It’s been awhile…

It’s been awhile since I posted. After a lengthy recovery from surgery, a great deal of financial burdens, family drama, and the like, I’m back and ready to journal again.

For those of you who so kindly volunteered to be a part of the book, I want to thank you again, and reassure you that I’m back at it. You’ve all been on my mind, and I sincerely thank you for your patience.

God bless.

Relationship hell

I wrote this about five years ago while I was transitioning from being completely dysfunctional to someone better able to see the damage I was doing to myself. Enjoy

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You know things are going badly when… every relationship you end up in is with someone who’s either an alcoholic, a drug addict, or a womanizer. And that does seem to describe every long-term relationship I’ve ever been in.

The Devil (aka my first husband) / Alcoholic. Womanizer. Hitter:  I met him about a week after I broke up with my high school boyfriend. D blew in on a motorcycle, looking all cool n’ shit, talking sweet, and providing me with his undivided attention. When he said he’d pick me up at 7:00 p.m., he was there on time and usually carrying flowers or some such girly thing. I fell in love quickly and was barely 17 years old when we married. A week after the wedding is when the hitting started, along with his self-esteem-shattering name calling. There I was, all 5’7″ 130 lbs of me being called fat, ugly and stupid then smacked in the face just because he felt like it. D was an alcoholic and a womanizer. The marriage ended a year later. That was the day I beat the fuck out of him, you know, the day I wasn’t going to take his shit anymore. I guess once he realized I could kick his ass my usefulness wore off.

Mr. Machismo / Alcoholic. Womanizer:  I met M about six months after I divorced the Devil. He was 12 years older than me, 6′ tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, and one hella Swedish fucking hottie! M taught me a lot about sex. I’m not really sure what else we had in common, but we both certainly liked experimenting sexually. He liked it so much that he “shared the wealth” with many other women. Ain’t that sweet? We were together about a year and a half, then just sort of quit seeing each other. No real drama, no goodbyes, just “hm… I haven’t seen M in a while… wonder what he’s up to.”

The Biker / Alcoholic:  I met B one night while playing pool in my local bar. We were on our second or third game when I couldn’t quite reach the shot (plus I wanted to really get his attention) so I climbed on the pool table and made my shot while ass-up on all fours. B was really a sweet guy who carried around a rough exterior. The only problem in our relationship was his drinking. He didn’t get violent or anything, he held a good job, and was very kind to me, but he was always drunk. In fact, he’s the one who helped me discover my love of tequila. Our relationship ended early one morning after B left for work. His roommate decided to come into our room and rape me. Obviously, things just weren’t the same after that.

The Daddy (aka my second husband) / Alcoholic. Hitter: I met D while hanging out with a local metal band. He was a friend of the bass guitarist and I was fucking the drummer. Jump forward a year and a half and there we are at a barn party, talking and laughing when and I asked him out. We dated seven months before we got hitched. We were married for 11 years and had two kids. The first four years were great. After our first daughter was born, everything went to hell and quick. D decided it was okay to get drunk and punch or choke me, he often referred to his mom as a whore, and generally had no respect for women. I blame myself for a lot of this fiasco because the warning signs were there. I just refused to see them. I’m not sorry, but only because of my two wonderful kids, but it was pure hell. The hitting stopped on my 30th birthday when he tried to choke me, I threw the asshole into a head-lock and beat the fuck out of him. Again, another victim of my pent-up rage.

The Golf Pro / Alcoholic. Womanizer:  I met M one night, made out with him in his truck, fucked his brains out for two weeks, then he dumped me. I was heart-broken. A week later, he called and said he couldn’t live without me. So there began our one and a half year freak/fuck-fest. M was 14 years older than me and really knew what he was doing in bed. With him, it was the first time in years that I actually felt like a woman. I wasn’t someone’s wife or mother, I was a desirable woman and he let me know it. Unfortunately, he was fucking everything in town, as I found out later. It got so bad that a woman’s husband poisoned M’s dog because of M’s affair with her.

The Red Neck / Alcoholic. Womanizer: I met J one night, purposely gave him the wrong address and talked to him on the phone while he drove around looking for my house. I told him about the red teddy I was wearing, how my legs were spread and my pussy was ready for some dick. I thought it was funny. He didn’t. Six months later I ran into him again, gave him the right address this time, and that started our year and a half long relationship. With J, it felt as if I were raising another child. I know that his energy and outlook on life is part of what appealed to me, but there are times when you have to be serious and take responsibility for your life. He just didn’t want any part of that. J had a very rough upbrining and dealt with the scars of that by drinking heavily. Our relationship was pretty stormy and ended when he started fucking his cousin. Yep, his cousin.

The African Prince / Alcoholic. Womanizer: I met G while he was visiting my neighbor. We didn’t get together until six months later and I fell madly and deeply in love. I know he “cared” for me and he even said “I love you” once, but I also know that he’s not capable of being with just one woman. He’s an alcoholic, smoke a great deal of weed, and sleeps with quite a few women (one in each port?). That ended when I admitted my sexual addiction to him. I guess what’s good for the goose really isn’t good for the gander.

The Southern Gentleman / Alcoholic. Womanizer. Drug Addict. Ex Con. T and I met after he sent me a drink at a local bar. I was immeidately smitten and went home with him that night. We talked about our past, our addictions, everything. Things were good until I realized his “southern charm” was just a mask hiding every other fucked up thing that was wrong with him, but he didn’t want to deal with. We dated four years, but he eventually started using drugs again, then left town on a Greyhound on his way to meet his girlfriend in Denver. I never looked back.

From what I can garner, I seem to be attracted to any man who is an alcoholic and has issues with intimacy and commitment. As I’ve said before, “my picker is broke.” I wonder what it is about the alcoholic that seems to draw me to them? Is it their own wounded spirit and my co-dependency? Was I a raging alcoholic in a past life and now I’m paying for my sins? All I know is that I can’t go anywhere near an AA meeting or all hell will let loose.

Can I talk to you as a friend?

— “Of course, we are friends.”

“Yeah, but we used to fuck and I don’t want that fact getting in the way.”

— “Of Course. What’s going on?”

“Well, I’m really struggling with my sexual addiction lately and I just don’t know what to do.”

— “How are you struggling?”

“I’ve been horny for days. I can’t stop thinking about sex and I joined one of those ‘adult’ sites where you can find other people with the same demons as you.”

— “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. Have you met any of these people?”

“Yes. Just one, but I have plans to meet three others next week. What the fuck is wrong with me? I know that I’m potentially putting myself in dangerous situations, but I just feel as if I don’t have any control.”

— “You could say ‘no.'”

“Right. When have you ever known me to say no to sex? Remember, we used to fuck.”

— “Right, but you still have the power to say no whenever you want to.”

“That’s the hard part for me. I just crave the ‘connection’ so much. I crave the attention, and the feeling that someone wants me, and the rush of the danger I’m putting myself in. It’s like playing russian roulette everytime I meet one of these guys.”

— “You’re right and I do worry about that for you. You know I can hold your hand through this, right? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

“I appreciate that so much. I mean it’s great that you’ll be there, but you can’t be there all the time. I need to learn to control this shit on my own. Fuck, I know what I should do, but it’s just so hard.”

— “What do you think you should do?”

“Instead of holding your hand, I should hold the hand of God. I need to reconnect with Him. I need to lean on Him for the strength I need. What sucks though is that the pull of the addiction is so strong and my mind is so fucked up about it, that it’s hard to take hold of His hand and just say ‘ok, guide me.'”

— “I understand that, but Kelly, if that’s what you believe will make things better, just have the faith that you can do it. You’re a strong woman and you don’t have to be defined by your addiction. Re-label yourself and let God take the reins in your life.”

“I know dammit, it’s just so fucking hard. I have to get my head on straight with what I’m doing. All I’ve ever known is sex. That’s how I connect to people. I know it’s the wrong way to do it, but I just haven’t discovered what else I’m good for.”

— “That’s a bunch of crap and you know it. Kelly, you’ve come so far in your life, after facing years of abuse, rape, divorce, death, etc. You are a strong woman and you can do it. Yeah, you’re afraid, but you’ve faced much harder and worse situations. What makes you think you can’t win this?”

“Maybe that’s all I think I have. Maybe I think I’m only good for sex. That no one will want me for anything else. I’m afraid of what I’ll be if I’m not a sex addict.”

— “Just take the ‘sex addict’ label out it for a minute and let’s see what we have. You’re a great mom, you run your own, very successful business, you’re a great friend, a great daughter, and you have talent coming out of your ass if you’d just take a minute and use it. You are a lot of other things that don’t have anything to do with sex.”

“It’s nice to hear. I guess I just need to start believing it myself.”

— “Yes you do. No offense, but quit acting like a fucking victim and get your shit together. You’re better than this but you’re letting fear guide everything right now. You’re letting the fucking asshole who molested you rule your life. You are better than that. Fuck, you piss me off sometimes.”

“Ha ha. I know. You’re right. Fuck I hate feeling weak and vulnerable.”

— “Vulnerable? What do you think you are everytime you go to meet some stranger you’ve met online? That’s vulnerable and just plain stupid.”

“Fuck you. I mean that in the most agreeable way possible, you know? Seriously, thank you for putting me in my place.”

— “You’re welcome. And fuck you, right back.”

Sometimes after talking to yourself, you realize you’re the best friend you have.