April 3, 2013
Today I filed another form with my divorce. This has been going on for quite a while. As I was sitting, waiting for my number to be called, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself.
Sad for how my ex ruined my innocent, naive thoughts about marriage.
The fairytale of it.
The romance of having your one and only.
How I got married in the courthouse, something I never wanted to do
All the effort I put into planning and thinking about how I wanted to have our wedding. All the time I spent emailing him ideas and researching on the web.
All of it down the shitter.
And then I got upset about how someone I loved so much hurt me so bad.
Then I was crying about how difficult he is.
How he controlled me throughout our relationship, how he’s controlling me through the divorce – although not anymore.
And how much I hate that mother fucker.
But then I stopped. How can I be upset with someone who has also given me so much. He’s given me the awareness of healing my wounds, of breaking unconscious relationship patterns, and so on.
And then I was crying again, thinking about my interview with Hugh Howey yesterday
The thing that really struck me about him was the amount of support that surrounds him.
This got me thinking about my life. How we were brought up differently. How my whole life I haven’t felt like I’ve had support, and how this made me sad — sad for myself.
I have always been on my own.
Although I have family all around me, many times throughout my years, I have always been alone.
Alone with my thoughts, alone with my feelings.
Sure I may have shared them with my family members or friends, but no one ever seemed to relate. No one ever seemed to comfort. No one ever really seemed to care.
It was always a thing of “get over it” or “you’re too sensitive” – – things like that, move on.
And here we have Hugh who shared his cousin and she was like “publish it”
And other people were telling him to publish it.
Although my mom has told me “my writing is beautiful” this was after I was already posting for years on my website.
This was years after MarryBlaire where I truly feel she was embarrassed by my disclosure of personal information.
It was always an embarrassment to her that her late 20 year old daughter was still single, when all of her friend’s kids were married and having kids.
I was the odd ball.
I was the one who didn’t fit in.
It didn’t matter that I had big dreams — or that I was unique — or special — or beautiful — or more picky — or any of these things.
She never noticed these things, she never cared about these things, she never acknowledged or supported these things.
And then after the MarryBlaire thing, my parents — well all they seemed to care about, or rather what they were thinking about my whole experience with that, which brought me so many gifts – it was when I discovered I really was a writer — well, I didn’t parlay it into a money deal, a publishing deal (although agents were talking to me about it), etc… they were upset because money wise it was a failure to them.
So what’s the fucking point.
Didn’t provide money, so I was a failure.
Ohh, there poor daughter, yet again.
So hearing his story, about all the support he gets from his wife and mother who edit his work. My family members have never asked to even look at any of my private writings. Although I guess I did post most of my stuff on my blog, and my mom read it (and who knows who else from my family) – but they’ve always read it in private, like it was some secret. My mom reads it as a way to spy on me. She doesn’t post a comment on my blog, like good job or anything — she just reads it, signs off, and never talks about it with me. Yet, I know she’s watching over me. She always has. Monitoring me. Making sure I stay within bounds — making sure I don’t embarrass her with my writings, sharing something private that might shame her around friends.
My brother became a “fan” on Facebook of my cousin’s photography page.
He never clicked “like” on my stuff. At least not that I know of.
I had to insist my sister in law do it.
No one gives a shit.
No one fucking cares.
And this was my upbringing. I get yelled at, in a way, really looked down upon that I’m not living the high life and a “success” like they deem my brother, who’s totally lost, but yet makes — or at least used to make I haven’t spoken to him in many months, 6 figures.
I went into that marriage telling each one of them I was confused, and didn’t know what to do – and they all pretty much gave me the okay to move ahead with it.
No one stopped me. I told my ex I wasn’t happy. I told him I was marrying him because I loved him and us and I wanted us to work out. That’s a side effect to being psychic, you can see someone’s potential.
Well, I loved his potential. I loved our relationship potential. When it was good – it was really good, the best.
But I knew I wasn’t happy either. I didn’t stop myself either. I loved him and the relationship more than I loved myself.
Even when we separated, my brother didn’t call for support. Neither did my sister in law. Neither did my father and my mom rushed me along, like she used to always do on the phone (I don’t talk to her anymore)
So the whole thing got me bawling at the courthouse.
Don’t marry someone from another country
Don’t marry someone you’re unsure about
Don’t marry someone when you are stressed out
Don’t marry someone when the relationship isn’t the best, most amazing thing it’s ever been
Don’t marry someone based on potential
Don’t marry someone based on relationship potential
Don’t take a leap of faith
You’re only being foolish.
But yet, again… he brought into my life healing. He put me on my path. He opened me up to my great work in this life – helping people heal their unconscious unhealthy relationship patterns. He helped me with all of this. He was the catalyst. Now here I am.
So again… it’s a circle. Circle of being angry, hating the mother fucker, and hating all of them but also being grateful for all the healing they have all brought — all of them have put me on my path, all of them made me who I am, all of them molded me to be the person — to fulfill my divine mission here. How can you not forgive?
So this was all coming out of me today.
(This is a long post)
And the other thing that got me crying as I was sitting there at the courthouse was how I was doing this whole divorce thing by myself too. Being given the runaround. Having to totally support myself. When it initially happened, my mom was going to find me a resource / a lawyer — but that was it. I took care of it all myself. Did all the research, etc. But again, it’s not about that. That’s how my family / my mom has always supported me, by giving me the resource — but no one has ever asked me, how I’m handling this whole divorce thing. How I feel about my ex. My thoughts about the struggle all these years.
Yes, I’m sure they’ve all read it on my blog (I’m talking about my family — except probably not my dad) — but no one has ever reached out to me to say, Blaire, how hard it is really?
But instead, I told my mom in passing several times how my ex was being difficult… still, she doesn’t ask me about my emotions. How I’m feeling. How I’m holding up, etc. Nothing. If you ask her, she’ll say, Blaire’s so positive about it, she’s doing well — but did she ever take the freakin time to sit down with me with a cup of tea and just talk? Nope, no one does that in my family. Too busy running around doing nothing.
And then months into this battle with my ex. Something that wasted all my time and energy at one point — my ex emails my mom to see how she’s doing – to see how my parents are doing — because there was this big storm coming into the NYC / NJ area and he wanted to see how they were doing / that they were going to be okay. And she freakin’ emails him back like they’re friends and all is well.
When I found out about this and I only found out about it because I was snooping around — when I found out about it I went ballistic. She’s emailing him / they’re emailing one another like nothing is wrong — meanwhile, I’m here at times, totally stressed out, upset, angry, frustrated, whatever / all these emotions because of HIM and she’s emailing him like no big deal.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Oh, I can go on and on, but the point of this post is that today at the courthouse I let it all out. Sat there with tears streaming down my eyes, just crying and crying. I’ve felt bad about this situation before — I guess it was more in the form of anger – but yes, sadness. But this was just a pure sadness pouring out. Just deep sadness over all these patterns that have come to my awareness through this journey, the deep sadness for what I have gone through with this experience.