So where did I go wrong? My mom planned the perfect wedding, we were young and had the world ahead of us. It lasted 18 months. And at 22 I was a divorcee. And pretty much asset-less. I walked. I took nothing with me, except some unwanted wedding gifts (my daughter from a subsequent marriage now owns the uber-expensive china living in Athens, OH attending college - go figure - I secretly hope her friends decide to have a "frisbee" contest with the Mikasa). No kids, no mess. It seemed to be the right thing to do. "Here, you take it all...I just want out." In some weird twist of fate, I ended up in a conversation recently with the ex I had not even thought of in 30 years. Bad idea. He was still angry. After 30 years. Which is ok, as long as you have the facts straight. But he did not. Even close. The weird conversation turned ugly as he proceeded to accuse me of infidelity that never existed. Not that I care about the infidelity part. After 30 years, why do I feel the need to defend my decisions? On a different note, I apologize to said "Tim Zwork" living somewhere in Florida who was blamed for my indiscretions and whom I have zero knowledge of. Really? The Ex went through the last 30 years with the belief that I left him for someone that doesn't even exist to me. wow. So what do we take from this? I now realize my actions created great emotional stress and suffering for someone else. When I left I was not clear on this. Probably because I was the one who wanted out - other's suffering is more easily dismissed. And...more importantly, we assume people change and grow when we haven't been a part of their day to day life. Do not ever assume this. Or you will end up in weird phone call hell and crying on your kitchen floor because you never saw it coming. But in the end, allowing someone to vent their pain at your expense as long as it didn't cost more than a few minutes off your data plan...ok. Yeah, my feelings were hurt but maybe he gained that closure he thinks he needs. And my feelings always reel back with a vengeance. No one keeps me down long. And Hall & Oates songs will now be my secret reminder of my past relationship with said Ex. He didn't appreciate my remembrance on a mature level. Fuck him.

When "time out" doesn't fly....

The Newtown massacre. A devastation. A mess of citizens across the country calling for everything. More gun control. More guns. Arm the teachers. Arm the 6 year olds. Ban the guns. Less guns. Let's kill deer with BB guns. It's a mess. Then there's the mental health call. I shared an article from Liza's take Slate wrote an article in response. That article really unhinged me. Written from the perspective of a person who doesn't understand what daily life with a mentally ill person in your life consists of. She completely undermined Ms. Long's parenting skills and also managed to perpetuate the stigma of mental illness by accusing the mother of stigmatizing her son by calling out his mental illness in a public forum (she did not use his real name). Ms. Long is trying to bring awareness to a much needed forum. I spent a few years of my life helping to raise a child who was brain damaged and struggled with aggression issues. Before my daughter was born (this child was 13 years older than her)he was a part of my life. He attended Junior High while living with me...his teachers and I decided after one unfortunate incident that his male teachers should refrain from neckties. I also was very lucky to live in a community that made it a point to afford him with resource education. After my daughter was born I initiated some rules while he lived in my home; I told his mother he was welcome as long as he did not pose a threat to my daughter. At 16 this imploded. He tried to hurt my daughter. He was booked on the next flight back to his mother. I was lucky. I had somewhere to send him when he proved to be a threat to my other children. Most families don't have this option. Liza Long was left with "we have an emergency plan if your brother threatens to kill you" for her children. Lock yourself in the car. What. the. fuck. Slate, shame on you for perpetuating the "let's hide the mentally ill person and not talk about their needs" because....well, yeah, we don't get it. Better moms, tougher parenting will fix it? No. They need help. And acceptance. And resources.