The Broken Mommy

In the hopes my lifestory will be picked up by a bestselling author or big studio, it’s probably best I start at the beginning.

I suppose it’s hard to determine THE beginning. Much less described it.

Its cliche to describe my life is a book of chapters, but it’s true. I can easily draw a thick bold line through several points in my life where…. things just… changed…

Sometimes I can draw the line through the damn day….

So, how many chapters do I really have?

Early childhood
Fucked up childhood

Fucked up adolescents

Military

New mom

Absent mom

Broken mom

So… 7? So far?

How many chapters do normal people have? On average?

I anticipate at least two more, but for now, this will do.

Or, maybe it’s more like a series, where each section is it’s own book. I guess that would be ok.

I suppose I don’t HAVE to start at the beginning; I’ll work on them at the same time. Filling in bits and pieces as it come to me and depending on my mood.

Excelsior!

I’ve always had trouble journaling. I intellectual understand it’s healthy and important and is a good coping mechanism for, well, life. But I can’t seem to stick with it.

I realized, due to beta reading, my difficulties with journaling are twofold; 1. I don’t have an audience, and 2. I don’t have a true motivation.

Sure, writing things down is *good* for you, but so is a salad. I gotta have more then that to stick with it. I needed a purpose, other than “good for you” for writing, idk WHY it’s so important, but it is.

So, “purpose”. That’s a big word in this context: purpose in life, purpose for the self, purpose for being.

Excuse the rambling, I tend to get lost in my own head, thus the blog idea, lol.

I decided a few weeks ago that my audience is my family and friends. This is for all the things I wish they knew about me. Things I wish I could share and explain. Things I’ll never be able to talk about with them… not ever.

They are my silence audience, the invisible watchers for this farce I call my life. As if this was a play and I am the backstage. They watch and nod in understanding or shake their heads and sigh. Without ever understanding WHY the play moves and flows and changes like it does.

If my family and friends ever read this and know this is my blog….. let my say that my heart was always in the right place, know that I love you with every ounce of my broken self, and that I always ONLY wanted what I thought, at the time, was the best or right thing to do.

Having heart was the only thing I had to offer for a really long time.

Excelsior!

I suppose I should start with the basics. I should say, “Call me Ishmael” but I couldn’t get through the first few chapters of Moby Dick. Do I feel like an orphan or outcast? Sure, all the time. Am I really an outcast? Maybe, my family loves me, but I’m not a likable person. I’m… shall we say rough around the edges? Hard and narrow-minded and oblivious to the pain I cause my loved ones?

Am I abusive? Am I dismissive and selfish and prideful?

Can this truly be the first time in my life, I’m able to see myself, clearly?

I feel like I’m a fucking weirdo. Weird demographic, weird philosophy, weird social behavior…. just… weird.

34 white female; ok, not bad. Wooo, mellinal generation!

Short; it happens ALL the women on my mother’s side are short. Genetic for the win!

Dull gray eyes and mousey brown hair. But I’m fat, so I have LARGE tits. Unfortunately, they’re also sagging and my nipples are weird.

Mother; totally normal, we have 2 beautiful boys. Although, I am a lazy mom.

Wife; sure, still the norm in my country. But in an interracial marriage! *GASP!* The horror!

2nd marriage; uh-oh! Starting to become a statistic! Well, you and half of the people who get married in this country.

(Is that a real statistic? Where’s the source? Brb.

Ok, according to PsychologyToday.com, it’s not exactly true, that half of all marriages end in divorce. Of course, nothing in life is.)

I’m in an open marriage; I can’t even explain how weird that is.

My husband and I have a girlfriend; I feel like is also very unique.

I’m not exactly straight; like… then what I am??? I dont mind being intimate with a girl, but I dont necessary become aroused by females. I have experienced women touching me and pleasing me sexually, but I dont actually like pussy. I guess that’s hard for even me to understand.

I have weird sexual hangups.

I own a house with my aunt; half because of finances and half because I am extremely codependent.

I was raised in a cult; Whoah! What?!? I dont feel like that’s a very common thing. In fact, I dont think I’ve ever met anyone else who can say the same thing.

I became a pagan/Wiccan in my early 20’s; Because it was comfortable. I could relate things to my own understanding, my own bias of the world.

I’m an atheist; again, I FEEL not many people can say they converted from paganism to atheism.

So, I’m a 34 year old, white female, on her second marriage with an extremly blended family. That’s totally not unusual in this day and age. Although, the crappy background and religion kinda adds an unusual twist to an otherwise normal demographic. So, what else?

I’m a veteran; after I serve 5 years in the US Marines, I was honorably discharged. (I *knew* what I wanted in life and I was a shitty Marine anyway.) That’s a rare demographic overall 🙂

I’m liberal; That’s also odd for a veteran, in my personal experience, most veterans are conservative.

I’m a federal employee; I’m only in 1.5% of the total workforce in this country. Luckily, the gender ratio is pretty close.

I have a disability; I am only 9% of federal employees with a disability. And only 19% of the general population have a disability. Again, I’m only referring to my country.

Check stats here.

I have no idea why I feel the need to put sources, I guess I really want to prove that I’m unique. I dont want to just say it, because then, nobody will believe it. It’s extremely important to my self identity that I am a VERY unique person.

My self-identified is something that I’ve been exploring lately. I’ve been mulling around this idea that… being unique is a shield or a wall of some sort. It’s for OTHER people to dismiss my weird tendencies, so they can’t be upset at me for fucking up.

Uniqueness is so when I fuck up, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that I am “just a little different, and that’s ok.” I need this comfort so I dont feel guilt or shame if I fuck up. So, I at least have some type of…. PLACE, in society. I couldn’t take a normal role, but there’s always the oddball character. The Luna Lovegoods and Doc Browns of the world. I could at least excuse my broken self due to this identity. And if I could, others could also.

It’s like, when you REALLY fuck up, and you know you’re wrong, you tell people that you’re stupid and worthless. People tend to say that because it hurts less if you cut yourself. They say that because they hope it will prevent the other person from saying it. That’s how I feel about being unique. Although, my metaphor maybe too dark for the actual experience of my identity.

I am a stoner, shhhhh! Dont tell my boss! Although, I have my Medical Marijuana card and it is legal in my state for my medical condition, I could get fired from my federal job if my management team found out. Obviously, I cant afford to lose my job, but I also cant afford to be sick all the time and NOT do my job. Not many people use MMJ, less than 11% of the population. OR that’s over 10% of the population!

Kinda weird how one stat seems tiny and the other big, eh?

Although there are no statistics on how many federal employees smoke pot, I bet it’s a lot. Lmaooooo, these jobs are haaaaaard… I hope this bill passes so I dont have to choose between my health and my job.

I’m a feminist that’s a spoiled brat and want to be taken care of. I feel like there are dude things and lady things…. that’s weird.

I am sure I will add more demographics in in future but for now, this is good.

Excelsior!

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton