When love hurts#apooloftears

The friends whom I had made over the years became distant, as if being fat and depressed was contagious. 

All I want for Christmas is a publication date😂😂😂😂😂.

Finally, A Pool of Tears will be available in November. #good things come to those who wait

Evil leaked out of his cells and engulfed his thoughts. 

Can love and hate occupy the same space?

The mistake that Miles said I would live to regret was back in my home and my bed. Yes, I had taken him back, only to repeat a very unpleasant cycle. His pledging and promises of change had reeled me back in. His tongue was spread with honey, and his mind was filled with hostility, but I allowed him to return. He was persuasive without appearing controlling, leading one to believe that you were the one making the decisions. I was skeptical but went against my intuition and gave it another shot. To this very moment, I cannot explain why I gave in to his empty promises.

 Have you been under any stress lately?”

Are you kidding? I wanted to shout. I’m a walking stress molecule, I’m in a bad relationship, I need medication for depression, my kids are going through hell, and my family hates me. I feel like shit. Help!

  I was in foreign waters, not understanding the language and unable to translate my desperation. I was now in need of a life jacket, but instead of Miles throwing me one, he watched me drown.

A Pool of Tears will now be available in September. #nothing less than perfection will be acceptable for my readers

 My head ached, and my body felt like a rag doll. I needed mental and physical relief.Miles was accustomed to these shouting matches. I, on the other hand, had come from a homelife of peace.  

On the flip side of it, Miles was giving my brain a serious workout; he was so up and down I couldn’t keep up. He was toxic from the inside out, poison oozing from his pores. He continued leaving clues to his misguided behaviors, clues that I continued to dismiss. Because his actions were never met with any consequences, he was given the green light to proceed. He was someone you didn’t need or want to be affiliated with, a bad habit you couldn’t kick or scum under the bottom of your shoe.The more you walked, the more it became embedded in your sole. I allowed Miles to rant and rave as if we resided in an insane asylum. Joking, I thought, What if he really was an escaped psychopath masquerading around as an abusive lunatic?

When Life Hurts

Life is a journey.

I began to steer clear of family gatherings, parties, and functions. Going anywhere other than work and the supermarket had become a task. I didn’t want to be seen or have anyone get a clear eye view of the weight I had gained. My energy level was low, and maintaining conversation for long periods was draining. When the doorbell rang, I crept to the peephole— floor creaking, TV on mute, hoping for UPS or the mailman. I had no desire to visit or be visited. I hid behind the walls of my home, becoming increasing more comfortable being alone.

Love is a verb.

The relief that came with him being out of the house was monumental. The kids played freely, and I mothered with a carefree hand. For the first time in over a year, I felt somewhat normal again. 

After months of his bad behavior and mean spirit, I finally mustered up the energy to tell Miles “to get the fuck out.”

I was trying to hold my thoughts together, hoping that I could will myself to feel better. This put enough fear in me to make a decision that I should have made months ago. The fear that I was on the verge of losing it was enough reason for me to conclude that if I didn’t get out now I would get to a point of no return.

My thinking became cloudy, and I was beginning to panic.I feared I was going to have a breakdown. My life was slowing disintegrating. I was now on the verge of collapse, and Miles stood passively by waiting for me to fall headfirst. 

I allowed Miles to rant and rave as if we resided in an insane asylum. Joking, I thought, What if he really was an escaped psychopath masquerading around as an abusive lunatic?

There was no satisfying him. He looked for wrong, and when he couldn’t find it, he made it up. He was miserable, drowning in his own sorrows, and instead of letting him drown, I threw him a life jacket. 

Don't forget to send your email address if you're interested in attending A Pool of Tears book signing. #apooloftears

If his own mother was a bitch, what hope was there for the women in his life? If they were this comfortable with me witnessing their fights, I shudder to think what went on in private. Neither bit their tongue on my behalf and hurled one insult after the other at one another. A bit of unsolicited advice, get to know the family first before committing to a serious relationship.   

He talked nonstop about how she had ruined his life. The tone in his voice was nothing short of hatred. Miles dreaded up years of abuse and cruelty by the hands of Ms. James. The visit was no more than a counseling session that had gone horribly wrong. They were in need of a mediator to direct this free for all. Yes, they were airing all their filthy bloodstained laundry in front of an outsider. 

Book signing coming soon. Stay tuned.

I was speechless, unable to engage or elaborate on the subject of abandonment, which I knew nothing about. How does one despise their own mother? Even if she had made some mistakes, was not forgiveness even considered?

Miles described his childhood as a sham, saying his mother looked for perfection and anything less was unacceptable. He drew a timeline of his life from the age of two until now,explaining how he was not wanted as a child and only reconnected with his mother out of necessity and not by her choice. As Miles recalled, he was raised by aunts, uncles, fictitious godparents, family friends, and unsavory house guests. Miles’s mother maintained that she was a woman with desires and already had one son and another child did not fit into her plans. Miles’s mother justified her actions by reminding everyone that she was young and wanted more of a social lifeand time to enjoy herself and his arrival was an inconvenience.

Before I could meet her, Miles continued with a host of reasons she was the worst person he had ever known. He talked incessantly about how he hated her. He hated his own mother. I listened in disbelief, not knowing whether he was sincere or putting on a show, and his outlandish telltales were a part of that show. 

How can a man be this bitter and unconnected? My only solution was to go the source of this madness. We were to meet up with his mother for lunch. His description of his mother remained ghastly and disheartening.  #apooloftears

Miles was cranky and showed no patience or tolerance for the slightest inconveniences. The pride and enjoyment that dads display with the birth of their first child was replaced with his discontentment and irritation.  #apooloftears

There was no satisfying him. He looked for wrong, and when he couldn’t find it, he made it up. He was miserable, drowning in his own sorrows, and instead of letting him drown, I threw him a life jacket. 

I wasn’t breast-feeding correctly. Her diapers were not changed regularly. How does a fool who has no children and no prior experience become an expert on breast-feeding and soiled diapers? 

My mothering skills were under extreme scrutiny. “You would think after three kids, you could get it right,” he said.

A Pool of Tears will be available August, 2015.

When love hurts. #apooloftears

 I couldn’t tell if he was excited or not. He downplayed her birth even though, according to him, he was infertile. Of course,we left the hospital as one big happy family. Appearances had to be maintained.

Today I get back on track! Nothing beats 99 failures but the 100th try.

I named her Jamie Alexis. She had big bright eyes and a head full of curly hair. An eight-pound colossal of delight was delivered. She was a fresh face, fat bundle of joy. Of course,Miles only concern was that she resembled him; his assurance that he was the father.

   Today I start eating better and exercising more.#tellthetruthtuesday

After another night of arguing, swearing, and bear hugging, approximately eleven months after that chance encounter, my sweet little Jamie was born. I had given him the most precious gift in the world; you would have thought I’d just brought in the groceries. He was glaring at me, my entire body cavity exposed—an unsupportive partner, who was neither present mentally or emotionally. The blissfulness that comes along with the birth of a baby was absent. I had not chosen a loving, kind, or honest partner. I wasn’t ready to address my insecurities or pull back the curtains on my flaws. The layers were deep; it was easier to camouflage the issues. Not addressing these flaws would eventually cause me many years of heartache and suffering.  

  He was gregarious and fun loving when there was an audience and conniving and cruel behind closed doors.#apooloftears

After that debacle at Mom’s house, Miles always made a made a point of being extra nice to the kids when other people were around. He was gregarious and fun loving when there was an audience and conniving and cruel behind closed doors. 

“He just doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy you want around the kids. You are usually so picky,” she said.

And she was right. I had always shielded and protected them from any outside force that would interfere with their little bubblegum paradise. And bringing Miles into my world and theirs didn’t make any more sense to me than it did to Mom. I couldn’t track or justify my reasoning, but still I did not put an end to the confusion that was becoming obvious to my family.

When I took him to Mom’s house for an official introduction, the visit did not go well. Again, he displayed a grandiose attitude. He wanted everyone to believe he came from a well-to-do family and that he had the perfect mother. Again, I knew that was a lie and an untruth from beyond the grave due to his previous admissions.

Miles had mood swings, and his personality mirrored that of Dr. Jekyll’s and Mr. Hyde’s. One moment he was happy and easygoing, showing care and understanding. The next moment,he would flip, displaying a negative and nonchalant disposition. This kept me confused, which was one of the reasons I did not end the relationship right away. Again, I gave him the benefit of adjusting and wrapping his head around the many changes that were occurring and would continue to occur. 

I never felt good about the hasty decisions I was making, but I was unwilling to change the course. I always felt like I was catching my breath, hardly able to breathe. I needed a break from the commotion. Everything was happening so fast. I was becoming increasingly apprehensive and lukewarm to the idea of a baby or a relationship with Miles. Totally perplexed, I could have gone either way. I had already made several hare brained decisions and I needed a moment to put things into perspective.I had met this man with a list of unsettling characteristics. I needed a reality check. An intervention would have been welcomed and justified.

A couple of months later, I became pregnant, and we were playing house. I was not a teenager and knew very well the consequences of unprotected sex. I was a mother of two. Being a good mother came natural to me, and that would not change.Fitting Miles into the picture and carving out a place for him to fit in would be something else I would have to contend with.There was no joy in the fact that I was pregnant, because according to him he had never gotten anyone pregnant in his entire life.