My Empathic Heart Is In Pain

I’m having a difficult time connecting with friends I once connected with, or so I thought. Looks like their sense of what is right and what is wrong has been highly compromised by their support of Donald Trump.

Normally, I accept differences of opinion but this goes far beyond a difference of opinion. This is more about a person’s moral compass. This about another side that was tucked away; away from others, away from me. I’m seeing a side of people I never knew before.

I have to remove myself from these people, these friends, because they’re tearing my heart out. Their racist remarks make me think ill of them. Their lack of compassion towards others breaks my heart. Their willful ignorance of the facts and touting “fake news” because the mighty orange one said so makes me want to scream. Their sources of information come from websites/articles not even written by professional journalists and they seek only sources that agree with what they already believe to be true.

These friends, some I have known most of my life and others maybe a decade or more (or less) think the Muslim women in Congress should “go back to where they came from” and they totally disregard that these women are AMERICAN CITIZENS! A person’s religion or skin color does NOT make them unAmerican.

There are those who believe every government conspiracy that comes across their Facebook feed in a meme without any fact-checking. And I don’t mean fact-checking on fly-by-night websites either! To research the truth, one must go to multiple sources and use critical thinking skills. Oh, wait. Some folks aren’t capable of critical thinking! They take what they are fed. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think the government, OUR government, is always truthful and transparent. However, just because you don’t understand how something happened doesn’t automatically shout cover-up!

Some friends believe that immigrants shouldn’t be helped. I know we can’t help them all, but the pure hatred some show and speak towards those fleeing from violence and oppression is terrifying to me. How can my friends be so hateful? And what about those affected by the hurricane in the Bahamas? Is there a reason why they shouldn’t be helped? They have nothing and we have everything!!

My empathic heart is in dreadful pain. It’s exhausted. I’m exhausted. I can’t bear to listen to or read another hateful word. So, I shall close myself off from those who cause me this pain. It’s bad enough to hear hatefulness spewing from a man who is supposed to represent this country. That man does not represent me.

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It’s Not Political

This major divide between Americans sickens me. It’s not even political. It’s actually an issue of humanity. All human life is valuable. If you think otherwise; based on a person’s skin color, religion, country of origin, or sexual orientation, then you are seriously lacking in your humanity.

Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity. I don’t give a rat’s ass what color they are or where they came from. If dogs and cats in shelters were being treated the way immigrants in border camps are being treated, people would be outraged. Even convicted felons are treated better! They have access to health care, clean water, food, a bed to sleep in, and shelter from the scouring heat!

So many people in this country think in terms of what they’re going to lose, or what will be taken from them – as if being kind and helping others is going to damage their own way of life. People need to start thinking about how they would feel if they were in the same situation as those immigrants who just want a better life for themselves, but mostly for their children. Why else would they risk their lives to travel all the way across Mexico to come here? It’s not for free shit. It’s for survival. Wouldn’t you do whatever you had to do to protect your children from harm? They aren’t different.

Some people think that immigrants are taking away jobs from Americans. Seriously? Americans are too good to take the menial shit jobs these immigrants are happy to take! I know through various connections that caucasian’s seeking jobs refuse to take jobs working in the fields, regardless of how bad they say they need a job. Immigrants are happy to take the jobs of working in the fields, doing housekeeping, transportation jobs, and more. They are contributing to this economy!

Humanity seems to have been lost almost completely in the last couple of years. It’s truly sad.

There’s so much more I have to say… but it’s exhausting. Humans are exhausting. The hateful attitudes of so many people make this Proud American ashamed of my fellow-Americans.

If you don’t agree with me, that’s fine. I just hope you’re happy with yourself and that when it’s time to enter The Pearly Gates, you won’t be too disappointed when you’re turned away.

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The Ex-Files – The Fight

I’ve just not had it in me to write about the ex for quite some time. I found myself thinking too damn much about him and the things he put me through. Seems like once I start thinking or writing about it, it gets stuck in my brain and won’t let go! I hate that.

I can’t believe it’s been since April 2018 that I last wrote about my ex! If you haven’t read the previous installments, you’ll find links to each one at the end of this post.

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It was a very long 2 months. Dad left in May with our belongings – not CP’s things or bigger furniture because CP was supposed to move those things when he followed us out in August. I knew deep down that he wasn’t going to move out there with us. And I was right.

June rolled around and things were tense. My baby sister was staying with us with her first-born, just a baby at the time. I’m so thankful I had her there to keep me sane. Plus, she was witness to what transpired the week of CP’s birthday.

The kids were so excited about their father’s birthday. They called him “Pop.” They wanted to bake Pop a cake. I thought it was a great idea. On the day of CP’s birthday, while he was at work, the kids and I baked him a chocolate sheet pan cake. It was nothing fancy because I didn’t have the extra money for candles or cake decor. The kids didn’t care. They were excited anyway.

When CP came home from work, the kids greeted him with “Happy Birthday, Pop!” and “We baked you a cake, Pop!” I don’t remember his response. It wasn’t very enthusiastic and he went off to take a shower. When he finished, I reminded him that the kids had baked him a cake for his birthday and he said, “That was nice,” and “I’m tired. Going to bed.” You worthless piece of crap, I thought. The kids were so disappointed and on the verge of tears. I told them, “Let’s have cake!” “Yay!” they yelled. I figured it was their idea to make a cake, they helped (ages 2 and 5 at the time) and why the hell shouldn’t they enjoy the damn cake? Just because their father was inconsiderate and didn’t care that he hurt their feelings doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have some cake!

Three days passed. Each night, CP passed on the cake and went to bed. Each night, the kids, my sister, and I had cake. On the fourth night, he came home drunk, with an attitude and ready to start a fight.

He skipped dinner, but he had cake. He grabbed a big piece of cake – it was at least 5 or 6 inches squared. He put it on a napkin. He walked into the living room and sat down in his chair and ate that piece of cake with NO fork and with a pissy look on his face. I knew shit was going to hit the fan, just by the look on his face. I didn’t like that he was eating like this in front of the kids. What kind of example does that set? No fork, no plate. Seriously. I became more irate as the minutes ticked by…

“Where’s your fork?” I asked, but I didn’t think it was with a snotty tone. He responded angrily, “I don’t need a fucking fork.” I was livid. I said, “So, you’re just going to eat like an animal?” I don’t remember how it went from two big attitudes to a huge fucking fight so quickly. It ended up with him saying something like, “I suppose I’m no longer welcome to go to Missouri?” It was clear at that very moment that he was looking for a fight and a reason to blame ME for him not moving to Missouri with us. I told him, “You got that right, asshole.”

Then, it escalated even more. He just blasted me with hatefulness and things he had never said to me before. I know he was drunk but I firmly believe a drunk person does not say things he doesn’t mean.

He told me that I was a bitch, just like my mother.

He said that I spent all of his money.

He blamed me for his drinking.

He said that I neglected our son because he was a boy. 

He told me I was spiteful.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He had always told me I was nothing like my mother. He always said it was our money, not his money. He said I was a good mother. I couldn’t believe this crap! How could I be to blame for his drinking? Did I twist his arm and pour fucking beer down his throat? No! He says I’m spiteful?? Holy crap. Pot calling the kettle black, I’d say.

Well, that was the end. The ABSOLUTE END. There would be no second chance. I would not accept an apology ever. It would be wasted on deaf ears. I will not be disrespected like that! Up until that night, it was always subtle manipulation and an attitude of superiority – he never said he was better, smarter, etc., but he sure as hell made comments to make me feel that I was stupid. My mother made me feel the same way and now, I realize people don’t do that unless they’re the ones lacking somehow.

I had had enough over the years but was too stubborn to put an end to it before. I say stubborn because I don’t like to fail. I will bust my ass to make something work, to get something right so I won’t have to admit failure. It’s not like I didn’t have feelings for this man. I wouldn’t have stayed at all if I didn’t love him. I wouldn’t have had children with the man if I didn’t love him. He killed all of those feelings in one freakin’ night.

The kids and I got on the airplane in July and I’ve never regretted it once. He regretted it. He regretted ever saying any of those things to me. I know this because of a conversation I had with his mother. I’m sure he put her up to it. She asked me if I would take him back. I laughed and said, “Absolutely not.”

Stay tuned for the next installment…..

This is the seventh installment of a series. If you missed the first six installments, you can find them here: The Break-Up & The Concert, Finding My Own Place, Financial BurdenSpiteAccusations, and Planning The Move.

Anger Creates Hatefulness

Sometimes things happen in our lives that break us or fill us with anger and resentment. I can understand those feelings, however, we mustn’t allow those emotions to swallow us whole. No matter how difficult things are, we need to rise above and rebuild if necessary.

If we let our anger consume us, it does more harm than good. It creates a hateful attitude and we sometimes lash out at others. It’s not our intention, but it happens.

I’ve let anger and other emotions overwhelm me several times in my life. I have great regret over my attitude during those times. Eventually, I came to realize that I was the only one who could make it right. The only one who could create happiness and peace of mind for me, was me.

I’m definitely not perfect and it’s hard to be positive all the time, especially with chronic pain issues, but I do try. I realize that anger does nothing to fix one’s problems…it just brings out the worst in us.