Time's Up....

Tomorrow is the day, the deadline, the “light at the end of the proverbial tunnel”.  Tomorrow...is June 3, 2010.  It would have been my tenth wedding anniversary to Dillweed.  I was supposed to be in Hawaii this week, celebrating life long love.  Instead, I am celebrating summer number two without said dillweed.  I am going to the theater with girlfriends, working and doing summer school homework with my sons.  

I was so terrified even two months ago that this day would come and this blog would have been moot.  Even under the circumstances of currently having a Significant Other, I was afraid I would search my soul and still find bits and pieces of things better left unsaid.  But before I could start the “did I really reach my goal” soul searching, something even more amazing happened.  This past weekend, I realized that I had made a peace I didn’t even know I was trying to make.  And as I recalled the past few weeks, I realized I had done this over and over, unknowingly, which, to me, is all the better.   It happened like this….

I was at a pool party with friends.  Someone mentioned Disney World. My heart leapt. I love Disney World more than any one adult should. But when they started in about their luxury suite at the whatever-overpriced hotel, I said “You know, when @#$* and I would take the kids, we ALWAYS stayed at the value resorts.  They are plain but clean and since you are ONLY ever in your room to sleep, who needs all the amenities? Who is paying $400/night to have a slide at the swimming pool? You are at Disney for Chrissake!”  And I meant it.  Earlier in the week, someone had mentioned remodeling.  “When @#$* and I remodeled, we used the kitchen builder at the Home Depot in Newnan. It really maps everything out.”  And I could go on with several more examples. But the point is, my conviction was within my statement.  It had nothing to do with HIM or the fact that he was somehow tied and/or a part of that sentence/statement/belief.   He is a part of my past and there is nothing I can ever do to change that. And it’s only the Dillweed that is a part of my immediate past.  Most anytime his name comes up so effortlessly as previously mentioned, it is not Dillweed that I speak of, but the man I fell in love with, married and stayed with happily for at least a few years:  the man who spray painted  a wooden chess set with my son; the man who, if only once, but once was enough, made those little wooden race cars with my boys for their cub scout competition. …the man who took ME on a Disney Cruise for our honeymoon—this man I loved. . . . and though I may never fully understand what happened over the course of nine years to tear us apart so fully that after walking out we never spoke again, I will know and admit that it was not all bad.  He was a good man at one point.  We had fun at one point.  We loved each other and believed in each other at one point.  And if I learned nothing else from this  blog, I want to know that I walked away not only admitting there was a glimmer of good somewhere in these memories, but I want to walk away knowing that even though nine years passed, and what started out as a sweet romantic ridiculous love story turned into an angry bitter mudslinging day in court, I will not be jaded by it.  I will not give up on the next possibility, just because I thought this would work and it didn’t.  I will not let opportunities for love pass me by just because I don’t want to be brokenhearted.  Because at the end of the 9 months and 2 days, what I learned, ultimately, is that every relationship happens for a reason.  You walk away knowing SOMETHING that you did not know before nor would you ever have known had it not been for that such relationship.  The ride may be bumpy and I may run into a brick wall with the force of a mack truck in the end, it will not be for naught. Dillweed was not for naught, as much as I may hate to admit it at times.  But I am admitting it now.  Tomorrow will be my last entry into this blog. And I can say, at the very least, this blog was not for naught.  I have learned so much, just typing the words that come into my head.  My best friend was right about that. ..

Early Release

So i was talking to my best friend today....and i actually typed the words "I am so over this blog."  It's not quite time to end the blog, per se.  This blog was about renaissance and starting over and discovering myself again as a non-married single mom.  I was worried about court. Yes, it was horrible but I saw him and it was all "meh...." 

So coming to this blog, and writing about "him" is not doing me any good anymore. Sure, I still mourn the "marriage" ...... Sure, I sometimes feel like a failure in that respect, but whatever! I'm not a failure. I made the best decision at the time, and it turned out to be the wrong decision. I'm not trying to abandon the blog, or any readers that I may or may not have. But maybe not having to post every day is a testament of how far I've come.  June 3rd, which would have been my ten year anniversary and the end of this blog, is a little over a month away. I already have plans with a friend of mine.  I am taking the day off work, and we are booking a half day at a local spa. Then we're going to my mom's house to swim in her pool the rest of the day, and sip margaritas.  Mind you, this celebration is not in honor of STBX.  It is in honor of the fact that I made it. Period. I lived down the road from him for a year. I saw him in court.  I passed him on the road. I saw pictures on facebook of him drinking and laughing and having a great time with friends who USED to be my friends too. And I made it.  NOT ONLY DID I MAKE IT, I was thankful that it wasn't me. I was thankful I am no longer married to him.  I am thankful...that I have MY life, not his.  So this blog has accomplished, a month in advance, everything I set out for it to do. I am not officially closing the blog, in case, GOD FORBID, I backslide. I can't imagine that happening at this point, but you never know.  I am already contemplating my next blog.  There again, I think it is a sign of PROGRESS.  I don't love him.  I don't hate him. I don't.... "anything".  It is what it is. I learned from the experience. I am a better person for it.  This is the new and improved me.  The happy me.  The ME i was always supposed to be. FTMF.  And all that goes along with that!

It was worse than I thought. . . .

Court was two Wednesdays ago and it has taken me this long to pull myself together enough to update the blog. As the title says, it was worse than I thought.  This man...this NON-CONFRONTATIONAL idiot of a man, was slinging mud the minute i was on the stand. They literally named five of my female friends, asked if i knew them, what the relationship was and then if I had ever had sex with them. Really? REALLY? He accused me of having an affair with my BOSS. My boss who, mind you, was my LAWYER. It was one hour and fifteen minutes of hell. He printed my facebook page out, comments, pictures, whatever, and shoved them in my face and made me explain. And by he, i mean HE through his shady sketchy lawyer with the caterpillar eyebrows!  All I can say is THANK GOD one of my bffs was there. She was my rock. I was so snotty; it was hard not to be. And when I felt myself crumbling, I looked at her face, stone cold. I regrouped and I answered. It was a ridiculous character assassination that I was totally unprepared for. It was a new low for him and it shocked me. A few things were accomplished, though.  Number one, it's over. We have to sign the paperwork and it's over.  Number two, I get to keep my car and he has to pay for it.  That, my friends, is what is known in my circle, as AwesomeTown. Finally, I saw him. I sat in front of him for over two hours, collectively between the two of us being on the stand, and I lived. Yes, he lied. Yes, he embarrassed me.  Yes, I wanted to slit his fucking throat. But it's OVER now. Done. I have a moving company to move the rest of my things out of his house.  After that, I am done and very well may never have to see him ever again. FTMF.

Somedays I have nothing to say....

Others, I can't say enough.  I was rereading an older post and it caught my attention when I mentioned that STBX had told me OVER THE PHONE that he wanted a divorce. And in all actuality, it wasn't even that he told me so much as I drug it out of him.  But still, over the phone. And I began thinking about the content by which we measure things.  There was an episode of Sex and the City where a guy broke up with Carrie via post-it note.  When i remembered he told me (after ten years) that he wanted a divorce on the phone, i equated it to the post-it note.  I can remember when i was younger, a girlfriend of mine watched Carlito's Way with Al Pacino.  The scene where he is outside the door, trying to get this chick to open the door, and she won't, so he busts it down and goes in after her apparently to prove his determination and love for her, well that became the measure by which all men were gauged.  "Would he break down the door for you?" In an irony not yet realized until just this very minute, isn't it ironic that my marriage actually ENDED because he broke down the door.  His intentions, I promise, were neither determination nor love. 

Gauges evolve (or devolve) over the years.  Does he have a job? For how long? What is his POTENTIAL? Not does he want kids, but does he want MY kids?  Why did his last wife leave him? Would he break down the door/ do the dishes/ bring me Popsicles in bed?  It's funny to think at one point in my life, love was the only standard I had.  But since I have determined that not only can you define love your perception of love changes, it's no wonder people are getting divorced all of the time.  

Many people these days go into marriage with divorce as a safety net: "If it doesn't work out, we can always get a divorce."  Easier said than done.  Years ago, marriages were arranged out of necessity of the family.  It is only in the last few decades that marriages were conceived out of "love". . . I have a friend whose father and step mother married with an "agreement" to raise the children.  He had children, she had children, so they got married and raised children.  Then they divorced for reasons to do with the children. But the point is, society has evolved so much in the past fifty years that the attitude towards marriage and/or divorce has completely changed.  Be it lack of religion, lack of morals, in-dependency (is that a word???), marriage just does not hold the same allure as it once did.  Marriage is practically disposable to most.  I say I would never get married again. I think I mean that.  Honestly, after what I have been through, marriage vows don't tend to hold much water with most people.  And if I found a man who loved me and treated me with respect, made me laugh, loved my children and my family, does it really matter if we have that beige and green piece of paper?  That piece of paper didn't stop my babies' daddy from getting blow jobs from his ex-girlfriend on his lunch break. It did not keep STBX from making holes in the walls, busting down doors and terrifying me and my children.  That piece of paper, at the end of the day, only made it more difficult to leave an already deteriorating situation.  It did not motivate me to stay.  So when a man is treating me better than my friends' husbands are treating them, what is my motivation to marry? So I'll have his name? I have a name.  I can be just as faithful and loving and true to him with or without his name.  Sure, there is some old fashioned country girl left in me that twinges in the back of my mind, the thought of it all: marrying the man I love, professing it, having his name, signing checks with his name, etc... But it's the same fantasy I had when I was eight years old.  And now I've experienced what can happen.  Love is love with or without a marriage license. Love can change, it can stay the same.  People are different and they change. You just have to find someone who is changing at the same pace you are.  That way, your love evolves TOGETHER. You change TOGETHER.  You find this person, marry them or not, and you hold onto them and grow old with them TOGETHER.  No piece of paper is going to give you that.  That is just timing, maybe a little bit of blind wistfulness and a whole lotta faith. .....

What a difference a year makes....

This time last year, I had just (and I mean JUST) returned from a week in Europe with my gay uncle, first class thanks to his Platinum Sky Miles partner.  It was an amazing week that words can not even describe! We had the best time ever. In the back of my mind, however, there loomed a darkening shadow of doubt and dread. I had not spoken more than a few words to my husband the day I left for Europe.  We did not talk the entire week I was gone. I had gone back and forth trying to decide the best thing for me and my children in the weeks before the trip. And I decided upon pulling out of my driveway, that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I was not going to screw it up by worrying about HIM. So I didn't. Yes, I felt a twinge here and there through out the trip.  Yes, I was disappointed when I checked my email to find NOTHING from him. But it was not totally unexpected. Even the flight back home was unencumbered by the dread. I still remember the mimosas and warm mixed nuts, the TV shows and movies. I did not dare sleep on either the trip there or back because when in the WORLD would I ever be flying first class EVER again? I wanted to savor every minute of it.  Once I was back in my car, though, the dread set in heavily and hastily.  I drove home not knowing what to expect. I don't even remember coming home really except that it was late and I did not really speak to anyone. I showered and crawled into bed with my pups and went to sleep. The next morning, Friday, March 27, 2009, I got up to get my stepdaughter off to school.  She saw me, and did not speak.  I knew then that things were over, I just did not want to admit it. He and I talked that night and agreed that we needed a month or two apart to get the kids back in line. My children resented him for his temper and favoritism to his own children. His children resented me because I expected them to act like human beings and not heathens. We cried, we had sex, we slept. The next day we went to town and bought some things that I would need to start my own household. It should have been a huge flashing neon sign to me that i was excited! We started getting things set up and I spent the night at my old house one last time. True to form, he sat on the couch, watching TV and playing on the computer until after midnight (PATTERN) and I was asleep by the time he got into bed.  I never dreamed that the last time would have been the last time. But it was.  And the thought of him even touching me now makes me want to vomit! But within 48 hours of my return to the states, I had separated from my husband and was living with my children in my own home, just five or six houses down the road from him.  It was my conception, you understand, that this was a separation to get back on our feet. Within a week he told me he wanted a divorce. I analyzed and overanalyzed that seven days and what could have possibly changed his mind.  I gave every excuse from another woman, to his children to his homosexuality.  It was only in retrospect I was able to admit, for whatever reason, that maybe he was just happier without me. I was most certainly happier without him. I do not, even to this day, believe that at the core of the situation, he was happier without ME. That is just not plausible. (Hee hee). But happier without my rules binding his children? Most definitely. If there are no rules, there is no conflict. And this man is always happier with no conflict (unless I'm involved, apparently).  Happier without obligation and responsibility to another human being and/or children who were not biologically his? Absolutely.  And that's fine.  Sure, I struggle financially and I am struggling raising two teenage boys just in general.  God knows their biological father does not help (that's a whole-nother blog).  But at the end of the day, when everything is tallied up and accounted for...I am happier, so MUCH happier, on any given day, than I was one year ago today.  Am I stressed about court on Wednesday? Of course. Am I ready for things to be over with? You have no idea. Good, bad or ugly, I just want the closure. I can deal with no car, no insurance or whatever else I have to deal with but i cannot deal with the unknown.  Things were "unknown" and "uncertain" to me long before a year ago.  But this past year has been weighted down, even if slightly or abstractly, by the unknown.  And sure, I now have my own sew set of "unknowns" to deal with.  But I will deal with them. And I know that I am the person I am because of the things that life has thrown my way and trudged my way through and came out on the other side a better person. A stronger woman. Determined to be happy.  And being happy today...so much happier 365 days later, well.... that is a testament to the rest of my life. It can only get better from here!

The Countdown is on.....

Wednesday, I will be in court for my final divorce hearing. I have no idea what is going to happen. I do know that I got my hair cut and colored last weekend. I have to get a pedi and some new sandals. I am printing off papers and emails and taxes, etc.... these are the aforementioned ducks that I am getting in a row.  My head? My heart? Well, those I'm not sure about.  Let me be frank: I despise him to his core.  This does not, however, excuse any emotion I am trying to prepare myself to feel. He is a stupid summbitch (as we say here in the south) and I hope he chokes on a ham sandwich. Seriously.

I am trying to prepare myself for every scenerio which, i do realize, is impossible.  I have not physically seen him in a year. How do you spend ten years with someone and wake up one day and never see them again? This is what happened. And now i have to see him, face to face, in the same room, arguing over money which is so apropos because that's what we did most of the time anyway. This time, the judge will decide. And no matter how nervous I feel, I keep trying to remind myself that the outcome is what it is regardless of my level of anxiety or worry.

I saw the outline of him outside this weekend. I felt nothing. I miss my dog more than I miss him (the one who pees all over everything and I therefore lost custody of in the separation. He'd already peed all over everything at the old house.)  I miss my dog and I even sometimes miss my stepdaughter. Life is much less complicated nonetheless.

Wednesday is going to be about survival and dealing with whatever the judge rules. It could go in my favor, or not. Regardless, I have to do what I have to do to get by. And if I can't deal, well one very true friend will be there to hold me together, at least until I am out of his sight range.  I just worry about getting him out of hers: She'll be packing, and she'd shank him as readily as I would.

Turn in your man card....

This post.... is not so much about the current divorce as much as it is about the last divorce. My ex, the father of my children, is delusional.  He has no concept of children nor what it takes to raise them, emotionally or financially. Every scenario revolves around him, not our children. And everything is my fault, not his:  I think he is an ATM machine.  I don't force the children to love him.  I involve him in discipline and it backfires because he is no longer Disneyland Dad. Actually, I think more so than a Disneyland dad, he would, at best, be a clunky carnival in an abandoned parking lot dad. I have sat back and let him bully me and my children for twelve years. I have forced the children to go to his house in order to foster some semblance of an opportunity to have a relationship with him. But alas, they are fourteen and I no longer feel that I should force them. I have kept my mouth shut and let them form their own opinions. I never wanted them to NOT see him and then romanticize the potential relationship and blame me when it didn't pan out.  Regardless, i have filed papers with the court for contempt.  He owes me money. I need money. End of story. I don't care about his knee surgery, I don't care about his friend's surgery. I have problems of my own and my world DAMN sure doesn't stop when my friends' parents are in the hospital, or when my father finds out that yet another skin cancer has to be removed, or when I don't have money for groceries or electricity. I trudge through. I figure it out. When my kids need something, I come up with it, by the grace of God and no thanks to their father. And now he wants to lose it with me because i am asking for money that he owes me? I didn't file a Motion for Modification. I could. I could ask for more money. Best I can figure, he is paying about $200 less per month than required by law. But I said i would continue to settle for that amount. I don't ask for much and he's done even less. The gloves are off and I hope it doesn't bite me in the ass. I already have to fight STBX, might as well throw BabyDaddy in the mix as well. Bring it on, boys. It's time to step up to the plate and be a man, or turn in your man card altogether.

Ducks.....

Well here we are....twenty (20) days away from my final hearing in my divorce. I am pleased (oddly) to say that as of March 29th it will have been one year since I moved out.  Granted, at that point I was still under the impression that perhaps we were in a trial separation and would reconcile. It was a week, maybe two, later that I was informed, over the phone mind you, that he wanted a divorce.  Since I can't remember that exact date, we're just going to pretend that I knew the minute I left that it was over, thus the "healing" began.  So here we are, less than three weeks away from seeing him, hearing his voice, occupying the same room as him for the first time SINCE APRIL 2009.  That made me want to yak a little.  But I'm getting my ducks in a row. 

Outfit? Check.  Black silky pants, sexy yet tasteful red shirt, pointy low heeled shoes, subtle earrings. 

Hair? Check.  Appointment next Saturday for cut and color.  He has not seen me as a brunette and that in and of itself should be interesting.

Zannie? Check.  Got a new script for Klonopin yesterday.  I will be popping at least a half one of those beforehand. It's like a zannie, but it doesn't make me a total bitch the following day.  I haven't an ounce of guilt about self medicating on the way in. 

Make up? Check.  Will be up in the judge's secretary's office letting her touch it all up. 

I guess that's about it. Ducks should be at the very least close to being in a row.  If not, I'll snap them in line between now and then.  I started looking at pictures of him, just to acclimate myself to his stupid self again.  i look at old pictures and think "SERIOUSLY?????"  But that's a whole nother blog.  I am also preparing myself for his posse. I can see his parents, natural and step, all in tow. Brother? Maybe.  Girlfriend? Doubtful, if he has any part of a brain.  Regardless, white trash people tend to band together in a crisis, and the more drama, the more involved they are.  He may not have spoken to his mother for two years, but let something happen, and BAM! There she is, bleached blonde hair, black roots, no bra and polyester pants about an inch too short (at least he gets it honest). *(Editor's note: This is the same woman who stole groceries from us when she babysat....Nuff Said.) One bff has insisted she could be there. I would love it but hate for her to miss work. Also, a little afraid she'd shank him in the hallway. Regardless, I do not plan on having a cheering section.  Just me and my lawyer/boss. This may show more maturity. It may backfire. Who knows?  But in twenty short days, at the VERY least, the judge will rip the uncertainty from underneath me, even if judgment is not in my favor.  I may be fucked, I may walk out smelling like a rose.  Either way, I won't have to write his last name again.  And it will be less than three months from the court date until the end of this blog.  Somehow, having some certainty will at least let me know HOW i need to cope between now and then.  Until then, lemme gather the ducks and line them up. . . .

Progress?

So I have spent the last week thinking about my marriage (or lack thereof).  As the time passes, it becomes easier to live without him and to take his memory with a grain of salt. Is that right? Is that even what I meant to say??? Regardless, thinking about him, or even saying his name in reference to a past event is not really a BFD anymore. That's progress. 

It's also progress that, in the situation I am in now with NB, that I can reflect back on somethings that maybe I did wrong in the marriage.  I'm not admitting ANYTHING, but I can, in retrospect, see somethings that were whiny/bitchy/fussy/spoiled.  However, he knew these things about me BEFORE he married me.  I did NOT know about his anger/temper/lying when I married him.  So he knew I was w/b/f/s but married me in spite of that, probably thinking it was endearing in the beginning, then as the bitterness grew, I'll bet all that wasn't so cute anymore. Funny, I'm trying to remember what was endearing about him?!?!? Oh, yeah, he enabled my spoiledness.  Yeah, that's about it.  Nothing about him was endearing at the end. 

But what worries me ... is that i am exactly 3 months away from the end of this blog.  And yes, I have come a long way.  I was devastated in September when I started this, even more so in April before I ever dreamed of the blog.  And I'm doing okay.  But what did I mean to accomplish by this blog? And what if I have NOT accomplished it come June 3, 2010.   I guess in my heart I KNOW I have made enough progress to justify this blog and vice versa.  So at the core of the issue:  What if I show up in court on March 31st, seeing him for the first time in a YEAR, and I lose it? Or I backslide and lose a year of progress in one day? That's my concern. I don't know how to combat it. I don't know how to prepare for it any way other than how I already have. So what if it was all for naught? Well, I suppose I will do like every other time in my life and pull myself up by my bootstraps and trudge on through, starting over and working my way to a healing place. Just like I always have. I may not like it. I may not admit it. But I will survive it. And in the end, I suppose that is all that matters. At least, that's what Gloria Gaynor said.

Love....is relative.

As I mentioned in my previous post, talking to my friend has really made me think and look more honestly at my past relationship with STBX.  And even the relationship, if you can call it that, with my baby's daddy.  I married both of these men.  Wouldn't it make sense that, at the time, I was in love with them? And i started to think....what does it even mean, to be in love. And i honestly think if you asked 100 people that very question, you would get 100 different answers. Even further than that, I think if we ask ourselves, we could come up with at least ten different answers. And still further, I think our definition of love must change as we get older.

When I was 18, I thought I was in love. He was so perfect. He made me laugh and I could see me spending the rest of my life with him when he wrote me sappy love poems and letters.  About six months ago, my bff and I pulled out those letters and poems and laughed until we peed at how silly they were! And they were silly! And i don't know if they were silly because we know now what we didn't know then, or if it was just silly altogether. Regardless, my definition of love has obviously evolved. 

When I was 21, I got knocked up by the cutest guy that i just thought I was so in love with! I can honestly say I never saw us growing old together. I was so low on self esteem I was just proud that he ever wanted me. And it never occurred to me at the time, that him calling me at 9 p.m. on a weeknight, when nothing better had panned out for the night, didn't mean that he loved me. It meant he wanted someone to stroke his ego and pay for his beer & pizza and eventually, after he was drunk, have sex with him (which he would usually pass out during, so I'm not sure how we ever conceived one child, much less twins.....) But we got married (because he said it was a sign that we were having twins that we should be together.) I would hold on so tightly to the few good times we had and sweep the majority of the bad times under the rug.  His behaviour was no different in the end than it was in the beginning so I don't know at what point I stopped loving him, except that maybe I never loved him at all, other than I would any other human being. Love equaled tricking myself into thinking that he wanted me and making myself believe that was love. We divorced exactly two years after we married. Today, I loathe him. 

And now....the STBX.  I had a crush on him in high school, so there was history. But I don't know, in retrospect, if I LOVED him. Because there again, what does love mean? He filled all the requirements and standards I had created from the last ex...(job, money, stability). He put me in an apartment, gave me a car and got me out of my mom & dad's house. He took me to DisneyWorld for our honeymoon and on a disney cruise w/o the kids.  He gave me everything I wanted, in the beginning, materialistically. But when his temper flared, even the first time, I immediately remember wishing I was living with my parents, with the fireplace going and my kids running around their house. I found a letter I had written him barely a year after we were married telling him I thought we'd made a mistake and I couldn't believe he had hurt me that way.  If found another letter about a year later where he had apparently forced me to have sex with him. And I remember, vividly, when things would happen like this, or his temper would flare, and all I could think about was getting out, going back home to my parents' house and feeling safe. On the other hand, when things were good, when we travelled, when we didn't have all the kids and the bank account had money in it, I just KNEW we were going to live together forever.  Is that love? When the chips were down, I wanted out. That makes me selfish, I think, and possibly shallow. I wonder now, could I have cut him out and replaced him with anyone else with money, humor and decent sexual ability? Was it HIM that i 'loved' or his circumstance? My bff said something one time that I remember to this day. . . . she was with someone, possibly married, i can't remember and she said "i know i don't love him because if he was mangled in a car accident and rendered helpless and in a wheelchair, i would stay out only out of guilt, and i would hate him for it."  I would have felt the same way a year in, or ten years in. So did I love him? Or were we in some sort of "contract" to live together and raise children?  He did nice things, plenty of times, but usually only to make up for some gigantic blunder in personality or temper. It was not all bad, but I don't think it was all love either. 

When i open a crayon box, and pull out a blue crayon, and show it to another person, and say "What color is that?"  They reply "blue" but how do i know, that the shade they perceive as blue, is the same shade I perceive as blue. What if their blue is pink, and vice versa?  Looking at something and making your determinations as to the content and context of such situation....it's all perspective. Love is perspective. Perspective is relative. Therefore, love is relative.

About a friend....

I have a friend who is going through something terribly similar to my situation.  Funny thing is, he is on the opposite side, as in, the role of my STBX, for all intents and purposes, would be played by him.  He got angry, he busted down the door (all too familiar)....she kicked him out and now he's coping with the possibility of divorce, at her request of course. (That's where we differ--I SHOULD have asked for divorce, but I didn't.. . .however, i digress...) Regardless, he is making me take a second look at my situation as I talk to him and try to reason and justify some things. And it's not easy for me to admit that I was wrong about anything. But I'm sitting her pointing out everything that his wife is doing/has done. . . and ... it's me to some extent. Maybe not all the craziness, but for instance.... he said "she told me that i'm such an asshole, something is missing and she can't want me or love me anymore"......And i had to remember myself saying the VERY SAME THING!  I had tried to explain on more than one occasion to my STBX this very concept.  We started out, I thought, so very much in love. But I think love is relative and that is an entirely separate entry altogether.  Even if you assume it was love. . . you live your life with this person, day in and day out.  You laugh, you talk, you argue, you have sex. . . That's a three to one ratio there: laugh, talk, sex..... (3) and argue (1).  Well the considerably unfair statistic here is that you can do a million good things and completely erase it with one terrible thing.  I don't know if men are wired that way or not. But women are. call it unfair, call it a double standard, whatever you feel like you need to label it. But it's the truth. Well, a million may be an exaggeration, but you get what I mean.  And STBX could be "good" for days, even weeks on end......Then a blow up about the step son...or money....or the dog....or any little thing and he would lose it, yell, scream, throw, etc... and that hurt, or disrespect, or whatever black mark it may be, would chip away at my soul. . . . A heartfelt apology could repair the chip, but nothing could ever make it whole again. The damage was done. Well after a decade of chipping away at my soul, I didn't love him anymore.  My divorce was a relief in a sense.  And he was the bad guy, which made it all the easier for me to accept the happiness (difficult as it was to muddle through initially).  No, I wasn't perfect and I'm sure I did my share of chipping. He does not love me anymore either.  So are we even?  It's never even. The song says "when a heart breaks no it don't break even...."  At this point, it is not about pointing fingers. What's done is done.  My soul is chipped, my heart is ever so slightly jaded and my emotions lead me to consistently wait for the other shoe to drop. . . . My friend has a huge task on his hands. Do you stay, for the children, in a relationship that you know neither of you will be happy in, and stick it out? Or do you walk away, start a separate life with your children, and at the very least be able to let them see you happy?  Well, it depends on how much soul you have left.... at what point do you realize that neither of you barely have any soul left to save.... he's the only person who knows that.

I'm a liar....

Maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration.  Maybe...delusional? Or self-serving? Perhaps just, creating part of an alternate reality, not necessarily an ENTIRE alternate reality (like STBX).... but insomuch as I have reread the last few blogs and by God I MEANT them at the time. . . . I probably still mean them, at the core.  I still believe it is okay to have a band-aid. Physical wounds require bandaids, and I believe emotional wounds require them just as well. I guess where I failed was "he started as a band-aid and somewhere along the way amid laughing, talking, cuddling and orgasms, I lost control of the situation only to wake up one day and realize somehow, we'd passed the band-aid stage altogether and i had no idea..." Yeah, well...apparently I let the laughing, talking, cuddling and orgasms cloud my inner sense of self....Because here i sit, in too deep, pretending, as i JUST said in a recent blog, to plug along and deal with bridges as they appear.  Cut to : Bridge.  i got a text today telling me that a job he'd been trying to get since October might actually be coming through. If so, he'll be moving about 2 1/2 hours away.  I got that text. My heart sank. And then.... my mind went reeling.... I've already, in my mind, got his apartment in Alabama, we don't talk anymore and he's sleeping with someone else. .. . in my mind.  I'm thinking about the lack of band-aid that he does still supply, when needed, such as my upcoming court date with STBX.  He (New Boyfriend) forces some sort of emotion out of me.  When i get home, and he's there, I force myself to deal with whatever it is before I have to see him.  And if I don't, he makes me talk about it. 

That's good. It really is. But I'm off on a tangent again.  I'm trying to explain that I have gotten in too deep and now he may be leaving and I doubt we are strong enough to sustain a long distance relationship. . . and i damn well will not be moving with him. I'm just...sick about it. And I have enough to be sick about.  He's supposed to be the good thing in my life. And yes, I know I'm being selfish and unsupportive within myself. But I've managed to maintain an outward supportive appearance.  When the time comes, if it ever does, I can show my ass.  I guess I should take my own advice, and I quote:   The day you realize you might need a bandaid to fix your bandaid is the day you need to grab a cigarette, a brownie or two, maybe even an entire bottle of wine and head onto the back porch to relax for a while. Bandaids only work temporarily. When they start becoming a permanent fixture, you better take inventory and be sure you're ready for the long haul. Otherwise, rip that motherfucker off and toss it in the trash..." 

But I don't want to. I'm not ready to. Doesn't it at least mean something that I REALIZE what i'm doing. I REALIZE that if I keep on I'm just going to end up needing an entire goddamned box of bandaids, one after the other? And if I REALIZE it...then when it happens, when i get my heart completely broken, AGAIN, which I KNEW was going to happen, I can't really bitch about it, can i? Well....I can, but you all do not have to read it. . . So my new advice:  When applying a band-aid, don't fucking listen to me. . . . . 

It ain't over....

Til the judge says it is. I just wanted to remind myself of that. This divorce is not over. And while i know that, i don't think I was embracing that, if you will. I know things are uncertain and that things will all come to fruition eventually. Meanwhile, I'm plugging along, not celebrating Valentines Day and being okay with it. . . However, something happened that I feel I must make note of. Initially, I was thinking about an earlier post regarding the NB (new boyfriend.)  I remember discussing via email with my bff the onset of the, at the time superficial, relationship with NB.  And she said, after giving me a pageful of warnings and signs and possible scenarios  to watch out for, that he may be here for a reason, or for a season.  Thoughtful wording, I felt.  But she is no newcomer to eloquent wordings. She is the single best writer I know and why she has not published a book yet it BEYOND me! But I digress. For a reason, or for a season.  I would have bet money on the latter (for my bff, that means the last one...) And in an effort to be honest with myself, let's all just assume that is still a very real possibility. But last night, I realized for the very first time, maybe there is a reason as well. No, not just the band-aid, or even a relationship cast that you wear over your broken heart much like you would a broken wrist or foot....I learned something from each past relationship I was in.  Maybe this guy is here to teach me, unknowingly of course, to learn to deal with things day by day.  We have always been very honest with one another about the possible outcomes of this "situation."  He can't make any guarantees and quite honestly neither can I.  I have my limits and my standards.  As my bff suggests, a point at which i would look around and say "okay, this crossed the line. I'm out!"  But in doing so, I'm learning that I can't worry about what might happen six months from now. Or what happened six months ago.  I used to think that realism was the key to preventing heartbreak.  But now I think I've learned that no amount of realism is going to soften the blow.  Heartbreaks are all or nothing.  Some may hurt worse, hurt less, hurt longer or cut deeper. . . But it's still a heartbreak. So do you live your life sheltered and protected, never opening yourself up for the possibility of a good time much less, dare i say it, love? Or do you shake off the memories and pain of the ex, and forge ahead chalking it up to experience? I can wish and regret away my day today only to end up with more regret later.  Or I can enjoy being with this man, have the fun and accept the attention that I deserve and cross bridges as I come to them, rather than trying to scout ahead. I think I choose the latter.

Happy Fucking Valentines Day.....

My boyfriend doesn't celebrate Valentines Day. Period. No questions, no discussions, no coercion. He just... doesn't. And he told me this up front. I admit for a while I was really thinking he was just fucking with me, and that he would at least acknowledge it. The closer it got to today, the more aware I became that he was not kidding. Not joking. Not even the least bit. And at some point along the way, I was mad. I was thinking " I don't give a rat's ass if you celebrate Valentines Day.... I DO!!!!" .... and then.... something changed. And I can't pin point it.  And I'm not making excuses for him, because anyone who knows me knows that if it was really important, I'd say "Gotdammit, i don't give a fuck if you celebrate it or not. Buy my gotdamned candy and flowers and have them at my house on Sunday with a fucking smile on your face!!!!" .... But his argument, which I didn't buy at first, was " i don't need someone to tell me when to buy you flowers and candy. I do that because it's saturday. Or tuesday. Or when the fuck ever."  Sounds like a true man excuse. But then the most amazing thing happened..... his ACTIONS.... matched his words.... And way before Valentines Day... and right before Valentines Day... flowers...because it's Saturday. Or because he was thinking about me . . . .(yuck, gross, bleck, i know, i know....) But the point is.... I was married to STBX for NINE years.... and he did Valentines Day right... ONCE. I don't even think we were married yet. It was the Valentines Day we were dating and he sent me a dozen roses. . . . Yes, several Valentines Days I got cards, that were purchased solely out of obligation (and i know this because they were purchased ON valentines day when everything had already been picked over. . ..and my Valentines Day card said something like "you're a swell person. Happy Valentines Day." Person was scratched out and WIFE 'appropriately' substituted.  SO waiting til the last minute on an obligatory holiday is way worse, to me, than not celebrating it at all. I was talking to my best friend earlier at which point I told her i was boycotting facebook all day. If i see one more status that says "Happy Valentines Day to the love of my life and the man of my dreams" blah blah blah. .. . . As she said, it should have said "Happy Val Day to the man who cheats on me and belittles me in front of our beautiful children."  Last night we cooked dinner, watched a movie and had really great sex. This morning, we had really great sex, cooked breakfast together and now we're watching a movie.  He knows it's Valentines Day. He's being really sweet.  So i don't have roses today. But in a week or two, when all these other bitches' roses have wilted and are in the incinerator, i'll have nice fresh ones on my table....or desk.... just because it's Saturday. And maybe because for once, someone thinks that I deserve flowers all year round, not just on February 14. . . .

Uncertainty

Big surprise: i don't do well with uncertainty. I don't like things to be "up in the air." I like to have a plan. I like to know what's going on, what's happening, what the deal is. The big joke with my parents is that I could never enjoy what what happening at any given moment because i was so worried about what was going to happen next. We're at lunch, where are we going after this? We're at Six Flags. What are we going to do when we leave? I would like to argue that is an exaggeration, but doubtful. It's probably right on target. And right now, uncertainty is abound!

My divorce: when will it be final?  What will I get?  Will he pay for the car?  What will the judge say?  How will I plan for my finances until I know the answer to these (and many other) questions?  What will I wear to court? What will he be wearing?  Will he look nice? Has he lost weight? Will his girlfriend be there? All excellent questions that are floating in my brain constantly.

The guy I'm seeing: (yes, i admitted it.)  Is he happy? What are we doing? Should we label this? What's going to happen? He's at my house certainly. He does all the right things certainly. But everytime he walks out the door, a small part of me wonders if he's coming back. No, we don't talk about it. No we don't label it. Should we? He's not divorced yet and neither am i!?!?! So in a sense, it's easier to let uncertain dogs lie.... And that is just what I have decided to do. I really like him, and I care for him,. And we have the BEST time together. I'll admit--he started as a band-aid and somewhere along the way amid laughing, talking, cuddling and orgasms, I lost control of the situation only to wake up one day and realize somehow, we'd passed the band-aid stage altogether and i had no idea. . . .That being said, I have no idea what that means, where it's going or even where I want it to go beyond this moment.  And it's safe and uncertain all in the same moment. I can't even comprehend how that could be.
School--will i get accepted as a doctoral candidate? How tough is it going to be? Will I be able to balance work, school, family, friends, etc...Un-fucking-certainty.
I get it, there are no guarantees. I was married more than once, promised to love til death do we part.  Maybe til death do we part is an emotional death, a spiritual death, the death of the union of the two people getting married, i don't know. Because all my exes are alive and kicking (unfortunately in some cases).There is no guarantee we will wake up the next morning, nor any guarantee we will live to see bedtime each night. That is enough to drive me crazy.  There is no guarantee ones significant other isn't going to cheat, lie, steal, murder... No guarantee that, no matter how hard you try, your children will grow up to be strong, willful independent intelligent young men and women who will make a difference in the world.
All of this may explain my intermittent  meltdowns. Between my children becoming full-fledged teenage boys, their father, my soon to be ex, my job, school, and my family, it's no wonder.... but  what bothers me more than what is on the surface, is the crystal ball.  It should be easy to let go of something so obviously out of my hands, and I really do try. But I get caught up  in it all and i honestly have to remind myself, it is what it is, and worrying isn't going to change a damn thing. . . .

Bandaids .....

We've all used band-aids to cover a small scratch, a gaping wound or even a burn, a bite, a rash. . . . as a child your mom would put a band aid on the boo boo and it was suddenly all better.  Well as we grow older, our definition of what constitutes a band-aid changes. Gone are the Hello Kitty (for most) and Spiderman band-aids. Adult band-aids come in a variety of shapes, sizes, textures and forms. Each band-aid is specific to each injury, if you will, much like the Johnson & Johnson--you have the original strip, the small circular one, the huge rectangular one and the one that looks like an "H". Well in adulthood you have the band-aids that come in six packs, or have four legs: band-aids that are for one night or six months. Chocolate band-aids, plastic band-aids....  Any plight of misery and misfortune, a break up, loss of a job, family member or a bad episode of Ugly Betty is good reason for a band-aid. (Show me a half naked man holding a double vodka sour with a lime twist in one hand, a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough in the other and the latest bestseller on the bedside table and I'll show you one quick recovery!) 

The point is....we've all used these adult band-aids. They are meant to hold things together temporarily. I've said before, the relationship didn't last forever, neither will the heartbreak.   The day you realize you might need a bandaid to fix your bandaid is the day you need to grab a cigarette, a brownie or two, maybe even an entire bottle of wine and head onto the back porch to relax for a while. Bandaids only work temporarily. When they start becoming a permanent fixture, you better take inventory and be sure you're ready for the long haul. Otherwise, rip that motherfucker off and toss it in the trash.

The Weekend In Review.....

So i read my last post....before writing this one.  Mediation was a total waste of time, just like I thought it would be and he was a total asshole, just like i thought he would be.  I wanted one thing and one thing only (for him to pay for my car payment) and even though I gave him the house and everything else, he still couldn't do that.  So after two and a half hours my lawyer (a/k/a my boss), stood up and said "Okay, tell him we'll see him in court." And with that, we left.  My boss did linger at the courthouse and did, again, run into STBX.  He said STBX needed a haircut. Again. Of course he does. I'm no longer there to tell him these things and apparently whatever trollop he's whoring around with doesn't have the wherewithal to tell him either. And that would mean they are a match made in heaven. Good for him. I left and called one of my friends and was telling her all about it.  She interrupted me at one point and said "I really expected you to be more upset." I wasn't. I didn't see him, granted, but he was literally, right there. I heard his voice. It didn't make me want to cry. It made me want to smother him and slit his throat simultaneously. I felt that was progress. . . . 

I guess right now you're proud of me, as I was of myself? Well.......

Saturday after my laptop finally bit the dust, I unpacked and set up the desktop I had bought back in August.  I had (thankfully) transferred all pics and music from said RIP laptop to an external hard drive. So I spent Saturday evening transferring music to the desktop.  Sunday, feeling IT accomplished, I remembered the external hard drive that STBX had given me post separation. The content? All docs and music from our "family" desktop.  I hooked it up (after many failed attempts in the past) and sure enough, it worked just fine. I started transferring THAT music over as well. I was going to have the most fully stocked music library ever! So as I am waiting for music to download/transfer/whatever, i notice the documents on there as well. I start clicking. THIS WAS A MISTAKE. The first thing I clicked was titled "Love Letter."  Okay, really? Shouldn't I have known better? ? ? ? ? Who was I kidding? It was a letter from 2001 that he had typed at about 5 in the morning.  He loved me, couldn't believe he'd found me, couldn't wait to live the rest of his life with me.  He would never let anything come between us.  He would take care of me and love me forever. 

Bullshit.

It has been a long time since I cried about him.  But I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. My cheeks felt hot. But I couldn't stop reading those words, in black and white, in front of me.  The problem wasn't reading the letter itself, but that I could, very much so, remember when i read that letter for the first time.  It was an overwhelming memory that took me by surprise and shook me to my core. I read it twice, the tears dripping down my face and falling onto my shirt. I finally stood up, surveyed the possibility of a smooth escape, and went out the back door. It was cold but sunny outside.  My children were engrossed in their video game and my boyfriend (luckily) was taking a nap.  I sat on those steps and I cried and cried and cried, sobbing into my own hands, feeling the breath escape me. I cried like I probably have needed to cry for some time. And after a while, I could hear the familiar sounds of my backyard over my own sniffles and sobs.  The sun was shining and it was warm on my face.  There were birds eating under the trees and squirrels chasing each other down by the storage house. And I took a moment to realize that I wasn't sitting there wishing all of this away (my yard and my house mean a LOT to me...) I was merely grieving those past feelings. It was 2001; that's a LONG time ago.  It's been a LONG time since I felt that close to him, and reading that letter may have been the first time I really had really remembered that part of us. . . . There was a time I felt that he loved me and a time I was positive I loved him.  There was a time when i truly felt, even foolishly naively, that he thought he was lucky to have me and appreciated me.  And remembering that made me suddenly and unwillingly deal with the divorce in a whole new perspective. I didn't like it. I didn't want to feel that way. I certainly did NOT want to shed a single tear for him.  But I did. And in the end, it felt good.  I may cry again. My best friend told me early on, "if you need to cry, then cry. The more you cry now, the less you will later."  Well I'm all for that.  If that is one less tear that falls over him in the long run, then all the better.  I've already wasted too much time on him.  As far as my mini-meltdown goes, I got caught by my children.  They are forever tracking me down and found me on the back porch, wiping away tears.  They sat down, one on each side of me. One put his arm around me, the other kissed my cheek.  We talked for a minute about what I had found and how it made me feel. I explained that it didn't  change anything. I was happy overall and I was certainly happy with our new life together, the three of us.  But I was sad.  They seemed to understand.  They sat there with me until I had pulled myself together, and they walked into the house behind me, as if to be sure I didn't relapse.  It was all very sweet. And I realized at that moment that these two 14 year olds had a more firm grasp on reality than the39 yr old STBX.  So no matter how you look at it, I really did get the best end of the deal.  I am happy.  I hate the uncertainty of my situation at this moment, but over all I am happy.  And no words outta his mouth at mediation, and no words in a letter from 9 years ago is going to change that.

Appropriate Apparitions

I felt it most appropriate that i blog this morning since this will be, thus far, the biggest day in the divorce debacle  (excluding the day i heard the words come out of his mouth as i was driving 80 mph down the interstate.)  Today is our mediation.  In our judicial circuit, a couple must attend a formal mediation within the court before being allowed to go before a judge for a final hearing.  So my attorney (my boss) and I will go to the courthouse today at 10:30 a.m. We will (hopefully as I have requested) be in a separate room from the STBX and his attorney. (I felt early on that if I had to be in the same room as him, I would probably have the urge to slit his throat...honestly there is NO way I could keep my cool. I know this.) The mediator will go into each room, trying to get a feel for what each of us is thinking and then go back and forth trying to come to some sort of compromise. I have already bet my boss $5 that it will be over by noon, with nothing accomplished and we'll goto court on February 10th, just in time for Valentines Day, which, there again, does not bother me cause he wasn't so great with the holidays. I will admit, I got up early...I used my sephora make up kit. I washed and dried my hair, even used mousse (not in that order, of course). I took extra care picking out my outfit. I decided to go with a low cut black shirt, dark jeans and heels. I may not even see him. Most likely, actually, that I won't. But in the rare instance, that i might.... i had to look my best.  No, i don't want him back. No i honestly don't care, at the core, what he thinks. But you never ever ever ever EVER...want your ex to see you and think "OH! That's why we're not together!!!!"  I don't even want him to see me and wish he was with me. I just want him to see me and know that I have moved on, for the most part. Any mourning at this point is for marriage itself. Mourning the loss of a mate, a companion, someone i trusted and loved. That person left long ago and the man I may see this morning has nothing to do with any of that.  He is a shell of a man.  He is hollow inside, nothing to him that has anything to do with me. Every part of me and who i was when I was with him is gone. I am a better person for it. So if and when I see him, I will try my best to remember, that when it takes my breath away, it won't be THAT man. It will be the memory of the man I married, a ghost if you will......Not the man that loved me, not the man that promised me forever. Not the man who thought it was cute when I cried at movies and laughed when i had one of my infamous "cassisms" (like, when i realized that skyscrapers were called that because they were so tall they "scraped the sky"...THAT, my friends, is a Cassism.) That man died years ago. It is the apparition of that man that i dread seeing. But if and when I do,  I will know that I am who I am because I lived it and I lived through it. And nothing he can say or do to me now will ever take that away. The sight of him might take my breath, but that will return in an instant, and I'll keep walking, right past him, head held high, right out of his life forever. Just as it should be. Just the way he wanted it. Perhaps i should even stop and thank him. My life now is so much more than I ever imagined it could be. Thanks to his cowardice, his inept inability to adjust to society, his heartlessness and his blatant disregard for my heart and my feelings. I should thank him for making me realize the person i could and SHOULD be.  I am a better person for having survived the past decade with him. And I will, each day, become an even more amazing person, for surviving decades without him. . . . 

Todays lesson.....Regret.

Every person I know has at least one regret. Make that one hundred--Small regrets (i wish i hadn't eaten that jalapeno chili), life altering regrets (i wish i'd never married him), and a multitude of regrets in between.  Regret can be handled two ways:  either chalk it up to whatever excuse, rationale or justification you can and walk away confident that you will never make such a unscrupulous decision again or wallow in a subterranean abyss of depression and self-loathing, thereby never growing and learning from your past indiscretions, which will lead to a perpetual cyclical depression borne out of repetitive gaffes and blunders (i.e.. feel sorry for yourself and keep making the same mistakes over and over)... So...in an effort to avoid the latter, i will list a few of my biggest regrets, how i have recovered (or am recovering) and what I've learned.

1.  I regret ever telling my babies' daddy that I was pregnant.  Everytime an issue comes up (late or non-existent child-support payments, cursing at the children, fussing about medications and the lack of need for such) I just think back to that moment, lying in the bathtub, taking his call, and honestly debating on whether or not to go to his house and tell him. Ultimately I went because I thought he would fall in love with me and we would be one big happy family. I was barely 21 and more naive than words can convey. He did marry me, AFTER the twins were born (after all, if it's twins, it must be meant to be). However, his inability to remain monogamous (blow jobs at lunch from his girlfriend), his physical tirades through the house (and much broken furniture along the way) and his excessive daily alcohol consumption (always a 12 pack of Natty Lite in the fridge) made it difficult, even at 23, to justify staying married, even with twins.  It has taken many, many years of self-discovery (and tons of therapy from my best friend) to make me realize that those battles, those arguments and stabs at my self-esteem, the yelling, the screaming, the fists through the wall all made me who I am today.  I hate to admit that he had any hand (no pun intended) in making me the person I am, but it is true. Being with him made me realize, after the fact, my self-worth and the many things I do and do not want out of love, relationships and life.

2.  I regret my second marriage.  I want to. I really, really do. But i know better. Even as fresh as it is on my mind, and as painful it is sometimes in my heart, I do not regret it for many of the same reasons listed above.  STBX was not always openly an asshole. He was quite the charmer, actually.  We had good times, took lots of trips in the beginning and he spoiled me. I did not realize, later, such spoiling would be used against me. He was good to my children in many ways, damaged them in others. I had many material things I thought I couldn't live without and lacked so many intangible things that I, post-separation, realized were essential to my happiness. I was able to stay home with my children until they reached middle school,  for which I will forever be grateful. I was able to go back to college and earn my bachelors degree. I refuse to give him any credit whatsoever for my Masters Degree though, because I did that one ALL ON MY OWN.  In the end, though, the bad severely outweighed the good, and as much as i want to hate him (maybe I do, I'm not sure) I can't regret the marriage. A decade is a long time to be with a person and I can't justify regretting that much of my life.  I learned lessons, just like with the babies' daddy.  I am walking away from this mistake a stronger, happier, more grounded woman.

3.  I regret not going to college (and subsequently finishing four years later) when I was 18.  I did regret this for a long time. I regretted it even as I was back in college at 28.  Every night that I was up at midnight typing a research paper or researching the history of vicitmization of women in china, because i had just gotten the kids to bed, dishes washed and laundry folded, I would secretly curse myself for not having done this right after high school.  And I did go right after high school, for one quarter. I hated it. I was living with my boyfriend (my parents, that is a whole nother blog!) and college was the last thing on my mind.  I was working at a bank as a mortgage loan processor making $8/hour which, at the time, was really good money.  Why did I need college. At that time, I assumed I would retire from the bank.  Or maybe I didn't. Maybe I couldn't even see that far into the future, or at the very least, I didn't care to. Once I did get back to college, though, and I was paying for it (or I will pay for it eventually....thanks, uncle sam) it meant so much more to me.  These eighteen year olds would come to class in their pajamas, with a notebook and sometimes with no notebook or pen or pencil or ANYTHING. They would sit there, listening, taking zero notes, and then wonder why they weren't passing at midterm. I, on the other hand, had my notebook, complete with color coded dividers, an array of pens, pencils and highlighters, erasers, mints, vicks vapor inhaler, gum, gem clips, stapler, ruler, thesaurus and dictionary. I took my work seriously and my grades even more serious. I felt like I was, at the very least, setting a good example for my children.  Yes, maybe I screwed up at 18 (that may be an understatement for an entirely different reason) but I was rectifying it in my late twenties, while being married and raising four children. It means more, now, than it would have then. I took it more seriously, and I am pursuing even further education.  18 years ago (wow!) I never would have even debated getting a Masters Degree, much less a Ph.D.  Postponing, even under false pretense, ended up working in my favor.

So see, sometimes regret can make you see the good in a situation. Regret doesn't always have to be regret. Pick the situation apart, break it down, and try to find the positive and learn from it. Viola! You have yourself a life-lesson and one less regret on the list. . . . .

Facebook Closure

Facebook has become a way of life. Social networking:  friends, colleagues, family members even pets have their own facebook pages.  I've seen facebook status wars between friends, lovers, spouses. It is the ultimate social mechanism to either bring people closer (family for instance) or rip them apart (petty fake friendships and backstabbing bitches). It has become a social status among your peers. There is no worse slap in the face in 2010 than to be blocked.  Being deleted as a friend is the new caller ID. So when my socially inept STBX got a facebook page, i knew it would be on. And it was. Friendships fell apart, status wars engaged, and the blocking began. Not just me but my friends. My dog. My mom. Everyone was blocked except who he deemed worthy enough to view his page. Well apparently when facebook underwent their new privacy overhaul, some people did not go in and properly change things. I've been able to see lots of good things and get copious amounts of dirt on other people. Then, this past Friday, I happened upon his page. And I tell you, I did NOT look for it. I was led there, somehow, clicking here and there and suddenly, there it was before me. His profile pic: the one I took of him in Florida on our family vacation. He looks so carefree and fun and happy.... Who wouldn't want to be this guys friend? Or girlfriend? Or WIFE? Or babysitter. Or social graces nazi. Or maid. I tell you I sat there and read every word, every comment, looked at every picture. I cried. Then I was mad. Then indignant. Then sad again. My heart ached and I wondered how he could be so happy without me? He went caving. Really? REALLY? I couldn't get that stupid motherfucker up off that couch to take out the trash or go to a movie, unless there was food involved. And he went caving. What the holy hell fuck was going on? His pictures looked so....normal. Standing there like he was just fine. Happy even. What a stupid motherfucker. I called my best friend. Not available. So I call my friend who was there during the previous separation (and unfortunately reconciliation). She talked me through it. Talked me off the ledge. Let me cry. We made fun of him and laughed. She let me cry some more. Then she reminded me .... of how miserable i was, even FIVE YEARS AGO. And how scared I was of him, at times. And i looked at those pictures again of his ill-mannered children, camping and caving....and I remembered, right in that moment: i didn't want to be a part of that.  This divorce is good. His life is happy, sure. He doesn't have any rules and neither do his children. Who isn't happy when there is no opposition? So I'ma let him just have that "fun". And I'm going to remember, "fun" is relative. So is happiness. I'm happy, in my way, according to my standards, which he never lived up to. So no need to block me, STBX....I've seen all i need to.

Little moments.....

No, not sweet little moments like the Brad Paisley song....but little moments like....you're standing unsuspecting and your boss walks in and says "I saw STBX's mom in court today. She said she was really sad you guys didn't work things out." Okay, i'ma hafta call "bullshit" on that one! She hated me and that was just fine cause i hated her too. She was just like his first ex-wife--they were a match made in heaven (the mother in law and ex-wife, that is.) Trashy to the core, no morals, no manners, no mind!  So i hear this come out of my boss' mouth yesterday, and I'm trying to remember now the sequence of events.  As i said, i immediately called bullshit. But my heart wasn't racing. I wasn't sick to my stomach. I was slightly disgusted that thetrashy whore of an ex-mother-in-law would walk around town even uttering my name. How dare she! But then I thought, in the grand scheme of things, why do I care? Initially, sure, because i despise her. But what is it to me, that she even acknowledges me, even if she's trying to use our acquaintance to her advantage (by getting her mid-life-mistake son out of a speeding ticket). And yet, it irritates me. Now I realize, the mere existence of that entire family irritates me. Him, his mom, his children (bad, i know).  And because I stood in that gazebo, and took those vows, in front of God and my family and friends, I will, forever, have little moments.  Even exes from my teenage years can still conjure the slightest butterfly, whether good, bad or indifferent. So no matter where I end  up, during or after this blog, (unless i move to Hawaii or the Virgin Islands) I am going to see him, his family, his friends and/or his children.  He is a part of me, whether I like it or not. And I don't have to like it. Just like I am positive he does not like it that I will forever be a part of him.  We thought we knew what we were doing, he was an asshole, it's over.  Seems simple enough. Thank GOD we don't have children together. This link is tragic enough. But whatever happens, whenever I see him and/or his click o' gorillas, those little moments will be just milliseconds in my life that, someday, i probably won't even remember.  My dreams and my goals and my entire life are all bigger than any memory he has ever been a part of.

Quietly in the night.....

I was, for once, all excited about New Years Eve, with the exception of the sprained ankle that is causing me significant pain 24/7.  I invited a few girlfriends over, rustled up some jambalaya, hummus, pita chips, cashews and pimento cheese.  We had three HUGE bottles of wine, Phase Ten cards and Friends Scene It.  We were ON!!! My weenie dog was decked out in her NYE beads and hat.  We laughed and joked and played cards and drank copious amounts of wine.  It was a GREAT night. And we counted down the New Year with an ever aging Dick Clark (it was pitiful, wasn't it?) After the ball dropped in Times Square, we rallied another game of Friends Scene It (I won all of them by the way) and we cleaned up and went to bed. Asleep by one a.m. I thought it was a perfectly wonderful New Years Eve. New Years Day, I went into town, saw a movie and on the way home realized, I'd made it through New Years Eve with not even so much as a THOUGHT about STBX.  I didn't wonder where he was, or if he was at home, or who he might be ringing in the new year with. It NEVER ..... CROSSED..... MY.....MIND. Until the day after. Which i thought was major progress!!!! And even when I DID think about it, I was relatively apathetic.  Because he wasn't with me, dragging me out of some party, yelling and me or being an asshole. No, that is someone's problem now, although I'm sure those attributes haven't shown up yet; it takes a couple of years.  And I'm already more okay at this point than I ever dreamed I'd be.  So imagine, June 3, 2010, how far along I will have come.  Bring it on, I say. I'm ready for 2010!!!!