The top 5

A fellow blogger gave me the idea to post the blog posts that have been the most searched for (or read) since the blog posted. I've found it very interesting which ones people have chosen to read:

1. http://therecoveringskeptic.blogspot.com/2012/09/rip-daddy.html I can't say that one shocks me...it's the biggest life change I've ever experienced.

2. http://therecoveringskeptic.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-four-hardest-words-ive-ever-had-to.html again my dad's death...can't say I'm too surprised.

3.  http://therecoveringskeptic.blogspot.com/2011/11/you-hit-rock-bottom-and-all-they-give.html This one surprises me actually. I know the feeling all too well of being given a jackhammer the day you hit rock bottom...but this is a very surprising post to become popular.

4. http://therecoveringskeptic.blogspot.com/2011/12/itd-be-selfish-thing-to-try-and-hold.html Ok shocking...the post on my divorce...moving on now...

5. http://therecoveringskeptic.blogspot.com/2011/12/hope-faith-and-lovetrust-patience-and.html. Interesting given the direction the blog has gone in.

This blog is meant to help people and I know that in ways it has. I just wish it was easier to get out in the public. Hopefully I'll have the time to write tomorrow on how all these posts have not only affected me but others as well.

I'm tired...but...

I saw a post today on Facebook about someone in a certain profession that was “tired”. And it got me thinking about how “tired” I am of some things. Thought it belonged on this blog because this is the blog where I address my deepest issues. So here we go. Probably sharing too much…but I’ve been home alone for 3 hours, and on my second glass of wine.

                I’m a daughter. I’m a daughter that has lost a parent. And I’m tired of being told that it’s time to stop grieving. I’m tired of being told that I need to “move on” from all of the things that happened between my father and I. I’m tired of not seeing my mom enough, and living so far away from her. I’m tired of dealing with the daily struggle of being the daughter of a drug addict, that never got closure from it all. I’m tired of stereotypes.

                I’m a mother. I’m tired of being told that I’m not a mother because I don’t have a child here with me. I’m tired of being told that people understand and that one day I’ll be able to have a child. I’m tired of seeing people who don’t deserve their children…able to have multiple…even though they ignore them and don’t care about them.

                I’m a student. I’m tired of busting my ass constantly to keep grades up, while trying to take care of everything else in my life. I’m tired of teachers giving me a hard time because I took a full load of classes while working full time. I’m sick of being told I “can’t do it” and I’m sick of people thinking I’ll never graduate. I’m tired of the idea that I have to have a 4+ year degree to be successful in my field, when my life experience far outweighs anything I could learn in a classroom.

                I’m a bartender. I’m tired of being on my feet for 8-10 hours a day…and dealing with people who are just plain rude. I’m tired of customers coming in, being extremely rude, and then not tipping no matter how good the service was. I’m tired of people assuming that I’ll never get anywhere in life if I’m bartending.

                I have a degree. I’m tired of it not being “good enough” for certain jobs. See “I’m a student” above.

                I want to help people that can’t help themselves. I’m tired of being told that it’s a thankless job, and people thinking I’m naïve for wanting to do it. I’m tired of hearing how many people “can’t be helped” and I’ll just be wasting my time. I’m tired of being told that I’m “too close” to the job to be involved and successful with patients.

                I live alone. I’m tired of killing spiders, not being able to move heavy objects, and having to do everything myself. I’m tired of little noises at night scaring the HELL out of me, and I’m tired of running back and forth between my house, work, school, the bank, the grocery store, and the gas station. I’m tired of fixing my car on my own, not having anyone to dry the dishes as I wash them, and I’m tired of getting up twice every night to let the dog out.

                I’m the girlfriend of a man who is thousands of miles away. I’m tired of being called a slut, and people assuming that every guy friend of mine, is someone I’m hooking up with. I’m tired of rumors being started about all the horrible things I’m supposedly doing while he’s gone, and I’m tired of being called a gold digger.

                I’m divorced. I’m tired of people seeing it as a reason to look down on me. I’m tired of being considered a failure, and I’m tired of hearing “I told you so.” I’m tired of people seeing it as just something else that “damaged” me. I’m tired of people assuming I did something to end the marriage, or thinking that I’m a bitch because I chose to leave my husband. I’m tired of hearing how my current relationship won’t last because I’m newly divorced.

                I’m a sister. I’m tired of not having enough time for my siblings, and I hate that even though I wish there wasn’t…there’s too much distance between some of us. I’m tired of deep seated sibling rivalry, and the fact that some of my family members like to play favorites to try and upset me. I’m tired of trying to explain to others the relationship between me and the rest of the kids.

Now in typically Katt form…since I can’t bring myself to spend an entire post complaining about everything in my life…without wanting to contradict myself…let’s revisit each of those things:

I’m a daughter. Of an amazingly strong woman, who taught me how to push through things in life when all you want to do is give up. A woman who would be there for me any second if I needed it, and will always have my back. She is a woman that has pushed and pushed for me to be a better person. She has disagreed with my decisions, but then supported me whether or not it worked out. She has taught me that nothing in this world is “too hard” and she has provided me a family that is nurturing and protective. She has taught me independence, true inner strength, and the joys of little things like rollerblading in the park. She gave me the childhood that my father took away…complete with pancakes in the shapes of “K” and rainy day boxes for entertainment. I am the daughter of a man who although he was sick…gave me a future. Gave me a career choice that I never would have known existed. And he too taught me (in a different way) how to be independent…and that life is really beautiful once you push past all the bullshit. He taught me the beauty in sunsets, and the overall relaxed feeling of sitting on a boat in the middle of the lake. I am a rounded individual BECAUSE I am a daughter.

I’m a mother. I may not have children to hold at night, and I may not have had the chance to teach them all of the things my parents taught me. But…I have angel babies that watch over me every day. I have a deeper understanding of the pain involved in being a parent, and not getting what you want when it comes to your children. I have a deeper urge to someday be a parent…and I hope that I can provide an amazing life to children whose biological parents couldn’t do the same. I will be that much more thankful for those kids, and that much more dedicated to giving them everything I couldn’t give my angel babies.

I’m a student. I work hard every day to maintain high grades, and get where I need in life. I’m lucky to live somewhere that I can go to school to better myself. My degree will one day lead to being able to do whatever I want, and provide a good life for my future family. I am thankful to have a program that allows me to get a good degree from a good school…while only paying for community college tuition.

I’m a bartender. I get paid to have fun. I have an awesome boss (well now that I’ve changed to my new job). I know that I’ll make enough money to support myself working 5 days a week, I have my 2 days a week off for school, and I get paid more the better I learn to connect with people and make them happy. I have some customers that like me enough to follow me to wherever I decide to work, and it’s a job I know that I’m good at. I am thankful for better hours, better pay, and better management at my new job.

I have a degree. It has given me a few opportunities in life that many people wouldn’t have had at my age. I didn’t have to pay for my first two years of college…and won’t be dealing with those student loans for years to come. I took advantage of a program that allowed me to challenge myself at 16…walking away with a college degree at 18…and no debt.

I want to help people who can’t help themselves. I have a deeper connection with people…and empathy. I can’t let my experiences in life go unnoticed and I refuse to not use them to benefit others. There’s a reason I faced all I did. The money doesn’t matter, the hours don’t matter, the thankfulness or lack thereof doesn’t matter either. It’s about using bad experiences for good…something that if more people adhered to it…there would be less conflict in the world.

I live alone. All seriousness aside…I can walk around in my underwear all day if I feel the need to. I can make my house just the way I want it, and will learn to better manage my time as it goes by. I have 3 bedrooms, and 3 furbabies who love the crap out of me. I’ll never be truly alone in life…so being able to come home and relax in the quiet to some James Taylor…is sometimes just what I need.

I’m the girlfriend of a man thousands of miles away. I have love that will branch those miles. I have an amazing man who blows my mind every day with how amazing, caring, and loving he is. In ways I feel like he’s too good to me, and I wonder when the other shoe is going to drop because he makes me so incredibly happy. I have something to be excited about…ALL the time. Even if it’s going to be a long week at work or school…I just have to remind myself…”only ___ days until Nick comes home!” And then I get excited all over again. I’m lucky to have anyone at all…let alone someone who really complements everything in my life. He’s not my other half…because I believe people should be whole on their own in order to truly be with someone else. But he’s my “manhancer”. The man that enhances everything about me.

I’m divorced. I have loved fully and deeply already. I have learned that sometimes when you take chances…big chances…it doesn’t work out. I have brought myself out of a very low “low” and managed to create an entirely new life. I have learned what love is…and what it isn’t. I found out the hard way that you have to find yourself before you can find true love with someone else. I know that things won’t always be easy, and there are times when you fight…but also times when you collect what you have, and start over in hopes of a better life ahead.

I’m a sister. I have 3 little faces that remind me every day that there is a bigger reason I was my father’s daughter. I have 3 kids that depend on me as a big influence on their life…and as a role model. They keep me on track…and when I want to give up on everything, I have to remind myself that I want them to always fight…and because of that I’m able to find more strength.

That was meant to be a quick post…but yet again the words started flowing faster than I could type. So yea…I’m tired. But that’s what coffee is for J

Bring on the bad days...and stop being such a big baby

                Ever have one of those days where you just want to scream “why me?!” at the top of your lungs? If you say no…you’re a liar. If you say yes…you understand my current feeling. I’m not going to go into what has happened today…because quite frankly it doesn’t matter, and would violate the privacy of some other people.

                But tonight…I’m throwing a little pity party. Or rather I was (I’ll get there in a second). But I spent a decent amount of time in the last 24 hours being really freaking irritated. I found myself getting really angry at life because it has this constant need to try and drive me absolutely mental.

Let’s be honest here…I have been through hell in my life. From an abusive parent that I got to watch slowly kill himself, to helping raise children that weren’t mine, to losing my own babies while I was still pregnant, to divorce at 21, not to mention the other 30 million little things from day to day. Now, I’m usually pretty good at giving myself reality checks and closing down the inner pity party. But for some reason today, it just wasn’t working. Given some of the things that have happened, things that have been said, and my just pure exhaustion from my current schedule…I was in full blown “poor me” mode.

Then I got home and read a fellow blogger’s post for the day So you had a bad day and it gave me a bit of a reality check. I had a bad day…big freaking deal. I’ve had them before and will have them again. Not even brushing on the idea that many people in this world had a much WORSE day…and the idea that I’m still alive and breathing…I’m still a lucky girl.

                That post got me thinking about the things I’ve been through. As examples…things I mentioned above. I had an abusive father. I went through absolute hell on Earth for a few years there. I felt lower than low, and basically learned that I wasn’t worth anything. BUT. There’s a catch. I also learned valuable life lessons. I learned that sometimes…people suck, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I learned how to build my own self-esteem, and I learned how to not only be independent…but also that sometimes you have to live for yourself. I learned that you can’t “fix” other people no matter how much you may want to. And I also learned that sometimes you have to walk away from the people you love…and watch them make their own lives. The only way you can “live” for someone else…is by making yourself the best you can…and leading as full a life as possible.

                I helped raise children that weren’t mine, and it broke my heart when they were out of my life. But I had that chance. I had moments at 3 am with a small baby asleep on my chest…without a worry in the world. I protected a little life, and made a few moments better for them. I made them laugh, I watched them grow, and even if it was as small as teaching them to tie their shoes…I had some kind of impact. I learned at a young age that children are the future…and we have to protect their innocence as long as possible. I figured out early that there isn’t much more I want in life…than to have my own family eventually.

                As for this next topic…it’s one of the hardest for me to stomach, and one that I struggle with the most.  I lost my own children. I have been pregnant, I have had little mini heartbeats in me, and I have felt a child move in my stomach. And then I have been through the hell of a doctor grabbing my hand, apologizing, and telling me that my child’s heart was no longer beating…and that there was nothing they could do. No explanation, no chance at fixing it…it was just over. I know all of my children’s due dates, and angel dates. Sometimes it was quick, and it happened before I really had the chance to get excited…but other times it didn’t. In those cases it leads to explaining to family and friends that there was no longer a baby on the way…all while desperately trying holding it together. But as I’m trying to look at the positives…I have to accept that there was a reason I didn’t get to hold my children in my arms. Maybe it was because I would have ended up a single parent, maybe it was because my body couldn’t handle it…I don’t know. But I have to accept that there’s a reason. And it’s made me even more sure that I want children one day…in whatever way it takes. Whether I carry them myself, or adopt them out of a bad situation…it doesn’t matter. Heck…maybe that’s why it happened. Maybe I’m meant to give children stuck in the kind of home I was in…a better and safer place to grow up. It doesn’t matter…it all made me stronger, and showed me that I can truly handle anything.

                When it comes to my divorce…in all reality, there are a million lessons I learned, and a ton of positives to the situation. Granted it ripped my heart out…and still bothers me on a daily basis. But…I know that it’s a good thing. I took a chance. I jumped out of the nest, tried out my wings…and went crashing into the ground. It hurt, and it changed me…but it taught me a lot about who I am. It helped me realize what I want and what I don’t. All at the same time…it’s given me a chance to figure out who I am by myself. I’ve had over a year now of being on my own, dating, doing all the things you’re supposed to do. I was too young, and despite everyone telling me that…it was a chance I needed to take. I’m glad I took the shot at it…because I refuse to wonder “what if” in life. It didn’t work out, and as I said…it hurt like hell. It ripped me apart and made me question everything going on in my life. But it helped me grow as a person…as opposed to someone’s “other half”.

                All of things have led to the person I am now. A person that despite her faults…tends to think she’s a pretty good person. I’m not perfect…I’m very very far from it. But my life is good. I have a house that is perfect for me. I have two cats that are like my children…and a puppy that will be keeping me on my toes. I have a good job…that although it leads to long hours, and a lot of time on my feet…pays my bills and keeps me entertained. I’m in school for something that I really LOVE. It’s hard, I’m tired, but I love that one day I will have a degree that allows me to help the people that are like my dad was. I love that I get use my life experiences to help other people. I have this amazing man that for some reason puts up with all of my insanity…and somehow seems to enjoy it. I’m being treated in a way I never have been. He appreciates how hard I work, keeps me in check, and the best part is…he knows the real “me”. He knows my faults, he knows my good qualities…and he loves me for both. He shows me he loves me at every opportunity, and makes me happier than I’ve ever been. We disagree, we argue sometimes. I get cranky and bite his head off…and then we move on. We work together, and even when we’re “arguing” I’m still happier than I’ve ever been, and can’t imagine my life without him in it. I can say with 110% certainty…he’s the man I’m going to marry. Not anytime soon, not for probably 3-4 years…but it’s going to happen. We’re going to have a house, a family, and two kick butt careers someday. And for once in my life…I’m in no rush. I know it will happen when it should.

                I have a few great friends, an amazing family behind me, and in reality…just a lot of good in my life. I have no right to have a “pity party” on a bad day…because as that blog post I mentioned earlier says…the bad days build your character. They are how you learn that life isn’t perfect. They’re how you get stronger and learn to work harder to achieve what you want.

                The bad days…are just blessings in disguise. So here I am. Imperfect, sometimes a royal pain in the ass, and most certainly learning something new every day. Bring on the bad days…I’ve still got a lot of growing to do.

Sisters

I am procrastinating again. Please…pretend to be shocked. I’ve been trying to get homework done…but the blog and my father keep popping into my brain. One thing in particular actually.

                I made a mistake last week…and posting some things on my Facebook about my dad, and his trial. I was thinking that my privacy settings were as they always used to be…and was under the impression that the posts were hidden from my little sister. I was sadly very mistaken. My little sister read the articles, saw things that I said, and was devastated. Meanwhile…I felt like the worst person in the world. I’ve spent so much time trying desperately to protect that girl from all the crappy things in life…and here I was the one that hurt her. Great how that works isn’t it?

                I know I’m not perfect…and obviously the situation wasn’t intentional. I have been repeatedly beating myself up about it…even knowing there isn’t anything I can do about it.

                My sister is about to be 13…and we have kind of a hard relationship right now. I’m 22…working 50 hours a week, going to school full time, trying to manage a house alone, coaching, and trying to run the weekly errands…gas station, grocery store, post office, doctor’s office, paying bills, etc. Meanwhile, she has school, and baton which take up a lot of her time. It is incredibly hard for me to get time with her…because let’s face it, my “free” time is frequently between the hours of 3 am and 9 am. Not exactly prime time to call and hang out with a preteen.

                It’s hard for her to understand. She thinks I don’t care…and that rips my heart out. She thinks I’m not making time for her…because she sees that I do things with other people. Issue being…those people can meet me for lunch between my classes at 1 pm…or can go out for a drink at 11 pm when I get out of my last class.

                It breaks my heart on a constant basis that I can’t do more. And anyone that knows me…knows that I push myself too hard, and try too hard to be everything to everyone around me. I run myself ragged for everyone…and yet I’m letting one of the most important people slip away.

                I’m struggling. In general. But sometimes I wonder if there’s a small part of me that puts up a wall between my sister and I. Not intentionally…and this is only coming from me over analyzing myself…but I wonder. See…my sister has become what I used to be to my father’s side of the family. Something that I’ve realized more and more lately.

                Quick explanation…I used to be the golden child. I was my father’s “pride and joy” and therefore my grandmother’s as well. There are pictures of me in poofy dresses at fancy dinners next to my grandmother. I have old cards, emails, and endless pictures. I was absolutely adored…could really do no wrong. I was destined for this amazing future. And then I cut my father out of my life. Things changed. For my own protection (not to mention sanity) I got away from him.

                Suddenly…I wasn’t that golden child. If anything…I was this horrible person. I was surely going to ruin my life…I was clearly a disturbed human being that was selfish and would “use” people to get ahead. Who knows all the things my father put in people’s heads about me…but at one point he was telling them I was a drug addict and a stripper.

                Connection being…my sister has taken that place. No…she’s never had contact with our father…but that also means she never really had the chance to cut him out of her life. She wasn’t really old enough to make that decision in the way that I did before he did. So to my grandmother…she has become the granddaughter she always wanted. Smart, beautiful, and not nearly as evil as her big sister is.

                I don’t want that to bother me. Who am I to be jealous of something like that…and why do I let it get in my head as much as it does? I have no idea. I certainly wish it didn’t.

                I’m all over the place. Thanks to no sleep yet again I suppose.

Water park nightmare

I don’t know why this memory has been stuck in my head for a few days…but it has, so I assume that means my subconscious wants it out. This is one of the first times I’ve really talked about the physical abuse that came from my father…and it’s stressing me out a little bit to take another jump in the direction of being completely open. But here we go.

                I don’t remember the occasion, but my dad had set up a weekend at an indoor water park. It was me, his girlfriend at the time, him, and my friend Melanie. We had a great first day. Spent all day in the park swimming, going on water slides, and playing in the arcade. After a long day, we all went to dinner at one of the restaurants in the resort. At dinner, my dad suggested that my friend call her parents to check in and tell them goodnight. I reached for my phone and realized it wasn’t there. I started to panic, and hoped that it was back in the hotel room. I grabbed a room key, and Melanie and I went back to the room to look for it. We tore the room apart, looked under the beds, in our stuff from earlier, all through my purse…but couldn’t find it anywhere. We went to the arcade and searched everywhere for the phone. Still no luck. Defeated…we went back to the restaurant where I had the unpleasant experience of having to explain that I had lost my phone.

                My father…was clearly upset. He pulled me away from table and left my friend and his girlfriend there to eat. He quietly scolded me the entire way back to the hotel room…but once the door was shut, he lost it. He was yelling at me…telling me how irresponsible I was…and how ungrateful. He shoved me around a few times and when I tried to apologize, he smacked me across the face. Surprised…I shut up. He continued to yell, pushed me into the sink, into a wall, and I just kept my mouth shut.

                He continued to work himself up. Getting louder and angrier. I prayed that someone in a neighboring hotel room would call the front desk concerned…or that my friend and his girlfriend would come back. But of course they didn’t. I kept trying to put furniture between me and him when given the opportunity…hoping it would be enough of a discouragement for him to give up and leave. I went into the other half of the room, and mistakenly cornered myself. He continued to scream at me, and finally grabbed my arms, picked me up, and threw me into the half opened pull out bed. I hit the metal corners of the bed and bounced onto the floor. I cried out, but didn’t move. I didn’t dare try to get up and encourage it to happen again.

                All of a sudden he pulls my phone out of his pocket. He’d had it the entire time. He took it, and snapped it in half in front of my face, called me a few names, and threw the pieces of the phone at my face. He told me to stand up and explain myself. I stood up…but didn’t know what to say. I really hadn’t done anything wrong, and he and I both knew that. I stuttered a few words…not sure what was better…staying silent, or lying. He didn’t like my response, so he grabbed my arms again, put his face right in mine and screamed at me again while he shook me. He finished what he was yelling, and once more, threw me backwards into the bed. This time as I curled up on the floor, he left the room.

                I was still there when my friend came back to the room. We silently crawled into bed and I cried myself to sleep before my father and his girlfriend came back for the night.

                To this day, I don’t remember what happened the next day. That hour of hell is burned in my brain…but when it comes to anything after it…I can’t remember anything. At the time it seemed bad…but at the same time, it almost seemed normal. And I know that’s not healthy or in any way okay…but it just was. I knew it wasn’t right. I knew it wasn’t something that was supposed to happen. But in some strange twisted way…I had trained myself to not think twice about it. I wanted a neighbor to call someone out of concern, but knew that they wouldn’t. I wanted his girlfriend to come back with my friend to intervene, but I knew she must have had strict instructions to stay out of the room. And I had accepted that. I didn’t fight him, I didn’t call for help, I didn’t try to get out. I just blocked out my brain for that period of time, and knew that eventually it would stop and things would be okay again.

                I know that’s a big issue these days. People sweep stuff like this under the rug. They hear a commotion, and they ignore it. They see bruises, and they don’t ask enough questions. This kind of stuff is more common that anyone realizes…and it needs to stop.