I can’t stop these thoughts

Since we’ve started packing for the move, I’ve been looking at what things to toss and what things to keep. I found a photo album last week or so and it happened to have a picture of the scum that I “dated” before my current boyfriend in it. The one who was married with two children and lied to me about it. I saw the picture and I got upset all over again, but something else needed my attention so I just closed the album without removing the picture. Now I can’t get the fucker out of my head.

Don’t get me wrong. There is absolutely nothing wrong between me and my current boyfriend; we haven’t been fighting and everything has been going really well. There is absolutely no reason that I shouldnt’ be thinking about my man instead of the garbage before. But the asshole keeps coming across my thoughts and it really makes me mad. I keep telling myself that my boyfriend is the best man for me and that I’m really happy with him, so there’s no reason to think about anyone else. But I’m thinking I never got closure from the ex. I never got to beat the shit out of him for putting me in that position. I never got to tell his wife that he was cheating on her and had done it before to warn her of who she was sharing her life with.

He’s been in my dreams for the past three or four nights. So has my boyfriend, but the ex always appears first. It’s tearing me up because it’s starting to make me feel like I’m hiding something from BF or that I’m mentally cheating on him, even though I can’t control my dreams. Is it just a matter of forcing myself to think about BF to replace the random thoughts that pop up every time they do? Is it a matter of finding that picture again and ripping it to shreds to release the emotional hold it obviously has on me? Do I burn the picture instead?

I just want to be able to focus on my boyfriend because he deserves nothing less from me. He’s all I ever wanted and I don’t want to feel like I’m cheating on him mentally because of that fuckface.

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Random Thoughts for Today

I didn’t blog yesterday. But the night before, my man came over and we talked some more about how I was feeling so down. I don’t know what kind of superpower this man has over me but he talked me through another down period. I guess I need to quit thinking about the future and just focus on what’s right in front of me, even if it means a breakup later down the road. But he pulled me back to my normal self, and I’m thankful for that. Now we’re going camping this weekend and I really hope it’s a great time.
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On the way to work today, I saw that a Texas State Trooper had pulled someone over. Those lights, that uniform, the emblem on the door bring back so many good memories. I can still smell my dad’s uniform and that leather belt and boots that he wore, the ones that he made look so good. The Trooper that I could see (there was one talking to the driver and another watching that trooper’s back) was such a cutie, too. ;P I wore my Texas Department of Public Safety necklace that my dad gave me when he retired, and it made me feel like there was a connection between me and those Troopers. Officers, Sheriffs, Deputies, Troopers are all family, and it angered me and worried me that when I looked in the mirror, the traffic behind me was not pulling over to the opposite lane to give the Troopers a full lane of space. I have seen many Law Enforcement Officers get hurt badly because people don’t move over, or at least slow down to 15 under the speed limit if moving over is not an option. Please, move over and give my family their space to work.
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When I got to work, there was someone new in the parking lot. Someone with a giant blue dodge ram. I didn’t capitalize its name for a reason. There’s that moment when you see or smell or hear something that reminds  you of the person who broke your heart because his marriage wasn’t enough for him so he lied to you in order to get you into his life. He told me he was divorced and that she was living in Florida. He told me he didn’t have girls over to his barracks room because it’s disrespectful. He told me he could only see me at lunch because he always had to work late, so he drove over the mountain at least once a week to pick me up for lunch and…. have me for lunch if you get me. After I searched for him on facebook and saw his profile, I did not add him but asked him whether he had a profile and he said that he did not. And that’s when I started doing more research, because the next day he had blocked me from seeing his profile. One of my friends looked at his profile and his friends list for me and we found his wife. She was, in fact, living here, and they were still very much married, with two children. I had fallen for this man out of sheer stupidity, and I hate that I fell so hard and so quickly, and I hate that there are still so many things that remind me of him. There’s “our song,” every f—ing blue dodge I see on the road, sometimes even my man will say something and it sounds like something the ex would have said. I just want to be over him. But all these things that remind me of him are there, and now there might be that giant blue dodge that looks just like the ex’s in my work parking lot every day if he is a new employee. I just want him out of my life and out of my head….
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That devastating moment

When you realize that you have the man you wanted. All you ever wanted was to have a good man and be his number one. His one and only.

That devastating moment when you realize that, thanks to making the mistake of a child with his now-ex-wife, you will never, ever, be his number one.

Do I stay? Or do I leave and let him keep that snotty nosed, mumbling, diaper wearing 3 year old and shut everyone out again?

What Women Need To Remember

No matter how sweet he is, no matter how much he’s there for you and he takes care of you when you’re sick or you have surgery, he’s still a man. He’s still going to piss you off and blow off plans he had made with you. Don’t ever get to the point where you lose your independence. Remember that you don’t NEED him in your life, you WANT him in your life. Always be prepared to go it alone if you have to. No matter how perfect he seems sometimes, he’s not perfect, just like you’re not perfect. He doesn’t remember how easily things he does and says hurt you.

Excerpt 3 from “The Hand That Gives The Rose”

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               “Anger suffers as grief withdraws,” Lucy said. “I don’t feel anything anymore. Not toward him.”

               “You’re always so cryptic, girl. What do you mean, ‘anger suffers as grief withdraws?’” Aimee whined.

               Lucy chuckled at her friend’s confusion. “I was grieving my relationship, so I was angry, bella. Anger is a part of the grieving process. As my grief withdraws, anger suffers as well. Anger wants to burn hot and bright but I’m over my grief now, so my anger is also dying.”

               “So why didn’t you just say that you’re over him so you’re not angry anymore?” Aimee said, giving her friend a playful shove. “Why do you have to be so confusing with your fancy words?”

               “Using eloquent words is a dying art, beautiful one. I choose to practice the art and differentiate myself from others who use colloquialisms.”

               “Well, it does make you sound smarter. And more caring, somehow. I don’t know why, but that’s how it feels to me,” Aimee said.

               “I do care about you. Despite the short time I’ve known you, I care about you very much.”

               “It doesn’t seem like it’s been long enough for us to get to like each other so much, but I care about you a lot, too. When you told me what happened with Angelo, it hurt me and angered me almost as much as it afffected Luca. How’s he doing now, by the way?”

               “My father has commissioned both Luca and Angelo to make a deal with a realty company to build a new hotel. It is a big project, so the men will be working together for several weeks. Luca is very much not happy with the situation, but he knws as well as our father does that he and Angelo can get the project finished in good time with great financial benefits.”

               “And do you know how Angelo feels about it?”

               “He knows that he has wronged me. And he knows that Luca now despises him. I believe he regrets his decision, but he has not made an attempt to assuage his guilt by apologizing to me. In fact, he does not even enter my hotel. And rightly so; the employees now know what happened and they would not respect the Almighty’s right to revenge as Luca and I believe. Angelo is not welcome in the hotel.”

               “So he feels bad but he knows no one around here is going to do anything—“ Aimee stopped before she finished her sentence. “Speak of the devil.”

               Angelo was walking toward them with one hand behind his back. Aimee got closer to Lucy, offering to let Lucy lean against her. When Angelo reached them, he stood in front of them, between them and the ocean. The three of tehm remained silent, just looking at each other. Angelo couldn’t seem to hold eye contact with Lucy for more than a second at a time. Lucy stared at him, waiting for him to say something. His hand was still behind his back, but he brought it in front of him, holding a bouquet of blue roses. He knelt down, holding it out to Lucy.

               Lucy raised her eyebrows, not accepting the bouquet.

               “I’m sorry, my love. I’m so very sorry,” he said, still holding out the bouquet.

               “You’re sorry I caught you,” Lucy said, her voice rough with irritation, her eyes steely with indignation.

               Angelo breathed faster, bringing the bouquet closer to his body. Now he looked at Lucy, not taking his eyes away from her. The longer he looked at her, the more pain twisted his handsome features, his eyes brimming with tears.

               “Your tears will not sway me, Angelo. I gave you everything you wanted and still it was not enough. You were all I wanted and more. But it is apparent that you wanted something I could not give you. And I believe this,” Lucy gestured toward the roses and Angelo’s now tear-stained face, “is all an act. I do not accept your apology. And I do not accept those roses that symbolize impossibility.”

               Without another word, Lucy got up and walked back toward her hotel, standing taller than she ever had before. Angelo shifted his weight from kneeling to resting his knees on the sand, breaking down into sobs and hyperventilating, but keeping the bouquet protected from the sand.

               Aimee stared at him as he cried, torn between following Lucy to comfort her and watching Angelo express the pain he deserved. She decided to follow her friend, leaving Angelo to cry alone.

Frustrated

The example starts at about 0:50 in that video

Have you ever been so frustrated or angry with something or someone that you just wanted to go into a room filled with things and just pick stuff up and throw it and break it and let out all that frustration? Yeah that’s how I’m feeling right now.

I won’t tell you much more about the reason why except that it’s about religion, but I’m really super frustrated and angry.

So I’ve decided that when I move into a house when I get settled in my “adult life” as I call it (career job in the city I really want to live in), I want to talk to an architect about exactly how I want my house. I’m planning on making an extra room that I can just fill with glass stuff and cheap chairs and all kinds of decorations that I can just throw and break stuff and crush stuff and maybe a few things to work out with so I can get out all my frustration until I literally cannot stand any longer. That sounds like something I need in my house. And I wouldn’t clean that room very often. I’d leave all the glass and stuff everywhere. Until it’s like dust on the floor. Then I’d have to sweep it all up and fix it. And then put more breakable stuff in there so I can start the cycle all over again. I’d have super heavy duty soled shoes just inside the door so I could just put those shoes on when I go into that room and take them off when I leave so I don’t a) cut my feet on broken glass and b) track that broken glass into the rest of the house.

Everyone needs an outlet. And you know what? For me, it’s either crying (because, much to my dismay, I do end up crying when I get frustrated enough) or imagining myself running around and breaking shit and throwing shit and maybe even taking my pistol into that room and setting up a backboard and cardboard target to shoot a few rounds at. That sounds like a good outlet to me.

Does that make me sound like a raging, horrible person?