About Me – The Author of this Blog
When I read a blog, I like to get a picture of the person who is writing. I want to know how the person thinks and why. That is why I have told my story here. I hope it will help you understand who I am and why I am that way.
It is meant to give hope to those of you who may be currently going through some real rocky spots in life and have no one to talk to or get help from.
I was alone with my problems and I prayed for help every day. I ended up helping myself and that is great, but if I can help someone else that would make everything I went through even more valuable!!!
So, please read my story (warning…it’s a little long) and try and relate so that we can learn from each other and conquer the battle of life’s uncertainties together.
And that is the purpose of my blog!!!
About 10 years ago, I divorced my first husband of 10 years. He was not the most responsible as far as keeping a job went and he left me with nothing except for two small children that I had to take care of. We divorced because we were very young when we got married and he claimed that he didn’t think that he ever really loved me. I thought that the fact that I was the most subservient housewife around was good enough. I was obviously dead wrong.
I got remarried about two years later to another guy that didn’t make a great living, but he had been working at the same job for about 15 years and he brought a modest salary home and between that and my two jobs (office manager at a small accounting firm and aerobic instructor) we were able to sustain a household.
At this point you might be thinking to yourself that if I am looking for any pity, I should have been a little smarter in my choice of husbands. Marry a broke guy and live a broke life – don’t all women know that? But, let me tell you something else about myself before I finish my story. I grew up poor and for some reason I never had the desire to accumulate wealth. I don’t know why. You can call me stupid. You can call me lazy. You can call me whatever you want. Wealth was never my motivation. However, I did need to feel loved and that was always my motivation. I don’t want to talk too much about my parents, but I will say that I didn’t grow up in the warmest most loving environment – though I have since forgotten (and forgiven) any mistake my parents may have made because we all make mistakes. I guess this may have added to the need for love from men, but who’s to say…
Anyway, getting back to the story…….
About a year into the marriage, my brother-in-law moved in with us. At this point. my husband and I and my two small children and his brother all lived together in a very small apartment in Brooklyn, NY. One day my husband quit his job of approximately 17 years. I was not upset because we both agreed that he had to because his uncle – who was also his boss – was taking total advantage of him.
My husband had been working at this job from a young age because both of his parents went to jail for selling cocaine when he was 13 years old and he ended up landing on his uncle’s door – because no one else in his large, rich family would take him. His uncle basically put my husband to work at his restaurant and allowed him to smoke weed and did not encourage him to get an education and the rest is history.
In the uncle’s defense, he was not much older than my husband and had to beg, borrow and steal (literally) to get what he had in life, because he was the youngest child of 15 other brothers and sisters and his parents were tired and ultimately left him to fend for himself at a young age as well. No one helped him either – though most of his siblings are quite wealthy.
Now that you know the history of my husband, let me tell you what eventually happened after my husband quit his job at his uncle’s restaurant.
Months passed and I was still working two jobs and my husband’s brother was still living with us on the sofa in our very tiny living room. During the day, while my kids were at school and I was at work, my husband, his brother and their friends would hang out at my house, smoke weed and play video games. After a few months of this, I began to get depressed and it affected my ability to work. It took a bit, but soon I was coming home, cleaning the house, cooking dinner and serving it, listening to my kids whine until they went to bed and then I would curl up into a ball in my bedroom and cry. I did this for a while. My husband tried to assure me that he was going to get a job, but I knew that it was unlikely he would find one that paid anything since the last grade that he graduated from was 8th grade and he smoked a lot of weed. At this point, I realized what a mistake it was to quit the job that paid OK – even if he was getting abused.
On top of all the issues above that were going on, I was an orthodox Jew. I felt that it was of the utmost importance to make sure that strict kosher was kept in the home and that we kept the Sabbath. If you don’t know what that means, in a nutshell, it is additional stress for a woman. My husband was not orthodox, however, I knew that when I married him so I had no right to complain now.
All of these issues wrapped up together led to me hammering G-d with questions like….Why me?….What am I doing wrong?….I am trying so hard to please everyone, when do I get a turn?……Is there really a G-d?….Am I wasting my time and energy for nothing?…..What have I done to deserve this?….
I asked every question that probably every human being eventually asks themselves. I finally said fuck it…..if you can’t beat ‘um, join ‘um. I stopped paying rent and buying food and I started smoking weed day and night. I quite my aerobics job and started working part time at the accounting firm. I stopped cleaning the house and neglected my kids. I was falling apart at the seems – and still no one helped.
Eventually, I stopped sleeping completely. All I did was think…and think…and think….
Until – I completely cracked from the combination of weed and lack of sleep and a lot of deep thinking.
I can’t help crying as I am writing this when I think about how broken I was. I was always strong. I was able to handle anything. I was the one out of my two siblings that my mother felt it was OK to push around and expect more out of. I was the one that had the strictest work ethic from everyone I had ever worked with. I was the one that was disciplined enough to go to the gym at least 5 days a week, even though it didn’t seem to make a difference to my first husband. I was the one took the punches from everyone and everything and always blamed myself if things went wrong. Yes, I realize I am painting a picture that seems too good to be true, but as tears are rolling down my face – ask anyone who knows me what kind of person I am and they will tell you – I am a giver.
I want to add that I know that I am not perfect. No one is. I am far from perfect. I am (more like I was) nit picky and hard to please. I am not the most affectionate. I can be quite critical. I think I know a lot. I have no patience for stupidity (at least what I consider stupidity – which ultimately is stupid). I have so much other things that I have to work on myself….but…..that doesn’t take away from the diamond that is inside me – and inside everyone else as well. I found my diamond only recently and I am going to tell you how….
After not sleeping for 3-4 days straight, I became 100% psychotic. In my next post (“What it is Like to Be Psychotic”), I will describe what that experience was like and why I have decided, six years later to write about it.