Okay, I started counseling again last night. My husband has done some totally irrational stuff that makes me frightened. For example...

One night we were eating dinner. He turned to me and said, "Don't leave a lake of salad dressing on your plate."

I was so pissed. I don't know why it pissed me off so much. I guess because I am so over him trying to control every little aspect of my life, for putting me down all the time, for blaming me for everthing rotten that ever happens in our lives. I turned to him and said, "Don't tell me how much salad dressing I can use."

This snow balled into a huge fight. I don't even know how. All I knew was I was not going to allow this man to tell me how much salad dressing, or A-1 sauce, or ketchup I could use. Because then he would start telling me what food I was allowed to eat, which essentially he was doing.

Besides... what was I going to do with the salad dressing? Lick it off my plate? Put it back in the bottle?

I went to the spare bedroom to clear off the bed for the evening's sleep. He overturned the furniture in the living room. I called my health insurance company for names of counselors the next day.

That was about four weeks ago.

This past Sunday evening we watched a movie, and when the movie was over a documentary came on PBS. My dog, Buster, stretched out on my chest and I fell asleep on the love seat. I suddenly awoke with a start. Hubby was standing over me with the strangest look in his eyes. I mean it scared the bejesus out of me. Buster must have realized that I tensed up because he began to growl. Big time. I couldn't calm the dog down, and hubby wouldn't move to let me up!

Finally Buster jumped off my chest and dove under the love seat.

I'd made the list of counselors from weeks prior, but the next day I made the appointment.

I walk this fine line with my husband. He has hurt me twice in our twenty five years of marriage. Once when we were first married 24 years ago... he held me down and hit my face pretty bad. More recently within the past 7 years he twisted my finger so bad I couldn't wear a ring on it for a few years.

But he does overturn things. He does hit or kick the dogs too hard. And he has recently threatened to slap my adult daughter.

When all this came out last night in counseling, my counselor was like.... WHOA!!!! He told me he literally had hairs standing up on his neck.

I told the counselor what I wanted from counseling was to make a decision. I've thought so long about divorcing this guy. I always had the children to consider. My oldest son is established in his own place now. My daughter is in college and making noises about moving into her own apartment with friends. That consideration is gone.

So why would I stay with him? When he isn't whacked out, he is so much fun! Seriously. He has a great sense of humor. We can converse on many levels, and we have great sex. We have many interests in common.

My mother made a statement me to one time. She said, "You have to decide if the good days outweigh the bad days."

When I'm anxious about going home from work because I don't know what I'll find at home... Jekyll or Hyde... I'd say that for the most part every day is a bad day. I shouldn't be afraid to go home to my own house. I shouldn't be afraid of how much salad dressing I use.

I'm supposed to invite him to counseling. I don't want to. The last time we engaged in marriage counseling, he played the blame game while the counselor made odd statements like, "You know, when I feel all uptight, I think about my garden and drinking a glass of ice tea." So the two of us are fighting, and she is hanging out in her garden!

I do take some blame for things that have happened in our life toether. I have run up the credit cards a time or two. I have had my one on-line affair. Here is how I feel about the ugly things I've done in my life. I did them. I admit what I did was stupid. But in doing them I learned valuable life lessons. Don't do that stupid thing again. I regret what I did, and never want to repeat those same stupid mistakes.

We all want to think we are people of integrity and that we'd never do anything to harm another human soul. The thing is that we are just people, and people make mistakes. That was not a statment made to excuse behavior. The was a statement made so that we can remember to forgive ourselves and move on.

I don't know how to ask him to go to counseling. I don't want to.

My dog, Buster, is an interesting creature. Buster is a Jack Russell Terrier. Prior to Buster, we owned Dixie, a lab mix, and Heidi, another JRT. When Dixie died, Heidi hid in the closet for days and mourned. I figured it was time for another dog to perk her up.

Okay, the truth is that I missed Dixie horribly and really wanted another dog. But, I did feel sorry for Heidi.

I searched dogfinders.com for another JRT in a pound in our area. The closest was an 18 month old JRT mix called Charlie. Charlie was a good 50-mile drive away. I called to make sure he was still available. He was. But, the service person told me to make sure and bring Heidi to make sure they got along.

I drove through pouring rain, ran into an accident, but finally ended up at the West Pasco SPCA. When I went in to inquire about Charlie, I was told he didn't get along with other dogs. I wondered why the hey they didn't tell me this before I drove 50 miles in the pouring rain. They asked me to get Heidi out of the car and meet them in the side yard. I did. The two dogs met... and it was like, "Hey, you're a dog." "Hey, you're a dog, too." They were fine!

I adopted Charlie and took him home. The first thing he did when I opened the car door was run away. Fortunately he ran between the neighbor's house and ours. My husband came home from work right about then. Mind you, my husband wasn't quite as excited about getting another dog as I was. I let Charlie in the door and he started bouncing off the walls. Literally.

I had to wonder what on God's earth sort of monster had I brought home! As the next few days went by, we were trying to come up for a new name for him. One day, Charlie was acting up. My husband said, "Cut it out, Buster!" He settled down. From that moment forward his name has been Buster.

Buster isn't just called that because of that particular incident. When new folks come to the door, particularly men, Buster bounds straight for the crotch. Therefore, his middle name is Nuts.

This poor hopeless dog suffers another malady, something I think the red-neck idiots at West Pasco SPCA were unaware of. He has what is called "leash aggression”. In other words, he is fine with other dogs as long as he is not confined (crate or leash). When I take him for a walk and he comes upon a strange dog, he growls like a rabid monkey and makes 180s in the air, at about the middle of my chest. The other dog owners kind of skirt me, while I try to wrestle this mad demon down the road.

The funny thing is that we used to call Heidi the bad dog. Ha!

Poor Heidi. Well, actually Heidi has turned out to rule the roost. Buster may be ... ermmmm... high strung, but Heidi can put him down in an instant. He doesn't mess with her. Well, except for...sheesh. How to put this delicately. All dogs that come from the SPCA are fixed. Buster doesn't know he's missing his testicles. One day, a few months after I brought him home, I found him and Heidi stuck together in the back yard! I didn't think it was possible! Leave it to Buster.

Buster likes to dig. Our neighbors have two Jack Russells next door, and they dig together so that Buster can come over and play. I found him digging the other day. I yelled at him, and he looked at me over his shoulder then turned around and dug harder.
Stupid dog.

For all that Buster seems fearless, the moment I sit down, he wants on my lap. He loves being petted. He wants on the bed next to me while I'm sleeping. He also freaks when he realizes that I'm getting ready for work... major separation anxiety.

He is also terrified of thunder. He shakes horribly, even before we humans can hear the thunder. Oh, by the way, the Tampa Bay area is the lightning capital of the world. Figures, huh?

Buster has this defense mechanism. If he thinks we are trying to catch him to ... give him a bath, put him in his crate, kick him out of our bedroom, then he dives under the bed. Woe to the person who tries to get him out, because they will come away with a bloody stump. Under the bed is his territory, which is fine with me. I don't really want that part of the house for my own. I just wait patiently for him to meander out, then catch him while he's not looking.

What I've learned from Buster is this. I'm fairly certain he was abused as a pup. It amazes me that his former owner had him chipped, and yet gave him up for adoption. I can tell he's been hit, probably severely.

I've learned that leash aggression comes from puppies not being properly acclimated with adult dogs. In the canine setting, adult dogs teach pups pecking order. Buster is freaked out when another dog approaches and he has no out. He's stuck on a leash!
Being afraid makes people do weird things, too. Sometimes we act passive aggressive out of fear. Sometimes we act irrational, or territorial. But, it can all be traced back to fear.

One time I threw dishes and broke them because my kids wouldn't clean the kitchen. I wasn't angry that they wouldn't clean the kitchen. I was angry that I felt ineffective as a parent. I was worried that I wasn't raising them right.

The problem with Buster is that I can't explain to him his fears are irrational. He is acting on his wolf-like instinct. Eat or be eaten.

But I wonder if more humans took the time to wonder why they are behaving in an aggressive or irrational manner, and to work on that behavior, what a better place this would be.

Recently I was driving home from work and I heard a country song by Brooks and Dunn called “That Red Dirt Road”.  Or, at least I think that is what the name of the song is.  It’s about a road in someone’s coming up where life is learned. 

 

I had a road like that.  I lived on this little island, separate from the main thoroughfare of the little town that I grew up in.  The Island boasted like… I dunno 200 houses maybe.  It was a circular island, with a road that circled.  The houses on the inside, were … well… on the inside.  The houses on the outside of the road were those on the water.  Those were the coveted houses.  My mom and dad bought a house on the inside of the road back in 1968 for $28,000.  In 1980 they sold it for $78,000.  That seemed like such a coup back then. 

 

Okay, enough about that. 

 

Just over the 20 foot bridge that connected my island to the main road was a road up to the main road.  46^th Avenue.  Parallel to 46^th Avenue was a gravel/dirt road that ran next to the seawall.  If you walked up that gravel road, it took you to the shopping center.   People walked their dogs on the gravel road, therefore it became known among us kids as Dog Shit Alley.  As kids we thought we were so bad calling it that.  In hushed voices we would say that bad word.  You know.  The “S” one.

 

The things I remember on that gravel road. 

 

I wiped out on my single speed bike.  Scraped my thigh up pretty bad.  But hey.  I was a trooper.  I never complained, and I didn’t even cry! 

 

Once when I was coming home from middle school, I was walking down D.S. Alley with my books in my arms.  A man stopped his car on 46^th Avenue and tried to call me over.  There was probably a good 50 feet distance between his road and my gravel road.  He wanted directions.  I told him to go up to the gas station at the end of the street if he wanted directions.  Back then, we didn’t have the training for people trying to abduct kids like we do today.  But, something told me he was not a good man. 

 

He drove away.  I thought as I walked down D.S. alley that if he made a turn and started after me, I’d just jump over the seawall.  What was he going to do with that?

 

My mom and dad got me this little poodle when I was around twelve years old.  I named him Jean.  He was … neurotic.  Besides being a poodle, he suffered from epilepsy.  Interbreeding so I’m told.  I used to put him in the basket of my bike and ride all over the place.  Up D.S. alley we went, up to the shopping center.  He loved to ride.  He was a great dog, except for the fact that he was never quite potty trained.  I remember riding in circles one day and he puked over the side of the basket.

 

I digress.

 

The first time I ever felt a male’s wanker was on D.S. alley.  I grew up with this guy.  He was in my dad’s Boy Scout troop.  We were like… I dunno… thirteen years old, and we were sitting underneath these huge Australian Pine.  He asked me to touch him.  I did.  Through his shorts.  He had a hard on.  It was well… weird. 

 

Sheesh, I was thirteen years old.  Of course it was weird!

 

Later, after I met my soon to be husband, we made love in his old Rambler on D.S. alley.  I was sixteen.

 

Here is the funny thing about this.  I moved away from the island in 1980.  Time has gone by.  I don’t live too far away, so I visit the old neighborhood from time to time.  The houses aren’t worth $78,000 anymore.  They are worth like upwards into the millions.  The alley has been sold and development with stilt houses that would knock your socks off. 

 

It makes me sad when I drive by.  The old gravel road, which provided so many memories, is gone.  My only satisfaction is in knowing that these million dollar houses are built on what we kids used to call Dog Shit Alley.

How I came up with this Blog post is a little odd.  About three years ago, I got a bee up my butt and decided to get a third piercing in one of my ears.  I need to preface this by saying that I was going through... for lack of better words... mid-life crisis.  I was having my Internet affair at the time.  Funny thing that,  Mid life crisises. 

 

Anyway, the third piercing has been a pain in the butt.  Nothing really works in that hole... gold... silver... nothing.  My ear turns red.  But a strange thing happened the other day.  I put in an earring I've had for ages... sensitive ears, nickle-free earring.

 

That is what brought all the memories.

 

I was pregnant with my daughter... super way pregnant...  so that dates the earring to nineteen years ago.  I was looking for earrings to go with a dress I'd bought to attend my sister in law's wedding party.  Lisa had gotten wed in Las Vegas, so this was just a reception. 

 

So that brings me to Lisa.

 

I met Lisa when I was sixteen years old.  She was my husband's step-sister.  Well, technically she would be his ex-step sister since her dad is no longer married to hubby's mom. 

 

Lisa was tall and lithe.  She oozed sexuality.  She was raised in a nudist camp, and when she turned fifteen, she moved in with a thirty-five year old man. 

 

Hubby learned alot of things from Lisa before I met him.  They "played" around with the bases if you get my drift.  They never made it to home base, but they went pretty far.  Lisa played with alot of men, including her sister's husband.

 

It is kind of a funny thing.  I so wanted to be like Lisa.  She was so free and easy going.  She seemed so happy.  She was a sex magnant.  She knew so much more than I.  I was a dumpy brown headed short person.  She was willowy, tall, lithe and blond haired. 

 

Lisa died at the age of 26. 

 

After she married, her husband would farm her out to his business associates to drum up business.  It is suspected he was abusing her.  Well, it isn't suspected.  He was. 

 

She was in a 7-11 one afternoon just prior to Christmas.  She fell.  She suffered an aneurism. 

 

Lisa loved cocaine.

 

We will never know what caused the aneurism.  Did she fall, and hurt her head?  Did she already have a head injury from her abuse from her husband?  Did the coke finally screw something up? 

 

She was in a coma for around 11 days.  The doctors said she was brain dead…. In other words, there was no grey matter left.  She didn’t respond, she was gone. 

 

It’s funny.  I can admit this here, but to no one else.  I was jealous of her.  She’d had sexual relations with my husband.  Even though they didn’t go all the way, I knew he had this fondness for her in his heart that went beyond brotherly love.  When they finally pulled the plug on Lisa, he came home, told me how hurt he was because she was in some way his first. 

 

Lisa’s sister’s husband was also devastated by Lisa’s death.  He’d had sex with her! 

 

The scene was macabre.  She was a nice person!  Honestly.  I really liked her.  But there was this part of me… the part that was pissed about  the fact that she could hold a special place in my husband’s heart, that was …. Damn…. I was glad she was gone. 

 

Jealousy is a funny thing. 

 

Years later I found myself questioning my sexual appeal.  I did the unthinkable.  I had sex with some guy I met over the Internet.  I mean, what was I thinking?!?  He had/has a wife.  I don’t know.  I haven’t had contact with him since February 04.  I wasn’t thinking about the wife.  She was faceless.  I was only thinking about what I needed to feel like a woman. 

 

The same as Lisa.

 

Pathetic, isn’t it.

 

The beauty of this life is that our Creator gives us the ability to learn this stuff.  You make a mistake, you don’t make it again. 

 

This New Year is dedicated to Lisa.  I wish she could have realized how beautiful she was outside of her sexuality.  She was a wonderful, funny person.  She didn’t know how to find love apart from her sex organs.  That makes me sad.  It also makes me want to love people on a different level than what is physical. 

 

My New Years resolution is to learn to love people based on their soul.  My resolution is to also learn to love myself for who I am and not for the physical.  I have a pretty cool soul also.

Let me preface this blog by explaining the mood I was in prior to talking with daughter.  I realize my college courses were fairly easy compared to what some of you are doing out there.  I found out a woman on another forum just finished her masters, and it made me feel kind of stupid for making a big deal out of my first semester.  But you know, sometimes the toughest part is getting started! 

So anyway.  I'm feeling a sense of freedom since school doesn't start again until Jan 9th.  And I hadn't done a lick of Christmas Shopping.  I mean nada.  Well, I take that back, I had bought one present.  Anyway, so I sat down at my computer on this past Friday night (Dec. 16) and did alot of online shopping.  I work at a church also in the worship department, which means this time of year is reallllllly hairy.  You know what I mean, Christmas cantatas, extra worship services, parties, bla bla bla.  So work has been particularly intense also. 

The gist of this is that I had more than my share of White Zin.  For whatever reason, hubby went to bed early.  Daughter (18 turns 19 in January) came home from work.  I was feeling mellow so went into her room to chat.  I mean honestly I wasn't looking for heavy conversation.  I just wanted to hang out with her.  She and I have a phenomenal relationship and we share alot of stuff.  We have the same sense of humor (she loves Monty Python!) 

I don't know why this happened.  Probably the wine, which even in her bed I was still embibing in.  But I told her the story of the first time I had sex.  I was sixteen.  Hubby was sixteen.  Mom and Dad were at work.  It was after a day of high school.  We were in my brother's old bedroom.  Long story.  My DAD walks in!  This is the very first time I have ever had sex.  Well, actually the act hadn't actually occured but we were in a compromising position of half naked state. 

My daughter about died laughing. 

At the time, 28 something years ago, I thought my dad was going to kill the both of us.  He actually just walked out of the room and closed the door.  I jumped out of bed yelling, "I'm dead.  I'm dead.  I'm dead."  Hubby (then boyfriend) just plowed himself into his clothing and ran away.  To say I was on restriction for like eternity is an understatement.

Anyway, so I confessed this thing to my daughter.  She immediately confesses she is no longer a virgin.

~pregnant pause~

Okay, I know in this day and age that the fact she has already lost her virginity at the age of 18 should not be any great revelation.  In fact, I'm not stupid.  I had sex when I was 16 for God's sake.  But I am naïve. 

I raised both my children in the church.  I have been blatant about explaining that sex is something you don't freely pass out.  It is to be shared with someone special.  I've promoted abstinence, but also made sure they were aware of the dangers of sex without condoms.  I'm religeous.  Not stupid.

I honestly believe my oldest child (son) made it to the age of 22.  But he was kind of a nerd.  The girl he had sex with and is now having sex with, I believe he is going to marry.  I know this seems archaic but it is important to me to know that the girl he lost his virginity to and is having wild monky sex with is the one he intends to marry.  It doesn't mean they are going to marry, but it means he takes the sex act seriously.

So back to daughter.  She tells me the first guy she did it with was an old boyfriend.  It was in the heat of the moment.  He was on the rebound.  I think she'd never quite gotten over him.  They did it.  Then they parted ways.  She indicated she was hurt that he sloughed her off after that.  But I couldn't help but think.... "OH MY GOD... you gave your virginity to a guy you weren't sure you'd ever see again?????????"  Of course I didn't say that to her.  Sheesh.  It was over a year and a half ago.  What do you do about spilled milk?

So then she proceeds to tell me that she is having sex with her current boyfriend.  I like current boyfriend, don't get me wrong, but ... he's 23 to her 18/19.  He doesn't have a job.  He lives with his mother.  His mom and dad are married, but Dad travels alot, and when he is home he sleeps in a separate room from mom.  To me, boyfriend is a deadbeat.  I'm hearing daughter make noises about things that annoy her about him.  And I'm thinking, GOOD... usually noises means she'll break up soon.  At least that is how it has been in the past. 

So here I am.  The mom that tauted abstinence.  To say I was in shock ... Good grief.  Of course I maintained my cool.  If you get all wigged out, your kids won't keep talking.  She talked plenty.  I suggested if she was going to continue her current course of action, it would be a good idea to get on the pill. 

Okay, now HERE is a major issue.  So she gets on the pill.  She doesn't want to be pregnant.  But boy, from the way she describes it, she REALLLLLLY likes sex.  She told me she is not certain she EVER wants to have children.  Okay... so anyway I tell her we need to make an appointment for her to get on the pill.  I told her it would help with her zits.   Man I felt stupid! 

Here is the thing.  I told her that just because she is on the pill does not mean she should stop using condoms.  STD's, AIDS, you know.   I don't know where this boyfriend has been and how many women he's had sex with.

I'd like to think I handled this well.  I think she has been trying to tell me about this for a few months now.  When she had the chances before, I think she backed out.    So I'm the good mom who didn't jump her case but is now mulling this over.  I frankly don't like it, but I'm not going to stop her.  Heck, do you think just because I was on restriction because I got caught, I stopped?  ROFLMAO.  If there is a will there is a way.  And apparently her will is strong.

If my husband found out, he'd have a heart attack and die.

And my daughter is so ADD that if I get her on the pill, she'll leave the damn things out and he'll find them.

This has been a funky weekend.