room, and did an ultrasound on me. Sure enough I was pregnant. He told me that there the placenta was resting over my cervix, and the placenta had torn away from my uterus in a small place. But the baby looked fine, and there was a strong heartbeat. He told me it looked like it would be a pregnancy with complications, and right away deemed me a high risk. I called my friend.......who later becomes husband number 2, and he came and drove me home. I called my Aunt Dottie, again. I told her that I was pregnant, and was being put on bed rest for a little while. I asked her to be with me when I told my mama I was pregnant. We made plans to do that later the next evening. Through all of this I never even thought about calling the rebound guy or my first husband. Yes, my first husband. We had decided since our divorce had become final after the new year, we would file taxes together. He came over one night to work it with me, and we did have sex. Just the one time. He had just proposed to the girl from work he had been sleeping with all through our marriage. We had admitted that was a mistake, promised never to bring it up, and move on. It was in the time frame of my estimated due date. So I went to him first. Actually the rebound man and what he had done to me was pushed back deep in my mind. When I told my ex that I was pregnant, and he might be the father, he took it relatively well. He said he would talk to his fiance, and let her know, and that I just needed to keep him updated. Then I thought.... Oh my gosh.......there is this other person. So I went to the rebound man, and told him I was pregnant. He lashed out at me in such rage. He yelled at me, telling me I was a whore, and quite few other no so nice words. Then he said, I know the baby is your ex-husband. I asked him what he was talking about. He said that he had come over one night, and saw his motorcycle parked next to my car. Now it made sense why he attacked me that night when he came over drunk. I left and focussed on my pregnancy. It was horrible. I had depleted my savings, and eventually could not work. Husband number 2 stood by my side through it all. about a month passed, and one night I went to bed early. I was going with my sister to Tallahassee early that next morning to see our Grandma. Once again there was a knock on my door. I woke up and once again opened the door. It was him again! This time he was alone. He as drunk, and pushed his way through the door. He shoved me back to my bedroom, threw me on the bed and straddled me. I fought him again. I wasn't even 100lbs. at the time. He held my arms over my head with force, and kept pushing me and yanking me. He told me that I WOULD have an abortion. He said you should have never gone and got yourself pregnant. By this time I was crying, sobbing crying, and really just wanted to be left alone. There is a show on tv called Snapped. It was at that moment that I snapped. I prayed for God to give me strength to fight this beast, and to keep my baby safe. He got off of me, and stood up saying, it's settled. You will abort this baby. Once you do I am going to marry you. Then he left. When my sister picked me up the next morning, I never said a word. I was scared and once again embarrassed. I kept screwing up over and over. I really didn't think anyone would believe me. I didn't have an abortion, and with the support of an amazing young man, and a wonderful family, and the commitment of an awesome OB/GYN, I had gave birth to my Ryan. Paternity tests came later, and the rebound man was Ryan's biological father. At this point........ I was so exhausted. Too afraid to tell anyone what I had gone through in my first marriage and now in this relationship. I felt like I was alone. I felt like a lot of times that I was outside of my body looking at what was going on all around me. It was out of control, and I couldn't do anything about it. I do know one thing........ The night rebound man paid me that second visit, I learned I that I do have killer instincts. I told him that night that if I could have gotten my hands on a knife, I would have killed him. But it's a mother's instinct to protect her young. Even when they are still inside of us. Rebound man tried one more time to come over, but husband number 2 was there with me, and had a talk with him in the parking lot of my apartment comples. I don't know what was said and I never asked. It just gave me a lot of security knowing that someone was in my corner.
Ryan did meet his biological father when he was 5. He tried to have a relationship with him, and it just wasn't there. I'll talk about that another time.
Peace!
Monday, May 30, 2011
A Heroes Welcome
On this day..... I wanted to take the time to post on our Armed Forces. Giving those fallen soldiers who so proudly died defending our beautiful country the appreciation and recognition they deserve. We take for granted just how blessed we are to live in the USA. Those who have served and lost their lives fighting for our freedom, and those who have served and continue to serve deserve this day of memory....
I remember last year sitting in Tampa International Airport waiting for one of my best girlfriends to arrive..... I was sitting there with her Mother and son who I had brought with me. As I was sitting watching the people come through the different gates, I thought.... They all have a story. I love to watch people like that, and try to figure out what their story is. But on that night there was something that really stood out to me, and touched me. As I was watching everyone... I see a young man, in fatigues, and walking on crutches. My heart dropped. As he was manuvering the crutches, he still kept his head heald high. I think he was probably in his early 20's if even that. He stopped and looked around, taking everything in, and then pulled out his hat (which I am sure has a name, but I don't know what it is called). I thought he was looking for a girlfriend, parents, friends...... But, he put the hat on his head, straightened up, and began to walk....Alone..... My eyes filled with tears..... I realized that when he stopped and looked around, that he was probably taking in the beauty of being back on american soil, back in the country that he fights for, the country that he was more than likely injured defending. I really wanted to go give him a hug....... But, didn't. I remember telling a friend later that night what I had witnessed. I told him that I felt really bad for that young man. He asked me, why? I told him that, here there was this young injured soldier returning home, and there was absolutely no one there to welcome him. My friend who had served in the Army and Reserves for many years said, what people don't understand, is that the men and women who serve and protect this country don't do it for the praise and glory, they do it out of honor and respect for this country. They fight to protect us and our freedom. I guess I had never really thought about it like that. But personally, I think that every soldier out there fighting for our freedom deserves a "Heroes'" welcome.......
So today........ Thank you all...... Your service to our country, and the people of our country is appreciated a million times over! And, to those who are no longer with us, may your memory live on! God Bless you all for keeping us safe!!!
I remember last year sitting in Tampa International Airport waiting for one of my best girlfriends to arrive..... I was sitting there with her Mother and son who I had brought with me. As I was sitting watching the people come through the different gates, I thought.... They all have a story. I love to watch people like that, and try to figure out what their story is. But on that night there was something that really stood out to me, and touched me. As I was watching everyone... I see a young man, in fatigues, and walking on crutches. My heart dropped. As he was manuvering the crutches, he still kept his head heald high. I think he was probably in his early 20's if even that. He stopped and looked around, taking everything in, and then pulled out his hat (which I am sure has a name, but I don't know what it is called). I thought he was looking for a girlfriend, parents, friends...... But, he put the hat on his head, straightened up, and began to walk....Alone..... My eyes filled with tears..... I realized that when he stopped and looked around, that he was probably taking in the beauty of being back on american soil, back in the country that he fights for, the country that he was more than likely injured defending. I really wanted to go give him a hug....... But, didn't. I remember telling a friend later that night what I had witnessed. I told him that I felt really bad for that young man. He asked me, why? I told him that, here there was this young injured soldier returning home, and there was absolutely no one there to welcome him. My friend who had served in the Army and Reserves for many years said, what people don't understand, is that the men and women who serve and protect this country don't do it for the praise and glory, they do it out of honor and respect for this country. They fight to protect us and our freedom. I guess I had never really thought about it like that. But personally, I think that every soldier out there fighting for our freedom deserves a "Heroes'" welcome.......
So today........ Thank you all...... Your service to our country, and the people of our country is appreciated a million times over! And, to those who are no longer with us, may your memory live on! God Bless you all for keeping us safe!!!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Happily Ever After? I don't think so....
Whoever thought of the fairytale concept is stupid! Okay......maybe it happens for some, but I am so sure the percentage is very small......
Marriage number 1 sounded like a good idea.... NOT! I should have turned and run for my life, when my feet wouldn't move forward that day I first said "I do", I should have just run..... That would have made me a runaway bride I guess? lol
I can still have that picture in my mind of the cute little apartment we rented. I decorated it with hand me downs, and stuff from the discount store. I was so proud of it. I had these ideas of being the perfect little housewife, and all that stuff. I should have known there would be problems when he had to have a nightlight to find his way to the bathroom during the night! I don't know exactly how soon it happened; days, weeks, a month.... But he went through my clothes. He threw things out of the closet, saying you can't wear this, you can't wear that. Then we went shopping....... He picked out all my clothes. Now, I had never been a trashy, sleazy dresser. I loved clothes and fashion, but always tried to dress in good taste. My only vice was bikinis......lol! Being tiny at the time, and having been raised in Florida by the beaches and the pool..... I loved my bikinis. Mama and Daddy never told me I couldn't wear them, but "he" told me I couldn't. The swim suit he picked out for me was this horrible multi-pastel whole piece, that if I wore shorts and a tank top wouldn't have covered up as much of me. I complied with his wishes because there was this fear in me. Then came the criticism. You can't do this, you can't do that. He would not let me cook. He actually forbid me to do it. I remember my older brother TJ coming to visit, and staying overnight with us. The next morning, I was told not to cook, and my brother was warned not to eat anything I prepared. Of course he said it in a joking manner to TJ. After he left for work, my brother asked me what that was about, and I laughed it off, and I cooked us breakfast, but I did make sure that the kitchen was cleaned spotless after. This set the pattern of what my life was like in my first marriage. Then two months into the marriage one day my parents invited us to come over for dinner on a night that we both had off from work. I was excited about getting out to visit my family. He was actually off that day, and I was working the day shift at my job that week. I came in to find him sitting at the table, his posture stiff, and his face was different than I had ever seen. At that moment, I knew, my life would be changed forever.... He stood up and walked toward me, saying that his sister had come over on her lunch break, and told him a few things about me. I asked what he was talking about. See, his sister was and had been married to one of my cousins for years. He said that she told him that I was a spoiled little brat, and he should not let me have my way. I stared, dumbfounded...... I wanted to defend myself, but at the same time, I was scared...... He told me he was starting now...... We WOULD not go to my parents for dinner, and we WOULD not do anything unless he said so. I made the mistake of speaking. I said, we both accepted the invitation. It was for both of us, and you were present when they asked us. He said, NO we are not going. Well, I said, YES we are......... My Mama is expecting us, and we need to do the right thing and go. He stood firm..... I went into the bedroom upset, and he followed. I was standing by the dresser, when I saw his arm come up, and his fist coming at my head...... I ducked, and he hit the wall. I felt the whole apartment move with his force. Other than a million and 1 spankings from my Daddy growing up, I had never experienced anything like this. I ran to the closet and grabbed my suitcase. I opened a drawer and started throwing my clothes in. He started crying, throwing clothes back into the drawer as fast as I could take them out. His one bloody hand held against his chest. He was apologizing.......saying it wouldn't happen again.... But it did...... Many times over.
GYN. I got in my car....... I drove over, stopping along the way to throw up. I could barely get out of my car. My brother in law helped me from my car to my sister's car so she could take me to the doctor. I was pregnant, almost 3 months pregnant. I had a lot of different emotions going through me. I just knew that this was wrong. This was not supposed to be this way. I told him it was confirmed...... At this time he started spending less time at home, and more time working, hunting, fishing........ Things that may seem normal to most, but it was his way of avoiding this. Almost like if he ignored it, it would go away. I remember one day he came home, and I had my baby brothers, my cousin, and some other children over playing in the yard. He was very angry. After I got all the kids home and came back, he told me I was to not babysit or have anyone over without his permission. I agreed...... It's the only thing I thought I could do. I had this little person living inside of me, and I had to protect it. I was working shift work at that time, and went back on second shift. I came home a few nights later, and he had his nephew over. I was hungry, and asked if there were any leftovers. He told me no, and to shut up! They were trying to sleep. Tired, not feeling well, and hungry, I made that fateful decision to go against him. I asked him why was it okay for him to have children over without asking me, but it was not okay for me? The next thing that happened was not what I expected. I was hit with a blow that to this day sits deep in my soul........ He punched me with all he had right in my stomach........ I doubled over, then ran and locked myself in the bathroom. I threw up, holding my stomach...... He begged from the other side of the door, crying..... Telling me over and over that he was sorry and it wouldn't happen again. But it did. I didn't lose my baby that night, but a few weeks later I started spotting. After much begging from me, he took me to the doctor. The doctor told me that she couldn't get a heartbeat. She said she thought that the baby had detached from my uterus, and she recommended that I have a DNC to go ahead and clean it out. I was devastated...... She told me those things that you really don't want to hear; you're young you can try again, you're young.....this happens in a lot of first time pregnancies. Then she said, it's not like you have been punched in the stomach or anything. I looked over at him, and he knew what he had done. When the doctor left the room to set things up with the hospital, I looked at him. I told him if I lost MY baby, I would never forgive him for what he had done. He tried to console me. It just wasn't there. I lost my baby at almost 5 months. I didn't talk to him for a long time. We separated quite a few times, and even got pregnant one more time, but that too ended on it's own very quickly. Things happen for a reason.
My innocence gone....... I turned to an old boyfriend. Yes, it was wrong, and what my family saw was me being a cheater. Giving up on my marriage....... I felt so alone, and felt I was never the same in any of their eyes after that. I got divorced..... At 19 years old, with a lot of beatings, and two miscarriages under my belt.... I took that walk of shame........ I'll write about domestic violence and how it really affected my life even to this day.
Peace!!
Marriage number 1 sounded like a good idea.... NOT! I should have turned and run for my life, when my feet wouldn't move forward that day I first said "I do", I should have just run..... That would have made me a runaway bride I guess? lol
I can still have that picture in my mind of the cute little apartment we rented. I decorated it with hand me downs, and stuff from the discount store. I was so proud of it. I had these ideas of being the perfect little housewife, and all that stuff. I should have known there would be problems when he had to have a nightlight to find his way to the bathroom during the night! I don't know exactly how soon it happened; days, weeks, a month.... But he went through my clothes. He threw things out of the closet, saying you can't wear this, you can't wear that. Then we went shopping....... He picked out all my clothes. Now, I had never been a trashy, sleazy dresser. I loved clothes and fashion, but always tried to dress in good taste. My only vice was bikinis......lol! Being tiny at the time, and having been raised in Florida by the beaches and the pool..... I loved my bikinis. Mama and Daddy never told me I couldn't wear them, but "he" told me I couldn't. The swim suit he picked out for me was this horrible multi-pastel whole piece, that if I wore shorts and a tank top wouldn't have covered up as much of me. I complied with his wishes because there was this fear in me. Then came the criticism. You can't do this, you can't do that. He would not let me cook. He actually forbid me to do it. I remember my older brother TJ coming to visit, and staying overnight with us. The next morning, I was told not to cook, and my brother was warned not to eat anything I prepared. Of course he said it in a joking manner to TJ. After he left for work, my brother asked me what that was about, and I laughed it off, and I cooked us breakfast, but I did make sure that the kitchen was cleaned spotless after. This set the pattern of what my life was like in my first marriage. Then two months into the marriage one day my parents invited us to come over for dinner on a night that we both had off from work. I was excited about getting out to visit my family. He was actually off that day, and I was working the day shift at my job that week. I came in to find him sitting at the table, his posture stiff, and his face was different than I had ever seen. At that moment, I knew, my life would be changed forever.... He stood up and walked toward me, saying that his sister had come over on her lunch break, and told him a few things about me. I asked what he was talking about. See, his sister was and had been married to one of my cousins for years. He said that she told him that I was a spoiled little brat, and he should not let me have my way. I stared, dumbfounded...... I wanted to defend myself, but at the same time, I was scared...... He told me he was starting now...... We WOULD not go to my parents for dinner, and we WOULD not do anything unless he said so. I made the mistake of speaking. I said, we both accepted the invitation. It was for both of us, and you were present when they asked us. He said, NO we are not going. Well, I said, YES we are......... My Mama is expecting us, and we need to do the right thing and go. He stood firm..... I went into the bedroom upset, and he followed. I was standing by the dresser, when I saw his arm come up, and his fist coming at my head...... I ducked, and he hit the wall. I felt the whole apartment move with his force. Other than a million and 1 spankings from my Daddy growing up, I had never experienced anything like this. I ran to the closet and grabbed my suitcase. I opened a drawer and started throwing my clothes in. He started crying, throwing clothes back into the drawer as fast as I could take them out. His one bloody hand held against his chest. He was apologizing.......saying it wouldn't happen again.... But it did...... Many times over.
GYN. I got in my car....... I drove over, stopping along the way to throw up. I could barely get out of my car. My brother in law helped me from my car to my sister's car so she could take me to the doctor. I was pregnant, almost 3 months pregnant. I had a lot of different emotions going through me. I just knew that this was wrong. This was not supposed to be this way. I told him it was confirmed...... At this time he started spending less time at home, and more time working, hunting, fishing........ Things that may seem normal to most, but it was his way of avoiding this. Almost like if he ignored it, it would go away. I remember one day he came home, and I had my baby brothers, my cousin, and some other children over playing in the yard. He was very angry. After I got all the kids home and came back, he told me I was to not babysit or have anyone over without his permission. I agreed...... It's the only thing I thought I could do. I had this little person living inside of me, and I had to protect it. I was working shift work at that time, and went back on second shift. I came home a few nights later, and he had his nephew over. I was hungry, and asked if there were any leftovers. He told me no, and to shut up! They were trying to sleep. Tired, not feeling well, and hungry, I made that fateful decision to go against him. I asked him why was it okay for him to have children over without asking me, but it was not okay for me? The next thing that happened was not what I expected. I was hit with a blow that to this day sits deep in my soul........ He punched me with all he had right in my stomach........ I doubled over, then ran and locked myself in the bathroom. I threw up, holding my stomach...... He begged from the other side of the door, crying..... Telling me over and over that he was sorry and it wouldn't happen again. But it did. I didn't lose my baby that night, but a few weeks later I started spotting. After much begging from me, he took me to the doctor. The doctor told me that she couldn't get a heartbeat. She said she thought that the baby had detached from my uterus, and she recommended that I have a DNC to go ahead and clean it out. I was devastated...... She told me those things that you really don't want to hear; you're young you can try again, you're young.....this happens in a lot of first time pregnancies. Then she said, it's not like you have been punched in the stomach or anything. I looked over at him, and he knew what he had done. When the doctor left the room to set things up with the hospital, I looked at him. I told him if I lost MY baby, I would never forgive him for what he had done. He tried to console me. It just wasn't there. I lost my baby at almost 5 months. I didn't talk to him for a long time. We separated quite a few times, and even got pregnant one more time, but that too ended on it's own very quickly. Things happen for a reason.
My innocence gone....... I turned to an old boyfriend. Yes, it was wrong, and what my family saw was me being a cheater. Giving up on my marriage....... I felt so alone, and felt I was never the same in any of their eyes after that. I got divorced..... At 19 years old, with a lot of beatings, and two miscarriages under my belt.... I took that walk of shame........ I'll write about domestic violence and how it really affected my life even to this day.
Peace!!
abc....
Easy as 123.... Just like the Jacksons sang in that song many years ago. Only, while it was 123, it was nowhere as easy as abc. Wait.....that was backwards... Oh well. I decided to go ahead and write first about my marriages, yes, I said marriageS, because there may be times I am writing, and will reference a time or incident in my life that happened during my Liz Taylor years....
Married and divorced all before the age of 30. Now that is something I am sure a lot people can't say. I am by no means bragging or boasting. Actually, this is a part of the bad and ugly I discussed in my into. I was Daddy's little girl, as most little girls are. I was the pride and joy of my Daddy. He played with me, doted on me, protected me, and I'm sure had big dreams for me. However, like most little girls I had dreams of growing up, finding my Prince Charming, but not right after high school. I remember playing house with my cousin, Vicki. I would get dressed up, clunking around in high heels, and dropping my baby dolls off with her to babysit so I could go to my job. Usually at a law firm or big corporate office. I'll go more into that later. Overall, my thoughts growing up were, go to college, have a career, then settle down into marriage and maybe a child.
I remember watching my cousins around me. They were all graduating from high school and getting married. My perception was that this is what you do when you were from a large, close knit southern family; get married and have babies. I had my childhood sweetheart that I had loved since I was 8 years old, and was absolutely sure that when I gave myself to him during spring break of my sophmore year that we would be together "forever". Boy, was I in for a rude awakening. When I would not marry him during mid-senior year (he graduated the year before me, and had a good job by small town standards) he moved on. Wearing my broken heart on my sleeve like a badge of honor, only it wasn't honor, it was failure in my mind. I had given the one thing away that was all mine, to a person that I thought would cherish and respect it. I moved on and graduated from high school. By summer's end, I had moved to Georgia. I had always been close to my older sister, and it just made sense to move and be close to her and her family. It was while I was working in the happening drug store in the tiny little mall, that I was reacquainted with a boy that I had known as a child. As fate (if you can call it that) would have it, I was working the cash register at the mall entrance because the person who normally worked that cash register called in sick. So this boy and his older sister were walking through, and his sister recognized me. We started talking and he asked me out. I accepted his invitation. To say my family was excited that I was going out with him would be stretching it a little bit far. Given his family's screwed up history, my family was not amused. In the beginning he was charming and won my family over. Within 6 months, I thought I was in love and ready at the ripe ole age of 18 for marriage. He proposed, I accepted, and we set a date out which would have been almost a year after we met. Well.... Thinking I couldn't live without him, we decided to move that date up by 3 months. My parents warned me, and after seeing that I had dug my heels in, asked me to wait at least 6 months. Of course I wouldn't. They told me they would not help me with my wedding or even attend the wedding. That hurt... This was not how I pictured my wedding being. There was nothing fairytale about it. I wanted my Mama to help in the planning, and most of all I wanted my Daddy to walk me down the ailse and give me away. Thank God! for my Aunt Dottie! One of my Mama's younger sisters. She could reason with my Mama in any situation, and I found over the next decade of my life that she had to talk to Mama about many "situations". So the wedding took place in a small country church, at the end of a dirt road. My brother who was an ordained minister married us. My cousin Vicki was my maid of honor. My most vivid memory of my very first wedding day was standing at the back of that little country church, 18 years old (looking more like 16) in a white lacey wedding gown and train, flowers in my hair, holding on to my Daddy's arm for dear life. I remember the music playing, and my feet wouldn't move. My Daddy put his other hand over mine, and tugged a little bit. When I wouldn't move, he asked me if I was okay. Looking at everyone standing there, staring at me, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Slowly, almost like a zombie, I moved forward. When looking at pictures later, there was one where my Daddy had his hankerchief to his eyes, dabbing away tears....... I was divorced about a year and a half later. I will elaborate on this marriage later.
My divorce from husband number 1 had just become final, and a friend at work insisted that I meet her older brother, who like me, had just got divorced. He was older than me by 10 years. He was someone to fill a void, not someone I loved, or wanted to spend the rest of my life with. After 6 months of dating, I knew it was time to end things with him. This was something he was not happy about. He couldn't accept it, and bad things happened. This relationship produced my amazing son. This I will write about later as well.
Enter....husband number 2. I met my second husband toward the ending of my rebound relationship. I was working as a sales person/secretary at a carpet/tile company during the day and Wendy's at night. We hired a carpet/tile installer who turned out to be a 3rd cousin I think. He and his wife encouraged me to get out with them. They were like, you're 19 years old, and you still have a lot of living to do. One of the friends I made was this amazing young man, who was mature and wise way beyond his 20 years. He became one of my best friends. We hung out, went to dinner, movies, all the things friends do. Then when you least expect it, life throws you a curve. I found out I was pregnant. Yes.... this was from the rebound relationship. This friend was there with me from the beginning. He took care of me, went to doctor's appointments with me. He was there when I first saw my Ryan on a sonogram, and holding was holding my hand when the Radiologist and Tech blurted out, you're having a boy! When he proposed to me after that, it just seemed appropriate for me to accept. I didn't love him like a woman should love a man she is going to marry. But, then again, I didn't have that love for husband number one either. My reasoning was.... He is a good guy. He loves me (and he did). He was from a big close knit family, so it made sense. I married a second time at age 21, with a newborn son present. That one lasted around a year and a half as well. What I didn't realize is that husband number 2, would have been there for my baby and I even if we hadn't gotten married. He was that kind of guy. He was my best friend, and still is one of my best friends. I am proud to say my son calls him Dad, and he is still very much a part of our lives to this day. Actually, I woke up on Mother's Day and had a text from him wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. You know you're doing something right when 20+ years after the divorce, you still receive that acknowlegement from your child's father on a day designated just for you.
Charming and good looking........ Yes, that was husband number 3. He could smile and charm the, I would say panties (yes there is a story there, but not what you probably think), but it might sound perverted, so I will stick to charm the socks of the female population infant to a 100 years old. He was in the process of a divorce, I was in the middle of deciding if I was going to end a basically loveless, sexless marriage when I met him. We worked together, and I'm sure you can read between the lines on this one. There is a lot that happened on our road to marriage. A lot of things, that if I had not been so smitten with his charm and good looks, I would have noticed. I didn't, and in a small Courthouse is southern Alabama on a Friday afternoon, I married husband number three. It ended exactly a decade after my first marriage started.
Yes, I married the first time on January 15, 1983, and divorced the third time on January 15, 1993. I will devote a blog to each one of them, plus the ill fated rebound relationship. Because each one taught me a lesson...... There was experiences that I lived through, that I am hoping by sharing will help other girls and women. Maybe even some men.
I suffered a lot of embarrassment and regrets over the choices I made up until about 4 or 5 years ago. That is when something snapped. I stopped beating myself up, and got reacquainted with God. I had to realize if I had not gone through those things, I would not be who I am today, and I would not have the amazing son I have, and would not have met some of the friends I have today..... Things happen for a reason.
Peace!
Married and divorced all before the age of 30. Now that is something I am sure a lot people can't say. I am by no means bragging or boasting. Actually, this is a part of the bad and ugly I discussed in my into. I was Daddy's little girl, as most little girls are. I was the pride and joy of my Daddy. He played with me, doted on me, protected me, and I'm sure had big dreams for me. However, like most little girls I had dreams of growing up, finding my Prince Charming, but not right after high school. I remember playing house with my cousin, Vicki. I would get dressed up, clunking around in high heels, and dropping my baby dolls off with her to babysit so I could go to my job. Usually at a law firm or big corporate office. I'll go more into that later. Overall, my thoughts growing up were, go to college, have a career, then settle down into marriage and maybe a child.
I remember watching my cousins around me. They were all graduating from high school and getting married. My perception was that this is what you do when you were from a large, close knit southern family; get married and have babies. I had my childhood sweetheart that I had loved since I was 8 years old, and was absolutely sure that when I gave myself to him during spring break of my sophmore year that we would be together "forever". Boy, was I in for a rude awakening. When I would not marry him during mid-senior year (he graduated the year before me, and had a good job by small town standards) he moved on. Wearing my broken heart on my sleeve like a badge of honor, only it wasn't honor, it was failure in my mind. I had given the one thing away that was all mine, to a person that I thought would cherish and respect it. I moved on and graduated from high school. By summer's end, I had moved to Georgia. I had always been close to my older sister, and it just made sense to move and be close to her and her family. It was while I was working in the happening drug store in the tiny little mall, that I was reacquainted with a boy that I had known as a child. As fate (if you can call it that) would have it, I was working the cash register at the mall entrance because the person who normally worked that cash register called in sick. So this boy and his older sister were walking through, and his sister recognized me. We started talking and he asked me out. I accepted his invitation. To say my family was excited that I was going out with him would be stretching it a little bit far. Given his family's screwed up history, my family was not amused. In the beginning he was charming and won my family over. Within 6 months, I thought I was in love and ready at the ripe ole age of 18 for marriage. He proposed, I accepted, and we set a date out which would have been almost a year after we met. Well.... Thinking I couldn't live without him, we decided to move that date up by 3 months. My parents warned me, and after seeing that I had dug my heels in, asked me to wait at least 6 months. Of course I wouldn't. They told me they would not help me with my wedding or even attend the wedding. That hurt... This was not how I pictured my wedding being. There was nothing fairytale about it. I wanted my Mama to help in the planning, and most of all I wanted my Daddy to walk me down the ailse and give me away. Thank God! for my Aunt Dottie! One of my Mama's younger sisters. She could reason with my Mama in any situation, and I found over the next decade of my life that she had to talk to Mama about many "situations". So the wedding took place in a small country church, at the end of a dirt road. My brother who was an ordained minister married us. My cousin Vicki was my maid of honor. My most vivid memory of my very first wedding day was standing at the back of that little country church, 18 years old (looking more like 16) in a white lacey wedding gown and train, flowers in my hair, holding on to my Daddy's arm for dear life. I remember the music playing, and my feet wouldn't move. My Daddy put his other hand over mine, and tugged a little bit. When I wouldn't move, he asked me if I was okay. Looking at everyone standing there, staring at me, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Slowly, almost like a zombie, I moved forward. When looking at pictures later, there was one where my Daddy had his hankerchief to his eyes, dabbing away tears....... I was divorced about a year and a half later. I will elaborate on this marriage later.
My divorce from husband number 1 had just become final, and a friend at work insisted that I meet her older brother, who like me, had just got divorced. He was older than me by 10 years. He was someone to fill a void, not someone I loved, or wanted to spend the rest of my life with. After 6 months of dating, I knew it was time to end things with him. This was something he was not happy about. He couldn't accept it, and bad things happened. This relationship produced my amazing son. This I will write about later as well.
Enter....husband number 2. I met my second husband toward the ending of my rebound relationship. I was working as a sales person/secretary at a carpet/tile company during the day and Wendy's at night. We hired a carpet/tile installer who turned out to be a 3rd cousin I think. He and his wife encouraged me to get out with them. They were like, you're 19 years old, and you still have a lot of living to do. One of the friends I made was this amazing young man, who was mature and wise way beyond his 20 years. He became one of my best friends. We hung out, went to dinner, movies, all the things friends do. Then when you least expect it, life throws you a curve. I found out I was pregnant. Yes.... this was from the rebound relationship. This friend was there with me from the beginning. He took care of me, went to doctor's appointments with me. He was there when I first saw my Ryan on a sonogram, and holding was holding my hand when the Radiologist and Tech blurted out, you're having a boy! When he proposed to me after that, it just seemed appropriate for me to accept. I didn't love him like a woman should love a man she is going to marry. But, then again, I didn't have that love for husband number one either. My reasoning was.... He is a good guy. He loves me (and he did). He was from a big close knit family, so it made sense. I married a second time at age 21, with a newborn son present. That one lasted around a year and a half as well. What I didn't realize is that husband number 2, would have been there for my baby and I even if we hadn't gotten married. He was that kind of guy. He was my best friend, and still is one of my best friends. I am proud to say my son calls him Dad, and he is still very much a part of our lives to this day. Actually, I woke up on Mother's Day and had a text from him wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. You know you're doing something right when 20+ years after the divorce, you still receive that acknowlegement from your child's father on a day designated just for you.
Charming and good looking........ Yes, that was husband number 3. He could smile and charm the, I would say panties (yes there is a story there, but not what you probably think), but it might sound perverted, so I will stick to charm the socks of the female population infant to a 100 years old. He was in the process of a divorce, I was in the middle of deciding if I was going to end a basically loveless, sexless marriage when I met him. We worked together, and I'm sure you can read between the lines on this one. There is a lot that happened on our road to marriage. A lot of things, that if I had not been so smitten with his charm and good looks, I would have noticed. I didn't, and in a small Courthouse is southern Alabama on a Friday afternoon, I married husband number three. It ended exactly a decade after my first marriage started.
Yes, I married the first time on January 15, 1983, and divorced the third time on January 15, 1993. I will devote a blog to each one of them, plus the ill fated rebound relationship. Because each one taught me a lesson...... There was experiences that I lived through, that I am hoping by sharing will help other girls and women. Maybe even some men.
I suffered a lot of embarrassment and regrets over the choices I made up until about 4 or 5 years ago. That is when something snapped. I stopped beating myself up, and got reacquainted with God. I had to realize if I had not gone through those things, I would not be who I am today, and I would not have the amazing son I have, and would not have met some of the friends I have today..... Things happen for a reason.
Peace!
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Suzanna WHO?
Hi, I'm Suzanna. Welcome to my Blog. Keep in mind as you read, that I am writing about me, things that have happened in my life, and things I am passionate about. Along the way, I hope that what I have to say or some experience I've had might touch someone's life in a positive way. I don't plan to hold anything back, or go in any sort of order. If it feels right, that is what you are going to read about. So come along for the ride.... laugh, smile, cry..... and enjoy! OH, and please don't be offended....... I've always lived my life on the edge. This is will be no different. This is me in the raw ;-)
Writing has always been an outlet for me. A way for me to go into that place where I can hide, and be alone with my thoughts and feelings. Over the years I have had girlfriends tell me that I should write a book. My reply was always, one day I will, and it will surprise you. I did start wrting that book, only to have my notebooks disappear during the dividing the yours' and mine of divorce number 3. I'll talk about that some other time. It took a few years of pushing by one of my best girlfriends from high school, a recent conversation with another best friend, and a final push by that cousin, who growing up was always there for me. So here I am, ready to share the good, the bad, the ugly...... Thanks you guys!
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