Yes or no?

What do you think?

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

 

Very Carefully

  
How we have to handle our exes. 

could have, should have, would have

 
 Don’t stress the could haves. If it should have, it would have. / It kills me when people say, “But we were meant for each other” or “we were perfect for each other. That’s crap. If they were so perfect for each other, they’d still be together. I started training myself to concentrate on that aspect of the breakup, not what I thought “should have been.” What we think “should have been” is just what we really wanted. So jot it down on your “want” list, and move on. 

am i there yet??

One of the things I concentrate on after a breakup is myself. I like to reevaluate what I’m looking for in another decent human, and I can’t do that if I’m not happy with who I am both mentally and pysically. So I hop a train to Happyville by seeing a therapist (“Why was I wish him? He made me bat-shit crazy!”) and I start working out. Yeah, yeah, I should have been exercising while I was dating the guy, sure. But when you live two hours from your job, are raising a child on your own, coaching a sports team and freelancing, working-out tends to get pushed to a back burner. Or in my case: right off the stove. 

But when I do workout… look out! I’m a rock star! I immediately feel like I can conquer the world, my career, my breakup and my insane schedule. And it’s what makes me jump on the scale and think…

  

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!! 👍❤️

Cross or Burn?

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The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn. Sometimes the one you want to cross is the one you should burn.

I can’t be the only one who noticed this!

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Live your own life

2015/01/img_1310.jpg If you return to a nutjob because your family wants you to, your friends don’t want anything to change, or your kids are scared, you’re doing it for them, not you. Life your life. They have their own.

The feeling you get…

2015/01/img_1062.jpg For all of you who are going through hell right now, this one is for you!

Don’t Waste Your Time… More

2015/01/img_1010.jpg No one is perfect, especially when I’ve gone through the hell of dealing with a cheater. So when I finally reach the point when I’m ready to pull the plug, I can’t help but think, “Should I mess with the jerk a little? Inject a little paranoia and guilt? or just cut him loose? While I always toy with scenarios of how to make his life the equivalent hell that he’s so guiltlessly made mine, I haven’t — as of yet — poured the time, nor energy into the revenge scenario. Why? Because the d-bag already stole enough of my time; I’m not gifting him with more!

When your ex approaches you…

2015/01/img_0934.jpg The look on your face when your ex approaches you (and you’re not sure why!)

Check out @aquacat on Instagram for more beautiful images of this kitty 😍

What we think about, we bring about

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/b3f/52627338/files/2014/12/img_0644.jpg And unfortunately if it’s anger or resentment, then you’ll get more anger and resentment. Do yourself a favor, and when you start thinking about how someone is pissing you off, stop yourself and think of that one thing that makes you happy. Get yourself a Positivity App if you have to.

Positive While it Lasts

IMG_0360.JPG Sometimes posts like this make me want to scream. It’s not always easy to be happy and positive! Like someone posting it will make think, “Oh hey, you’re so right! Let me get on that right now!”

But honestly, when I put in the effort to stop myself from wanting to kick some asses, things actually do get better. And they get better quickly.

So here’s “the thing”: You can be miserable 100% of the time because you think “bad things are going to happen anyway – so why bother,” OR you can HAVE and allow yourself to enjoy glimpses of happiness while you have them until all hell breaks loose.

From what I can see, one of these scenarios offers happiness, and the other doesn’t. Your choice.

Single Lessons Learned

IMG_0267-0.JPG A friend and I were discussing why I was meant to be single. “I really believe I’m meant to be alone right now,” I said.

“Why’s that?” he asked

“I’m clearly not learning some kind of lesson that God needs me to learn,” I mused. “It’s always got to do with a lesson. Ennndddless lessons.” I laughed. But I was still serious. Only at this point in my life I’ve been questioning if someone DID enter my world, would I really want to make room for him?”

Either way, I feel like I’m in a constant state of studying. What makes the universe choose one person to have something and another to not?

I was with some married friends this past weekend, watching them argue brutally most of the day. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. I couldn’t help but think, “Is this the lesson that I’m supposed to learn? That I’m so much stronger and better-off being single?” I breathed a sigh of relief when I returned home. After donning some poofy holiday socks, popping a bottled Root Beer, and lounging with my young son, I realized that if their route was my only other choice, I would indeed want to stay single.

What we need is a signal that confirms our lessons have been learned. Like, “Ding! Ding! Ding! Congratulations! You’ve achieved Level 8: Maintaining Your Self.” Sort of like a video game, when you reach a new level you get more weapons, ammo or more doors open.

“Ding! Ding! Ding! 1YearOfSingle, you’ve just discovered all your crappy romances were to actually help everyone else succeed in love!” Oh lovely. Well at least I know now. 😉 Lol…