Day 66: Holy Hell, I've Turned Into my Pops

Most girls grow up and one day, sometime between their 28th and 45th years realize they've turned into their mothers. So imagine my surprise when I suddenly realized that I've become my father.

To say that I am vastly different from my parents would be an understatement. For one, I'm adopted, so my "parents" are not my biological 'rents. There are some interesting studies to do regarding nature vs. nurture to be sure, but I'm more interested in how I became the man that for years I didn't really like all that much. Pops left us when I was five. Or rather, he left Mom. We still saw him, but I grew up knowing he left because he cheated and broke my Mother's heart. I also met the many women that he dated and/or let move in with him -- all of them younger, some much, much younger.

Pops liked the young, hot women and he also liked them slightly damaged. He has a hero complex I think, wanting to "save" them from whatever troubles might be keeping them down. Generally, they stay with him for year or a few, using his house, his cars, his money and his security, then when they're strong they leave. It wasn't until I found myself living with him at the age of 25 that I really got to know and to like him. He's a good guy, smart too, he just happens to like a hefty share of young, hot pieces of ass and I have to say, I'm not far from that legacy myself.

Looking back on my dating life, there are more than a few young, impressionable boys on the lineup. I'm prone to the slightly banged up models myself, but I also appreciate the innocence and simplicity that 18-26 set brings to the picture. In talking with a friend it came to light that not only was I attracted to the physically gifted baby boys among us, I objectified them. They didn't have actual names, they had various nicknames. I frequently called them "recruits" and anyone I dated more than once was a "repeat offender." They were young, pretty, innocent, and disposable. Clearly, I'm not my Mother. Mom was a virgin when she married Pops and a true lady, complete with high-necked collars, ruffles, and tightly crossed legs. I, on the other hand, was once described by my cousin thusly: "You're weird, Ame. You bake and knit, but fuck like a guy." Don't I know it and turns out there's a good reason. I grew up to be my Daddy.

This is mostly in good fun. I certainly have managed a few long-term relationships and my husband, though currently more appropriately defined as my limbo-husband, is my own age and pretty damn perfect for me (hear that husband?). There was a time though and it's still evident in the boys I choose to look at twice, that I liked them young, hot, and ready for anything. So how did this happen? I suppose it no longer matters. I'm married and hoping to stay that way, but it is rather curious and slightly amusing to suddenly realize after all these years that I somehow became the man I used to dislike. I always loved Pops, but that didn't mean I had to like the man. Now I am that man and it's given me a whole new perspective into his life and personality. Turns out he's not such a bad role model after all. I'm a good woman, smart too, I just have a weakness for short stints with easy prey. Don't worry, it's perfectly okay to objectify them from a distance. I am, after all, a respectable married lady now.

Day 65: What if This is the End?

I feel like I'm whining too much or divulging too much when I get personal in my blogs, but the stats say those are the ones you like the most. Maybe hearing about my struggles helps you in some way? We're all human, we all screw up, we all hurt, why look at Ame, she's a total freakin' mess most of the time . . . well, you're in luck because it's one of those days.

The husband is moving to Death Valley in California in one week. We  spent Superbowl weekend together and it was fun. We had some laughs, shed some tears and in the end parted with a hug. It might have been the last time we ever see one another. He knows where I stand and what I want. He has some big choices to make and the hardest part for me is knowing that there isn't a damn thing I can do to influence him. Jeff is a man. They don't do big gestures and I've said and written all I can to try to coerce him to see things my way. It is now in his hands alone and while for most women, love will win out every time, guys aren't really like that.

Love is great, yes, but they are more quick to turn off emotions when they fear heartbreak might be the result. They can walk away, they can live in denial. Women on the other hand, and myself in particular, will pound our heads into our own wall of emotion until the only thing we know and feel is what we believe we need and want absolutely. We tell ourselves that life will be miserable without this one thing and we fixate on it until we've made ourselves miserable. It's a skill. We're just more talented and focused as people.

Ha. If only that were true. I don't know why we fixate on those things that are painful, all I know is that I love my husband, he's not sure he loves me enough to take me back and that means my entire world and self-value are dependent upon his feelings. Surely I have value without him. I'm not an idiot. I recognize that life will go on and that I will likely love again . . . I just don't want it to. This is what I want, he is who I need and I am determined to make myself miserable until I convince him or I run out of energy to punish myself.

Love is not the fairy tale it's made out to be. We all suffer for it one way or another. I made him suffer because I was unhappy and now he gets to make me suffer. I have no idea where this is going. I know that we love one another. I also know that love is never enough despite all the cheesy songs singing to the contrary. Real life is not neat or easy and love rarely solves problems. I may never see my husband's face again and that knowledge tears me up almost to the point that I cannot function, so I don't let myself think about it or feel it beyond simply stating it. If I did, I don't know that I could control the waves of grief that would surely follow. Right now, it is still a question, an uncertain possibility in a sea of chances. I'm just trying to ride surf for now; holding on for dear life. I'm not worried about finding land, I'm too preoccupied with merely surviving.

Day 64: As Good as it Gets? Let's Hope Not.

I am emotionally drained. You know that line, that place you get to where you just hit a wall? It's not depression. I still function in society. I care about how I look, I am capable of having a laugh and being in a good mood. There's just this . . . wall of emotional exhaustion that I just cannot quite get past. What if you live on that wall? What if every day of your life is a struggle? Sure, there are always those worse off, but don't forget there are also those who may be much better off. Sometimes things come easy to people. Sometimes for some people life is all picnics and noodle salad as Jack Nicholson's character in "As Good as it Gets" says in the movie. So what if this is, as good as it gets?

Do you have to be satisfied with it? There are always those happy, shiny people out there that are obsessively positive. They'll tell you to be happy for what you have, to appreciate what you have been given in life and what you have accomplished, but it's not that you cannot acknowledge or appreciate those things. Why can't you also be upset about those things you do not have? So what if I might be negative or see things that I want and do not have or things I would like to accomplish and have failed at? Is it wrong to acknowledge those things? Are we just supposed to languish and be satisfied with what we have?

I had a karate teacher years ago who said, "never be satisfied because when you're satisfied you become comfortable and stop trying." I find that there is a trick to walking that line. If you are not satisfied does that mean that you are dissatisfied? That you are grumpy and unhappy with life or that you simply want more and wish to strive for more success in life? I think we can all agree that that is a good thing, right? Some of us may just recognize both the trying and the failing and why can't I acknowledge the things that I failed at? I am apparently supposed to simply walk around with a big, goofy grin plastered on my face and be happy about the fact that yes, I got a raw-assed deal.

For some people life is picnics and noodle salad. I am not saying that we all do not have problems, but I do believe that we have different problems and varying degrees of the same problems. For some, being broke might mean they are down to their last ten thousand, but for me it could mean that I have seven dollars. Total. I can't lose ten pounds, but I weigh 126, so the person that weighs 226 has arguably a real problem. So should I shut up and just love myself or do I have the right to be unhappy with particular details in my own life. Yes, they might have a bigger problem than me (pun intended), but I still get to acknowledge the factors in my own life that make me unhappy despite the degree of that problem as viewed from someone else's perspective. I still have a right in my own life to recognize those things I do not like or wish to change.

I am emotionally exhausted because every time things start to go my way something bad happens. I am not alone in this. What about the grad student who is one semester away from graduating and suddenly finds out that he/she has a potentially fatal disease and has to drop out? Or you finally see the light at the end of the financial tunnel and then you get into an auto accident or your house catches fire and now that money that was going to put you ahead is just going to help you break even?

I am tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. I am tired of getting shit because I dare to recognize the fact that sometimes life really does suck. It's not because I am negative or have a bad attitude. It is because life is beating the fuck out of me. Yes, sometimes I make bad choices that contribute to it, but in a lifetime of good intentions I think we all deserve a few bad choices without them coming back on us. So I apologize, but if this is as good as it gets then no, I am not happy. I want more, and I think that's okay.

Day 63: It's More Than Just the Super Moments

As a lifelong Pittsburgh Steelers fan I was, of course, thrilled to once again see my team in the Superbowl. My husband, on the other hand, claims Wisconsin as his home and therefore actually owns a foam cheesehead. (By the way, they are just as stupid looking in person as they appear on TV.) So tonight's game was epic in the Bramline household, or it would have been, if there still were a "Bramline" household.

I couldn't help feeling going into this game that there was more than the Lombardi trophy on the line. I joked to those that were unaware of our separation that if the marriage could survive this, we might have a chance, but honestly, maybe it wasn't a joke. I love my team, but a big part of me was secretly rooting for the Pack. I'm a realist, Jeff's married to me and I'm not winning any trophies for wife of the year, he could use some good news. It's not like I believed that watching his team win the SB would suddenly put him in the mood for reconciliation, but it couldn't hurt either. Right?

As a society, we may be putting too much energy into rooting for sports teams, friending people we're already friends with, and ripping on Justin Bieber. We should at least put the same level of effort into living our real lives. Here I am hoping that a fun night of football could erase some pretty awful choices, but life is not entertainment. Real life and relationships cannot be lived like a movie. There are no grand gestures to suddenly make someone forget the bad and embrace what moments before was possibly worth throwing years of love away. Life is not about "the big game." The big moments of life are there to be cherished and enjoyed, sure, but they do not erase a bad season. Those moments existed too.

So we spent the weekend together, we watched the Pack win, it's been a pretty good two days. Am I still separated? Um, yeah, but I handled my team's loss with grace and congratulated the husband on his win. He thanked me for being a good sport, offered me another beer and left the room to go play an online video game. Not a bad start, but it's not all rainbows and puppies. Maybe the fate of our marriage didn't hinge on the outcome of a football game, even one this important to both of us, but anyone that's ever suffered through the potential end of a relationship knows one good weekend is pretty much like a Superbowl win. It's big, so while we may still be Bramlett and Esterline for now, there could be a trophy at the end with Bramline engraved on it. We just have to keep perspective and remember it's not about one game, it's about all the time, energy, practice that went into it.

Day 62: Are You Teaching Your Children What's Just or Merely What You Think is Right?

This is going to get me into trouble. I know this going in. It might cause the loss of a facebook friend and piss a few people off who choose to ignore the bigger picture and focus on the judgmental part, I know this. I accept this. I just can't help myself.

I'm going to break with a self-imposed rule and hijack a friend's Facebook status for the sake of my own selfish blogging. Today I read this: "So the whole way home from school today~ (insert child's name) was telling the little boy i babysit for~all about God. "You gotta sing songs to God because he loves you and he will never not love you." "You have to spread God's word to other people cause he wants you to know him." "You gotta study the Bible cause its his book and you can learn about him." TALK ABOUT TEARING UP, I LOVE MY BABY BOY!" All of this, except for the insert child's name part is directly taken from a friend's status.


I found this horrifying. Don't get me wrong, I think it is sweet that one child was instructing the other. I love the child believed enough to want to share. I can even appreciate that all involved believed that this was a 100% positive experience. All good. Except, is it? To read this in a positive light one must assume that the child being babysat is being raised by equally Christian parents who desire nothing more than than that their child be educated by friends in Christian beliefs. So that's all good, right? Or maybe not?


This strikes me as a perfect opportunity to educate a child about diversity. Not everyone that these kids meet is going to be Christian. So why not use this as an opportunity to affirm that yes, these are our beliefs, but do you know what other cultures might believe? Let's talk about Judaism, atheism, Islam, Buddhism, etc. This is a great chance to discuss the fact that not everyone thinks or believes the same thing and that just because some people believe something different does not make them unworthy of our respect. So maybe instead of trying to influence some unsuspecting parents' child when they are not around to approve or disprove, we use it to teach tolerance and diversity. Right?


I kind of found this FB status shocking and disappointing. I believe my friend to be a good person and a good parent, but even so, I find this incredibly short-sighted and almost negligent. It's okay to teach your child exactly what you think, it would be naive to expect otherwise, but to allow that narrow world view to reach out to another child when you may or may not have knowledge of what that child's parents desire, is a bit tragic in my opinion. Why do we constantly assume that it's okay to inflict our beliefs on others? Why is advocating a narrow worldview better than educating an actual worldview. It is a big world with diverse cultures, beliefs, religions, non-religions, and politics. I'm not saying you shouldn't teach your kids what you believe, I just want us all to recognize for a second that "we" does not include everyone else. What you believe is not what I believe or Susan believes, or Muhammad believes, or Althea believes. Please, let's just take a moment to breathe and to respect that "we" is not "all" and that it is okay to acknowledge and to respect the "other." Just think, and for God's sake if that's what you believe, open your eyes to the world and not just your space in it.


I want to add here that I understand I may be jumping the gun here. It is entirely possible that my friend and this child's parents are close friends who go to the same church and share the same views on religion. I am generalizing for the sake of my point and I do not want to misconstrue the facts, because the simple truth is that I know nothing for sure. I am just hypothesizing and I admit that.