It Would Only Happen To Me...

Have you ever had one of those 'this sort of thing only happens to me' moments? Yeah...me too...I had one yesterday.

I attended my first Al-Anon meeting. I was told by the counselors at my husband's rehab that these meetings would benefit me and give me support and so forth and so on...so, yesterday at noon I drug my ass to one. I'm not sure what I expected but this is what I got...

As we know, AA and it's affiliated groups are based on what they call a 'spiritual' process. They mention a 'higher power' and turning your life over to it and blah, blah, blah. They tell you it doesn't have to be the Christian God, but come on, we know that's what they mean, right? So, being an atheist, I knew I would eventually have to put myself out there and explain why that whole 'turning my life over to a higher power' thing might not work for me. I just didn't expect it to happen at my first meeting. But, it did...and I irritated another member...specifically, an old lady. Yep, that's right...I'm going to Al-Anon meetings and aggravating the piss out of senior citizens with my atheism.

Now, before you get all up in arms about how could I possibly do this and I must be one of those 'new atheists' you keep hearing about with their loud mouths and their arrogance and their scientific evidence let me say this...SHE STARTED IT! I was content to politely explain my position and let it go...but oh no...God-loving Granny told me, to my face, that I was 'full of shit'. (Her exact words, I might add...it seems you can cuss like a sailor as long as you profess a love for God...go figure.)

I tried with all my might and a calm demeanor and smile on my face to disengage this woman since I was explaining myself to another woman that was actually listening and interested and getting where I was coming from.

Now that I look back on it...it was funny...and it would only happen to me.

On a darker note...my husband called last night and he is apparently even more crazy sober than he ever was when he was high on the pills. I'm not sure if all this schizophrenic shit is normal or not...I just know I'm tired of it and I'm not sure I can take much more. It is starting to dawn on me that my marriage may be over. I can't describe how sad that makes me feel...but it's out of my control so I just have to accept it and try to move on with my life. Yeah...wish me luck with that...

Life is a Highway...and I've run into a ditch

Been a while, I know since I've written anything...but hey, life happens and you gotta deal so that's what I've been doing. However, this blog is about to take a very serious, deep turn.

I started this blog as just a way to get out the random shit that ebb and flows through my brain. It was supposed to be a way for me to say what I wanted to say but couldn't on the other sites because certain friends and family members know exactly who I am over there and frankly, there's stuff that I think about that would scare the crap out of them and I didn't want them to see or read it...so I came here. Here, I'm Anonymous. My name isn't posted, neither is my picture. Here, I'm safe. I wish I was as safe in real life as I am here...because life has been kicking my ass the last few months.

So, the new purpose of this blog, at least for the time being, will be to allow me to get out what's happening in my life. It's more for me...if you want to read it, feel free to do so...if you don't, I don't give a damn. But I've been through a lot lately and it looks like there's a lot more up ahead for me and I have to get it out of my head

For those who don't know me well...I despise DRAMA. I detest highly dramatic people, highly dramatic situations, I'm not even that interested in highly dramatic movies. I prefer nice, calm people who have their shit together...nice, calm situations where every body's comfortable and documentaries/non-fiction books over fiction any day. Real life is tough enough without inventing hardship...in my opinion anyway. However, about a year and half ago, I woke up one day and all of sudden, my life is like a bad reality television show...which I HATE reality tv.

In the last 2 years, I have had to endure marital problems with my husband...consisting of not 1, but 2! emotional affairs...I have attended 4 funerals...I have had to semi-retire from a job I loved...I have reconnected with my long-lost father that I haven't seen in 18yrs...one of the funerals I attended was his mother, my grandmother, that I had also not seen in 18yrs. I have been dealing with my daughter's developmental delay, my son becoming a full-fledged teenager, and my own Lupus. I have (like everyone else) seen a dramatic decrease in our income due to less work at my husband's job. I have spent 4 days in a psyche ward when I had a nervous breakdown. I started a bar brawl when I found my husband talking to his 'friend' one night in a bar. And now...all this has culminated in the biggest bombshell of all...something I never thought I would have to deal with but am dealing with it now...my husband is a drug addict. (for those of you that are curious, his drug of choice is painkillers.)

He's hidden this pretty well over time. But lately, it's gotten out of hand. And he even came to me some time back to tell me he had a problem but I blew it off. I know, why did I do that? Well, to be honest, I had no evidence that he was an addict...so I thought he was inventing an excuse for why he had been a jackass the last year or so...this was a huge mistake and I URGE you...if your loved one ever comes to you and says they have a problem...LISTEN AND BELIEVE! Even if you don't see signs for yourself...believe that person 100%! Hindsight...20/20.

Last week, my husband slapped our teenage son in the face. This was unacceptable, obviously, and by then I had started to suspect something was up. So, I did some snooping...I found empty pill bottles...pain pills, muscle relaxers, over the counter sleep medicines. Confirmation that we had a serious problem. Since it is non-negotiable for me that my children will NOT be raised in a home with an addict, I confronted him and gave him an ultimatum...rehab, or move back to his mothers...I didn't care either way, but he was not living in this house another night. He chose re-hab. Yes, my husband has gone to re-hab. (And I can't get that fucking Amy Winehouse song out of my fucking head...if I ever see her I'm gonna stab her in her fucking face.)

He's been there for 11 days...he has 5 days left. It's been the hardest thing I've ever dealt with in my life. He is having mood swings from withdrawals...he is angry with himself, with me, with the staff at the center, with life in general...he's not thinking rationally...he swings from telling me he wants a divorce to telling me he loves me and is thankful to have me...he calls me and is in a good mood and then 30 seconds later he hangs up on me in anger. He's basically out of his fucking mind. He's driving me crazy...but I'm told this is normal behaviour...he's not thinking rationally...he is, in fact, a bit delusional.

And me? I'm scared. I've never been so scared in my life. How do I do this? How do I hold onto things and get to some point of sanity? (Disclaimer: If you are a friend/family member of mine reading this and you comment for me to 'just leave the bastard already!' I will bitch-slap you the next time I see you...I've heard it and I'm tired of hearing it so shut up.) What do I tell my kids? How do you explain drug addiction and re-hab to a 3yr old girl? You can't....it's impossible. All she knows is her Daddy is gone...and she loves her Daddy so much. My heart breaks for my kids every second of every day.

My heart breaks for me, too. I'm lonely. Oh, I have friends and family members and they love me and are here to support me...but my love, my husband, my friend, my lover, my life partner and constant companion of the last 12yrs is gone...not here. It's almost like he died. No, it's worse...at least if he died I could work toward closure...there would be a service to honor him and possibly a headstone to visit. Instead, I have a crazy man calling me (or, not depending on his mood) making me miserable. If he were dead...I would know for certain he was never coming home. Right now, I don't know for certain what's going to happen. If he were dead, I would be a widow...right now, I'm a wife without a husband. And that, my dear reader, is like a car without tires...weird, incomplete, and going nowhere.

So, I'm doing what I always do when life fucks with me...I'm gathering information and educating myself (because I'm just a big nerd that way)...I'm getting my tools together and looking at my resources. I'm using this blog to anonymously blow off steam. Today I will attend my first Al-Anon meeting. I'm hoping for the best but preparing for the worst...it's just my nature. Wish me luck...if nothing else, you will get to read this blog that will chronicle my life from here on out and that should be entertaining for you at least...very dramatic!

Jeff Foxworthy Can Suck It...or, the pitfalls of being a Southern writer

Because I'm a Southerner and a voracious reader and I love to write, I have done what so many Southerners like myself have done before me. I have sought out and read other Southern writers. Now, this post isn't about Fannie Flagg or Faulkner or Alice Walker...those are classics and while they were written by Southern authors, the story lines could have probably happened anywhere. No, this post is about the newest crop of Southern writers, storytellers and entertainers in general. Seriously, those people can suck it as far as I'm concerned.

See, if you decide to read my blog in the hopes of finding cute little stories filled with horrible grammar and dialect that consists of leaving the 'g off of the end of every verb then you will be horribly disappointed. Oh, I know, I did throw a few 'ain't's in my last blog and you might see a few more in the future, but only because in that one I was addressing a particular Southern stereotype. I hate Southern stereotypes...they bug the hell out of me. You don't even want to know how long it took me to convince my Northern friends that we do NOT take our babies into bars down here in Alabama after that damnable Reese Witherspoon movie came out all those years ago...I still curse her name every time that movie is mentioned. You will also not find cute little sayings in my blogs...I will not, for instance, invite you to 'butter my biscuits' and I will never, ever implore 'yall' to 'come on back now, ya heah?'. It's just not happening. I may, once in a while, wax poetically about the wonder that is Southern food...but that's about as deep as it's going to get. Sorry...but it will be cold day in hell before I tell you how to be able to spot if you may or may not be a redneck.

It's hard to live in the South and love it and hate it at the same time...and I find myself in just this predicament. I was born and raised and spent most my life here in the south...but I have traveled extensively and my family is not all genuinely southern. My father's mother is from a country across the pond and he was born there as well. My mother's family is a mix of southern and French...but even her family isn't a deep-roots family. So, I spent my life sitting at a mix of cultural tables. As our family grew, even more cultures, races and lifestyles were introduced by the way of mixed marriages, adopted family members and the assorted gay family member or two. Our family functions include so many different colors and backgrounds from our vast assortment of friends that the front yard resembles a United Nations meeting. We like it this way...it adds flavor and texture to our lives and it makes things more interesting. I don't recall my mother or my father ever raising us to be racists or sexists or xenophobic. This does set me apart from my other Southern counterparts and has caused me some friction with friends and co-workers alike. Most of the time I tell people when they are being major assholes, but there have been times when I've been in the company of people so vile that I have kept my mouth shut for my own safety. My husband and I personally raise our children to be accepting of everybody...so far, they are doing a great job of not becoming ugly bigots.

Another thing my parents instilled in me was a love of learning. Oftentimes in the South and in Southern stereotypes you see that Southerners are suspicious or hostile towards education or an educated person. Jokes abound about the 'smart, Harvard educated Yankee' being outsmarted by the 'common sense, down to earth Bubba'. In reality, I've never seen this happen. Most people I've met that are not big on higher education are deluded and frankly, a little crazy. I've never understood this aversion to reading and learning...it baffles me to this day. I use my own trailer park neighbors as an example to my kids that education is very important lest they end up like them. (Incidentally, education has nothing to do with how or why I live in a trailer park...that came about by sheer circumstance and it's not unusual to find the most intelligent people are often the ones that make the least amount of money. In many towns in the south jobs go to the people who know someone...not necessarily the person most qualified or educated....the Good Ole Boys Club is still alive and well down here, trust me.)

There are many charming endearments about the South that I love...I already mentioned the food...but one of the other things I love is the friendliness of the people. People here are much more friendly and open than people in other parts of the country. Since it's a small town you are likely to run into your doctor at the school PTO meeting, your Dentist at the grocery store and everybody else at the local Wal-Mart. When you see them, you will stop and say hello and chat for a minute. I ran into my doctor recently at a music concert. He stopped me and asked how I was feeling and reminded me if I felt bad anytime soon before my next appointment don't hesitate to call him. Things like this happen quite a bit...and not just with people you know. I can stand in a line at a store and by the time it's my turn to check out I can swap life stories with the person standing behind me. And yes, we do wave at the other drivers as we pass them on the 2-lane back roads...a simple lift of the index finger is all it takes. These are just some of the things I love about living here. But you won't find me writing about them that often.

And why should I? I think there are quite enough Southern writers and entertainers out there trotting out their tired Southern accents and riding the coattails of the Redneck craze that there is no need for me to add to the mix. So, does this mean I can't call myself a 'Southern writer'? I'm not sure yet. I have written about the South as I see it and have been told that I'm not 'Southern enough' since I don't refer to the Civil War as 'the War of aggression' and I don't mist up at the sight of the confederate flag...in fact, I recoil when I see it...it makes me wince, truth be told. But I still consider myself Southern. I do love sweet tea (although not TO sweet) and pecan pie and fried chicken and any vegetable that has been dipped in corn meal and fried makes me swoon. I am an atheist, but I will sing along if I hear a good southern gospel song and nobody loves country music like I do...or rough bars (otherwise known as honky-tonks). And if that's not enough, I had a grandmother that I called 'Maw-Maw' and she used to make us go into the yard and break our own branch or 'hickory switch' when we needed a 'whoopin'. So, am I Southern or not? The jury's still out on that...but while we wait...can I get yall some tea to drink?

Yeah, I live in a trailer...what's your point?

So, apparently I'm supposed to be ashamed of my current abode...otherwise known as the double wide. Yes, it's true, children...I live in a trailer...a mo-bile home, if you will. I'm not ashamed of that...it's shelter and shelter's kind of important in life. It ranks right up there with food, and clean water and chocolate and good quality tequila. But, here's the thing...

I'm the only one who doesn't have a problem with my trailer. See, I happen to like it a little bit...my only gripe is it's a little small for a family of 5 but aside from that...it's cheap, it's warm in the winter/cool in the summer, it keeps me dry and it gives me somewhere to store my shoes so really, it's all I need. But other people have a problem with my trailer. Oh yeah, see when you meet me, you would never guess I live in a trailer...in an honest-to-God trailer park...with driving directions that include the phrase 'okay, turn off the paved road onto the second dirt road on your right'.

But my trailer park isn't just your ordinary run-of-the white trash mill trailer park, no sirree. My trailer park is situated dead center in the middle of one of the most high income areas of my county outside the city limits. Right down the road from my 'hood are million-plus dollar homes complete with private lakes and shit like that. So, when I am at my kids' schools and I meet other parents, they think that because of my fancy talkin' that I reside in one of those homes like they do...that is, until they come to drop off their precious little Hunters and Austins and Jackson-Parkers...then, they cringe inside their spic-and-span SUVs and look at my house like it's a dungeon of horrors. (FYI, I drive an SUV as well only mine looks like an SUV should...it's covered in the purest of red Alabama mud and it may or may not contain a towing hitch...I'm not going to say because really, that's private and you don't need to know.)

Now, being a high-class sort of redneck, my trailer is a double-wide. This means that (1) it took 2, count 'em, 2, trucks to pull this baby in here and (2) I am obviously the most affluent person in my neighborhood since I have the biggest trailer. I'm quite proud of my trailer as it has some amenities that make some of my stick-built home friends envious. For instance, I have just over 2,000 sq feet of space. That's a lot of space. I have a HUGE kitchen and laundry room and I have a wood burning fireplace.

Now, some may say, but Lib, aren't you afraid of tornadoes? (And this is a real threat in Alabama) and to that I say 'Sure...but I've seen the damage left by tornadoes and if a tornado wants your house it really doesn't give a shit if it's sitting on a concrete slab or an axle...it's taking it...Mother Nature is a bitch and she always gets the house.

Let's say I did lose my house? So what? Do you know how cheap these things are? Hell, I paid $40,000 for my house and I'm fully insured. Mother Nature wants it, she can have it...I'll collect my insurance check and be on the mobile home dealer lot within 48hours ready to buy another one. They can have that thing backed up onto my spot and put up withing another 48 hours. So, I'm back in a house in less than a week. Meanwhile, all those stick house snobs are fighting over contractors and living in tiny motel rooms. Yes, my house is cheap...it was cheap to buy, it's cheap to insure and it's cheap as hell when it comes to taxes. It's considered a 'vehicle' in my state so all I have to do is renew my sticker every year. Yearly property taxes for my double-wide? $56. And, if I get bored with it...I can trade it in for a newer, better one...with a great new-house smell...just like a car. Really, it's not that bad. My family gets a home that isn't' breaking our bank, I get a place to store my books and every body's happy.

So, next time one of those snobby mamas pulls up in my driveway I'm just gonna carry my trailer-park, white-trash ass out there with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other and stand on my deck and scratch my ass all while cussing my young 'uns in the front yard and telling her 'Don't worry...little Jackson-Parker is gonna have a great fucking time chasing the possums out from under the house!' Hey, at least I took my Christmas lights down this year.

Who is the Liberal Southern Belle?

Who am I? Well, this could be a long post or it could be a short one. Attention spans being what they are these days, I'll try to keep it short.

I am a 33yr old married mother of 3. I live in the deep south.

I am semi-retired due to a chronic illness and I hate it...the illness and the semi-retired part.

I am a blue-state minded woman living in a red-state...a VERY red state...but I love it here. I was born and raised here and spent most of my adult life here and I can't imagine living anywhere else. Reasons why will come in later posts.

I am a registered Democrat...a liberal Democrat, at that. I came about my political leanings through my own life experiences as well as education and philosophical beliefs about life, the universe and everything. I can't imagine being a conservative anything...

I am married to a man but I consider myself a bi-sexual woman...this makes my husband happy.

I was raised in a very conservative, Christian, Baptist church but I am now an atheist...again, as the result of my life experiences and self-education.

I am blogging on this site even though I have profiles at other social network sites because on this site I can be anonymous. I have to remain anonymous because I have friends and even some relatives on the other sites that are not aware of some things in my life...like how much of a liberal or how much of an atheist I am. This means I have to censor myself lest I make all of us extremely uncomfortable at the next family holiday gathering. So be it...I don't mind going underground because I happen to love my family, in-laws included, and it seems a small price to pay.

What can you expect to read here? Well, just about anything. I am not blogging for personal fame although if I achieve it, it will only cement my beliefs that I am meant for greatness. LOL! Actually, I'm just blogging because I can't write anymore. My illness has caused arthritis in my hands and believe it or not, typing is easier for me than gripping a pen these days and I have to write down what I'm thinking or my head will explode and that just gives me another mess to clean up and frankly, that's the last thing I need. I plan to blog about my family, motherhood, marriage, politics, religion, sex...anything and everything. Some of what I say may make you mad...that's okay, I don't mind if you get mad...I don't mind if you tell me you're mad. It really is just a screen and a machine for me so I do my best to not take it personally. If you like what I have to say, great...let me know. If you don't...fine...let me know and then shove it up your ass. I try my best to be as grammatically correct as I can...I always use spell-check and I'm not immune to backing up my facts with evidence.

So, with all that being said...let's get started...

The thing is...