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. :)
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
NOT SO GLEEFUL SONG
The usual Tuesday night ritual of watching Glee with E, and I was totally blindsided and moved to tears by this song. Posting it makes me feel a bit like a teenager, but there's no way a teenager wrote this song.
___________________________________________________________________
GET IT RIGHT
What have I done?
I wish I could run away from this ship going under
Just trying to help
Hurt everyone else
Now I feel the weight of the world is on my shoulders.
What can you do when your good isn't good enough
And all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions
Keep making a mess of things
I just wanna fix it somehow.
But how many times will it take?
How many times will it take for me
To get it right, to get it right?
Can I start again
with my faith shaken?
'Cause I can't go back and undo this.
I just have to stay
and face my mistakes.
But if I get stronger and wiser, I'll get through this.
What can you do when your good isn't good enough
and all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions
keep making a mess of things.
I just wanna fix it somehow.
But how many times will it take?
How many times will it take for me
to get it right?
So I throw up my fist
Throw a punch in the air
And accept the truth
That sometimes life isn't fair
I'll send out a wish and I'll send out a prayer
And finally someone will see
How much I care.
What can you do when your good isn't good enough
And all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions
Keep making a mess of things
I just wanna fix it somehow.
But how many times will it take?
How many times will it take to get it right,
To get it right?
___________________________________________________________________
That is all.
___________________________________________________________________
GET IT RIGHT
What have I done?
I wish I could run away from this ship going under
Just trying to help
Hurt everyone else
Now I feel the weight of the world is on my shoulders.
What can you do when your good isn't good enough
And all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions
Keep making a mess of things
I just wanna fix it somehow.
But how many times will it take?
How many times will it take for me
To get it right, to get it right?
Can I start again
with my faith shaken?
'Cause I can't go back and undo this.
I just have to stay
and face my mistakes.
But if I get stronger and wiser, I'll get through this.
What can you do when your good isn't good enough
and all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions
keep making a mess of things.
I just wanna fix it somehow.
But how many times will it take?
How many times will it take for me
to get it right?
So I throw up my fist
Throw a punch in the air
And accept the truth
That sometimes life isn't fair
I'll send out a wish and I'll send out a prayer
And finally someone will see
How much I care.
What can you do when your good isn't good enough
And all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions
Keep making a mess of things
I just wanna fix it somehow.
But how many times will it take?
How many times will it take to get it right,
To get it right?
___________________________________________________________________
That is all.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
THANK GOD FOR FAMILY AND FUZZY FLEECE
My brother hugged me today. I'm pretty sure it was the first time in my adult life, and I'm not sure if it was that or because I haven't been hugged by a man in a long time (don't be gross, he's my brother!), or because I was very upset at the time, but it was really nice. Part of it was that he was wearing a fuzzy blue fleece half-zip shirt and it was nice and warm on my face. I know it sounds silly, but these really are things I think about!
I won't go into all the issues behind what was upsetting me so much. I felt them, I processed them, and while they won't be gone any time soon, I'm ready to file them away for future use, or gloating, whichever comes first.
So I'm going to focus on some realizations I've had recently.
1. Boy, have I spent the last 20 years suppressing my true self. There are a couple of things I can point toward for when and why. I used to be a lot more daring and more...hmm...open? Free? Unsuppressed? I can point to one instance that started it. My art school had screenless windows and I can remember always leaning out the window trying to touch various shiny rocks stuck in the side of the building. I kind of pushed it a little more than I should have done, and one day I leaned out really far to try to touch a particularly appealing rock. I lost my balance and nearly fell out the window but managed to catch myself. I remember pulling myself back into the room, thinking, "Wow, I am NEVER doing that again." I can't remember who, but someone had seen what happened and was mirroring the big-eyed look on my face. So there was the first time I reeled in my spirit. Then once I had my son I remember driving around with him in the back in the rear-facing carseat, thinking just how vulnerable he is, and it made me feel like the responsibility was all too much and I had to reign everything in completely. The process was gradual from the time I nearly fell out the window, to when I met my secure, sensible, quiet husband to be, but I totally lost all my drive and LIFE during that time. It's not all his fault, though I will attribute some of it to him. Everyone thought he was so reserved, and I always had to agree. I can't count how many times my friends said they wondered why we were together because we're such opposites. Guess they were onto something. So yeah. I need to get back to the secret me who used to only inhabit me during the time my husband was at work, and make her the real me again. Because he ain't comin' home now and I don't mind!
2. During today's altercation, I was actually a little surprised at the ballsiness of his texts. Where was this guy who didn't know he could stand up for himself all these years? I never wanted a peacekeeper. I wanted real emotion and real thoughts and feelings no matter what. I know he's said to me in the past that I shot him down and belittled him (if a store was out of something I wanted and he couldn't get it, my expression of frustration toward the store was "belittling" to him, somehow. Or if I made a statement about the bed being made crooked, or something wasn't the way I'd hoped for--It was all misunderstood since he didn't ever want to express himself in any way), but you know what? Freakin' stand up for yourself! And what he thought was belittling was just me venting out whatever the frustration was and getting over it. I'm not like him, never was, and never will be. I don't suppress every feeling until I can't stand it anymore. I get it out. All I ever wanted from anyone was the ability to share emotions and if there was something to say, all he had to do was say it. I've never, ever told anyone not to say what they think. So at least maybe now he'll be able to say what he thinks whether I like it or not. I probably won't, but he'll find out that's ok.
3. Also regarding the altercation today, maybe a little bit, just a little, is because he's realized unequivocably that I do not want him back. In the beginning I used to text him, saying I was so sad and so broken and had a weight crushing my chest nightly, etc. But I stopped. And I felt better when I stopped. The reason I stopped was because one night I told him how painful the loneliness was, and how I felt so hopeless and destroyed, and didn't he ever feel it? He said he knew it was difficult and that this was going to be hard on both of us, but he couldn't give me his heart because it wasn't his to give. A huge lightbulb shot on above my head and I realized he thought I was saying these things because I wanted him back. I sat up straight and texted, "I DO NOT WANT YOUR HEART. I DO NOT WANT YOU BACK. I'M NOT ASKING FOR YOUR HEART. I'M TELLING YOU HOW I FEEL." And that was that. So maybe he's angry that I'm fine without him? Angry, but essentially fine.
4. This one has nothing much to do with anything other than realizing there are things in this world that make me feel good, and I wish I knew a way to turn them into a paying job. The other day at the clinic I noticed a woman was coughing in one of the rooms so I took her a glass of water and some tissues, and a couple of mints. It was nothing, really, but what I thought would be nice. She appreciated it, and I appreciated the feeling of helping someone again. Fast forward a week to an elderly woman at the end of our pew at church today. The time came to "shake hands and offer a sign of our peace" (I always just want to flash a peace sign) and she sat still, not reaching for anyone. I kissed E on the cheek and then turned to the woman. She almost looked confused, then realized I was going to shake her hand. I can't even explain it. She looked sullen at first, but when she smiled at me, I felt like I'd done some fabulous deed, but all I was doing was shaking her hand and saying, "Peace be with you." It felt extremely important for some reason, and I immediately thought of how great it would be to make people smile like that every day. If I could get paid for walking around shaking hands, saying, "Peace be with you," I'd do it 24/7!!!
I won't go into all the issues behind what was upsetting me so much. I felt them, I processed them, and while they won't be gone any time soon, I'm ready to file them away for future use, or gloating, whichever comes first.
So I'm going to focus on some realizations I've had recently.
1. Boy, have I spent the last 20 years suppressing my true self. There are a couple of things I can point toward for when and why. I used to be a lot more daring and more...hmm...open? Free? Unsuppressed? I can point to one instance that started it. My art school had screenless windows and I can remember always leaning out the window trying to touch various shiny rocks stuck in the side of the building. I kind of pushed it a little more than I should have done, and one day I leaned out really far to try to touch a particularly appealing rock. I lost my balance and nearly fell out the window but managed to catch myself. I remember pulling myself back into the room, thinking, "Wow, I am NEVER doing that again." I can't remember who, but someone had seen what happened and was mirroring the big-eyed look on my face. So there was the first time I reeled in my spirit. Then once I had my son I remember driving around with him in the back in the rear-facing carseat, thinking just how vulnerable he is, and it made me feel like the responsibility was all too much and I had to reign everything in completely. The process was gradual from the time I nearly fell out the window, to when I met my secure, sensible, quiet husband to be, but I totally lost all my drive and LIFE during that time. It's not all his fault, though I will attribute some of it to him. Everyone thought he was so reserved, and I always had to agree. I can't count how many times my friends said they wondered why we were together because we're such opposites. Guess they were onto something. So yeah. I need to get back to the secret me who used to only inhabit me during the time my husband was at work, and make her the real me again. Because he ain't comin' home now and I don't mind!
2. During today's altercation, I was actually a little surprised at the ballsiness of his texts. Where was this guy who didn't know he could stand up for himself all these years? I never wanted a peacekeeper. I wanted real emotion and real thoughts and feelings no matter what. I know he's said to me in the past that I shot him down and belittled him (if a store was out of something I wanted and he couldn't get it, my expression of frustration toward the store was "belittling" to him, somehow. Or if I made a statement about the bed being made crooked, or something wasn't the way I'd hoped for--It was all misunderstood since he didn't ever want to express himself in any way), but you know what? Freakin' stand up for yourself! And what he thought was belittling was just me venting out whatever the frustration was and getting over it. I'm not like him, never was, and never will be. I don't suppress every feeling until I can't stand it anymore. I get it out. All I ever wanted from anyone was the ability to share emotions and if there was something to say, all he had to do was say it. I've never, ever told anyone not to say what they think. So at least maybe now he'll be able to say what he thinks whether I like it or not. I probably won't, but he'll find out that's ok.
3. Also regarding the altercation today, maybe a little bit, just a little, is because he's realized unequivocably that I do not want him back. In the beginning I used to text him, saying I was so sad and so broken and had a weight crushing my chest nightly, etc. But I stopped. And I felt better when I stopped. The reason I stopped was because one night I told him how painful the loneliness was, and how I felt so hopeless and destroyed, and didn't he ever feel it? He said he knew it was difficult and that this was going to be hard on both of us, but he couldn't give me his heart because it wasn't his to give. A huge lightbulb shot on above my head and I realized he thought I was saying these things because I wanted him back. I sat up straight and texted, "I DO NOT WANT YOUR HEART. I DO NOT WANT YOU BACK. I'M NOT ASKING FOR YOUR HEART. I'M TELLING YOU HOW I FEEL." And that was that. So maybe he's angry that I'm fine without him? Angry, but essentially fine.
4. This one has nothing much to do with anything other than realizing there are things in this world that make me feel good, and I wish I knew a way to turn them into a paying job. The other day at the clinic I noticed a woman was coughing in one of the rooms so I took her a glass of water and some tissues, and a couple of mints. It was nothing, really, but what I thought would be nice. She appreciated it, and I appreciated the feeling of helping someone again. Fast forward a week to an elderly woman at the end of our pew at church today. The time came to "shake hands and offer a sign of our peace" (I always just want to flash a peace sign) and she sat still, not reaching for anyone. I kissed E on the cheek and then turned to the woman. She almost looked confused, then realized I was going to shake her hand. I can't even explain it. She looked sullen at first, but when she smiled at me, I felt like I'd done some fabulous deed, but all I was doing was shaking her hand and saying, "Peace be with you." It felt extremely important for some reason, and I immediately thought of how great it would be to make people smile like that every day. If I could get paid for walking around shaking hands, saying, "Peace be with you," I'd do it 24/7!!!
Monday, March 7, 2011
THAT LIMBO LULL
I'm in a patch of sun the last few days. The sky is cloudy so I know it won't last, but the moment of sun is all that matters. I'm not feeling the crushing weight descend upon me every evening quite as much as I did. I get scared moments, but I try to push them aside. I don't know how long it will last, and I'm sure it will keep cycling for a while, but I suppose the thing to be learned is to enjoy the better days when they're here. I'd like to be able to seize the day instead of freezing up with fear of tomorrow, but I think that is probably a long way, and a secure job with a future, away. Which is another reason why I think I'm "ok" right now--I've been in limbo so long that the limbo has gotten comfortable.
I told him again to go file. I'm not sure what's taking him so long, but I've said before that I have a "rip off the Band-Aid" philosophy to life and its troubles, so stop picking the edges and rip it already! That was actually something we always butted heads over our entire marriage. I jump in the water and feel around, making calculations and reconfiguring my course once I'm in there. He always wanted to sit back, observe the waters, send a sample off for testing first, and wait so long before making a decision that the tide went out and it was too late. I'm not saying I didn't write up a PRO and CON list or agonize over some details because I definitely did and do (should be obvious by now!), but I think quick, instinctual decisions can be good.
I told him again to go file. I'm not sure what's taking him so long, but I've said before that I have a "rip off the Band-Aid" philosophy to life and its troubles, so stop picking the edges and rip it already! That was actually something we always butted heads over our entire marriage. I jump in the water and feel around, making calculations and reconfiguring my course once I'm in there. He always wanted to sit back, observe the waters, send a sample off for testing first, and wait so long before making a decision that the tide went out and it was too late. I'm not saying I didn't write up a PRO and CON list or agonize over some details because I definitely did and do (should be obvious by now!), but I think quick, instinctual decisions can be good.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
EDIT
Hmm. I wrote my last post about the car and decided I should probably delete it. Actually, if I was really shrewd (which I'm not), I'd probably delete this entire blog. I'm badmouthing him in a way, I suppose. I guess if someone wanted to be really picky, they could say I'm publicly ridiculing him. I figure I would be completely beside myself if I found out he was publicly blogging about me (not that I'm doing anything wrong). I guess what I need to do is turn things inward again instead of just moaning about what he's done or is saying or doing. I can't get sued for saying how I feel, but I suppose I could for some of the other stuff I've said. Although how you get sued for telling the truth, I do not know. But whatever. Suffice it to say I was angry as hell and I got my feelings out as quickly as I could, and I probably shouldn't have.
Monday, February 28, 2011
JUST ANOTHER DAY
This morning I called the lawyer. I wasn't able to get an appointment yet, but my call is officially in, and he can't use him because I got there first. Not that I'm actually winning any contests because of it. I took down the box in my closet containing my yellowed, yucky, 20-year-old wedding dress. I always meant to get it cleaned but it was too easy to forget about, so maybe I'll do that and have my mom keep it at her house. The week after this happened I put my actual gold wedding ring and the white gold version we bought at an antique store into a small black bag for my mom to put in her lock box. I figured each kid would end up with a ring that way. When I think of all the "marriage" things I have around here that I have to go through, I get really sad, but I almost feel like I have to do it quickly. Everything in my house is a physical manifestation of our life together and I have to figure out how to make dissolving it less painful. I cried a tiny bit this morning when I was just curiously looking for area divorce support groups. Only a tiny bit. I felt the weight on my chest sporadically and briefly throughout the day, but I tried moving my treadmill workout to afternoon instead of mid morning so the endorphins would kick in later in the day. I'm not sure if it helped or not, but it's 6:30 and I haven't felt the crushing weight that has usually had me sobbing from around 5 until 7 every evening. I don't think I can put off the treadmill until afternoon every day, though. I don't really enjoy waiting to shower until 5 p.m.
After the treadmill, around 3:30, he showed up to get the car. I had just sat down to study a little more, which is causing me trouble because every time I open that binder I get flooded with memories, good and bad. I had fun there a few times (the middle was kinda crappy but the beginning and the end was fun). It was the last place where my life was still the same back home. Anyway, he showed up and stood there looking around, seeming a little irritated that I wasn't being friendly. I didn't want to look at him when he asked me a question. I tried to focus on my book and my notes. Then when he walked down the stairs he said goodbye and I said nothing, and I felt the tension wafting back up the stairs toward me. Get over it, buddy. You're not my friend right now.
After the treadmill, around 3:30, he showed up to get the car. I had just sat down to study a little more, which is causing me trouble because every time I open that binder I get flooded with memories, good and bad. I had fun there a few times (the middle was kinda crappy but the beginning and the end was fun). It was the last place where my life was still the same back home. Anyway, he showed up and stood there looking around, seeming a little irritated that I wasn't being friendly. I didn't want to look at him when he asked me a question. I tried to focus on my book and my notes. Then when he walked down the stairs he said goodbye and I said nothing, and I felt the tension wafting back up the stairs toward me. Get over it, buddy. You're not my friend right now.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
HUH.
The heavy weight on my chest started early today. It was the first family get together without him. I thought at first it would help me to have somewhere to go and someone to be with, but it really just drove home the fact that I'm on my own now.
So after filling out another online job application, which is so rough because I have to deal with things from my past and dates in the past and typing our last name over and over again, I headed for the bathroom and I ended up just standing there looking in the mirror. I don't like the baggy-eyed, tired person looking back at me. She needs sleep. She needs peace. She needs to get a grip.
That being said, the biggest thing I admitted to myself while I looked in that mirror is that I'm at fault too. I mean, I knew I was, but I have been so wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself over having my husband leave me that I didn't really think about it. I know I took him for granted and took advantage of him. I've probably unwittingly taken advantage of his job all these years, dropping mine when money problems even out or because I just want to be home with my kids. I really should have thought ahead and cultivated a career for myself, but I honestly didn't think we'd ever REALLY break up, or that if we did it would probably be my doing. I should have been more self reliant, or at least more considerate of the fact that he could always be the one to leave me. Looking back, I probably started worrying and nagging about our future--his need of life insurance and my need of a separate IRA (never happened) outside of the retirement he always said was for both of us--around the time when things really started going especially sour in our marriage a few years ago. I would wake up at night thinking about it. I pushed him to at least get SOME life insurance, and now I see his reluctance was probably because he knew he was going to leave me. I completely and totally nagged him about his weight and apathy about the things he put into his body. I nagged him about the amount of time he spent at work. I think I ignored my intuition more than I should have, and maybe that will help me in the future. If something doesn't seem right, do something about it from all angles, not just the obvious one. And now I have to figure out what to do about realizing I shouldn't have taken him for granted. I feel kinda bad about that, but it won't change anything, huh? Huh.
So after filling out another online job application, which is so rough because I have to deal with things from my past and dates in the past and typing our last name over and over again, I headed for the bathroom and I ended up just standing there looking in the mirror. I don't like the baggy-eyed, tired person looking back at me. She needs sleep. She needs peace. She needs to get a grip.
That being said, the biggest thing I admitted to myself while I looked in that mirror is that I'm at fault too. I mean, I knew I was, but I have been so wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself over having my husband leave me that I didn't really think about it. I know I took him for granted and took advantage of him. I've probably unwittingly taken advantage of his job all these years, dropping mine when money problems even out or because I just want to be home with my kids. I really should have thought ahead and cultivated a career for myself, but I honestly didn't think we'd ever REALLY break up, or that if we did it would probably be my doing. I should have been more self reliant, or at least more considerate of the fact that he could always be the one to leave me. Looking back, I probably started worrying and nagging about our future--his need of life insurance and my need of a separate IRA (never happened) outside of the retirement he always said was for both of us--around the time when things really started going especially sour in our marriage a few years ago. I would wake up at night thinking about it. I pushed him to at least get SOME life insurance, and now I see his reluctance was probably because he knew he was going to leave me. I completely and totally nagged him about his weight and apathy about the things he put into his body. I nagged him about the amount of time he spent at work. I think I ignored my intuition more than I should have, and maybe that will help me in the future. If something doesn't seem right, do something about it from all angles, not just the obvious one. And now I have to figure out what to do about realizing I shouldn't have taken him for granted. I feel kinda bad about that, but it won't change anything, huh? Huh.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
GOOD GRIEF
I started to write last night but I got sidetracked by the pain and started doing something else, and then suddenly I was exhausted and it was 10 p.m. But I wrote the title above because it kept running through my head-- "good grief"--and the actual meaning of it. I know it's just a silly expression, but I'll have to look up the origin. I'm in two minds about it. On the one hand, grief is painful and awful and lonely and hopeless, so there's nothing good about it. But on the other hand, grief is something that gets you past the pain eventually. I truly hope so, at least. If I was talking to a friend who lost a loved one I would never in a million years tell them to stop dwelling on the grief and move on, so I don't know why I expect myself to stop dwelling on the death of my marriage and move on already. But it hurts SO bad, and I am SO lonely, and already tired of all of the feelings related to it and I'm praying for a release all the time.
I know a lot of it needs to be letting go of the bigger picture and trying to concentrate on small things, but that's never been my strong suit. I want to know what's going on in all areas so my bigger picture makes sense. I've driven across the country without knowing what hotel I'm stopping at each night, and even that made me incredibly nervous. I wanted to get out the atlas every morning and find a reasonably sized town to stop in at the end of the day, which also meant knowing just how long to drive each day. When navigating unending, winding miles in Montana, driving until I'm tired and stopping for the night just anywhere isn't really my cup of tea. If I know it's 10 hours to Bozeman and it will be 9 p.m. in 10 hours, I'm fine. So yeah...I'm not really currently one of those "simple joys on the road less traveled" sorts. Happiness in the little things is great, and choosing alternate paths is great, but actual JOY in the small things? I need to get back to that.
I've sort of deviated from my main theme, I guess, of whether or not I'm in the stage of experiencing good grief or just excessive self pity and pain, but I guess I've made a little progress in knowing that this isn't going to be as easy as I thought. It's going to hurt. A lot. To risk sounding extremely melodramatic, there are times when I feel like my heart is actually being sucked out of my chest, and I need to put my hands over my heart to stop it. If I don't check myself the tears well up in no time and I'm sobbing. I can lie in bed literally writhing from the pain and the uncertainty. And then I tell myself this can't last forever, and that I'll get over it. It's those unknowns that sneak up and get me freaked out every time.
I know a lot of it needs to be letting go of the bigger picture and trying to concentrate on small things, but that's never been my strong suit. I want to know what's going on in all areas so my bigger picture makes sense. I've driven across the country without knowing what hotel I'm stopping at each night, and even that made me incredibly nervous. I wanted to get out the atlas every morning and find a reasonably sized town to stop in at the end of the day, which also meant knowing just how long to drive each day. When navigating unending, winding miles in Montana, driving until I'm tired and stopping for the night just anywhere isn't really my cup of tea. If I know it's 10 hours to Bozeman and it will be 9 p.m. in 10 hours, I'm fine. So yeah...I'm not really currently one of those "simple joys on the road less traveled" sorts. Happiness in the little things is great, and choosing alternate paths is great, but actual JOY in the small things? I need to get back to that.
I've sort of deviated from my main theme, I guess, of whether or not I'm in the stage of experiencing good grief or just excessive self pity and pain, but I guess I've made a little progress in knowing that this isn't going to be as easy as I thought. It's going to hurt. A lot. To risk sounding extremely melodramatic, there are times when I feel like my heart is actually being sucked out of my chest, and I need to put my hands over my heart to stop it. If I don't check myself the tears well up in no time and I'm sobbing. I can lie in bed literally writhing from the pain and the uncertainty. And then I tell myself this can't last forever, and that I'll get over it. It's those unknowns that sneak up and get me freaked out every time.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
WELLER?
I suppose I feel a little better. Not great, but better than yesterday. The period finally showed up, so I think the emotional roller coaster might have leveled out a tiny bit. Not that I can actually DO anything about it right now. I took a tiny baby step toward "something for myself" by texting my friend that I would start working some Saturdays where I used to work. I'd love to tell her I'd take ALL the Saturdays, but then I feel like I ruin Friday night AND Saturday by doing that. But who am I kidding...I have no life, so what's another ruined Friday night?
I've been trying to study but my brain is still so scattered and the pages in the manual seem to make so little sense. I don't know if I'm getting anywhere with it or not. I tried to find some more sleep labs in the area and I looked at the list 'he' sent me yesterday. I have to laugh at some of it. Lafayette and Jasper. Really? Would HE drive to Lafayette or Jasper to work? No, so why would I? I won't enjoy it, but I would drive an hour at the most, hopefully two days a week or less. I can't imagine trying to drive that far home after working a 12 hour shift.
The studying is making me miss a friend I made in Atlanta. Big, ugly, gloppy, stupid, pitiful, annoying sigh.
I've been trying to study but my brain is still so scattered and the pages in the manual seem to make so little sense. I don't know if I'm getting anywhere with it or not. I tried to find some more sleep labs in the area and I looked at the list 'he' sent me yesterday. I have to laugh at some of it. Lafayette and Jasper. Really? Would HE drive to Lafayette or Jasper to work? No, so why would I? I won't enjoy it, but I would drive an hour at the most, hopefully two days a week or less. I can't imagine trying to drive that far home after working a 12 hour shift.
The studying is making me miss a friend I made in Atlanta. Big, ugly, gloppy, stupid, pitiful, annoying sigh.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
A PITY PARTY CAR RANT
All that crap about feeling strong and positive absolutely flew out the window the last few days. I'm trying, I really am, but sometimes I can feel myself slipping into that void where I'd love nothing more than downing an entire king-sized candy bar and sleeping as much of the day as possible. I try to cook for my kids but not for myself so I'll be forced to eat salad. I really don't want to start baking again. It doesn't help that the weather is frigid and icy, which is exactly how my body feels. I feel cold from the inside out. My period is 16 days late and I'm 16 x more emotional. I sent him a text last night, sarcastically thanking him for his home-and-marriage apathy over the last few years so that he could go stay at party central with his friend's family, with no real household responsibilities and built in company, leaving me alone to take care of everything here.
What's the female version of be emasculated? I suppose it would be effeminated...so it really doesn't sound all that bad, actually. Whatever the correct term for it, he forced me to be the one to take care of everything around here, even if sometimes its just the delegation of which kid does what, and he did it all while leaving me no car and no self esteem. Everybody says I'll feel better once I get a job, but will I? Will I feel better when I have to cry myself to sleep at night because I'm lonely after a day of working at a job that barely pays me anything, leaving me very little time to do anything with my kids or my deteriorating house, only to wake up the next day and get ready for it again, and probably have to beg a ride there from my estranged husband or my mother because I don't have a car? I never thought I would care this much about a stupid car, but I do. I NEED a car. I NEED to be able to go do something when the mood strikes without having to arrange a ride. I feel like a child when I have to beg for rides, and a prisoner in my house when I don't. If he left me and the kids and the pets and the house behind, why does he get my car?
I know I sound awful. I still have a sense of humor, really, but it's a little dormant right now. I don't like that feeling because I ALWAYS have a stupid sense of humor and can make a pun or a joke of anything. When I can't it means I'm depressed, and I don't want that. I know it will get better. I do. But when it doesn't feel like it is or I don't know how it will or when, it's no fun. Strength, courage, and peace. Strength, courage, and peace. String cheese, currants, and peas....
What's the female version of be emasculated? I suppose it would be effeminated...so it really doesn't sound all that bad, actually. Whatever the correct term for it, he forced me to be the one to take care of everything around here, even if sometimes its just the delegation of which kid does what, and he did it all while leaving me no car and no self esteem. Everybody says I'll feel better once I get a job, but will I? Will I feel better when I have to cry myself to sleep at night because I'm lonely after a day of working at a job that barely pays me anything, leaving me very little time to do anything with my kids or my deteriorating house, only to wake up the next day and get ready for it again, and probably have to beg a ride there from my estranged husband or my mother because I don't have a car? I never thought I would care this much about a stupid car, but I do. I NEED a car. I NEED to be able to go do something when the mood strikes without having to arrange a ride. I feel like a child when I have to beg for rides, and a prisoner in my house when I don't. If he left me and the kids and the pets and the house behind, why does he get my car?
I know I sound awful. I still have a sense of humor, really, but it's a little dormant right now. I don't like that feeling because I ALWAYS have a stupid sense of humor and can make a pun or a joke of anything. When I can't it means I'm depressed, and I don't want that. I know it will get better. I do. But when it doesn't feel like it is or I don't know how it will or when, it's no fun. Strength, courage, and peace. Strength, courage, and peace. String cheese, currants, and peas....
Sunday, February 20, 2011
NO MORE COUNTING--JUST A BAD DAY
I cried in front of him today. I really didn't want to, but once I started I couldn't stop. Circumstances collided to make me feel like I'm a premature member of the Red Hat Society. I'm hoping my heightened emotion state means there are physical changes afoot, but only time will tell. However, I'm feeling regional isolation, cut off from people I really want to talk with, like I will never meet someone worthwhile ever again (here), like it's a cruel joke that I was able to feel the easy comfort of being married for almost 20 years and it got ripped out from under me, and a little like things are all done for no reason at all. I know it sounds cryptic, but I can't elaborate right now. My brain feels too addled. I thought I had a decent week, with a few good days there toward the end, but I sort of feel like every good thought was for nothing, and My Life will be spent amongst my pets and their expelled hair and my kids' dirty dishes. I'm not ready for that. I know toward the end of my marriage I really wasn't getting out much, but that wasn't my fault. I'm extremely out of practice on how to behave in society now! Today I'm just feeling very old and sad. It isn't a constant, but feeling it at all stinks. It probably doesn't make a lot of sense to say this, but in a riddle-y way I was fine with doing things alone while I had a husband. Now doing things alone makes me feel ALONE.
Friday, February 18, 2011
DAY 6 FINANCIAL WOES
My thoughts and feelings have run the gammut this week, and I'm ok with that. They have to. I'm trying to focus on studying and trying to stay on top of household chores, but I have trouble focusing on the studying. It's hard to study when you can't remember what you're supposed to be studying and why, and I end up reading and looking up terms/abbreviations I've already forgotten most of the time. Then I read job postings for polysomnography technicians and trainees (sleep techs) and my heart is in my throat because they want someone who has done a two-year respiratory course or at least 9 months of experience. I'm caught in that age-old vicious circle: Everyone wants someone with experience, but how do I get experience if no one will hire me? So I'm still waiting on the call from the local hospital and hoping for the best, and next week I'll try to branch out and send my letter and resume to a few more places within a small radius.
I balanced my checkbook yesterday and wrote down all the bills I was going to pay. I honestly, seriously, totally and completely do not understand where my "husband" thinks he will get money for another car and an apartment. I mean, I may have $700 left over after bills today (which is really a LOT compared to normal), but that's not including gas, groceries, various household things like laundry soap and fabric softener, dance class and costume fees, the upcoming car insurance, and yeah, the makeup I need. I know that sounds petty and vain, but dammit, I need eyeliner and foundation and I have sensitive skin and can't just use cheap Cover Girl stuff from Walmart, and I refuse to walk around all splotchy and scarred because I can't afford any. We have one tube of toothpaste for 3 people and the kids both need new toothbrushes (please tell me, WHEN did toothbrushes get so expensive??). The car needs a tune up. We need a new furnace filter. So you see that the extra $700 is easily dwindled down to maybe $200, and that's not including whatever he will decide he thinks he can afford, like eating out and going to the movies, because that's what he always does. So really, if that becomes the norm, he may realistically end up with $400 a month. Unless he's planning to get an apartment and a car in 1972, he's screwed.
I balanced my checkbook yesterday and wrote down all the bills I was going to pay. I honestly, seriously, totally and completely do not understand where my "husband" thinks he will get money for another car and an apartment. I mean, I may have $700 left over after bills today (which is really a LOT compared to normal), but that's not including gas, groceries, various household things like laundry soap and fabric softener, dance class and costume fees, the upcoming car insurance, and yeah, the makeup I need. I know that sounds petty and vain, but dammit, I need eyeliner and foundation and I have sensitive skin and can't just use cheap Cover Girl stuff from Walmart, and I refuse to walk around all splotchy and scarred because I can't afford any. We have one tube of toothpaste for 3 people and the kids both need new toothbrushes (please tell me, WHEN did toothbrushes get so expensive??). The car needs a tune up. We need a new furnace filter. So you see that the extra $700 is easily dwindled down to maybe $200, and that's not including whatever he will decide he thinks he can afford, like eating out and going to the movies, because that's what he always does. So really, if that becomes the norm, he may realistically end up with $400 a month. Unless he's planning to get an apartment and a car in 1972, he's screwed.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
DAY 1 SUCKED!
On Saturday, February 12, 2011, my husband of 19 years essentially broke up with me via text message. Kind of. It sounds cold and callous, so I like to say it that way at least.
The night before, a Friday, I returned from a week-long trip to Atlanta where I was in a class to learn how to perform sleep studies. I had been bouncing around from job to job the last 20 years and decided to make one last ditch effort for an actual career in something that I thought would be lucrative and interesting. My kids are growing up, the education was relatively quick, and the school relatively inexpensive, so I decided to go for it. I'm 40, after all, and I'd already set out to make as many changes as possible during the monumental year. But I digress...
My husband had to pick me up from the airport Friday night, and this was where I received my first indication things were really, really wrong. He knew my week had been stressful and that I was suffering from several different stress-related health issues, including feeling really weak from not sleeping as much as I should and what I guessed was some sort of electrolyte imbalance. My flight arrived around 8:50 p.m., and by the time my luggage finally came out of that stupid chute, it was probably about 9:30. I walked out of the terminal into the absolutely frigid air, which I hadn't felt for at leat 7 days and had obviously forgotten. I waited. And waited. I texted him where I was standing. Finally I spotted our car and him slowing down to pull over. Silly me, I thought he would put the car in park and come help me lift my 48 lb bag into the bag seat of the car, but he didn't and I had to do it myself in my weakened condition. It took a few tries and some inertia, but I finally shoved it in and slammed the door. When I got in, he just sort of looked at me in his robot-face way, and I leaned toward him a little, just as a test, and I got nothing. No hug, no greeting, no kiss, no peck on the cheek, no "how was your flight?" Nothing. So I maneuvered my seatbelt on and said, "hi." I think I got a half smile.
I jabbered incoherently for about 45 minutes, from confusing stories about things that I tried to learn at the school to the rash in my arm pits that I'd suffered for almost the whole week. I told him about a couple of the men I enjoyed joking with during the class (sometimes I can connect better initially with men than women--don't always trust women at first!), etc. I didn't get much out of him on the ride home, not that I ever did anyway, but it was less than usual. I figured it was because it was late at night and we'd both been up since 6 a.m. I decided I was hungry and had him stop so I could get something quick. In the drive thru I leaned over toward him and looked up expectantly, and he turned to give me a very hard-lipped, pursed kiss. It was cold and chicken peck like. Yuck. I fell asleep after that.
Fast forward a bit and I wake up in the middle of the night, maybe around 4 a.m., to realize he wasn't in bed and my bedroom door was closed. It occured to me that the closed door was a bit odd, but I'd been sleep deprived the last 8 days and didn't feel like investigating. The next time I woke up it was light out, and I was hearing the garage door closing. I thought it was strange, but that maybe he was on call, as usual, or maybe we were out of coffee or something, and he was going to the grocery store. I got up, did the usual morning rituals and tried to unpack a little. Around 10:00 I decided I would text him to see where he was.
Not giving the conversation verbatim, this is basically a condensed version of what was said.
MY INITIAL TEXT: Where are you?
HIS REPLY: I had to get away to think.
MY REPLY: What?
HIS REPLY: I need to clear my head. I didn't miss you while you were gone. I checked out of our marriage a long time ago and I need to figure out why.
MY REPLY: Because you stopped caring about me and everything else.
HIS REPLY: I know. I just need time to think.
MY REPLY: I'm sorry I'm so horrible to be with.
HIS REPLY: It's me.
MY REPLY: None.
HIS REPLY: I had to get away to think.
Now, what you don't already know is that this isn't the first time we've had this sort of conversation. In 2003 it was me wondering if I loved him the way I should. (Editor's Note: There were a few incidents that came to light during this brief separation that I have chosen to refrain from discussing. I do believe it's important to note that I didn't just suddenly decide I wanted to leave all by myself. However, the realization that I SHOULD did happen suddenly while I was driving down the highway and passed a big yellow road sign that said, "Rough Crossing Ahead.") I scheduled myself a 3-week trip to England to think things through. While I was there I met a man I'd been talking to online, he was horrible, I became even more depressed and stressed than before, and I really started missing the comfort of home and a stable, caring relationship. I told the husband I wanted to come home and start over. We moved across the country, away from all of my family to the place where his live, where he promptly told me he didn't think he loved me anymore, and I found email exchanges with someone he worked with. Things were bad for a very long time. I can't remember exactly how long, but I lived on eggshells for months, feeling like I had to be on my best behavior at all times even though I was stressed out trying to make friends in a new place and deal with in laws I hadn't ever lived around before. He never actually left, but every now and then he would say that cliche line, "I just don't know what I think." Eventually I started seeing a counselor, which was painful but probably a good idea, and eventually we went into marriage counseling. Things felt a little better even though he never told me he loved me. I felt a little more stable when, for some stupid reason, we decided to buy a house out there. I faked my way through being extremely unhappy living there, trying to make a happy home for our kids even though the town scared the living daylights out of me and I missed my family immensely. I tried to get a job but I couldn't. Then I planted the seed about moving back to my home. It eventually worked out, and we did. We bought our current house. I got a part-time job. Things were fine for a while. Economic strains developed and my hours were cut to next to nothing. It didn't seem worth it to even have to get up and get dressed for a few hours of work every week, so I quit, thinking the two other women, whose husbands struggled with lay offs and slow work, could get a few more hours in their paychecks. I converted to Catholicism to make a more cohesive-feeling family. Then our house started to feel like it was falling apart around me. Everything seemed to be falling apart at once and there was no money for fixing it up, but it was more than that. I realized he was working more. A lot more. Home maintenance flew out the window. I started to feel like the house and the apathy surrounding it was a metaphor for ME. He just didn't want to put the effort in. We started to fight even more. I told him I wasn't getting any emotional support that I desperately needed. Then I signed up for the sleep study course, and on the day I had to book my flight I sat in this computer chair and cried uncontrollably. I'm not a fan of flying, I've rarely left my family and pets for a week by myself before, and I felt like every tiny decision from where to fly from, which airline to fly, which flight to take, which seat to choose, was all a life-or-death decision. He knew I was struggling and crying, and he never came over to me to put a hand on my shoulder and tell me it would all be fine. When I asked him why, he said it's because it was just something that had to be done, so there was no point in getting emotional over it. I finally booked the ticket, yelling, "Fine, I'll do it just because I know you want to get rid of me." I called it, didn't I?
Back to the texting. All of this took place in the morning. What he didn't know was that I was calling and texting several of my friends and family, telling them I was getting a divorce. One friend, who is in the middle of divorce proceedings, was actually in her car on her way down here. She had planned to contact me later to let me know she was coming down to see someone else and that she wanted to see me. I hadn't even talked to my husband yet to know anything for sure, but I knew there was no returning from this. This is the third time we've had this problem, and the last time, before we moved home, I told myself I would absolutely not ever go through that again. I was not going to put up with a flake out every 5 years, with months of trying to put things back together again, only to have it happen AGAIN. He finally texted me back that he wanted to talk in the afternoon. He walked in, said something I can't remember, and sat down. I stood up, started washing dishes or clearing away some clutter or something--I can't remember. All I remember is that intense need to NOT look at him, and I told him I couldn't. He sat there silent and sullen. Finally I sat down in my usual chair and looked over at his sad face and he said, "I just need time to think." I believe the next words out of my mouth knocked his socks off, or blew his mind, or kicked him in the gut...or probably just made him really, really happy. I said, "About what? I am DONE. I'm not doing this again. I want someone to love who loves me and wants to be with me. If that's not you, I can't make it BE you." And that was pretty much it. We decided to take the Band-Aid approach with the kids, just telling them immediately instead of pretending all was well for a while even though they would know it wasn't. He told our daughter and I told our son. It was a living, heaving, sobbing, soggy hell. But it was done. I got on facebook and unfriended his friends and family from my list, explaining to them it wasn't because I was getting rid of them, but because I didn't want anything to be uncomfortable. I didn't want to be silent and secretive and hushedly tell a few friends, "oh, we're having problems. We may get a divorce." No. We definitely are this time, and the more people I tell, the less likely I am to wimp out and take the easy way because I just don't want to be alone. But I've been alone and lonely a lot in the last few years of my marriage, so I'm finally ready to tell the truth, as quickly as possible.
So he's been staying with his friend, and I've been here at home in our falling-apart house, trying to hold up some semblence of normalcy for the kids. And you know what? I think I'm doing a damn good job. The first couple days I couldn't stop the tears, or the fear and the shaking, but as for now it's not as bad. I realize that could change any time, but I'm going to enjoy the fact that I feel a little stronger every day right now. I make sure to blast the Shawn Colvin song, "Sunny Came Home" and sing it at the top of my lungs at least 3 times each morning. It's silly, but it helps. So does my pre-travel mantra, "Strength, peace, and comfort." It's strangely soothing. I'm struggling with some other issues right now, ranging from feeling safe at night to what will I do when he wants to fly my kids across the country to visit his family without me, to how will I ever find someone to date when I live in such a small town, to how will I find someone to date that I won't be afraid of? But I'll save that entry for another day. Maybe tomorrow, or later, depending on when another need for a cathartic soul bearing shows up.
The night before, a Friday, I returned from a week-long trip to Atlanta where I was in a class to learn how to perform sleep studies. I had been bouncing around from job to job the last 20 years and decided to make one last ditch effort for an actual career in something that I thought would be lucrative and interesting. My kids are growing up, the education was relatively quick, and the school relatively inexpensive, so I decided to go for it. I'm 40, after all, and I'd already set out to make as many changes as possible during the monumental year. But I digress...
My husband had to pick me up from the airport Friday night, and this was where I received my first indication things were really, really wrong. He knew my week had been stressful and that I was suffering from several different stress-related health issues, including feeling really weak from not sleeping as much as I should and what I guessed was some sort of electrolyte imbalance. My flight arrived around 8:50 p.m., and by the time my luggage finally came out of that stupid chute, it was probably about 9:30. I walked out of the terminal into the absolutely frigid air, which I hadn't felt for at leat 7 days and had obviously forgotten. I waited. And waited. I texted him where I was standing. Finally I spotted our car and him slowing down to pull over. Silly me, I thought he would put the car in park and come help me lift my 48 lb bag into the bag seat of the car, but he didn't and I had to do it myself in my weakened condition. It took a few tries and some inertia, but I finally shoved it in and slammed the door. When I got in, he just sort of looked at me in his robot-face way, and I leaned toward him a little, just as a test, and I got nothing. No hug, no greeting, no kiss, no peck on the cheek, no "how was your flight?" Nothing. So I maneuvered my seatbelt on and said, "hi." I think I got a half smile.
I jabbered incoherently for about 45 minutes, from confusing stories about things that I tried to learn at the school to the rash in my arm pits that I'd suffered for almost the whole week. I told him about a couple of the men I enjoyed joking with during the class (sometimes I can connect better initially with men than women--don't always trust women at first!), etc. I didn't get much out of him on the ride home, not that I ever did anyway, but it was less than usual. I figured it was because it was late at night and we'd both been up since 6 a.m. I decided I was hungry and had him stop so I could get something quick. In the drive thru I leaned over toward him and looked up expectantly, and he turned to give me a very hard-lipped, pursed kiss. It was cold and chicken peck like. Yuck. I fell asleep after that.
Fast forward a bit and I wake up in the middle of the night, maybe around 4 a.m., to realize he wasn't in bed and my bedroom door was closed. It occured to me that the closed door was a bit odd, but I'd been sleep deprived the last 8 days and didn't feel like investigating. The next time I woke up it was light out, and I was hearing the garage door closing. I thought it was strange, but that maybe he was on call, as usual, or maybe we were out of coffee or something, and he was going to the grocery store. I got up, did the usual morning rituals and tried to unpack a little. Around 10:00 I decided I would text him to see where he was.
Not giving the conversation verbatim, this is basically a condensed version of what was said.
MY INITIAL TEXT: Where are you?
HIS REPLY: I had to get away to think.
MY REPLY: What?
HIS REPLY: I need to clear my head. I didn't miss you while you were gone. I checked out of our marriage a long time ago and I need to figure out why.
MY REPLY: Because you stopped caring about me and everything else.
HIS REPLY: I know. I just need time to think.
MY REPLY: I'm sorry I'm so horrible to be with.
HIS REPLY: It's me.
MY REPLY: None.
HIS REPLY: I had to get away to think.
Now, what you don't already know is that this isn't the first time we've had this sort of conversation. In 2003 it was me wondering if I loved him the way I should. (Editor's Note: There were a few incidents that came to light during this brief separation that I have chosen to refrain from discussing. I do believe it's important to note that I didn't just suddenly decide I wanted to leave all by myself. However, the realization that I SHOULD did happen suddenly while I was driving down the highway and passed a big yellow road sign that said, "Rough Crossing Ahead.") I scheduled myself a 3-week trip to England to think things through. While I was there I met a man I'd been talking to online, he was horrible, I became even more depressed and stressed than before, and I really started missing the comfort of home and a stable, caring relationship. I told the husband I wanted to come home and start over. We moved across the country, away from all of my family to the place where his live, where he promptly told me he didn't think he loved me anymore, and I found email exchanges with someone he worked with. Things were bad for a very long time. I can't remember exactly how long, but I lived on eggshells for months, feeling like I had to be on my best behavior at all times even though I was stressed out trying to make friends in a new place and deal with in laws I hadn't ever lived around before. He never actually left, but every now and then he would say that cliche line, "I just don't know what I think." Eventually I started seeing a counselor, which was painful but probably a good idea, and eventually we went into marriage counseling. Things felt a little better even though he never told me he loved me. I felt a little more stable when, for some stupid reason, we decided to buy a house out there. I faked my way through being extremely unhappy living there, trying to make a happy home for our kids even though the town scared the living daylights out of me and I missed my family immensely. I tried to get a job but I couldn't. Then I planted the seed about moving back to my home. It eventually worked out, and we did. We bought our current house. I got a part-time job. Things were fine for a while. Economic strains developed and my hours were cut to next to nothing. It didn't seem worth it to even have to get up and get dressed for a few hours of work every week, so I quit, thinking the two other women, whose husbands struggled with lay offs and slow work, could get a few more hours in their paychecks. I converted to Catholicism to make a more cohesive-feeling family. Then our house started to feel like it was falling apart around me. Everything seemed to be falling apart at once and there was no money for fixing it up, but it was more than that. I realized he was working more. A lot more. Home maintenance flew out the window. I started to feel like the house and the apathy surrounding it was a metaphor for ME. He just didn't want to put the effort in. We started to fight even more. I told him I wasn't getting any emotional support that I desperately needed. Then I signed up for the sleep study course, and on the day I had to book my flight I sat in this computer chair and cried uncontrollably. I'm not a fan of flying, I've rarely left my family and pets for a week by myself before, and I felt like every tiny decision from where to fly from, which airline to fly, which flight to take, which seat to choose, was all a life-or-death decision. He knew I was struggling and crying, and he never came over to me to put a hand on my shoulder and tell me it would all be fine. When I asked him why, he said it's because it was just something that had to be done, so there was no point in getting emotional over it. I finally booked the ticket, yelling, "Fine, I'll do it just because I know you want to get rid of me." I called it, didn't I?
Back to the texting. All of this took place in the morning. What he didn't know was that I was calling and texting several of my friends and family, telling them I was getting a divorce. One friend, who is in the middle of divorce proceedings, was actually in her car on her way down here. She had planned to contact me later to let me know she was coming down to see someone else and that she wanted to see me. I hadn't even talked to my husband yet to know anything for sure, but I knew there was no returning from this. This is the third time we've had this problem, and the last time, before we moved home, I told myself I would absolutely not ever go through that again. I was not going to put up with a flake out every 5 years, with months of trying to put things back together again, only to have it happen AGAIN. He finally texted me back that he wanted to talk in the afternoon. He walked in, said something I can't remember, and sat down. I stood up, started washing dishes or clearing away some clutter or something--I can't remember. All I remember is that intense need to NOT look at him, and I told him I couldn't. He sat there silent and sullen. Finally I sat down in my usual chair and looked over at his sad face and he said, "I just need time to think." I believe the next words out of my mouth knocked his socks off, or blew his mind, or kicked him in the gut...or probably just made him really, really happy. I said, "About what? I am DONE. I'm not doing this again. I want someone to love who loves me and wants to be with me. If that's not you, I can't make it BE you." And that was pretty much it. We decided to take the Band-Aid approach with the kids, just telling them immediately instead of pretending all was well for a while even though they would know it wasn't. He told our daughter and I told our son. It was a living, heaving, sobbing, soggy hell. But it was done. I got on facebook and unfriended his friends and family from my list, explaining to them it wasn't because I was getting rid of them, but because I didn't want anything to be uncomfortable. I didn't want to be silent and secretive and hushedly tell a few friends, "oh, we're having problems. We may get a divorce." No. We definitely are this time, and the more people I tell, the less likely I am to wimp out and take the easy way because I just don't want to be alone. But I've been alone and lonely a lot in the last few years of my marriage, so I'm finally ready to tell the truth, as quickly as possible.
So he's been staying with his friend, and I've been here at home in our falling-apart house, trying to hold up some semblence of normalcy for the kids. And you know what? I think I'm doing a damn good job. The first couple days I couldn't stop the tears, or the fear and the shaking, but as for now it's not as bad. I realize that could change any time, but I'm going to enjoy the fact that I feel a little stronger every day right now. I make sure to blast the Shawn Colvin song, "Sunny Came Home" and sing it at the top of my lungs at least 3 times each morning. It's silly, but it helps. So does my pre-travel mantra, "Strength, peace, and comfort." It's strangely soothing. I'm struggling with some other issues right now, ranging from feeling safe at night to what will I do when he wants to fly my kids across the country to visit his family without me, to how will I ever find someone to date when I live in such a small town, to how will I find someone to date that I won't be afraid of? But I'll save that entry for another day. Maybe tomorrow, or later, depending on when another need for a cathartic soul bearing shows up.
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