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You don’t have to be a party animal every holiday

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I remember feeling like there was something wrong with me if I didn’t go out every holiday. The truth is, not everyone goes out and parties every holiday. Don’t look at Facebook as an example of what life should be – Facebook tends to only show the best parts of people’s lives. Thinking that every holiday should be like Facebook’s display of holiday gatherings is unrealistic.

Allow yourself to stay home sometimes. Spend time with your family in your own space. Don’t let friends make you feel guilty for getting rest and relaxation – especially if you’re going through a divorce or breakup. We certainly didn’t feel guilty for taking a 2pm nap when we were 16 – why feel guilty now? Yes, you should go out during a divorce/breakup. Yes, you should stay in touch with friends. But stopping to smell the roses is also necessary. And doing so during the holidays is a great way to celebrate your new-fought freedom. You can have just as much fun and relaxation in your own pool, with your own bbq. Go out tomorrow, and let your friends know what a kickass time you had chillin’ by the pool.

When you realize you wasted 30 years trying to please dipshits

It’s taken me years to be selfish about my own time. I had been giving away my time like grains of sand — endless and unwanted. I was spending my time with men that didn’t appreciate me. All because my psycho mother convinced me that marriage was necessary to be a worthy human.

I was giving my time trying to make boyfriends happy, but they weren’t. I was giving endlessly and not getting back. Those were countless seconds, endless minutes, and piles of hours wasted for dipshits who just didn’t give a rat’s ass how much of myself I was wasting on them, all because my mother injected the idea that marriage was what I was supposed to do with my life. I wasn’t worth anything unless I was married.

During my dating years, men constantly cheated or returned to unhealthy women just because the woman made shows of absurd tantrums, citing endless love—when in reality they were all just insecure and trying to manipulate the situation so they weren’t rejected and alone. You’d think I was one of those sappy, sniveling girls who begs for a man’s attention. But I wasn’t. I was relatively independent. One friend would tell me almost too independent while another friend would tell me not independent enough. Either way I felt screwed. Too this, too that. Never quite perfect, but somehow still too perfect. And yet I prayed continuously for the dipshits to see my worth and reject the hoochies like the heroes in novels. How could they be so easily fooled by stupid, selfish women? Wouldn’t it all work out in the end? Don’t they know better? 

And the worst question of all:

Why bother being good at all if it never, every amounts to anything?

The man I asked that question to actually did return to an alcoholic bipolar cheater. How do I know she really was? She left a psycho message on my voicemail, confessing.

Men have proved to me over the years that they’re not worth the effort. Oh, believe me—my male friends are brilliant and I love them dearly. But men to date? I’ve found them all incredibly bitter disappointments, saying they were divorced when they weren’t. Saying they were getting divorced when they weren’t. Saying they weren’t alcoholics when clearly their police record revealed they were. Saying they were done with abusive women but returning to them. Cheating and blaming their impotence on me. The list was endless and quite laughable, if not horrifying. I was floored at the lack of integrity and honor. And yet I constantly forgave, forgave, forgave. For what? My best relationship even ended with an “I’ll destroy you,”  from my boyfriend, via email while I sat in horror reading it at my desk.

“Why don’t you try one of those dating sites?” a friend asked. Just hearing the question made me want to peel my skin off and singe my nerves with a white-hot poker. The mass majority of men that I came across on dating sites were an insufferable mass of liars, hell-bent on not being alone. They were loaded with fear and bouncing from girl to girl like their asses were made of rubber. I could barely hear the question without wanting to scream. It was bad enough that the men I dated were like that when I had discovered them organically without inserting myself willingly into the scenario.

I had absolutely no tolerance to even think about giving away more of my precious time to a single cell of dipshit anymore. The thought was repulsive. I had so much I wanted to do with my life and was putting it off. Grossly procrastinating while searching for a dimwit to share my life with. All the while assuming that when I found such dumbass, the fool would be able to help me run my life.

What a damn joke.

“You need a sex toy,” one of my guy friends said. We laughed. I told him a sex toy with old batteries would probably be more reliable than what I’m used to. “Let me pick it,” he added.

No man who I’ve dated has ever been able to help me with anything except maybe a flat tire. It’s not to say that men are stupid or useless — far from it. It’s just the fools I’ve been saddled with knew far less than I hoped for, especially considering that I’ve been taught from an early age to believe men had all the answers and I had absolutely none.

Do you suffer from this? Did your parents teach you that you’re too stupid to make your own decisions and that you need a male proxy to think?

It’s taken me 45 years to realize that the only person who really knows bum-kiss about my life is me. That’s damn right—me. I learned that, and I learned that I’ve been wasting precious gobs of time on people who had both no desire nor intellect to my life.

When the full blast of this realization finally hit me, I wanted to vomit. I will no longer be spending time wondering what man will “save” me from my life, nor even to help me make decisions. How absurd. I’ve watched fools make a mess of their own lives, the very last thing I’m going to do is let them control mine.

And with a vise-grip on that thought process, I’ve started forming my bucket list. It’s getting done faster than ever before because I have so much more free time to work on it.

xoxo
-1Yos

 

What the hell happened to 2017??

IMG_D4FBB95ECF03-1A few days ago my 11-year-old son told me I should think about getting a hobby. If I wasn’t so shocked, I would have LOL.

“Honey,” I said, “In the last few years, we’ve moved in with my boyfriend, I’ve broken up with myself*, then moved out from my boyfriend’s. I’ve had two major surgeries, you’ve moved schools twice, my job moved to another state, then I changed jobs. I’m exhausted.” Then I added thoughtfully, “I’ve only just started to come out of the haze now.” My son did an “Oh… true…” nod and continued what he was doing with no further interest in the subject.

I’ve always rolled my eyes at blogs and broadcasts that were titled, “Where have I been?” It assumes that every person reading their headline has been dying to know what happened to that blogger and why they’ve been absent. I doubt anyone really cared. If the blogger was actually successful enough, the question of their absence would have been answered by the public long before the blogger realized it was even an issue.

And still – here I am, thinking I should write a “Where have I been?” blog. No one cares. I don’t even care enough about the last few years enough to write about them. Lol > But what I can tell you – or what I’d rather tell you – is what I’ve learned along the way. I’ve learned so much. And I want to tell you about my experiences. Both good and bad. What worked along the way, and what didn’t work.

I’m so happy to be back. Ironically, after all of the shenanigans of 2017, I’m so ecstatic that I can simply call it a “challenging” year. It was probably the most difficult year I’ve ever had, and yet I only want to call it “challenging.” Why? Probably because the previous 45 years before that were what helped me get through 2017.

Let me tell you about it.

Welcome to my not-so-new hobby: 1YearOfSingle.

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-1Yos

 

*Oh, look at you searching for the meaning of that asterisk! Good for you! Well, you found it. I guess I should tell you what it means then?  Well, back in 2017, I had to break up with myself because my bonehead boyfriend didn’t have the balls to do it himself. My 11-year-old son and I were feeling completely unwanted, living in the guy’s house, and all the Talks in the world weren’t helping the situation. To add to the pile, he was lying to his daughters about us. So I had to shoot myself in the foot and tell him that it wasn’t working out. As soon as I brought it up, he said something like, “Well now that we know what the problem is…” I wanted to say, “No, dipshit – now that I had the balls to tell you that I already knew what the problem was.” I was furious! The kicker was that my son and I had just moved into his home after donating most of my belongings, and he was out cheating on me and telling his daughters that we were the assholes. The thing that hurt the most is that he brought my son into it. Trash. Complete trash. It pains me that his daughters will never know the truth. And yet, maybe they’re better off.

1000 Followers!

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1000 Instagram followers today! Thank you so much to all of you who follow, post, reply, laugh, forward and repost. Thank you!! 👍❤️

Your Life Won’t Suck Now

IMG_0059-0.JPG Sometimes it’s exhausting hearing people say, “You did the right thing.” Because besides not being involved in a toxic, unhealthy relationship, I’m forever alone. And while I love me – and quite honestly can’t think of anyone I’d want to break into my happy little reverie that I’ve got going – sometimes it would be nice to feel rewarded for tough decisions I’ve made with something other than “Your life won’t suck now.” Sometimes that consolation prize just doesn’t cut it.

Forgive your shitty dating choices

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My mother had always given me the impression that whomever I date, I had to immediately marry. That there would be no other choice for me. And so I wouldn’t go on a date thinking I just had to get to know the person, I would go on a date under parental pressure that I potentially had to marry the guy. And she made it seem like if I accepted the date, it was because I accepted the person as a whole being and was already contemplating wedding bells. It was suffocating, and yet there I was feeling forced into all-or-nothing relationships. I was never given the opportunity to just date for fun – maybe go out and enjoy myself with somebody who had the same interests as I did. So when these relationships went south I was beating myself up constantly thinking that I should’ve known better. Thankfully, I’ve cut ties with my toxic parents and their pressure for me to get married without even being able to date like a normal female. If you’ve been beating yourself up after a breakup, thinking, “I should’ve known better,” just remember that dating is to get to know somebody. And you’ll never really get to know them unless you date them. So release yourself from the guilt.

My soulmate

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My son and I laugh a lot. He brings me tissues when I cry. He helps me whip new marinades for pork that refuses to cook correctly and he always waits patiently without complaining. Recently I’ve been comparing a lack of positive personality traits in ex-boyfriends to those my son does have. It has verified that the happiness I seek isn’t in a lover like my unstable mother manipulated me into believing. My happiness can be anywhere. And sometimes I can find it shining brilliantly in my son’s laughter.

A Perfect Example Of Positive Thinking & Envisioning

The other day my son and I went to the youth Association to register him for summer camp. I explained to the woman that my son would not be in for some time during the summer because I had scheduled a vacation to Disneyland in Florida.

This woman is absolutely fabulous, and I loved her enthusiasm as she spoke about Disney and everything it meant to her. I told her the trip was the best thing for me to focus on after just breaking up with someone. She agreed.

“You know after I broke up with my husband,” she revealed, “I used to walk around the house for months with a tiara on my head.” I was slightly taken back by her admission. She seemed like a very stable lady, very fun and outgoing but it shocked me as well because it seemed a little wackadoo. But she explained,

“My ex-husband just wasn’t treating me right,” she said. “We weren’t getting along and I just thought to myself, ‘I deserve to be treated like a princess; I deserve to have someone treat me like a princess and if nobody can do that I will do it myself.'”

At this point we both giggled because honestly, she wore the tiara at home – it’s not like she’s going out to the grocery store with this tiara on her head while jabbering to herself on the sidewalk. The woman is quite sane. And very witty, if you ask me.

 

We continued talking, and she told me about her new husband. “He treats me so well,” she beamed. “He treats me like a princess.”

At that point I think my jaw fell through the floor. “Do you know what this means?” I said, “Have you ever read The Secret?” She admitted she did not, so I explained to her that The Secret is all about the law of attraction, positive thinking, and envisioning your future. “By wearing the tiara on your head,” I explained, “You were envisioning yourself as a princess, and it [the envisioning herself as a princess and living it wholeheartedly] pulled your husband into your life, your current husband who now treat you like a princess.”

The shock on her face was priceless and I think her jaw hung open for a second. She had not even thought about that, she told me.

“Well now you know what I do? “She continued, “whenever I run into someone who needs a pick-me-up, I send them a tiara and I tell them to release their inner princess.”

By the time I left the youth Association I had wholeheartedly decided that I’m going to buy myself a tiara. Like this fabulous lady, I deserve to be treated like a princess.

Do yourself a favor and take a look at your world and see what has popped up for you in a similar manner. What The Secret says is that anything you think about comes into your world. So even if you think badly, or that you don’t want something, that’s what’s going to pop into your world. So don’t think about the guy that just screwed you over or the girl who lied to you. Think about what you do want. Bring out your inner princess – or prince – and focus on what you do want. And oh yeah – get yourself a tiara!

Quote!

Being impressive is exhausting ;-P

GWLMIT

No, it’s not a new toy. When I was married and realized my husband was a serious alcoholic, I kept thinking, “This won’t be forever. God won’t leave me in this.” The fear of being killed was overwhelming. My husband had a shotgun, knives. I had to plot my evacuation with hair raising awareness, hoping my husband wouldn’t discover my plot, hoping that what I knew of him was correct – that he wasn’t up to actually killing me. So while being single isn’t nearly as life threatening, I’m still seeing a lot of single folks on Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook and other social media focusing on Singledom as if it’s the end of their lives. If you really think Singledom is that horrendous, just keep thinking, “GWLMIT.” And feel free to substitute whatever higher power it is that you believe in even if it’s not God. Because you won’t be in this forever. Just do yourselves a favor: Instead of concentrating on what you don’t want in a partner, concentrate on what you do want. Positive. Always.

GWLMIT

“So Weiner pulled out?”

I said, when a commuter friend mentioned the political news of the day and we touched on my lack of knowledge on the subject.

LOL