Dear Psychotic-Soon-to-be-ex-husband,

Yeah… that attempt you are making at blocking your number when calling me 30 times a day and at all hours of the night???  Not working.  I’m still not answering the phone.  I don’t answer the phone for ANY blocked number… especially at 2:30 am.  Sorry things aren’t working out like you planned, but if you keep it up, I will call the cops… idiot.  Oh, and those harassing and threatening text messages?  I am sure they will enjoy those as well.  Good job!

Give it up.

Hostilely,  Me

What do you think??  Too direct?

Ohhhh and Happy Birthday to Me!!  Yeah, I know it’s your birthday too, but this is the first one in 11 years that I have not allowed you to ruin for me!

I know… two posts in one day?  Unheard of!

Now that I am taking action, you will probably be hearing a lot more from me.  Sorry.  heh

So… I have been meaning to split up our phone service (cell) for a while, but it always seems like a hassle.  Steve has been harassing me to do it, so I finally got around to calling Sprint.  Actually, I called about a month ago and the guy told me that we would have to go together into a Sprint store in order to make the change.  Dude… we can’t have a civil text exchange without it erupting into WWIII!  Not going to happen.  So, I called today and explained to Darryl from Sprint that we are separated and moving toward a divorce and I didn’t want to deal with his bills anymore.  Darryl kindly explains that this isn’t his department and that he will have to transfer me to another rep.  Before he transfers me, this is what I hear:

Darryl: So, is there anything else I can help you with before I transfer you?

Me:  Nope, I think I’m good.

Darryl:  We are one step closer to solving your problem, and I do apologize for your marriage.

[crickets chirping for around 3 seconds]

Me: [erupts into a fit of giggles] Thank you [gasp]

THANK YOU, Darryl from Sprint.  You made my day.

I was then transferred to Beverly, who kindly helped me with my issue over the phone since I mentioned that a store might not be left standing after we got through with it.  She says to me:

Beverly:  I am sorry about your marriage.

Me:  I’m not.

Beverly:  Bahahahahahahaha, ahem… [snort] Is there anything else I can help you with?

Me: Nope… I’m good!! 

Thank you, Beverly, for saving us the trouble of some kind of videotaped argument likely to end us on YouTube.

OH – and the best news of all… My awesome pup has come to stay with me!  We are hoping that he can learn to live with my roommates’ cats (BC1 & BC2 – “bad cat 1&2″, or Lil Edie Tractor and BabyDrum Eatonton).  Welcome Pico!

Good thing he's not spoiled!!

Ok kiddies… we are coming down to the wire.  Only 16 more days until the lease expires.  I am packing up and moving as much as I can this weekend.  I am SO over this.  I always thought to myself, “If I ever move out, I am filing for divorce right away and we will be done in 60 days!”  Well, as I am sure happens with most break-ups, life gets in the way. 

You see, once you are out of the horrible day in/day out situation, you don’t think about it as much.  At least for me.  There is such a quiet freedom in being able to do what you want without judgment or need for justification.  Without the daily misery… I am free to just be me!  I enjoyed my quiet times and for the first few months, my social calendar was full!  So many people invited me out to take my mind off it.

But there were calls.  And texts.  Oh… the texts.  All day long.  All night long.  Never an adult conversation.  Always either whining/crying or screaming.  Ugh.  In February, the stress got to me and I landed in the hospital ending in emergency surgery.  After a month of recovery, I was feeling better.

Then in June, I got sick again.  Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, they are calling it.  (Basically, my nerves in my digestive tract are just too sensitive and closely tied with anxiety – Hooray.)  Now I am feeling better.  I rented a storage unit and start packing and all that jazz.  This weekend will be my big move.  I am hoping that I can get it all together and be out.

But now that we are rolling to a close, I am not the only one feeling it.  For months, Steve has been “so sad.”  Trying to convince me to come back and in the same breath pushing me farther away.  I know he is bipolar, but sheesh.  Then last week he started vacillating between “Denial” and “Uber Pissed”  Now the good times are mostly forgotten.

Sample texts:

“I hope you are sterile”

“File for divorce and get it over with you quitter” (I’d rather be a quitter than a cheater)

“Wish u would have never married me.”

Damn.  Can you feel the love?  I sure can! 

Here’s the deal.  I don’t feel sorry for you.  YOU put me through hell for years.  YOU couldn’t give a shit about me or my emotional (or physical) well- being.  YOU laughed in my face when I told you I was hurting.  YOU pushed me aside as if I didn’t matter and just did whatever the hell you wanted to do.  I asked you to go to counseling for FIVE YEARS and you wanted nothing to do with any of it.

Until I walked out. 

Until I didn’t come back.

Until you finally realized that I was a great thing, and that I did EVERYTHING for you.

NOW you want to go to counseling.  NOW you want to talk about love.  NOW I am interesting.  Guess what?  Too.  Effing.  Late.

It.

Is.

NOT.

MY.

FAULT.

And all of the nastiness in the world won’t make it so.  I have been sent on so many emotional guilt trips that I will take ALL of my loyal readers to Fiji with me on the frequent flier miles!

It isn’t worth it.  Not the stress to my health, my psyche, or my sanity.  You can say all of the ridiculous things you want about ME walking out and “ruining your chance at having a family.”  No.  That was YOUR choice for years, when you decided to tell me I would be a horrible mother (lie). When you told me that we would never have children (right.. not together, we won’t).  When you told me that what I wanted wasn’t important.

But it is important to me.  That is why I left.

So take yourself on down the road to whatever and whomever you want.  I don’t care.  You told me once that you would “find a really PRETTY woman next time”.  Good luck with that.  I hope that you mature a little before you ruin someone else’s life and steal their youth.

Suck it.  I’m out.

“Love”,

Your Soon-to-be-Ex-Wife

It’s amazing how things can change with a single conversation.  Calm down… I have not lost my mind and gone back to my marriage [shudder].  Let me back up a minute…

Since the separation began in January, my husband has spent countless hours telling me that he didn’t have anywhere to go once our lease expired.  I felt guilty, though I am not sure why.  When I got sick in February, he was constantly harassing me about signing another 6 month lease with our apartment complex.  I didn’t want to, but since he has been basically estranged from most of his nearby relatives for the better part of 2 years, I felt sorry for him and didn’t want to see him living in his car.  So, against my better judgment, and all the cries from from friends and family, and while on some pretty heavy painkillers post-surgery, I broke down and signed the lease so that he would have somewhere to live while he was figuring things out.

What. A. Mistake.

Not only did I get roped into another lease… I somehow ended up being guilted into paying for half the rent, too!  “I just can’t afford the whole thing,” he says.  “Then you shouldn’t have extended the lease!” I said.  “Well, YOU signed it, so you have to pay half.” he says.  [Enter grumbles and massive cursing here]

So, I have been paying half rent to my wonderful friend who kidnapped me from a horrible situation and allowed me to move in with her and her 4-year old daughter, AND paying half the rent for my jackass of a husband.  I thought the lease ran through the end of September and have been counting down the days.

But… I have recently learned that the lease actually ends August 31st!!!!!!!!!  [Cue choir]  I am So freaking thrilled!!  I have secured a storage unit and have started moving some of my things in there.  Unfortunately, I believe my “husband” is still laboring under the delusion that I am coming back… not sure why, as I have clearly stated my intentions.  I don’t know where he plans to go, as he has made no plans… but that is SO not my problem!!  I am turning in my final 1/2 rent payment along with written notice that we will NOT be continuing our lease.  Now it is just time to pack it up and say a final farewell to my old life.

Oh – Great news!  My friend Jennifer’s Mother, Kathy, and her brother Ray have agreed to take my awesome dog Picasso in!  I can’t have him here due to the dual cat issue, and as Steve will probably be living in a van down by the river ala ‘Matt Foley’ (Chris Farley, via SNL), he can’t take him either.  Thank you to Kathy and Ray!!

The Amazing Picasso (aka Pico)

2:22 am

So.  I can’t sleep tonight.  I should start by saying that I have been sick.  Oh yes.  Very sick for the past 3 weeks or so.  Like lost 25 lbs in 8 days sick.  And for no apparent reason that anyone can explain.  Except for the Anxiety.  Oh yes… there has been anxiety.  And vomiting.  And missed days at work… And… And… And…

I am sick of it.  No pun intended.

Why can’t I sleep?  Well, today, I went back to work for the first time in a week and a half.  Well, I went back one day last week, but let’s just say that ended in disaster.  I went in to work today at 2:45 pm and stayed until 7:15 pm.  I got a lot accomplished and felt really good for the first time in weeks.  I had another doctor’s appointment this morning where Dr. Hottie, as cute as he is, was unable to tell me anything helpful.  He has recommended more testing.  Another doctor.  And a psychiatrist.  Ugh.  But I am willing to do what it takes to get better.  I hate being sick.

Why else can’t I sleep?  I slept about 16-20 hours yesterday.  I guess I am just not that tired.  Oh yes… and at 1:45 am I got a text from HIM… wondering when I was going to be able to pay MY half of HIS rent.  On a place I haven’t lived in 6 months (tomorrow!).  GRRR.

I have been told that I have a lot going on and that it is totally understandable that I have anxiety.  Ok.  I accept that.  But the last few days, with a slight nod to the untimely passing of the Late, Great Michael Jackson, I have been looking at the Woman in the Mirror.  I know that there are things beyond my control… but what about the things within my grasp?  I have not done a thing about those things.  Nor anything, really, to move in a forward direction.  I think in order to really move on and get well, and, better yet, BE HAPPY… I have to take a hard look at all of the things causing me stress and try to see what I can do about those things.

So, in no particular order, here are some things that have been weighing heavy on my mind.  If you don’t care… then skip it.  This is my blog <smirk>

1. Codependency – I hate to realize that I totally became a co-dependent enabler during the course of my 11 year relationship.  Please note that I am not yet 33, so this relationship effectively has lasted 1/3 of my total life.  I hold two degrees in psychology, and it makes me feel REALLY lame to fall into this trap.
2. Steve – Enough said.  Well, I must add this part:  I had an epiphany, of sorts today.  I realized (and I know it sounds stupid, but leave me alone… I am new to this break up shit) that in order for me to be happy and do the things I need to do to move on with life… Steve won’t be happy.  He isn’t going to be ok.  Not yet, anyway.  I really wanted this to be a situation where we could amicably part ways like adults and move on with our lives.  Man… was I living in an after school special!  I can’t break up with him AND have him be happy.  He is going to have to mourn the loss and find his own way to move on.  I have to accept that bit of information and just do what I need to do.  It sounds harsh… but that is HIS problem.  I can’t keep taking on the pain and emotion of everyone else, at the expense of my own happiness, and worse, health!  (See co-dependency!!!)
3. BFF – I had a really inconclusive ending to a friendship that I have held dear since my Sophomore year in high school.  It was really a devastating blow, and I have been going through the hardest situation of my life, and I don’t think she even knows about it.
4. Finances – I make pretty good money and love what I do, but since I have been financing (out of guilt and some retarded sense of obligation to someone who roped me into a new lease when I was on pain killers) the rent for my soon-to-be-ex-husband’s apartment and some of his bills.
5. Automotive – I am currently driving a car old enough to have it’s own driver’s license.  I have several bad tires and no spare.  Shouldn’t be an issue… except for the paying of the douchebag’s rent

These are just to name a few… I won’t put you into a coma with the details.  But in looking at this list, there are things within my realm of control… I just have to do it.  So, that is my goal.  My wonderful roommate has been helping me get these things out of my brain and onto paper, which is much more helpful than it sounds.  Once on paper, we can break them down into manageable tasks.

Today when I went into work, I felt lighter.  I was able to get A LOT accomplished, and left feeling upbeat and happy.  I even managed a true dinner… A first in several weeks, let me tell you!

So… in summary… I still don’t know if I can get to sleep anytime soon, but it feels good to start working things out.  As for the doctor’s and psychiatrists, I will be a good little patient and do what they tell me to do.  But I know that action creates happiness.  As I always say… Utopia is not by chance, but by choice.  What are you choosing today??

I’m starting with the man in the mirror

I’m asking him to change his ways

And no message could have been any clearer

If you wanna make the world a better place

Take a look at yourself

And then make a change.

~Michael Jackson, Man in the Mirror

Rest in Peace, Michael Jackson.  I will always treasure my time on stage in the 2nd grade talent show… Beat It will always live in my heart.

Beat It, 2nd Grade Talent Show

(I’m the blurry blonde)

I was reflecting today.  Alone.  I don’t do well with alone.

I am a really social person.  I love my friends and adore my family.  My aunt once told me that I am the glue that holds our family together.  I would like to believe that is true.  I am so utterly happy around the people I love, who love me unconditionally.  But as I am exploring this world of separatedness, I do realize that I really don’t know what to do when I am alone.

When I was in college, I spent a year living in an apartment on my own.  It was really the only time in my life I have ever lived alone.  While I loved my little apartment, it was also a place of misery.  My best friends had gone to different schools and I was alone.  I am outgoing and make friends fairly easily, but I never really HAD to make ALL NEW friends.  I went to the same school my whole life… friends came with the territory.  At some point, I think I was friends with every kid I went to school with.  I was a clique-hopper.  I just rotated through different groups and always seemed to fit in.

When I got married, I assumed that my days of feeling alone, or lonely, were over.  But looking back on 8 years of marriage… I always felt alone.  I had plenty of friends, but it just wasn’t the same.  They were all married and starting families.  Steve and I rarely went out, and never did anything with other couples.  It was really hard for me, being so incredibly social, being with someone completely content to lay on the couch in his underwear (or less) and watch mind numbing hours upon hours of TV.  So I holed up in our bedroom, watching my own hours of stupid, mindless TV… and falling further into the pit of despair.

And even now… after leaving… I still feel alone.  I have a fantastic support system, don’t get me wrong.  I have people nearly every day wanting to spend time.  And for a while I was packing my social calendar so tightly that I barely had time to pee.  But now it has been five months… and I still don’t know what to do with myself.  I know I need to spend time alone.  To get to know myself.  To be comfortable with alone.

But… the honest truth is… alone sucks.

I really don’t know what to do with myself.  So, I read a lot.  I play on the internet.  I hang out with the roomies.  I spend time with my sister and niece.  Lori told me today to get a hobby.  I have a hobby.  I scrapbook.  But it is hard to feel inspired to scrapbook.  I have to be in the mood for it, honestly.  I am working on digital scrapbooking for the first time, and I really enjoy that.  But a lot of times it seems that I am just commemorating someone else’s happy memories.

I need a life.  I need a purpose.  I guess I am just now beginning to examine who I am and what I want from life.

So, this weekend I have spent time doing things for me.  I finally broke down and bought a new desk that I have been drooling over for the past three years (but something that he always told me I didn’t need… was a waste of money).  I spent 4 hours putting the thing together myself Friday night.  It was a great sense of accomplishment.  It is also gorgeous and I am thrilled to have finished it.

I am hoping that it will inspire me to do more writing, scrapbooking, and other such things I enjoy.  Anything but hanging out for hours in my princess bed.  I am also finally going to hang some pictures on the wall.  A small thing, I know.  But it is something I always take forever to do for some reason… but when I do… it signifies “home.”

So… I am on my search for emotional wellness.  I don’t want to NEED other people in my life to be happy.  I want them there because I love them, and because they love me.  They should compliment my life… not be my reason for being.  This may sound like a simple concept, but give me a break… I have been in an emotional vortex for many years… I am still a little dizzy.

April 21, 2009

Playlist Choice: Over You by Daughtry

This day, eight years ago, I married the man I was in love with.  The person I loved most in this world.  The person I wanted to be with more than anything… It should be a day of celebration.

But on this day, eight years later, it is a day of sadness and reflection.  Sadness because things did not work out the way I planned.  Sadness for the children I never had.  Sadness for the misery I allowed this man to inflict on me over the years.  Reflection for the red flags I saw and ignored, and the ones I never noticed.  Times like this allow you to look backward with perfect clarity and see every misstep… every altercation…. every indication that ‘he’s just not that into you.’

The days of trying to fit a square peg into a round hole are over.  A friend reminded me that even when you try to trim the edges to make it fit, there is always friction.  I am not looking for perfection.  I wouldn’t even desire that, being a behavioralist… I know that is not possible.  I know that passion and desire don’t always come in a neat package.  We don’t always fall in love with the person who is best for us…

Sometimes it is just the person who fills the void.

Other times, we love that person with all our might, but it just isn’t enough.  Sometimes you have to make the ultimate sacrifice and do what is best for BOTH parties.  That is what I feel I have done.  It would be EASY to stay.  To ignore things.  To keep moving in a quasi-forward direction.  To grow further apart until we are that old couple living in different rooms and rarely speaking… oh wait… we were already there… at age 32.

It is HARD to implement change.  It is even HARDER to stick with it once the decision has been made.  Not because I wanted to go back, but because it was what I knew.  People never understand this concept until they are in the situation.  Believe me… it is HARD.

But, on this day, I gave myself a silent pat on the back for sticking it out and doing what I feel is right for me, for once.  If he really thought about it… he would realize that too. 

But he didn’t.  He asked me out to celebrate instead. [shaking head]

But what can I say?

I’m a catch!  And it is HIS loss.

Fall 2006

When we moved into our one-bedroom apartment, Steve started a love affair with the apartment’s hot tub.  He would go out every night around midnight and come back hours later.  I rarely went… because… come on… someone had to work and support us!  So I would go to bed about the time he would throw a towel over one shoulder… no shirt (poor neighbors!) and would walk barefoot over to the pool.  I found it annoying.  Why couldn’t he just come to bed like a normal person??  It made me feel very alone.

On this particular night, I woke up around 1:30 am to a strange sawing noise.  I couldn’t figure out what I was hearing… my brain still thick with sleep.  I opened the bedroom door and looked down.  I was confused until I realized what I was looking at was what was left of the carpet under my bedroom door, and an incredibly jittery miniature dachshund.  That only meant one thing.  Jerry.  Steve’s brother Jerry had a very unsettling effect on Major and the poor dog was just terrified of him.  I didn’t see the guys in the apartment, so I figured they went to the pool.  Poor Major had clawed up all the carpet under the door trying to get in to me.

I took Major to bed with me, fully intending on giving both Steve and Jerry a piece of my mind… later… zzzzzz.

Around 3am, I awoke to the lights going on in the bathroom and the sound of the shower.  I am a really light sleeper, so this REALLY annoyed me.  I stalked out into the living room… to find both Steve and Jerry sitting there watching TV.  Who the hell was in my shower???  I asked this very sentiment and the answer I received made me livid.

“Oh some girl Jerry brought over.”

There is a naked girl in my shower at 3am?  And no one thinks this is a problem but me??  ARGH!

But here’s the best part…

Not ONLY was there some strange girl in my shower at 3am.

She was a stripper.

A FUCKING STRIPPER IN MY SHOWER!  AFTER BEING IN THE HOT TUB WITH MY HUSBAND!

Sorry to offend those of you who “stripped your way through college”  [eye roll] But.  EWW.

Bleaching cleanser? $5.00

New soap?  $0.89

Eliminating stripper cooties from my shower? Priceless.

The best part was all three assholes got a rash from something going on in that hot tub.  Serves you right.  Get a real job… ALL OF YOU.

This conversation was relayed to me after Lori and Em took a little drive…

Em:  Mom?

Lori: Yes, Em?

Em:  Why is there a bed with flowers on it in the back of that truck?

Lori:  I guess they are moving that bed somewhere else.

Em:  Maybe…. that person wants to go live with some other people.  Maybe… that person doesn’t want to live with their husband anymore.

Lori: [stifling laughter] Maybe… That is a distinct possibility [Thank you for the update, Lori!]

Em:  Maybe… that person wants to be like ‘Lidabeth’

Maybe… the mind of a 4 year old is FAR more perceptive than the mind of a 32 year old. 

…Maybe

Once the party starts… you can’t leave.  The bouncer has blocked the exit and your only choice is to hang out until the music stops and they turn the lights back on.

Oh, those fucking lights.

I began to feel anxious about 9 pm.  I had eaten a Subway for dinner, because it sounded like a good idea at the time.  It was light and I was starving.  But after eating half of the sandwich, I didn’t feel right.  Unfortunately, when you have the lap band, this is often the case.  I could feel it – it was stuck.  Crap.  When something gets stuck, there is only one way to get it unstuck…

But that is a one-way pass into the disco.  That crappy, drunk-ridden club where the jerk next to you spills his drink down your shirt and then proceeds to feel you up while “helping” you.  It is miserable.  It is uncomfortable.  And there is NOTHING you can do about it.

I tried all of my typical tricks.  I tried soaking in a hot bath.  That works for a while.  The hot water will relax me enough to fall asleep.  In the tub.  For some reason, people are always concerned I will drown [shrugs].  I say whatever works, right?  So that works just long enough to get out, dry off, and put some clothes back on.  Then, it sucks again.

I tried listening to music.  I love to sing and music usually calms me down.  No dice.  I tried helplessly laying in the dark with my eyes closed hoping that my brain would eventually short-circuit and I would fall asleep.  To no avail.  I ended up back in the tub three different times.  I watched every infomercial on my mother’s wretched no-cable-or-satellite TV.  I laid in the dark cursing her clock that ticks like a time bomb.  Counting the minutes as they seemed to roll backwards.  Further and further from morning.

I didn’t want to wake my mother.  She was so tired and I already knew I was keeping her up with my gagging and frequent trips into the tub.  I just laid there… all night… and listened to the thumping of the disco.

When daylight broke and Mom finally emerged from her den, she was not surprised to see me wide awake and looking panic stricken.  We had to wait until a reasonable hour to call my surgeon (from the lap band surgery).  It was Saturday, which meant calling the answering service and then waiting for a call back.  We explained to the doctor about the slipped band, the panic attacks, and the vomiting.  He was very concerned, as all of these things can lead to really dangerous issues.  He told my mother to bring me to the Emergency Room so that he could check me out.  Again, it was both a panic and a relief.

Thankfully, when we arrived at the ER, it was empty.  I was quickly assessed (I know I looked like hell) and taken back into a room for some tests.  The doctor looked at my tests and x-rays and came to talk to me.  He said that the band hadn’t actually slipped – the other doctors didn’t know what they were looking at – but that I was already on the surgical schedule, so it was up to me what I wanted to do.  His suggestion was to convert from the Lap Band to the Gastric Bypass.  I told him he was out of his ever-loving mind.

Take this shit out of me.  NOW.

I told him that I have never done well with it (a fact he had always blamed on me not doing what I was supposed to do).  I told him that I felt like a transplant patient who was rejecting a new heart.  He acted like this was absurd, but since I had disturbed him on Saturday, he would go ahead and remove it.  He didn’t want to.  But I knew why…

I had gotten the information, reluctantly, from him last year.  He has never had to remove one that he put in because it didn’t work.  He didn’t want to ruin his statistics.  Fuck your statistics.  This thing has been killing me for over 2 years.  I felt it ever minute of every day.  It was uncomfortable and painful and did not EVER help me lose weight.  30 lbs… big fucking deal.  I could (and have) do that with Weight Watchers.  Take this shit out NOW.

So they did.

And amazingly enough…

Everything changed.  My blood pressure dropped immediately.  My blood sugar returned to a normal range immediately.  I felt fucking fantastic.  For the first time.  In YEARS.  Maybe ever.  I knew it.  I had been telling them for years… and I was right.  Suck it, Doctor Can’t-Pronounce-Your-Name. I was right.  It WAS being rejected.  I WAS sick because of it.  And now it was gone.

I was in physical pain, of course.  But, I still felt better in that pain than any day since having that horrible, strangling device put in back in 2006.  Choir of angels, and all that jazz.  One doctor, we will call him “Doctor Hottie”, suggested that I might have been allergic to the lap band.  Well, hell… I am allergic to everything else.  I am even allergic to the dissolving stitches!  Why not the band??  I ran it past another doctor and he agreed.

So within 24 hours, I was released to my mother’s care.  I already felt 100 times better than I did before the surgery, and a 100% better than when I had the surgery the first time around.  I had energy… I had commitment to getting healthy.

I was happy.