Six figure dream and a punch in the face

Okay, so I'm totally aware that my sad little blog is a freaky alternate reality.  One minute I'm Martha Stewart "paint your lamp" and the next minute I'm all "throw your other woman down a drainage ditch."  Yeah, frankly that's MY life.

Sooooo, I am returning to college. Before you "woot" and celebrate the whole "smart woman" thing... I gave up my long term goal of teaching... and I'm reaching for psychology.  Yeah, my husband's wayward ways, as much as I treasure him and his ultimate amazement and love for me... Brought me to the point where I want to tear down the human psyche to bits and pieces of fish tank stones....

I also frankly want to understand people, and eventually make a six figure income.  Let's face it, I LOVED working in Real Estate... I loved the whole vacation home rental process, like a wildebeest obsessed with outfoxing the cheetah (who was better educated and knew how to drag a carcass up into a tree), I worked my way up the ladder.  However, without a proper degree experience and an obsession deep enough to destroy my own marriage just didn't cut it.

Soooo, despite living without the obsessive compulsive, send a card, bring a dinner support I would personally have provided to someone I loved...should she be abandoned and left to manage on her own with three kids and a laminectomy.... I am reconciling with my husband sullying forth, into the unknown world of self discovery and education.

(Please Lord don't let this be some crazy pipe dream...all of it.)

I want to be in a place where I can help myself, my kids and my spouse... have hope for the future, and a bit of non-worry for a change.  Non-worry being the ability to not break out in a sweat over an upcoming mortgage, mini-van, or electric bill payment.

Sometimes, it amazes me when I realize the look on my husband's face is so open and full of love.  He knows my choices..even if they are tough in the now... are really, truly "future building opportunities" even if he barely responds when I try to discuss my plans with him.

Man, I have been working SOOOO hard not to be co-dependent.... Hello Father time and baby New Year... for the first time since 2009 a few tough, rotten, people (aka skeezy & threatening phone calls from the other woman, and support for her from her warped family, along with ostracization by his family) have stepped into our lives, trying to cut the healing Achilles Tendon of our recovery... repeatedly, even last week. Buuuuut, here we are....wishing every day was a day off we could spend together.

I really like my husband. I really love my life....and his additions to it.  I hope with every breath in my soul that a day will come that my daughter (with my help) will out bake her grandmother, my teens will all be on honor roll, and my little life will bring pride back into our sullied little clan....

What the heck am I rambling about...? On this week when the enemy stepped in and tried to boil the bunny....? Really? Nothing important.  Prayer can work when the dawn is at its darkest. So that's my plan of attack for all things not "Fly."

Someday.... I have no idea how but I will overcome this pain.  I will sleep in my husband's arms without worry... or terror that "she" is still angry and in "whore-bot retaliation" mode... ready to hurt me and mine just by picking up a phone or driving by in a pink vehicle.

Just please promise me...all of you who may read here... promise me as friends, that any make-up you buy will come from the grocery, drug, or dollar store. Never, ever, ever from a "home based" business based on a pyramid scheme and built by a woman who looks like Tammy Faye "Lite."

Oh and say a prayer for me as I head into 2011...I'll say one for you too...

Hugs friends....
Becca

P.S.  Wow, I'm too excited about being assigned a college adviser today! I hate "teen moms" on VH1, but Lord if those filthy little so and so's aren't trying to do what I've already done... without welfare, with a diploma and two full time jobs...  Good luck ladies....My kids are awesome little wonder bots.... Let's hope yours are too!!!!

Who is Rebecca Flys

I'm THAT girl.
The sweet one.
You know who I mean, the girl in high school who was nice to everybody. Never smoked pot. Helped the old lady up the road re-plant her gladiolas.
And never knew how good she looked in spandex bike shorts and a tank top.

I was the girl next door.

Till' I got caught up with a boy who drove, a black Firebird. The exact same model as the original KITT. Call it what you will, but we were bad in our day.

Isn't life funny.

Sooooo, I in 1994 graduated high school 2 months pregnant. My daughter is 14 now and I'm 33. My husband (her step-father) is just getting over a mid-life crisis, I'm raising 10, 12, & 14 year old kids, and a new Shiba Inu puppy who is tearing up roll after roll of good brand TP, I'm on unemployment, and Lexapro, and according to my adorable little henna painted therapist, who just resigned, I'm in a major depression.

Surgeon General's Warning: Broken Hearts do NOT cause death, only temporary serious injury.

I'm brutally honest, emotionally charged, border-line raunchy and at this time, very angry. As I strap on my push up bra and head out to buy the weeks groceries in my brand new thong, low cut jeans, and high heeled black ankle boots, with my chocolate glazed high lights gleaming (it was HIS mid-life crisis but here I am), It occurs to me I have something to say. Me, the good girl whose mother burned her bras and made hamburger helper for dinner but raised a drug free, knits her own scarves and makes pie crust from scratch daughter, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.

So, What is a good broken Step-Ford wife who has lost her mojo to do? Well, it IS 2009. And I'm no Irma Bambach. Starting a blog sounds like a good plan. I have things on my mind. Thoughts I'd like to throw out there in the general anti-verse. Bear with me. Roll with me. Attempt to maintain your dignity while controlling your fiery inner fury and I'll be your partner.

Best wishes,
Rebecca Flys