Category Archives: Rejection

Away Too Long

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ASHAMED.  GUILTY.  REGRETFUL.  FOOLISH.  LOST.  EXHAUSTED.

Well, here I am.  I’m back.  I wonder if you remember your ol’ pal Ava?  It’s only been 262 days since my last post.  I guess you could say that I’ve been a bit distracted and preoccupied since I last wrote.  Okay… Maybe obsessed and consumed are better ways to describe why I’ve abandoned my beloved WordPress family.  I doubt you guys even noticed I was gone, but in truth, I have really missed connecting with you as you mean more to me than you may ever know. 

Folks, I love writing more than you can imagine.  I sometimes struggle, more than I’d like, with devastating feelings of  inferiority and am, beyond the shadow of a doubt, my own worst critic, so it’s significant when I tell you that writing is something that I know I do well.  I know that it’s a gift that God lovingly bestowed upon me and I feel so connected to Him and wholly alive when I write.  So naturally, I don’t do it like I should or want to.  I mean, I am codependent after all and am typically consumed with fixing and serving maladaptive people and simply don’t nurture the things that are edifying to “me”.  I am self-sabotaging and sometimes downright self-destructive,  so it stands to reason that I am not going to do anything that would build me up, right? 

Now, you all know, if you know me at all that brevity is not a strength I possess.  I am too wordy.  I don’t know when to shut up.  I am uncomfortable with awkward silences and feel the need to fill the void with verbal vomit.  Admittedly, my posts are usually way too long.  This one won’t be too bad, so fear not.   Just know that I am having a hard time finishing anything I start as of late.  I feel that I just “need” to submit one post, connect with you, and get myself back into the habit.  It’s imperative.  This is becaus, there are people in my life who–despite my best efforts–did not get the memo about my awesomeness.  My Dad is one such person.  There is nothing that I will ever be able to do or say that will change his pervasively low opinion of me; for some reason, he just cannot see my heart.  You however, see my heart!  You’ve seen my filth, you’ve heard me bitch and moan, and you’ve watched me making colossal mistakes BUT you loved me in spite of that.  That’s major!

Several of you like Grandpappy Sky, Diane, Rod Arters, Arlene the Queen, Sabrina, and Scott Williams  I feel like I know personally.  You make me feel cherished, and I certainly cherish you.  You all inspire me to be a better version of myself.  I dearly love you and am so thankful for your presence in my life as it has served great purpose.  I am going through some struggles that I am working on harder than I think I’ve ever worked on anything.  I have been in bondage for so many years, particularly where my need for love and approval from unloving, disapproving men are concerned.   I have been addicted to sex and love.  Guys want to f@#k me senselessly, but they don’t want to commit to me and they sure as hell don’t want to fight for me. 

I officially reached the end of me and surrendered everything to God with my “entire” soul about 4 days ago.  Before that, the devil was whispering (more like screaming) lies into my ear… again.  When the bottom fell out a little over two weeks ago the fear that I was going to end up just like my mother, dead by my own hand at a young age, was in my face like never before.   After all, we seem to be twin souls.  Moreover, I can still envision the look on my father’s face and hear the sincere disgust in his voice when he’d say, “You’re just like your mother.”   I grew up thinking that being like her was an awful thing.  I’m not so sure it was though…

 I love the Lord more words could ever express and when I make a promise to Him, I take it seriously.  Therefore, I simply will “not” make a promise to God that I know that I cannot or may not keep.  With that, I am fasting from sex, including getting my freak on with myself, which I don’t mind telling you, “I quite enjoy.”   My power tools are about to be locked in my attic.  I am also fasting from booze, which makes me do really, really regrettable things that are out of character for me when I am feeling emotionally fragile and vulnerable. 

I was seeing this guy for about a year.  I stayed too long in the relationship (more later on that).  I could have walked away with my dignity, but “no”.  I did not.  I am fasting from my addiction, not to him, but to what he represents in my head as I have recognized that he, like so many before him, are mere symptoms of the root cause of my problem.  He was just a personification of some really old, deeply repressed shit that I never really knew existed in me.  Nevertheless, all lines of communication (e.g. text messages, phone calls, Facebook, etc) have been blocked and I will not make any attempt to communicate with him in any fashion.  The only reason I have the strength to do this is simply because of my affection for God and desire for Him to be number one in my life.

Enough is enough. The journey that I am embarking on with God is not going to be easy for me.  However, I am afraid that if I do not overcome it, that I may die.  I do not want to die.  So I’m fighting harder than ever this time. 

My goal is to write about what God is revealing to me, at least over the course of the next month, particularly since I am in the Word like I have honestly never been in my entire life…  I hope you’ll stick around and listen to me get honest about my not-so-pretty, insanely unflattering junk.  I believe that pain and the human will to survive is universal, so I’m betting that you may see yourself in some of my stuff. 

Nevertheless, I just want you to know that I love you… and that I’m so thankful for you.  I pray that you’re all still out there.  As it stands, I am feeling a bit:

ASHAMED.  GUILTY.  REGRETFUL.  FOOLISH.  LOST.  EXHAUSTED.

 

If loving you is wrong I don’t wanna be right!

-Ava Elizabeth Wisdom

 

I Am More…

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Things are looking up!  As a matter of fact, things are looking WAY up!  Why?  ONLY…I repeat…ONLY because of Jesus.  I’m tired now but my next post is going to be a doozy!  Brace yourselves!  God has revealed SO many things to me that I hardly know where to start explaining!  I love you guys!!!

Famous and Infamous People Raised in Broken Homes

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I was alarmed to find out that the following individuals were products of single parent homes:

  • BILLY THE KID
  • SIRHAN SIRHAN
  • ROBERT GRAYSMITH (ZODIAC SERIAL KILLER)
  • JACK THE RIPPER
  • JOHN WILKES BOOTH
  • CHARLES MANSON
  • SADDAM HUSSEIN
  • ADOLPH HITLER
  • MARC LEPINE (MASS MURDERER OF 14)
  • LEE HARVEY OSWALD
  • JEFFREY DAHMER
  • “MONSTER” CODY (L.A. CRIPS GANGLORD)

Obviously the aforementioned names are some of the worst in the history of mankind.  However, my research uncovered many, many more functional, famous people who were also products of broken homes.  Take a look:

Maya Angelou was sent to live with her grandparents when her parents’ marriage ended.

Oprah Winfrey was born to an unwed, teenager mother and sent to live with her grandparents.

Lance Armstrong never knew his birth father.

Notorious B.I.G. was abandoned by his father when he was 2.

Kate Beckinsale’s father died when she was 6.

Halle Berry was abandoned by her father when she was 4.

Mary J. Blige was abandoned by her father when she was 4.

Orlando Bloom’s died when he was 4.

Pierce Brosnan was abandoned by his father before his first birthday.

Mariah Carey had little contact with her father after her parents divorce when she was 3.

50 Cent never knew his father and lost his mother when he was 8.

Eric Clapton never knew his real father. He grew up thinking his grandparents were his parents and his mother his sister.

Bill Clinton lost his father in a car accident 3 months before he was born.

Stephen Colbert lost his father and two brothers in a plane crash when he was 10.

Sean Combs was 3 when his father was murdered

Jodie Foster grew up without a father; her parents separated before she was born.

Jamie Foxx was abandoned by both his parents and raised by his adopted grandparents.

Cary Grant grew up thinking his mother had abandoned him when she really was in a mental institution.

Adrian Grenier grew up not knowing who his father was.

Laird Hamilton was abandoned by his father when he was an infant.

Samuel L. Jackson only met his father twice during his life.

Jay-Z was abandoned by his father.

Alicia Keys grew up without a father.

Kid Cudi lost his father to cancer when he was 11.

Martin Lawrence rarely saw his father after his parents divorced when he was 8.

John Lennon grew up without a father and lost his mother when he was 17.

Jet Li lost his father when he was 2.

Lindsay Lohan grew up without a father while he was in prison.

Shelby Lynne lost her mother and father in a murder suicide when she was 17.

Madonna lost her mother to cancer when she was 5.

Paul McCartney lost his mother to cancer when he was 14.

Eva Mendes was raised by her single mother after her parents divorced.

Marilyn Monroe grew up without a father.

Demi Moore was abandoned by her father before she was born.

Eddie Murphy’s father was killed when he was just 8.

Jack Nicholson never knew his real father.

Shaquille O’Neal grew up without his birth father.

President Barack Obama met his father only once before he died in a car crash.

Clive Owen was abandoned by his father when he was 3.

Al Pacino grew up in his grandparents’ home with his mother.

Audrey Hepburn was sent to boarding school at age 5; at age 6 her father walked out.

Mariah Carey eventually became estranged from her father after her parents’ divorce when she was 3.

Guy Pearce lost his father in a work related accident when he was 8.

Mekhi Phifer never met his father.

Sarah Polley lost her mother to cancer when she was 11.

Ellen Pompeo lost her mother when she was 4.

Gabrielle Reece lost her father when she was 5.

Keanu Reeves was abandoned by his father when he was 13.

Julia Roberts lost her father when she was 10.

Alex Rodriguez was abandoned by his father when he was 7.

Ronaldinho lost his father from a heart attack when he was 8.

Jason Schwartzman lost his father to cancer when he was 13.

Tupac Shakur grew up not knowing his birth father while his stepfather went to prison when he was 2.

Anderson Silva was raised by his aunt.

Gene Simmons was abandoned by his father when he was 3.

David Spade was abandoned by his father.

Jon Stewart was raised primarily by his mother.

Barbra Streisand lost her father when she was 2.

Shania Twain was abandoned by her birth father.

Liv Tyler didn’t know who her birth father was until she was 9.

Raoul Wallenberg lost his father to cancer 3 months before he was born.

Orson Welles lost his mother when he was 11 and his father when he was 15.

Kanye West was abandoned by his father when he was 3.

And I “sure enough” was abandoned by my biological father the moment he found out my mother was carrying me…

 

I get that those who were raised in utter pathology and in absolute psychologically damaging circumstances are not necessarily always going to come out unscathed.  However, I like to think of the human spirit as tenacious in nature, and capable of overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles.  And after all, we all have choices.  For me, I wasn’t going to sit around complaining that life had dealt me a bad hand, and that there was no hope.  Which is why I hate the saying, “It is what it is.”

 

My childhood was incredibly painful and dysfunctional.  This is why you could frequently find me in the self-help section of my neighborhood bookstore since I was an adolescent.  I was reading self-help books since I was a young teen and voluntarily attending counseling, which I still do today.  I even have a hypnosis app on my iPhone for topics like “codependency” and “how to forget your ex”, for goodness sakes!  I was never satisfied with the status quo and have been pulling myself up by the bootstraps for as long as I can remember.  

 

You will never hear me utter the words, “That’s just how I am.”  Although I am still a work in progress, I believe that someday I will rise victoriously from the ashes.  And as far as this crazy generational cycle that is marked by the suicide of my beloved mother… I am fighting with every breath in me to say, “This ends here.”  

 

It was hard being a child of a single mother; and I know it’s hard for my children too, most of the time.  We may struggle financially, but we are rich beyond measure in the love department.  For me this is what matters most.  Some days I can barely find the strength to get out of bed.  But mark my words, “I can do all things through CHRIST who strengthens ME.” (Philippians 4:13) 

 

Sources:

http://www.notablebiographies.com/An-Ba/Angelou-Maya.html#b

http://oprah.about.com/od/oprahbiography/p/oprahchildhood.htm

http://www.audrey1.org/biography/16/audrey-hepburn-timeline-1929-1949

http://withoutafather.com/celebrities.php

I Will Fix You

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“Codependency is defined as a psychological condition or a relationship in which a person is controlled or manipulated by another who is affected with a pathological condition (as in an addiction to alcohol and/or drugs). In broader terms, it refers to the dependence on the needs of another.  It also often involves placing a lower priority on one’s own needs, while being excessively preoccupied with the needs of others.  Codependency may also be characterized by denial, low self-esteem, excessive compliance, or control patterns.  Narcissists are considered to be natural magnets for the codependent.”

Some people like to find old, worn down houses and fix them up.  I do not.  I find that old houses are creepy and that they smell musty.  I’m also afraid that some old ghost could be lingering around, which is why I had my house built.  I am however a renovator.  Only, I don’t like to find busted houses and fix them up, I like to find busted  people and fix them up.  And I do it free of charge.

My favorite fixer-up projects tend to be men who are narcissistic sociopaths.  I mean I’ve dated alcoholics, drug addicts, gambling addicts, sex addicts, abusers, pathological liars, thieves, con-artists, cheaters, and undiagnosed bipolar persons.  The current man who I am trying to wean myself off lived in Las Vegas for three-year making his living from playing poker and living in comped hotels.  I had known him from when I was a stripper in my early 20’s and was once mesmerized by his long, dark, hair, his dimples, and his radiantly piercing blue eyes.  He drove a bad ass BMW, was high-ranking in his social stature, and he had this mystical je ne sais quoi that surrounded him.  As a matter of fact, he strongly resembled Leonardo DiCaprio.  My God he was deliciously stunning.

He and I connected last year on Facebook and the rest was history.  It wasn’t long before he asked my father for my hand in marriage.  He literally got off the plane and moved into my house.  Mind you, this is not something that I “do” as I do not like to bring men around Jeremiah and Jonah.  As it was, the boys loved him; he charmed us all–for a while.  Eventually the heavy alcoholism became apparent as did his gambling addiction.  I even had to hide my sedatives from him; I hid them in one of those vintage, cardboard jewelry boxes–the ones where the little ballerina pops up and spins around.  Every night when I needed to take my medication, I would be petrified that the sound of the music box was going to go off and that I would be caught.   What’s more, this man morphed into the most verbally and emotionally persons that I had ever known.  Hence, I wrote the following poem one sleepless night after he had left me (the first time):

You played me for a common fool,

You played me from the start.

I gave you every ounce of me,

I handed you my heart.

Words like blades you slayed me with,

Cutting me to the bone.

With you I felt a stranger in the place I once called home.

I walked on eggshells day and night,

Guarding my every word.

Each thing I did, each thing I said

Felt stupid and absurd.

But convinced was I your love was real,

Convinced I was your girl-

I soon learned I was ordinary,

To you a nameless girl.

A girl you “would not” fight for

With a heart you could abuse-

Your “promises” were hollow words,

You set me up to lose.

Abandoned and rejected now,

Cast out in a lonely spot-

I’ll never dance this dance again;

In love I’ll not be caught.

I’ll build the walls around my heart;

You’ll never get back in.

I’m scarred for life, for the one I lost

Once called me his “best friend”.

So love those cards, the alcohol,

The pills and shallow bitches-

My loving soul now bears a hole,

My heart’s in need of stitches.

So here’s to your life of solitude,

Of Godlessness, and sorrow-

You robbed me of the dream of love

And darkened my tomorrows.

Remember me, as you saw me last,

With tear drops on my face.

I surrender the dream of my soul-mate tonight; 

For me love holds no place.  

When I wrote this poem, and I didn’t know it at the time, but I was suffering a complete and utter nervous breakdown.  Friends I’m not just using the term “nervous breakdown” as a semantic euphemism.  This was indeed, indubitably real and entirely physiological in nature.   I couldn’t eat or sleep for about 4 days; I lost 12 pounds in one week.  I couldn’t stay off the toilet, and my panic attacks were so physically intense that I could not operate my car or attend work.  I cried and sobbed for days upon days.  Eventually, I had to seek medical treatment in the form of late-night counseling visits and trips to my family physician.  It was a nightmare.  My mind knew what was going on, but my body ceases to cooperate.

How this happened is beyond me.  He had lived with me for just two, short months.  Still, 60 days of day in and day out can be intense, particularly because I firmly believed I had finally met my husband.  He didn’t work or have a car (supposedly all his belonging, including his chopper and his truck were in storage in Vegas); but he helped me so much around my house and helped care for my kids in ways that were unfathomable.  I was my best self when he was with me.

However, once he began gambling again, he became a different person.  I was working my tail off everyday and providing for the family financially but justified that it was a fair trade-off because of all the help he was giving me with the boys and around the house.  And in all fairness, my house looked like a tornado had blown through it before he came to my rescue.

However, to my horror, it turned out that he felt entirely and hopelessly trapped in my haven of a home.  WTF?  And the guy wasn’t stuck; I was carpooling to work with a friend each day so that he could have full use of my Hummer.  I gave him everything I had to give but in the end, it wasn’t enough.  So there it was, staring me in the face again: rejection and abandonment.  I became so concerned with his needs that I had completely ceased to care my own.  I was screwed.

Today I opened some mail (which is something I rarely do because it’s depressing).  Much to my chagrin, it contained two invoices from the North Texas Tollway Authority demanding that I pay $321.40 in toll violations.  There are photos of my car and license plate.  The problem is, I don’t drive in Dallas.  I live and work in Fort Worth.  And the dates in question are dates that I was working.  My mother was a cop.  I would never blow through a toll booth and not pay the toll.  I would feel like God was watching me and I promise you, I could simply not sleep at night knowing that I had done such a thing.  On the invoices, I counted 32 violations.  I’m not sure what to say or what to do at this point.  I suppose that some serious prayer is in order.

What’s worse we are still unofficially still seeing one another.  I absolutely loathe confrontation.  More than that, I hate being lied to.  However, I feel that both are in my very near future.

As a co-dependent you have to ask yourself, “When is enough enough?”  Am I that lonely and desperate to be loved that I would put up with blatant abuse.  He’s put me at risk legally now.  I’m going to sleep on this and see what tomorrow brings.  Nevertheless, I have had it.  I just hope that I’ve really “had it”.  Will he deny that he was driving my car and blowing through toll booths or will he fess up, apologize, and pay the fines?  We’ll see, but the outcome certainly doesn’t look good.

I’ll write more about the issues of co-dependency that I struggle with later.  There are many wonderful attributes about this man who I haven’t mentioned, and I wish to be fair.  However, I just really want to go have a smoke and go to bed.  I am fed up with myself.  I keep trying to find my happiness in the form of a human being.  In reality though, my heart knows that true happiness originates from a relationship with God and God alone.   I just wish that God would hold me with a  tangible set of arms.  He made me.  Doesn’t He understand my heart and that I want to be chosen and loved by a man?

My best friend, Addison and I constantly talk about how all these other women are married (except us).  We carry on and on about the subject noting that women with clubbed feet, missing teeth, and even those with body odor and swamp ass have husbands that truly love them.  When will God deem us worthy of having a husband?  What are we doing wrong?