Monday, December 29, 2008

Tiffs, Scratches And Bruises...

I get my feelings hurt easily. I try not to care what others might THINK or say in regards to me--but, yeah. I do. I care. If I walk into a room and 2-3 women are huddled together, talking and they look up and make eye contact with me--then go back to huddling and whispering--I am CONVINCED they are talking about me. And not in a good way. Instead of going over and saying "hello" or "let's take it outside, you bitch!!" I tend to want to crawl into a corner and lick my wounds--or run to the bathroom to see if I have a booger hanging out of my nose. Where I will then stay--because, my gawd! They are out there TALKING about me...

But when it comes to my kids... That is the only time I might get ballsy and kick some real or pretend ass. Today my Sweets took me and his oldest two kids (12 and 11 tomorrow) to lunch. I then proceeded to tell a lovely tale of how my ex husband is being mean to my 17 year old. She was his only bright spot--he spoiled her awful...until she started spending more time with me. Now he no longer takes her out to eat or to the movies or attempts to help her with the new car he insisted she allow him to buy her. Now he has a new sweet thing. She's 20 years his junior...and he plans to marry her soon. So he informed my 17 year old last night that he wouldn't be able to help her for a few months--because he has an engagement ring to buy. This upset my 17 year old--alot. As you could imagine. While trying to tell this tale--my NEW husbands basically says "Well--she wants to be treated like an adult--she should stop whining about having to pay her $400 car payment..." THIS pissed me off. Because this man, whom I love more than I ever thought was possible--seems to be picking the side of my ex asshole over me and mine. Plus, this lover of mine has had financial issues as an ADULT and was lucky enough to have parents who covered and carried his ass when he needed it. heart beat faster. My voice started to strain. My eyes felt full of unshed tears. And I went to the restroom. Where I spent a good 10 minutes. Trying to calm myself down. Lower my blood pressure. And I decided: Maybe some things are better left unsaid. I won't enlighten him of the pressures and problems of MY 17 year old. This is my burden to bear. He wasn't helping me--so I will keep it to myself. Less likely to get scratched and bruised that way. But this feels wrong. I still have a huge lump in my throat.

This post will not be up long. I HATE to say anything negative about my Sweets--but this is my REAL life here folks... this isn't a Disney movie. Sometimes it's a comedy. Sometimes it's a action adventure. And sometimes it's a drama. And sometimes it's just sad.

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