I'm angry.  Don't ever for a second think that I am not.  I'm angry for what has happened to me, to my children, for the situations we were put in.  I'm angry. I want so terribly bad to be hateful and resentful.  I want to scream some times.  And some times I do. Its not really about me though, when I break down in the bathroom for those few seconds. When I have to walk away or hold my tongue.  I'm not angry for what was said to me.  For even really what was done to me fully.  I'm angry because my children mean everything to me and the damage that was inflicted onto them is still there.  I see it when they get angry.  They snap.  They yell, they scream.  They shut down and refuse to communicate.  The call each other names, try to manipulate each other, even hit each other at times.  Not in the normal child manor either.  I'm angry because while they are my priority, they are not someone else's.

If you came to this blog in hopes of getting the details on what happened leading up to my divorce, I am sorry to say you will be highly disappointed.  I actually wrote a post, stating everything in what I considered to be a decent and well said manor, never truly speaking negatively against my ex husband, however after having several close friends and family read it, I have decided against posting it for now.  I'm not afraid to tell people my story, but I am afraid.  Let that simmer for a minute.

I have PTSD.  Not from war, not from a tragic accident, or anything like that, but from 9 years of marriage.  I see a therapist (who I need to call while I'm thinking about it), who sits and listens to me.  She is my out lit for this angry.  She helps me deal with it.  Gives me advice on how to handle it.  I've always been one to keep it all bundled up inside, but I don't want to do that.  Here's why.  Anger leads to hate.  And hate is a bad place to go.  As much as there are times that I want to be so hateful and just blurt out everything I've had to keep inside for 9 years, I can not and I will not be that person.  I will not be that person because of my children.

Now when I say I have PTSD, I do mean that.  I have always disliked that term because it can be used so loosely.  I've seen people use it as a crutch, as an excuse and its why up until now I have never used it to describe what happened to me when something triggers me. Triggers me. What does that mean?  Well heres an example.  Some time before the divorce, while my ex still lived with me but we were considered separate, I was coming home from work.  I had his car.  It started shaking, horribly and honestly felt like a wheel was about to fall off. I called Shawn knowing he was heading to Bald Knob, which is where I was.  (I will go into details about him shortly for those who have no idea who that is.)  I pulled over at Harps and waited for him.  My heart was racing.  Not because I was worried about my car, but because the clock was ticking.  I had already gotten off late.  I needed to get home before my phone was blown up with text and calls.  Shawn comes and sure enough I had a few bolts loose in my back tire.  I thank him, so incredibly grateful he had been able to help.  At this point its 1030.  I'm sick to my stomach as the phone rings.  I tell him what happened and hes annoyed.  Hes mad.  I go home.  Last week I was driving by Harps on my way home.  I thought about that night.  How I was still so happy to of had him as a friend then. That he came and helped me.  And then it hit me.  The phone call.  I got nervous and anxious, suddenly set back months ago and feeling and thinking about how I was going to go home to him. I told myself over and over again he isnt there.  Its over, its finalized, you have nothing to be scared of and yet there I was, sweating and shaking and wanting to scream.  Wanting to turn around. I should have called Shawn, or my mother, or sister, but just like any other time that something triggers me, I cant speak.  My mouth seems to seal itself shut every time it happens.  Its frustrating for me because in my head I'm screaming to talk.  Just say one word, but I cant.  I've had to shut my mouth for so long its become a defense mechanism that I cant seem to get over.  But I'm trying.

I'm sure at this point your minds are running wild with what could have happened.  I will tell you one thing, but I promise you it doesnt even touch the surface of it all.  Mental abuse can be just as bad as the physical at times.  I will walk around for the next 7 years with these scars you can not see.  I will walk around for the next 7 years fighting this.  Having this.  Dealing with this.  With the flash backs, the low self esteem, the being scared to ask for anything.  For 7 years I'll fight the thought that I HAVE to order the cheapest thing on the menu. For 7 years I will fight my brain when it tells my mouth to seal itself shut over the smallest and simplest of things.  7 years, thats how long it takes for the damage to be undone...or so Shawn tells me.

Shawn.  You've seen me tag him (those on my facebook) in post and a few pictures.  Shawn became my best friend in a very short span of time.  He was there to go to break with me.  There to lighten up the mood when I sat quietly on the back of his truck.  He was there to joke with, to make the closing shifts better.  He was there to come help when I was drowning in customers.  My first words to him where full of sass.  I called him a princess followed by a cupcake.  We clicked. He never looked at me as an option, only as a friend, until I became an option.  I told him from the start if he didnt want this he could walk away.  He didnt know fully what he was getting into until one day when I completely broke down, crying against his chest.  I wasnt miserable, I was just full of so much anger.  I told him had an out.  I told him he would be taking on me, with all the damage, and 3 tiny and confused children who also had damage.  We were damaged.  And he didnt have to do this.  He didnt have to stick by me.  We could be friends again if thats what he wanted.  I said this as strong as I could but in the back of my mind I knew I would be heart broken.  I would be loosing my best friend, because I couldnt nor did I want to go back. He said he knew what he was getting into and he wanted it.  All of it.  Me, them, the dog, the two cats, the noise, the crazy, the break downs and the melt downs.  He wanted it.  Hes never been a fan of the quiet anyways.  And he's stuck to that. He took care of L for two days straight while she was sick and had to stay home.  She pushed her limits on the last day, feeling better, and he stood his ground against her. He stood his ground against L!!!  The one who just lets it all roll off her back,  The one who is a battle and pushes those limits until she breaks them.  He stood his ground against her. He did not yell.  He did not lay a hand on her, he simply took her toys.  Told her she was out of options.  He didnt back down.  Then he kept G.  My sweet shy little G.  They hung out all day, and never once butted heads.  He tells me he enjoys his time with them (just bring coloring books next time!).  They climb all over him like the tiny crazy Monkeys that they are.  But they dont drive him up the wall (not yet anyways).  He is there for them and he is there for me.  In ways I can not even begin to describe.

I didnt want to meet someone.  I didnt want to date, or get close to someone, especially not right after ending a marriage, though if I'm honest, that marriage had been over for two years.  I just had to stop. I had to stop being afraid, stop trying to take care of someone who was giving me nothing back.  And when I did stop, and I told myself I would never do this again, I found my best friend.  I looked up one night when it was freezing outside, and there he sat, next to me in his truck.  And I fought it.  I fought it hard.  I viewed myself as useless.  Not deserving of someones time or effort.  But then something changed.  I stopped letting the fear rule me.  Now I still struggle with this fear that has been embedded into me, but slowly its going away.  7 years.  Thats how long it will take.

I prayed a lot,  I prayed hard.  I dropped to my knees, put my head to the floor and I prayed.  I needed clarity.  Every time I did this I got the answer I needed.  I was calmed.  I felt safe and I knew without a doubt I was doing what was right for me and for them.  Every door seems to have opened for me.  Im getting ready to start, my in a healthy relationship that I have zero intentions of ending, my children, though at times incredibly sad at times when they realize their father is not around, are happy.  They are relaxed at home, able to be children and speak their minds.  And they adore Shawn.  Always happy to go see him, do things with him.  And while yes I have all this anger, I am working on making sure that it does not, and will not rule my life.  I have work to do that is far more important than what was done in my past.