I can't decide if I don't write when I'm really working through something and I recap after, or if I end up writing to work myself through something? Either way, I usually feel a little better for it, so I'm hoping that means writing is the end of whatever has been scratching at me lately.
It's been a rough crossing these last few weeks. A mess, really. The provisional hearing in court was disastrous. I'm not cut out for such things, and I went into it thinking everything was going to be fine. I actually ended up without my kids more and losing much-needed monies. Because my lawyer had me so flustered and frustrated and angry with her, I didn't realize I was agreeing to $75 a week less. Just thinking about these things now gets me worked up, and makes me think I'm going to have to develop some sort of code word to calm down and stop thinking about it. It's really the visitation stuff that irritates me the most though. He gets to be super great fun happy dad and I'm mean old mom enforcing the rules at home.
And mom tends to cry a lot the last few weeks, so she's really no fun to be around. I am beaten by the underemployment and financial strain. Exhausted and beaten by it. It's almost as suffocating as the loneliness can be. I realize I'm a victim of my own making and it must be so evident even people reading my resume can tell. The paper stored in my house reeks of my desperation! Ok, that's a load of melodrama, I know, but at least I can still laugh. I've called and made an appointment to see someone about all my problems. In no way did Lady Lawyer Pants McMeanie (whom I am hoping to release soon as I drum up the courage to speak to her again) inspire the phone call. It was a great combination of things, from actually talking to the person I wanted to see down to so many days feeling like I'm just about to cry at any point in time. Praying for my negative feelings to just go away doesn't seem to be working anymore. The next reason is that I must be alienating friends I don't normally see in person but rely on for support. I'm a little disappointed that during a time when I feel like I need them the most I'm being shut out for one reason or another, which is just reenforcing the fact that I really can't depend on anyone, no matter who they are. I realize I'm no fun--I do--but my resources, time, attention span, energy, and focus are tremendously impaired right now. My victimization detox is going to take a little longer than originally deemed necessary. I hope this therapist has a super concentrated version of something that will fix me.
I've officially been welcomed onto the roller derby team. I don't understand all the rules and I'm not really completely comfortable on my skates yet, but everyone points out how far I've come in a short time, and I think it's true. I wanted to do something I thought I could never do, and I have. I love it so far. It's the one really good, positive thing I have right now. I think what I like most about it, besides the social aspect (which, despite some of the stories I could tell, is so much less depraved than it sounds), is that the time at practice makes me stop thinking about all the outside strains affecting me and I concentrate on just a few things: Stay in skater stance, breathe, and push past the pain. I admit to being terrified of being in a bout, but after watching on Saturday I'm pretty sure I will feel able sometime in the next few months. We all know my magical month for many things is August, so hopefully I will be able to join in the bout then. It's what I'm shooting for. I will say that during the practice last night when rookies were being taught to take hits, I LOVED falling so much I laughed every time someone knocked me down. I hate it when it's my fault, but I wish I could think of a name that would go with laughing at being knocked over. I count 23 bruises on my legs, arms, and hips, and I earned them all. They'll heal in no time. It's the psychological and financial bruises I can't seem to make go away quickly enough.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
ROMANCE IS DEAD
I still want what I said I wanted a while back--I want to want no man, and to rely on myself .I've realized recently I really can't depend on anyone else for anything anymore. It's just not working for me. The only person I can depend on is myself, and even I let me down by incessantly making poor choices in nearly everything. But even in the midst of all the realizing that the world doesn't owe me a thing and I'm going to have to get over thinking I deserve ANYTHING, here's something else that smacked me in the face: I'm kinda going to miss the potential for romance. It hasn't happened for I don't know how long--at least 10 years?--but I thought I had the potential for it occasionally. I know it was really stupid, but having a husband meant maybe he might possibly be nice sometime and surprise me with flowers or buy me a gift that I didn't pick out myself. Maybe? Ok, not MY ex husband, but I guess I thought maybe in the distant future he might turn into someone else who actually wanted to be thoughtful toward me again, before he was an ex, of course. I stumbled upon this thought our of nowhere while doing something totally domestic, and I had a few moments of feeling sorry for myself, including a few crocodile tears over my own future loss. To tell the truth, I've always felt like "romance" was dumb. It didn't exist for me, or was just something to watch in movies and smile about or imagine, but it really wouldn't actually happen for me. Thinking that has never meant I didn't want it, but I just have never had it come from the right person. I would LOVE to be totally surprised and speechless by a romantic gesture. Being pragmatic makes me think I might possibly miss it or think it goofy if it did happen, but I can think of a few things I would really like that would be seen as truly romantic, were they something produced by a person I was seriously interested in. But I also know they're fantasy, and they, both romance and a man to be interested in, aren't in the plan for me right now, which does make me feel just a little sad. It shouldn't, because deep down I know I don't need it or really want it at this time, but that doesn't stop me from missing the thought that it was potentially available. I suppose this is the cross to be bourne by a hopeless romantic trying to become a creature of self sufficiency and reliance. A part of me is always going to wish on that silly star.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
ME AND MY METAPHORS
It's obvious, since I write a blog entry every now and again, that I have to write, and I have to convey how I feel about things. I have been told I have a "colorful way of putting things" by countless people. I can pin a description on something in a unique way, such as when I said the landfill smelled like a thousand decaying dirty diapers covered with a million bloated, rotting racoon carcuses. You understand that nose-hair stinging stench immediately, no? That really has nothiing to do with what I'm going to talk about, but I thought it would be fun to share the stench story.
I have been practicing with a roller derby team. Here's the caveat: I can't skate. I never have skated much, even as a kid, because I didn't live in a place where skating was possible--gravel driveways and roads are not conducive to learning--and I quite possibly may have skated only 5 or 6 times during parties while growing up. Inexperience and inability aside, it's something I really want to do. I want to be able to fly around that rink like my niece, sure footed and determined, and plow my way through a tightly formed cluster of muscle-bound skaters who know what they're doing. Or I'd like to be one of the group of muscle-bound skaters giving full effort to keeping out that one star-helmeted jammer. I may be mousy now, but once I get my footing, you better believe I'm willing to knock her down! So here's the thing: I can use this skating thing to describe my life in a few ways. Firstly, I don't know what I'm doing trying to learn to skate at 40, and I'm finding myself unbalanced and on shaky ground. Just like the rest of my life. I don't have a clue what I'm doing or how to stay upright. The only thing I can do is fall down repeatedly, take a breath, and get right back up again. I will LEARN how to balance and stay upright. I know I will fall down again, but if I learn the right way to fall, it won't hurt quite so badly the next time. And as my good friend put it the other night, every time I fall down and get back up again I'll be a little stronger. I can get up without holding onto anything...I have from the start. I know it won't always be that way, and that occasionally I will need to grab onto something and pull myself back up to a standing position, but for the most part I'm going to do this a little bit at a time, on my own, surrounded by people who want to see me succeed, even if it takes a long time and my usual unconventional ways.
Another metaphor I've been musing on lately is the cold and impersonal world of texting. I suppose it's not REALLY, but occasionally I find it difficult to remember that a separate human being exists at the other end of the incoming text. I've been calling it "the phantom friend I hold in my hand" for a few days now. It's just words on a screen. It isn't "real." I think it's stemming from my need for actual, real-life, human communication and socialization, of which it is no secret I am sorely lacking, as has been repeatedly discussed in this blog. I am truly missing having friends in front of me. It's no secret I have avoided social events and have been reluctant to attend things in the past because I was just "not in the mood" to talk or extend social graces, which I also believe I am lacking. Part of it is my upbringing, having parents who were both happy to not socialize. Part of it is my own need for peace and quiet. But lately I am just craving personal interaction but after 20 years of not wanting or having it, it's downright DIFFICULT to find people I actually want to know better and want to spend a lot of time with without feeling like a clingy monster. So the phantom friend in my hand remains my main source of entertainment, socialization, and communication. And frankly, he/she sucks at it sometimes. I know I don't have as many friends in it as I will someday or even as I need right now, but please tell me how it can be that every single friend sometimes falls silent and noncommunicative at the same time?!
The skates are calling from the garage, saying it's time to roll with it while I try desperately to strengthen my backbone and remain steady, fall small and safe, and pop right back up to try again. I'll remember that even after the glorious moment I get to take them off.
I have been practicing with a roller derby team. Here's the caveat: I can't skate. I never have skated much, even as a kid, because I didn't live in a place where skating was possible--gravel driveways and roads are not conducive to learning--and I quite possibly may have skated only 5 or 6 times during parties while growing up. Inexperience and inability aside, it's something I really want to do. I want to be able to fly around that rink like my niece, sure footed and determined, and plow my way through a tightly formed cluster of muscle-bound skaters who know what they're doing. Or I'd like to be one of the group of muscle-bound skaters giving full effort to keeping out that one star-helmeted jammer. I may be mousy now, but once I get my footing, you better believe I'm willing to knock her down! So here's the thing: I can use this skating thing to describe my life in a few ways. Firstly, I don't know what I'm doing trying to learn to skate at 40, and I'm finding myself unbalanced and on shaky ground. Just like the rest of my life. I don't have a clue what I'm doing or how to stay upright. The only thing I can do is fall down repeatedly, take a breath, and get right back up again. I will LEARN how to balance and stay upright. I know I will fall down again, but if I learn the right way to fall, it won't hurt quite so badly the next time. And as my good friend put it the other night, every time I fall down and get back up again I'll be a little stronger. I can get up without holding onto anything...I have from the start. I know it won't always be that way, and that occasionally I will need to grab onto something and pull myself back up to a standing position, but for the most part I'm going to do this a little bit at a time, on my own, surrounded by people who want to see me succeed, even if it takes a long time and my usual unconventional ways.
Another metaphor I've been musing on lately is the cold and impersonal world of texting. I suppose it's not REALLY, but occasionally I find it difficult to remember that a separate human being exists at the other end of the incoming text. I've been calling it "the phantom friend I hold in my hand" for a few days now. It's just words on a screen. It isn't "real." I think it's stemming from my need for actual, real-life, human communication and socialization, of which it is no secret I am sorely lacking, as has been repeatedly discussed in this blog. I am truly missing having friends in front of me. It's no secret I have avoided social events and have been reluctant to attend things in the past because I was just "not in the mood" to talk or extend social graces, which I also believe I am lacking. Part of it is my upbringing, having parents who were both happy to not socialize. Part of it is my own need for peace and quiet. But lately I am just craving personal interaction but after 20 years of not wanting or having it, it's downright DIFFICULT to find people I actually want to know better and want to spend a lot of time with without feeling like a clingy monster. So the phantom friend in my hand remains my main source of entertainment, socialization, and communication. And frankly, he/she sucks at it sometimes. I know I don't have as many friends in it as I will someday or even as I need right now, but please tell me how it can be that every single friend sometimes falls silent and noncommunicative at the same time?!
The skates are calling from the garage, saying it's time to roll with it while I try desperately to strengthen my backbone and remain steady, fall small and safe, and pop right back up to try again. I'll remember that even after the glorious moment I get to take them off.
Friday, April 29, 2011
AS THE MOOD SWINGS...
Why do I hate Friday? Have a seat and I'll tell you.
I hate Friday because that's when the rest of the world is excited about getting off work and being able to start their social activities for the weekend. They're planning which restaurant to try, what movies to see, whose house they're hanging out in on Saturday night, what relaxing family activity they're going to participate in on Sunday afternoon, and then insisting on doing nothing at all on Sunday evening so they can go to bed early in order to wake up bright and early on Monday, ready to tackle another work week and do it all over again. For me, Friday is just another lonely day. It isn't anything special. In fact, it truly stinks. It's the end of my potential. I know if my phone didn't ring by Friday with a job interview to schedule, it's not going to happen for at least 3 days. I know if no one has asked me if I want to do something by Friday, it's not going to happen at all, and I'm going to have 2 more days of nothingness ahead of me. No fun family activities, no movies, no hanging out anywhere on Saturday.
I know I said yesterday I'm using this time to heal and make myself whole. I can't deny that it's happening but the silence can be deafening. And I have friends and family who tell me the key to being really happy is doing things alone. Do they not realize I already do? I do them willingly, and often. So tell me then, if I'm ALWAYS alone, how am I supposed to be happy being alone? I spend every single minute of every single day alone, usually staring at the same 4 walls and the same computer screen. Shouldn't I have to be with people sometimes in order to appreciate the time I get to spend alone? I am a person who actually does need an inordinate amount of alone or down time. I always have. I've also always been a little bit of a loner, probably due to being the baby in the family by more than a decade. But let me tell you this--the last 10 years of my marriage have had a lot of alone time. The past 2 years especially, with a husband who spent most of his time at work, leaving for work, staring at his phone, staring at the tv in another room, and generally not being engaged in my life in any way. What I've endured since 2008 hasn't just been alone time, but unwanted practically prison sentence time because of the inherent loneliness of the marriage itself, the lack of money to actually go anywhere or do anything, the lack of both of our ambitions to nurture any couple friendships because of our disconnection and lack of money, etc, etc. I can't help it. I want to be a whole person in my own right, but I am so DAMN sick of being alone, of my phone not ringing or buzzing, of having no social life...and I honestly don't know how to fix it. I hate this town lately. There's so little to do and no way to meet anyone, and probably not even anyone new to meet worth my time!
So yes, while I was bright and sunny yesterday, today I'm feeling bleak because it's Friday--the day I see as the end of my potential life change. It's ok...I'll make it through like I always do. It's just not easy for me when the tiny job I have has 2 weeks off and there's absolutely nothing on the calendar and I can't just fill it up with wandering when gas is over $4 a gallon. That, and yesterday I paid out $1500 to a lawyer who told me I'm too goth looking to be a receptionist, and I seem like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Well, I kinda do right now, thanks. I'm in the middle of a divorce, my finances are a mess, I can't get a job and I don't know why, my social calendar is null and void, my everyday life refuses to change for the better other than being rid of a husband who I did not want anyway, my heart breaks into a thousand pieces every night and I spend the next 24 hours putting it back together even though I know it'll break again the next night, and you just told me I look pale and morose. Let me fix that by flipping this switch over here...
I hate Friday because that's when the rest of the world is excited about getting off work and being able to start their social activities for the weekend. They're planning which restaurant to try, what movies to see, whose house they're hanging out in on Saturday night, what relaxing family activity they're going to participate in on Sunday afternoon, and then insisting on doing nothing at all on Sunday evening so they can go to bed early in order to wake up bright and early on Monday, ready to tackle another work week and do it all over again. For me, Friday is just another lonely day. It isn't anything special. In fact, it truly stinks. It's the end of my potential. I know if my phone didn't ring by Friday with a job interview to schedule, it's not going to happen for at least 3 days. I know if no one has asked me if I want to do something by Friday, it's not going to happen at all, and I'm going to have 2 more days of nothingness ahead of me. No fun family activities, no movies, no hanging out anywhere on Saturday.
I know I said yesterday I'm using this time to heal and make myself whole. I can't deny that it's happening but the silence can be deafening. And I have friends and family who tell me the key to being really happy is doing things alone. Do they not realize I already do? I do them willingly, and often. So tell me then, if I'm ALWAYS alone, how am I supposed to be happy being alone? I spend every single minute of every single day alone, usually staring at the same 4 walls and the same computer screen. Shouldn't I have to be with people sometimes in order to appreciate the time I get to spend alone? I am a person who actually does need an inordinate amount of alone or down time. I always have. I've also always been a little bit of a loner, probably due to being the baby in the family by more than a decade. But let me tell you this--the last 10 years of my marriage have had a lot of alone time. The past 2 years especially, with a husband who spent most of his time at work, leaving for work, staring at his phone, staring at the tv in another room, and generally not being engaged in my life in any way. What I've endured since 2008 hasn't just been alone time, but unwanted practically prison sentence time because of the inherent loneliness of the marriage itself, the lack of money to actually go anywhere or do anything, the lack of both of our ambitions to nurture any couple friendships because of our disconnection and lack of money, etc, etc. I can't help it. I want to be a whole person in my own right, but I am so DAMN sick of being alone, of my phone not ringing or buzzing, of having no social life...and I honestly don't know how to fix it. I hate this town lately. There's so little to do and no way to meet anyone, and probably not even anyone new to meet worth my time!
So yes, while I was bright and sunny yesterday, today I'm feeling bleak because it's Friday--the day I see as the end of my potential life change. It's ok...I'll make it through like I always do. It's just not easy for me when the tiny job I have has 2 weeks off and there's absolutely nothing on the calendar and I can't just fill it up with wandering when gas is over $4 a gallon. That, and yesterday I paid out $1500 to a lawyer who told me I'm too goth looking to be a receptionist, and I seem like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Well, I kinda do right now, thanks. I'm in the middle of a divorce, my finances are a mess, I can't get a job and I don't know why, my social calendar is null and void, my everyday life refuses to change for the better other than being rid of a husband who I did not want anyway, my heart breaks into a thousand pieces every night and I spend the next 24 hours putting it back together even though I know it'll break again the next night, and you just told me I look pale and morose. Let me fix that by flipping this switch over here...
Thursday, April 28, 2011
WHO IS THIS PERSON?! WE MAY NEVER KNOW FOR SURE!
Only time will tell, but I've got a lot to catch up on. I'm not really sure I'll ever tell the whole story here, but for now we'll just say I'm going to try to get back to a semblence of normalcy, which I'm hoping will be anything but my previous normal. I've tried doing this all along, so I guess the limbo is my normal for an extended period of time. A phrase a few people have used while talking to me lately is "finding a new normal." I've had a few new normals over the past 3 months. In a way I'm amazed that it's only been 3 months, because my clock has ticked so slowly it feels like a year. But seeing that particular thought written makes me a little frightened of what "a year" is actually going to feel like--a lifetime? A decade? Or maybe just 3 months? I can't wait to see what it feels like, though I do hate to wish my life away.
There have been multitudes of angry texts passed between the ex and me. The relationship waxes and wanes and remains so toxic I can't bear to look at his stupid face. I attended my first parental school function. He was alone, and I was surrounded by family. It felt fantastic. He looks awful. I do not (most of the time). I'm pretty sure we'll never reach the point of being "friends," but I know once the paperwork settles and I don't have to deal with him very regularly and have other things to occupy my thoughts, it will get more relaxed. I just think a big part of it is that I'm a dynamic tornado of emotional growth and change and he's hopped from one place to another without a chance to grow or really confront his own internal demons, of which I'm sure he has quite a few.
My heart has broken a few times over, and my faith has deepened. I've actually been complimented on the state of my faith in adversity, which really does amaze me. In fact, the realization that I amaze me sometimes is another thing I'd not have expected 4 months ago. I'm changing and evolving daily, and facing as many little fears or upheavals of routine as possible. Today I can think of things I would never have considered doing 6 months ago and I know I'd jump at the chance to do them now. Unfortunately, I still have no means of support for myself but I'm trying on a daily basis.
My attitudes have changed regarding many things...one of them being relationships. I started out this divorce thinking I would want to be in a "romantic" relationship quickly because it's just "who I am," and "I will need help to heal." Such crap. Well, in truth I did have help to heal, but it wasn't the kind of help I'd initially anticipated. Anyway, I can't blame myself for thinking it after being in a lonely marriage for 19 years, but now the main thing I want is to stand on my own two feet and support myself. I want to be able to look in the mirror and see an independent woman who fought the good fight and came out the victor. And I will...I KNOW I will. I don't know when, but I know it will happen because I feel it in my bones. I know now I do not need a man to make me a whole person emotionally, and I don't want one to make me a whole person. Someday I want one to be the gravy on top of a pile of good-life mashed potatoes, but I don't need one or want one to make me whole. I'm going to do that by myself.
I am freakishly thankful for my family and friends, and have realized I've been blessed with friends who have staying power even though I never had a clue before this happened. My family is amazing and supportive, and I've realized through random comments that I'm actually serving as an inspiration...something else I never would have anticipated a few years ago. Again, that realization feels fantastic and buoyant.
My scars are fresh but healing. My attitude has changed over and over again. I've had bad days and good days. I've had horrendous, disgusting days I never want to revisit, and days so bright and sunny I start to wonder if maybe I'm a little psychotic. But, looking back, even though it's been a tiny blip in time compared to what lies ahead, it's been a more positive experience than even I can believe. The pain is truly gut wrenching while I'm going through it, but at some point my prayer for peace and having my heart turn happens. God's sense of humor never ceases to amaze me...especially when I ask for things and I get them in a totally different way than ever expected, or in extreme. Just yesterday I learned I was granted an answer to a prayer in a way I never could have imagined, and while in the end I'm a little terrified of the ultimate outcome, I know I'll be ok with whatever happens because I have no choice, and because I have faith the things that are supposed to happen eventually will, and they will all be good.
There have been multitudes of angry texts passed between the ex and me. The relationship waxes and wanes and remains so toxic I can't bear to look at his stupid face. I attended my first parental school function. He was alone, and I was surrounded by family. It felt fantastic. He looks awful. I do not (most of the time). I'm pretty sure we'll never reach the point of being "friends," but I know once the paperwork settles and I don't have to deal with him very regularly and have other things to occupy my thoughts, it will get more relaxed. I just think a big part of it is that I'm a dynamic tornado of emotional growth and change and he's hopped from one place to another without a chance to grow or really confront his own internal demons, of which I'm sure he has quite a few.
My heart has broken a few times over, and my faith has deepened. I've actually been complimented on the state of my faith in adversity, which really does amaze me. In fact, the realization that I amaze me sometimes is another thing I'd not have expected 4 months ago. I'm changing and evolving daily, and facing as many little fears or upheavals of routine as possible. Today I can think of things I would never have considered doing 6 months ago and I know I'd jump at the chance to do them now. Unfortunately, I still have no means of support for myself but I'm trying on a daily basis.
My attitudes have changed regarding many things...one of them being relationships. I started out this divorce thinking I would want to be in a "romantic" relationship quickly because it's just "who I am," and "I will need help to heal." Such crap. Well, in truth I did have help to heal, but it wasn't the kind of help I'd initially anticipated. Anyway, I can't blame myself for thinking it after being in a lonely marriage for 19 years, but now the main thing I want is to stand on my own two feet and support myself. I want to be able to look in the mirror and see an independent woman who fought the good fight and came out the victor. And I will...I KNOW I will. I don't know when, but I know it will happen because I feel it in my bones. I know now I do not need a man to make me a whole person emotionally, and I don't want one to make me a whole person. Someday I want one to be the gravy on top of a pile of good-life mashed potatoes, but I don't need one or want one to make me whole. I'm going to do that by myself.
I am freakishly thankful for my family and friends, and have realized I've been blessed with friends who have staying power even though I never had a clue before this happened. My family is amazing and supportive, and I've realized through random comments that I'm actually serving as an inspiration...something else I never would have anticipated a few years ago. Again, that realization feels fantastic and buoyant.
My scars are fresh but healing. My attitude has changed over and over again. I've had bad days and good days. I've had horrendous, disgusting days I never want to revisit, and days so bright and sunny I start to wonder if maybe I'm a little psychotic. But, looking back, even though it's been a tiny blip in time compared to what lies ahead, it's been a more positive experience than even I can believe. The pain is truly gut wrenching while I'm going through it, but at some point my prayer for peace and having my heart turn happens. God's sense of humor never ceases to amaze me...especially when I ask for things and I get them in a totally different way than ever expected, or in extreme. Just yesterday I learned I was granted an answer to a prayer in a way I never could have imagined, and while in the end I'm a little terrified of the ultimate outcome, I know I'll be ok with whatever happens because I have no choice, and because I have faith the things that are supposed to happen eventually will, and they will all be good.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
BENT AND BREAKING, BUT NOT BROKEN
I feel myself getting brittle. I'm trying really, really hard to keep my head above it, and I've been told over and over that it will get worse before it gets better. I know it, and I believe it, but I'm not looking forward to it one bit.
I'm facing the inevitable fact that I'm going to lose my house. The house he said I could "have" if I paid the bills. Funny. The house I wanted to fix up and stay in until my knees refuse to let me climb the stairs anymore. The house my kids call home. The house I came to curse a few years ago when everything started falling apart and no one was able to afford to fix it up, either monetarily or emotionally. But I told him one time his apathy of the house was a metaphor for how he felt about me. He walked away from everything, thinking all he had to do was make the decision and his responsibilities evaporated in a puff of smoke. Now there's no way, even with child support and a little spousal maintenance, that I will be able to pay for the house and the utilities, and everything else I need, like a car, gas, groceries, pet food, etc. I will have to move out of the house I want and he doesn't. I will have to give away my pets that I took in, promising to love them and provide homes for them for the rest of their lives. This breaks my heart, and hurts even more than losing any house, because everyone knows I am an unfailing animal lover, and I keep my promises. I can't imagine life without them. But everything else about my life has been turned upside down and shaken violently, so why should this one thing be sacred?
I will have to declare bankruptcy. My please-oh-please-soon-to-be ex has taken everything from me, from a secure future to a good credit score. I don't even care about the future I once thought I had. I've gladly kicked that dream out and I want to insert a new one. It's not having a real job and apparently not having any real marketable skills or luck that kills me right now...but nothing more than the thought of losing my furry friends.
And through all of this, he can take my financial security. He can take my house. He can essentially take my pets. He can take my sense of self worth. He can take my identity. But he can't take my SPIRIT, and he can't take my FAITH or my HOPE.
I'm facing the inevitable fact that I'm going to lose my house. The house he said I could "have" if I paid the bills. Funny. The house I wanted to fix up and stay in until my knees refuse to let me climb the stairs anymore. The house my kids call home. The house I came to curse a few years ago when everything started falling apart and no one was able to afford to fix it up, either monetarily or emotionally. But I told him one time his apathy of the house was a metaphor for how he felt about me. He walked away from everything, thinking all he had to do was make the decision and his responsibilities evaporated in a puff of smoke. Now there's no way, even with child support and a little spousal maintenance, that I will be able to pay for the house and the utilities, and everything else I need, like a car, gas, groceries, pet food, etc. I will have to move out of the house I want and he doesn't. I will have to give away my pets that I took in, promising to love them and provide homes for them for the rest of their lives. This breaks my heart, and hurts even more than losing any house, because everyone knows I am an unfailing animal lover, and I keep my promises. I can't imagine life without them. But everything else about my life has been turned upside down and shaken violently, so why should this one thing be sacred?
I will have to declare bankruptcy. My please-oh-please-soon-to-be ex has taken everything from me, from a secure future to a good credit score. I don't even care about the future I once thought I had. I've gladly kicked that dream out and I want to insert a new one. It's not having a real job and apparently not having any real marketable skills or luck that kills me right now...but nothing more than the thought of losing my furry friends.
And through all of this, he can take my financial security. He can take my house. He can essentially take my pets. He can take my sense of self worth. He can take my identity. But he can't take my SPIRIT, and he can't take my FAITH or my HOPE.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
THE FAMILY FAULT LINE
I think my son "gets" what's going on. By that I mean I think he understands beyond the fact that his dad left, which I've decided I'm grateful for because even though he was out of town when it happened, he knows it was his dad who left us (I stress leaving ME, not THEM). In a strange sort of vindictive way, I'm glad I'm not the bad guy in this part of the story, though I'm sure the ex would spin it that way. I'm pretty sure I'm perpetually green, warty, and wearing a black pointy hat in his truly warped memory and mind. Having caught glimpses of that disjointed, haphazard way of recalling past events during fights the last couple of years, that noncontextual area of his brain is a deep, dark, smelly place.
I started to say that I think my son understands the complexities involved in this deconstruction of our lives. He seems to have compassion and empathy when something crops up that upsets me, and a strange reluctance when we find that he just needs his dad's help with something. And even though the last couple of years were spent seriously lacking dad's presence around here (he was home, but never for long), it's even moreso now, and I think he feels it. Sometimes I have to remind him he can call his dad for help with things. I'm not sure if it doesn't occur to him, if he just doesn't want his help, or if he's maybe a little angry about the circumstances and just wants to come up with a dad-free solution. I could be wrong on all those, I know, but that's what occurs to me. Maybe they talk more than I know? That wouldn't upset me. I just wish it was ME who could help HIM more, but I can't really change my skill set, my lack of knowledge of the more manly things of the world, or my puny muscles and uncanny ability to hurt myself just looking at tools. I'm not so arrogant as to think I know every time the two have had a discussion or placed a phone call. He was never a terrible dad. Just absent and mentally removed. But I know my son and I can see in his face when he knows I'm hurt by something, and I'm pretty sure he can figure out the circumstances on his own.
My daughter, on the other hand, is all sweetness and light and singing and dancing with long, skinny, wavy arms, giggling about everything possible. Except when she's slamming her door and telling me to stop telling her to do things, but that never lasts very long and secretly makes me happy because it means she'll probably be like me...able to express herself, get it out, and move on instead of stuffing her feelings. She'll find the hardest part of expression is finding someone who doesn't call that weak and impulsive. I'm not talking about raging at full volume and slamming vases against the wall (though I think I did that once as a teenager, and probably a couple times as an adult), but being able to raise her voice for a few minutes and actually say the words she's thinking. Just 30 seconds of nonabusive saying how you feel about something or the way someone is treating you...it's not the end of the world! And now I'm remembering back in college when a certain someone broke his hand punching a concrete wall, and then in 2003 put two giant holes in the bedroom door by punching and kicking through it--so you see where stuffing your feelings will get you: A violent explosion of unpredictable force. But I digress yet again.
I don't know how to make her understand I'm not interested in the "funny" things dad says or does. He's her dad, I'm her mom, and I want it to be that way in her brain, but I think she's not separating the relationship of "mom and dad" very well. There's enough divorce in the world for her to understand what it means on the surface, but this is her experience of it, and with everything being so much the same around here, I'm not sure she really and truly grasps that mom and dad are not mom & dad now, and aren't going to be ever again. I figure the best I can do is the best I can do. I can try to keep this house in whatever way I can, but in the end it'll come down to dad being the bad guy again and the three of us moving out to only God knows where, probably without the pets everyone currently knows, loves, and gets comfort from. And that's going to be his fault too. :)
I started to say that I think my son understands the complexities involved in this deconstruction of our lives. He seems to have compassion and empathy when something crops up that upsets me, and a strange reluctance when we find that he just needs his dad's help with something. And even though the last couple of years were spent seriously lacking dad's presence around here (he was home, but never for long), it's even moreso now, and I think he feels it. Sometimes I have to remind him he can call his dad for help with things. I'm not sure if it doesn't occur to him, if he just doesn't want his help, or if he's maybe a little angry about the circumstances and just wants to come up with a dad-free solution. I could be wrong on all those, I know, but that's what occurs to me. Maybe they talk more than I know? That wouldn't upset me. I just wish it was ME who could help HIM more, but I can't really change my skill set, my lack of knowledge of the more manly things of the world, or my puny muscles and uncanny ability to hurt myself just looking at tools. I'm not so arrogant as to think I know every time the two have had a discussion or placed a phone call. He was never a terrible dad. Just absent and mentally removed. But I know my son and I can see in his face when he knows I'm hurt by something, and I'm pretty sure he can figure out the circumstances on his own.
My daughter, on the other hand, is all sweetness and light and singing and dancing with long, skinny, wavy arms, giggling about everything possible. Except when she's slamming her door and telling me to stop telling her to do things, but that never lasts very long and secretly makes me happy because it means she'll probably be like me...able to express herself, get it out, and move on instead of stuffing her feelings. She'll find the hardest part of expression is finding someone who doesn't call that weak and impulsive. I'm not talking about raging at full volume and slamming vases against the wall (though I think I did that once as a teenager, and probably a couple times as an adult), but being able to raise her voice for a few minutes and actually say the words she's thinking. Just 30 seconds of nonabusive saying how you feel about something or the way someone is treating you...it's not the end of the world! And now I'm remembering back in college when a certain someone broke his hand punching a concrete wall, and then in 2003 put two giant holes in the bedroom door by punching and kicking through it--so you see where stuffing your feelings will get you: A violent explosion of unpredictable force. But I digress yet again.
I don't know how to make her understand I'm not interested in the "funny" things dad says or does. He's her dad, I'm her mom, and I want it to be that way in her brain, but I think she's not separating the relationship of "mom and dad" very well. There's enough divorce in the world for her to understand what it means on the surface, but this is her experience of it, and with everything being so much the same around here, I'm not sure she really and truly grasps that mom and dad are not mom & dad now, and aren't going to be ever again. I figure the best I can do is the best I can do. I can try to keep this house in whatever way I can, but in the end it'll come down to dad being the bad guy again and the three of us moving out to only God knows where, probably without the pets everyone currently knows, loves, and gets comfort from. And that's going to be his fault too. :)
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