An Unexpected Turn Of Events

When it comes to matters of the heart, there are no rules.  However, as we age, starting new relationships become more and more difficult. We come with baggage; we’ve been hurt, and we are scared of letting ourselves love again.  

To be perfectly honest, I didn’t think I’d ever love again after leaving a very abussive relationship five years ago. I had turtles my feelings; no man had a chance of breaking through the shell I hid under. That all changed a couple months ago.  If you’ve been following my recent posts, you know the love story gone wrong.  I had given my heart to what I thought was the one, and he ended up running.  

He ran and I turtled.   My walls went up just as fast as they had come down with him. He hurt me, and I wasn’t willing to put up with any of it.  I was determined to move on as quickly as possible, so I hit the town and tried to distract myself.  It didn’t work.  I missed him so bad my body ached.  I spent all day yesterday crying over the loss.  

Longish story short, I sent him a message last night.  I didn’t expect a response, but I felt I owed it to myself to give him the opportunity to explain himself.  This morning at 6:00am, he replied: coffee?

This is what I wanted. Him to at least see me in person and talk to me.  We met and he apologized for the shitty way he handled his fears.  He likes me a lot and it freaked him out.  He asked for forgiveness. After telling him what I will not tolerate in a relationship and after coming to a mutual understanding, I forgave him. 

Time will tell if o made the right choice, but I have to try.  My heart wants him, and I think his wants me.  I’m going back with my eyes a little wider, and it will take some time for me to fully trust him again.  But I must be willing to help him carry his baggage because I need him to help me with mine. 

So the story continues…. let’s hope this time for good.  

Life, Love, and Forgiveness

Like many people, I come from a split family.  My mom went through a slew of half-wit boyfriends before she met my step-dad.  I was thirteen when they met, and I remember being happy my mom met someone with half a brain (and a job).  He was lived across the border in a town called Blaine, Washington (I’m a Canadian Girl); he had two teenage sons, and he smelled like leather and cologne.  My mom used to cross the border on Friday & Saturday nights to go drinking at a bar called Bob’s Tavern, and that’s where she met him. Her pre-step-dad boyfriend was a bouncer at Bob’s, and man was he dumb.  He lived in a trailer park just down the road from Bob’s T. He was fat, bald, had a grade 8 eduction, and he treated my mom like shit.  Side-tracked….

The early years of my mom and step-dads relationship were pretty fun.  He came from a big German family; all of whom lived in Canada.  We used to go to big family parties where there was food, music (singing/guitar playing etc), booze, and boys.  Yep, I had entered into the boy crazed teenaged years, and I did pretty much anything to get their attention.  I had major biological daddy issues (probably still do), so I was heading for trouble.  As a young vulnerable teenage girl, who was loosing her mother to a new man, I was seeking attention.  I drank, developed an eating disorder, slept around, and stayed out all night.  My mom didn’t pay much attention, as she was busy trying to land a husband and father for her three kids.  I don’t blame her; she was alone and needed help.  There was a lot of pretty messed up shit that went on over the years that followed, but I’m not going to get into it.  As a teenager, I didn’t realize the extent of the disfunction of my life; it wasn’t until I had a complete breakdown at 30 that I faced the demons of my past.

By the time I was 15, my mom and boyfriend decided to move in together, and they moved us to a small town located in the interior of BC.  Coming from Vancouver, the move to a mill/minning community was a huge adjustment for me.  I’d like to say it straightened me out, but on the contrary.  I had no friends in this new town, and I was still searching for attention.  I fell into the wrong crowd, dropped out of high school in the last year, started using drugs, and ran away from home.  I was 16 years old and living with a deadbeat, pot head boyfriend.  I worked full-time graveyard shifts to pay the bills, while he smoked weed, slept with all my friends, and treated me like I was the crazy one.  I guess I probably was at the time.  I finally left him at 19, and I moved back to the coast to live with my biological father.  I lasted 2 years there, then I met a decent man and got married.

My husband was kind and gentle, but he was also a push over, especially when it came to his family.  Near the end of our marriage, his meth-head brother came to live with us.  We were too young and ill-equipped to handle that kind of stress on our marriage.  I left my husband when I was 31 years old.  The end of my marriage is the straw that broke the camels back — I had a complete nervous breakdown.  That was the year I was diagonosed with generalized anxiety disorder.  I was put on medication, and I eventually sought out professional help.  I spend most of my 30s repeating my self-destructive behaviours, but I began to learn why I did the things I did.  Slowly, I started learning healthier ways of dealing with my anger and hurt.

I will be 42 years old this year, and I’ve now run 8 marathons, I have a full-time career in human resources, I own my own home, graduated from high school, started university, and I’m living single.  I’ve learned to love myself, and I’ve learned to forgive.

This little snap-shot of my life began with the sight of my 74 year old, fat, German, step-dad laying under my sink replacing my kitchen tap.  Regardless of disfunction in my family, I love them dearly.  I’m blessed to have people in my life who love me and who I can count on.  They are not perfect, and they have made terrible mistakes in their lives, but so have I.   I’m thankful for my ex-husband for being there when I needed love and security.  I’m thankful for my mom for always loving me, even-though she was lost and alone when I was a child.  I’m thankful for my siblings for being my constants in life, and I’m thankful for my step-dad for being there the only way he knew how.