One of the best things about this new single life is the newfound food freedom. See, the exgirlfriend was not the adventurous type when it came to food. Basically, it was a rotation of spaghetti from one of those spice envelopes (blech), pork chops cooked the same old way every damn time, and tacos. Good food, food that was different and interesting was pretty much out of the question. It was always the same restaurant, the same dish. Very, very boring.
Since the break up, I've been doing much more cooking...less eating, thanks to all those icky emotion things, but more cooking. I've scoured the Archeogoddess' blog for all the yummy recipes she's shared, renewed my interest in Allrecipes and added a bunch of new recipes to my repertoire, much to the appreciation of the midget and my sister, who was kicked out of Canada and had no place else to go, so she's inhabiting my couch.
I've made Rogan Josh, scallop pasta with garlic butter sauce, and my new favorite, caramel pork chops with apples. I'm remembering how much fun it is to cook. You sort of lose interest when you have made the same thing so many times that you could make it in your sleep while standing on your head and reading War and Peace.
So, while I'm not looking to duplicate the Julie/Julia Project I am enjoying expanding my culinary horizons. This summer should provide all kinds of opportunities, what with barbecueing and whatnot.
I'm keeping track of all the good things about being single...having the bed to myself, no compromising on movies or listening to yet another boring work story about a bunch of white trash lunatics. But so far, the best thing about this single thing is actually enjoying eating what I cook.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
I Am About To Overshare...You've Been Warned...
Today I had an experience I've been dreading. I tried to psych myself up about it this morning. I said..."Come on, Laura...It won't be that bad, you've certainly been through worse." I think I lied to myself.
See, I had to have my "annual exam" today. You women know that this polite term means that you are going to be violated with cold plastic and have to make small talk with the your OBgyn's bald spot while he peers at your nether regions. Annual exam sounds like such an innocuous term for such a traumatic experience. From now on, I am not going to say, "I am going for my annual exam." I'm going to say, "I am going to be finger raped by a man I barely know." It's much more honest and this way I get to spread the misery around my sharing that appalling mental image.
But, see I have been a bad girl. I haven't had been finger raped by a man I barely know in just over two years. So this was my first official visit as a "woman over thirty." And yes, a tiny piece of my soul died when the friendly nurse (who would also be peering at my nether regions) referred to me as such. What I didn't know is that as punishment for aging, my visit was going to have a much more disturbing component than ever before. You see, my friends who are under thirty, this is the age when they begin what is referred to as "colorectal cancer screening." It should be called anal finger raping. I've spent my entire sex life avoiding having anything put there...and now I've got to experience it every year. And have that same balding man make small talk while his finger is inside my ass!!!
After today, the last few months look like a picnic in the park with butterflies and ponies...
See, I had to have my "annual exam" today. You women know that this polite term means that you are going to be violated with cold plastic and have to make small talk with the your OBgyn's bald spot while he peers at your nether regions. Annual exam sounds like such an innocuous term for such a traumatic experience. From now on, I am not going to say, "I am going for my annual exam." I'm going to say, "I am going to be finger raped by a man I barely know." It's much more honest and this way I get to spread the misery around my sharing that appalling mental image.
But, see I have been a bad girl. I haven't had been finger raped by a man I barely know in just over two years. So this was my first official visit as a "woman over thirty." And yes, a tiny piece of my soul died when the friendly nurse (who would also be peering at my nether regions) referred to me as such. What I didn't know is that as punishment for aging, my visit was going to have a much more disturbing component than ever before. You see, my friends who are under thirty, this is the age when they begin what is referred to as "colorectal cancer screening." It should be called anal finger raping. I've spent my entire sex life avoiding having anything put there...and now I've got to experience it every year. And have that same balding man make small talk while his finger is inside my ass!!!
After today, the last few months look like a picnic in the park with butterflies and ponies...
Friday, May 01, 2009
You Always Hurt....
Strangers have no power to hurt me. The kid who mooed at me in high school earns a chuckle these days. Friends of a friend who say or think bad things about me, well...that stings a bit, mostly because they get most of their information about me through an intermediary I assume thinks I'm pretty much okay. But no one, and I mean no one, can hurt me the way that someone I love can hurt me.
Someone you love, when that love goes south, has more ammunition than anyone else in the world. She'll remember the bad a whole lot more clearly than the good and since she knows you...she knows which daggers will be deflected and which will cripple you with their accuracy. She won't remember the time you made mashed potatoes from scratch because nothing else would satisfy. She'll remember instead the time you spent the rent money in a casino and didn't tell her until the day it was due. She won't recall the times you stayed up until the wee hours of the night because she was having panic attacks and only knowing you were awake, watching over her, enabled her to sleep. Instead, she'll remember that you slept late into the day, missing her day off.
Of course, this goes both ways. When I talk to her, I don't thank her for the nights spent in the ER holding my hand and wiping away tears, instead I shriek about the times she wasn't there, didn't believe me, or didn't care. And each time she hurts me, I ransack my mind for more ammunition and use my quick and clever brain to twist my words into blades of derision.
It devolves quickly...she shouting, me crying. Neither saying anything that will make the other one feel like she mattered the way she did.
I hate that I do this, hate that I can't stop doing this. I wish I could fast forward my heart and brain six months, two years...whenever that magic moment when I will be able to see clearly all that was, the good and the bad and appreciate it for all that it was. I wish I could stop myself...or at least find the magic words to make up for all that I've said, to let her know that I regret what I've said almost immediately upon saying it.
I know there is a way to break up that leaves both partners with the dignity they deserve, I just don't how to do it.
Someone you love, when that love goes south, has more ammunition than anyone else in the world. She'll remember the bad a whole lot more clearly than the good and since she knows you...she knows which daggers will be deflected and which will cripple you with their accuracy. She won't remember the time you made mashed potatoes from scratch because nothing else would satisfy. She'll remember instead the time you spent the rent money in a casino and didn't tell her until the day it was due. She won't recall the times you stayed up until the wee hours of the night because she was having panic attacks and only knowing you were awake, watching over her, enabled her to sleep. Instead, she'll remember that you slept late into the day, missing her day off.
Of course, this goes both ways. When I talk to her, I don't thank her for the nights spent in the ER holding my hand and wiping away tears, instead I shriek about the times she wasn't there, didn't believe me, or didn't care. And each time she hurts me, I ransack my mind for more ammunition and use my quick and clever brain to twist my words into blades of derision.
It devolves quickly...she shouting, me crying. Neither saying anything that will make the other one feel like she mattered the way she did.
I hate that I do this, hate that I can't stop doing this. I wish I could fast forward my heart and brain six months, two years...whenever that magic moment when I will be able to see clearly all that was, the good and the bad and appreciate it for all that it was. I wish I could stop myself...or at least find the magic words to make up for all that I've said, to let her know that I regret what I've said almost immediately upon saying it.
I know there is a way to break up that leaves both partners with the dignity they deserve, I just don't how to do it.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
If You Don't Like It, Don't Read It
I've had this blog for awhile. And during that time, I've had issues with my words being misread with malicious intent by various parties. I've been tempted to abandon it altogether, and I'm sure any regular readers have thought from time to time that I've done just that. I've yet again had an experience where someone reading what I've written is reading between the lines and finding meaning I never intended. Along with contemplating abandonment, I've also contemplated simply censoring what I have to say to avoid any issues.
However, after each incident I've come to the conclusion that whatever a person decides to take away from what I've written is that person's problem, not mine. I'm not a subtle person, and have a blatant disregard for making myself looking good. I tend to be really honest, and maybe too honest, but that's who I am.
You can't please all the people all of the time, and if you try you'll end up pleasing no one. I am who I am, and I've spent over thirty years making apologies for that to various people. It wasn't until the last few weeks with my sister and my biomom that I really realized just how often I apologize. And, quite frankly, I've decided to save myself the energy.
Here's the deal...What's written here is about me, and maybe in some ways about others, but mostly just about me, my feelings, my thoughts, my interpretations. If you don't like it, don't read it. I am who I am, no more apologies.
However, after each incident I've come to the conclusion that whatever a person decides to take away from what I've written is that person's problem, not mine. I'm not a subtle person, and have a blatant disregard for making myself looking good. I tend to be really honest, and maybe too honest, but that's who I am.
You can't please all the people all of the time, and if you try you'll end up pleasing no one. I am who I am, and I've spent over thirty years making apologies for that to various people. It wasn't until the last few weeks with my sister and my biomom that I really realized just how often I apologize. And, quite frankly, I've decided to save myself the energy.
Here's the deal...What's written here is about me, and maybe in some ways about others, but mostly just about me, my feelings, my thoughts, my interpretations. If you don't like it, don't read it. I am who I am, no more apologies.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
You! Outta My Head!!
So, you've done your post break-up ritual, whatever that may be. You've danced naked around a bonfire of pictures of the two of you, or whatever. You've packed away the things you want to keep, but can't look at right now. THE OTHER PERSON HAS FINALLY GOTTEN THEIR SHIT OUT OF YOUR HOUSE!! You've resisted the urge to call more than once. You've even gone away for the weekend to spend time with your family to take a break from the familiar, so you aren't thinking about them.
But, then...that same family decides to go out to dinner, and despite being in a city that makes your home town look like the Hickville it is, it happens to be a restaurant you last ate at with your ex and her friend, while delivering the baby blanket YOU made for HER friend. And, joy of joys...they don't put you in any of the twelve other dining rooms in the fucking place...no, that would be just too easy. Instead they stick you in the same room as the last visit, and since you were the last person in, you get stuck in the seat directly across from the table you sat at.
No matter how hard you try, there are some things you can't do on your schedule. You can't erase that person from your brain, or somehow magically lock up your memories so they can only be accessed for fun source material when remembering why, exactly, you will never again date a musician. And there is no telling what will bring the memories to the fore, either. Certain sights or smells or sounds can be perfectly safe one day, and send you off the deep end the next. There is no rhyme or reason, no way to safeguard yourself from the unexpected punch in the gut. Just a reminder to yourself that it is okay to cry sometimes, it is okay to get and stay mad. So long as you don't stay mad forever, as long as at some point you can look back and smile.
I'm so not there, yet. I will be one day, I assume. No one actually dies of a broken heart, and plenty of people go through break ups and come out the other side, smiling. I've just never had my heart so completely broken, never lost something I thought that I could never lose. The only other significant break up in my life I knew was inevitable, even when I defended the relationship to every person I knew and told everyone we'd always be together, I knew it was unsustainable. This was different, though, and while I never wanted to get married or say "forever" I also never imagined that there would be a day that we would not be together. And, no, it doesn't necessarily make sense that I could be so wholeheartedly against "forever" and not have foreseen that this day would come. But, what in love does make sense?
But, then...that same family decides to go out to dinner, and despite being in a city that makes your home town look like the Hickville it is, it happens to be a restaurant you last ate at with your ex and her friend, while delivering the baby blanket YOU made for HER friend. And, joy of joys...they don't put you in any of the twelve other dining rooms in the fucking place...no, that would be just too easy. Instead they stick you in the same room as the last visit, and since you were the last person in, you get stuck in the seat directly across from the table you sat at.
No matter how hard you try, there are some things you can't do on your schedule. You can't erase that person from your brain, or somehow magically lock up your memories so they can only be accessed for fun source material when remembering why, exactly, you will never again date a musician. And there is no telling what will bring the memories to the fore, either. Certain sights or smells or sounds can be perfectly safe one day, and send you off the deep end the next. There is no rhyme or reason, no way to safeguard yourself from the unexpected punch in the gut. Just a reminder to yourself that it is okay to cry sometimes, it is okay to get and stay mad. So long as you don't stay mad forever, as long as at some point you can look back and smile.
I'm so not there, yet. I will be one day, I assume. No one actually dies of a broken heart, and plenty of people go through break ups and come out the other side, smiling. I've just never had my heart so completely broken, never lost something I thought that I could never lose. The only other significant break up in my life I knew was inevitable, even when I defended the relationship to every person I knew and told everyone we'd always be together, I knew it was unsustainable. This was different, though, and while I never wanted to get married or say "forever" I also never imagined that there would be a day that we would not be together. And, no, it doesn't necessarily make sense that I could be so wholeheartedly against "forever" and not have foreseen that this day would come. But, what in love does make sense?
Friday, April 17, 2009
At Least I Still Have the Love of My Life
Yup. He's sleeps with me, licks away the tears and only rarely changes the channel when I'm watching something good. He's sweet, and though he doesn't really like little kids, he agrees that Cassidy is pretty amazing. He doesn't lie, and I really don't have to worry that he'll run off with someone else.
He's my Charlie-Man, the little shih tzu/poodle mix that I rescued from the shelter two years ago this August. He's kind of a dork and makes me laugh pretty regularly. It's hard to be sad when he's around.
I took this picture the last time I had all three dogs out and about together. Charlie was having a grand old time running with Cera. He misses her terribly, they're best friends and he's still waiting for her to come home. He really needs to be groomed, but look at all that hair...Isn't he just the perfect match for me?
He's my Charlie-Man, the little shih tzu/poodle mix that I rescued from the shelter two years ago this August. He's kind of a dork and makes me laugh pretty regularly. It's hard to be sad when he's around.
I took this picture the last time I had all three dogs out and about together. Charlie was having a grand old time running with Cera. He misses her terribly, they're best friends and he's still waiting for her to come home. He really needs to be groomed, but look at all that hair...Isn't he just the perfect match for me?
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Wait...But You Left Me....
Breaking up is never a simple process. And it's never cut and dried. There is not one person who screwed up, there are almost always two people who screwed up and you can waste hours arguing about who screwed whom more, but it's a waste of time and only serves to cause each other more pain, prolong the anger and slow the process of healing.
However, while two people screw up the relationship, it's rare that two people sit down, look at each other and say, "Hey, even though this isn't working anymore, I don't want to hurt you, so let's do this as rationally as possible." If you're married, then you have lawyers and a court system that decides who gets what and who pays for what and when each parent sees the child. But when you aren't married, there are no "rules" and no real guidelines, you just kind of make it up as you go along.
Unfortunately, since there can be a lot of acrimony in a break up, even in a break up between people who genuinely care about each other, things get out of control. Every word, every tone is examined for malice and even when none is intended, it is often assumed by the other person. This is how people end up hating each other. This is how the ex girlfriend and I are going to end up hating each other. I have all of her things in my house still. I have asked her repeatedly to come get her things, and put what she doesn't have room for in our storage area. It's been a month now, since she finally let me in on the secret that she was done with me, and yet, all her things, minus a few bags of clothes are sitting here...my constant reminder of what I've lost.
I don't have a lot of energy to do things, and I'm at the point where the energy I have should be spent taking care of myself so that I can be a good mom. Those are my biggest jobs at the moment, and yet, I've got this monumental task of boxing things up, loading it in my truck and putting it in storage. I'll be honest...I've had my fantasies of re-enacting that scene from Waiting To Exhale where Angela Basset puts all of his stuff in a car and lights it on fire. I'd never go through with it, but considering that she left me, it's awfully brave of her to just assume I'll take her of her things. Luckily for her, my hurt and anger haven't dulled my sense of right and wrong enough to allow me to do it...but it's tempting from time to time.
So, let this be my admonition to you, gentle reader...If you are ever in a relationship and find yourself in the position of having to leave the other person, do them and yourself a favor...have a plan. Know where you're going, and whether or not your things can go there with you. If they can't...make arrangements for storing them some place, and don't leave it on your ex to do. Your ex should be spending post break up time doing anything but focusing on you. Unless your goal is to hurt your ex as much as you possibly can (which, is wrong regardless of what's happened and will only cause you regret in the long run)be considerate enough to take your things with you, don't leave them in your ex's possession just to rub salt in her wounds.
However, while two people screw up the relationship, it's rare that two people sit down, look at each other and say, "Hey, even though this isn't working anymore, I don't want to hurt you, so let's do this as rationally as possible." If you're married, then you have lawyers and a court system that decides who gets what and who pays for what and when each parent sees the child. But when you aren't married, there are no "rules" and no real guidelines, you just kind of make it up as you go along.
Unfortunately, since there can be a lot of acrimony in a break up, even in a break up between people who genuinely care about each other, things get out of control. Every word, every tone is examined for malice and even when none is intended, it is often assumed by the other person. This is how people end up hating each other. This is how the ex girlfriend and I are going to end up hating each other. I have all of her things in my house still. I have asked her repeatedly to come get her things, and put what she doesn't have room for in our storage area. It's been a month now, since she finally let me in on the secret that she was done with me, and yet, all her things, minus a few bags of clothes are sitting here...my constant reminder of what I've lost.
I don't have a lot of energy to do things, and I'm at the point where the energy I have should be spent taking care of myself so that I can be a good mom. Those are my biggest jobs at the moment, and yet, I've got this monumental task of boxing things up, loading it in my truck and putting it in storage. I'll be honest...I've had my fantasies of re-enacting that scene from Waiting To Exhale where Angela Basset puts all of his stuff in a car and lights it on fire. I'd never go through with it, but considering that she left me, it's awfully brave of her to just assume I'll take her of her things. Luckily for her, my hurt and anger haven't dulled my sense of right and wrong enough to allow me to do it...but it's tempting from time to time.
So, let this be my admonition to you, gentle reader...If you are ever in a relationship and find yourself in the position of having to leave the other person, do them and yourself a favor...have a plan. Know where you're going, and whether or not your things can go there with you. If they can't...make arrangements for storing them some place, and don't leave it on your ex to do. Your ex should be spending post break up time doing anything but focusing on you. Unless your goal is to hurt your ex as much as you possibly can (which, is wrong regardless of what's happened and will only cause you regret in the long run)be considerate enough to take your things with you, don't leave them in your ex's possession just to rub salt in her wounds.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
An Ending...
Nine and a half years ago, I was blessed with two amazing people in my life. I had just given birth to my mini me, and began a friendship with an amazing woman. Very quickly, that friendship deepened for me. It wasn't long before I noticed that her eyes changed color depending on her mood, or the lighting, that her skin was soft and beautiful, that her smile was slightly crooked, which made it all the more heart stopping...It wasn't long before I needed to be around her, I found excuses to see her. I fell hard, and fast, long before I had any idea of who she really was.
Three months after Cass was born, I "kidnapped" that amazing woman because I had grown to care about her so much and she was going through a rough time, and I was scared for her, and wanted to help her. The next year was alternately giddy and then unsure. We grew closer, and I fell even harder for her. She was such a different person than anyone else I'd ever known. She understood me, and hidden beneath her facade of anger and indifference was the kindest, most loving and generous soul. She was wounded, and understood that I was as well.
There was never an official moment that we decided that we were committed to each other. There was simply a deepening of understanding, a growing trust, a blossoming love. We went on a road trip with a friend to San Diego and shared the most beautiful moments late at night, with the moonlight shining on the ocean.
She became my partner, my friend, my lover. She became my daughter's mother and loved her intensely. We were a family and though it wasn't always easy, it was always worth it.
I have always distrusted "forever." I learned at a very young age, that love or blood or legal paperwork was no guarantee that a person I loved today would still be there tomorrow. Instead of trying to find a way to trust that this amazing woman would be in my life forever, I kept a part of myself at arm's length...swore that I didn't believe in happily ever after, in forever. I promised her that I loved her, but I couldn't bring myself to promise that my love would last. I couldn't bring myself to trust that she would be different, that she would stay when others had left. I hurt her deeply by being unable to move past my fear of being left behind. If I could do it again, I would take back all the times I qualified the love I had for her, the times I refused the level of commitment she offered.
Even though I said I didn't believe that we would be together, the love I had for her was so immense that deep inside, in a place I never let her see, I began to believe in forever. I began to WANT forever...as long as we were together. And no, it wasn't perfect, and it wasn't easy, but then, what in this life is? And every struggle, every obstacle just made me love her even more. I should have told her that I was scared to admit how much I loved her. I should have told her that I kept back that part of myself, not because I didn't love her, but because I didn't trust that I could be enough to keep her. That I could be good enough, that she would never grow tired of me.
When I got sick, I thought...this is it. This is when she'll leave. But, she didn't. She stood by me. Watched with tortured eyes when they poked and prodded and I got sicker. She held our daughter to calm her, to shield her from the pain of my illness. As more and more of my life, of the things we so loved...hiking, camping, being able to just up and go somewhere...slipped away I retreated to a a very dark corner of my mind. I hid from her, from the pain I was causing her, from the disappointment as all the plans we had slowly wilted. Going from doctor to doctor took it's toll on all of us. Instead of reaching out, instead of fighting, I buried myself away...became the illness, and gave up hope.
I can make excuses, and some of them are even valid...but I hurt her, and I scared her and I let her down. I hurt my daughter, and I scared her and I let her down. I let the ugly depression that has been my constant enemy win and I gave up on them. I gave up on me.
I can see now what I did, I can take responsibility and I'm learning to stand on my own two painful feet. I'm learning to fight again, and it's hard. All the more so because I am doing it without her. We've hurt each other so much, and it's hard to understand how two people who loved each other the way we did can end up where we are. I may have learned it too late, but I've learned that in this life, when you are given the chance at happiness, when someone reaches out to you and says..."You...I love you even though you aren't perfect I will be here." that not trusting them is in essence throwing away the greatest gift one person can ever give another. I've learned that if you spend all your time lamenting what was, and refusing to let go of the past, letting it imprison your present, you will lose everything that is precious to you. It's a painful lesson, and it comes too late, but it's a lesson I'll never forget.
To that amazing woman: As much as I'm hurting now, I wouldn't trade what we had for anything. I learned so much from you. I can never thank you properly for all that you have given me. I'm so, so sorry that I couldn't give you what we both needed. I will always love you. I will always carry you in my heart. I hope that your future is as beautiful as you are, that you find what you need and that you can forgive my failure to love you as completely as I could. Be happy...Be well...I love you.
Three months after Cass was born, I "kidnapped" that amazing woman because I had grown to care about her so much and she was going through a rough time, and I was scared for her, and wanted to help her. The next year was alternately giddy and then unsure. We grew closer, and I fell even harder for her. She was such a different person than anyone else I'd ever known. She understood me, and hidden beneath her facade of anger and indifference was the kindest, most loving and generous soul. She was wounded, and understood that I was as well.
There was never an official moment that we decided that we were committed to each other. There was simply a deepening of understanding, a growing trust, a blossoming love. We went on a road trip with a friend to San Diego and shared the most beautiful moments late at night, with the moonlight shining on the ocean.
She became my partner, my friend, my lover. She became my daughter's mother and loved her intensely. We were a family and though it wasn't always easy, it was always worth it.
I have always distrusted "forever." I learned at a very young age, that love or blood or legal paperwork was no guarantee that a person I loved today would still be there tomorrow. Instead of trying to find a way to trust that this amazing woman would be in my life forever, I kept a part of myself at arm's length...swore that I didn't believe in happily ever after, in forever. I promised her that I loved her, but I couldn't bring myself to promise that my love would last. I couldn't bring myself to trust that she would be different, that she would stay when others had left. I hurt her deeply by being unable to move past my fear of being left behind. If I could do it again, I would take back all the times I qualified the love I had for her, the times I refused the level of commitment she offered.
Even though I said I didn't believe that we would be together, the love I had for her was so immense that deep inside, in a place I never let her see, I began to believe in forever. I began to WANT forever...as long as we were together. And no, it wasn't perfect, and it wasn't easy, but then, what in this life is? And every struggle, every obstacle just made me love her even more. I should have told her that I was scared to admit how much I loved her. I should have told her that I kept back that part of myself, not because I didn't love her, but because I didn't trust that I could be enough to keep her. That I could be good enough, that she would never grow tired of me.
When I got sick, I thought...this is it. This is when she'll leave. But, she didn't. She stood by me. Watched with tortured eyes when they poked and prodded and I got sicker. She held our daughter to calm her, to shield her from the pain of my illness. As more and more of my life, of the things we so loved...hiking, camping, being able to just up and go somewhere...slipped away I retreated to a a very dark corner of my mind. I hid from her, from the pain I was causing her, from the disappointment as all the plans we had slowly wilted. Going from doctor to doctor took it's toll on all of us. Instead of reaching out, instead of fighting, I buried myself away...became the illness, and gave up hope.
I can make excuses, and some of them are even valid...but I hurt her, and I scared her and I let her down. I hurt my daughter, and I scared her and I let her down. I let the ugly depression that has been my constant enemy win and I gave up on them. I gave up on me.
I can see now what I did, I can take responsibility and I'm learning to stand on my own two painful feet. I'm learning to fight again, and it's hard. All the more so because I am doing it without her. We've hurt each other so much, and it's hard to understand how two people who loved each other the way we did can end up where we are. I may have learned it too late, but I've learned that in this life, when you are given the chance at happiness, when someone reaches out to you and says..."You...I love you even though you aren't perfect I will be here." that not trusting them is in essence throwing away the greatest gift one person can ever give another. I've learned that if you spend all your time lamenting what was, and refusing to let go of the past, letting it imprison your present, you will lose everything that is precious to you. It's a painful lesson, and it comes too late, but it's a lesson I'll never forget.
To that amazing woman: As much as I'm hurting now, I wouldn't trade what we had for anything. I learned so much from you. I can never thank you properly for all that you have given me. I'm so, so sorry that I couldn't give you what we both needed. I will always love you. I will always carry you in my heart. I hope that your future is as beautiful as you are, that you find what you need and that you can forgive my failure to love you as completely as I could. Be happy...Be well...I love you.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Things I Had Forgotten About Being Single...
I've been in a relationship all of my adult life, with the exception of a three month span right after my mini me was born. And since I spent those three months crying, breastfeeding and trying to figure out whether to throw myself off a bridge or drink a gallon of vodka with a bottle of sleeping pills, it's not a time in my life I like to think about very often.
Needless to say, being single has been an ADJUSTMENT. There is the fact that there is no one to wake up in the middle of the night when you have that dream that you've had since you were six about people trying to kill you in various exciting ways. There is no one else to put gas in the car, to pick up milk or spend hours at night dissecting people we know just for the fun of feeling all superior and intellectual. On the other hand...there is also no one to open the last cold Coke in the house, take three fucking drinks and leave it on the counter as if to mock me. There is also no one to fight for control of the remote, the phone or the computer. There is no one to steal all the covers and wake you up out of a sound sleep with requests having to do with the location of a dog that isn't bothering you.
Getting over this break up is odd. There are moments of optimism and moments of bleakest despair. There is laughter through tears and quiet, unending loneliness. There is the refiguring of a life I thought was pretty well mapped-out. But biggest of all, there is that change from we to me. Decisions that used to involve two people just involve me, which is both a blessing and a curse. While it means I always get my way, it also means there is no one to blame if the wrong decision is made. I don't have to check with someone before I commit to whatever plans I may commit to, since I'm only committing myself. I know I'll get through this...I'm sure that some day I'll be able to breathe normally again, go a whole twenty-four hours without crying again, start to think about trusting someone again...but it's hard to wait for some day. It's hard to let myself just deal with this. I want it done. I want it to be months from now when I'm heading into something resembling okay.
Needless to say, being single has been an ADJUSTMENT. There is the fact that there is no one to wake up in the middle of the night when you have that dream that you've had since you were six about people trying to kill you in various exciting ways. There is no one else to put gas in the car, to pick up milk or spend hours at night dissecting people we know just for the fun of feeling all superior and intellectual. On the other hand...there is also no one to open the last cold Coke in the house, take three fucking drinks and leave it on the counter as if to mock me. There is also no one to fight for control of the remote, the phone or the computer. There is no one to steal all the covers and wake you up out of a sound sleep with requests having to do with the location of a dog that isn't bothering you.
Getting over this break up is odd. There are moments of optimism and moments of bleakest despair. There is laughter through tears and quiet, unending loneliness. There is the refiguring of a life I thought was pretty well mapped-out. But biggest of all, there is that change from we to me. Decisions that used to involve two people just involve me, which is both a blessing and a curse. While it means I always get my way, it also means there is no one to blame if the wrong decision is made. I don't have to check with someone before I commit to whatever plans I may commit to, since I'm only committing myself. I know I'll get through this...I'm sure that some day I'll be able to breathe normally again, go a whole twenty-four hours without crying again, start to think about trusting someone again...but it's hard to wait for some day. It's hard to let myself just deal with this. I want it done. I want it to be months from now when I'm heading into something resembling okay.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
I'm Fucking Fantastic, Thanks So Much For Asking
I feel nearly positive that I've discussed my feelings about the question "How are you?" as it pertains to my physical health. However, as annoying as it is, it's nowhere near as annoying as when you are going through something hard and some well meaning person asks you "How are you?" in the most syrupy voice they can muster. I know it's well-intentioned, and that people genuinely want to know, but nine times out of ten, I'm trying to hold it together anyway, and all that sympathy just starts the tears.
Now let me tell you something about me. I don't mind crying when I'm alone or even with a select person and I'm sort of in the eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's and wallow mind set. However, when I'm functioning and trying to go about my day, crying pretty much derails that sort of thing, not to mention that it embarrasses the hell out of me. I'm not one of those girls who can cry in public...I make weird monkey faces and the oddest sounds come out of me. And then, as if all that wasn't enough, I get all blotchy and my eyes turn red. Not exactly my best look.
Well, and what's the best thing you can say when you're trying to turn your world right side up again? That you're hanging in there? Basically, if I'm up and dressed or not just laying in bed all day...I'm hanging in there. I'm not going to be okay today or tomorrow, but I will be at some point.
So, yeah...enough with the sympathy. Being single sucks. Losing your dog sucks. Being sick sucks. Try combining all three and see how you feel. The sympathy just brings it all to the front. Tell me a joke instead or something. I've got enough tears...let's shoot for some laughter.
Now let me tell you something about me. I don't mind crying when I'm alone or even with a select person and I'm sort of in the eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's and wallow mind set. However, when I'm functioning and trying to go about my day, crying pretty much derails that sort of thing, not to mention that it embarrasses the hell out of me. I'm not one of those girls who can cry in public...I make weird monkey faces and the oddest sounds come out of me. And then, as if all that wasn't enough, I get all blotchy and my eyes turn red. Not exactly my best look.
Well, and what's the best thing you can say when you're trying to turn your world right side up again? That you're hanging in there? Basically, if I'm up and dressed or not just laying in bed all day...I'm hanging in there. I'm not going to be okay today or tomorrow, but I will be at some point.
So, yeah...enough with the sympathy. Being single sucks. Losing your dog sucks. Being sick sucks. Try combining all three and see how you feel. The sympathy just brings it all to the front. Tell me a joke instead or something. I've got enough tears...let's shoot for some laughter.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
I Won, I Won, I Won!!!
Okay, so I'm a big Boston Terrier fan. Scout was the best and most wonderful dog I've ever met...shhh don't tell my other dogs. Once Scout became part of our family I became obsessed with all things Boston Terrier. One of my favorite sites is Little Beasts. They have lots of great links to all things Boston and fantastic pictures of the little beasts, Bergamot and Emrys.
They also have a weekly photo with a caption contest. I stalk the site and have been trying to win the caption contest for awhile now, and I finally did!! I will get a snazzy Boston Terrier sticker to put on my 4Runner.
Anyway...check out the picture here with my fabulous caption.
They also have a weekly photo with a caption contest. I stalk the site and have been trying to win the caption contest for awhile now, and I finally did!! I will get a snazzy Boston Terrier sticker to put on my 4Runner.
Anyway...check out the picture here with my fabulous caption.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Notes from my subconscious
My good friend, the Archaeogodessess' comment on another friend's blog, Craigorian Chant that reminded me of a recurring dream I have.
I've had it in some variation for years. But, basically it follows the same theme plotline every time. In the dream I get a phone call from Erin telling me she is going to some foreign country and that she wants me to come with her, but that we're leaving tomorrow. I get excited and pack my bags and get ready to go and get to the airport before I realize that I don't have a passport and cannot therefore board the plane.
I think it's an important dream, in that I think it's something I'm guilty of doing in real life. Not literally, of course. But, I tend to get excited and jump immediately to the "trip" or whatever ideal I'm looking for, and forget to do the stuff it takes to get me there. I've referred to it as "First Day of School Syndrome." You see, every year I would start school with a resolve to be a good student and do everything right.
And I would, too. For about a week and a half. And then, I'd start putting things off, getting behind, staying home from school and getting further behind until it was two weeks from the end of the semester and I realized I was about to fail. Then I'd bust my ass and do just enough to get me that "C" or whatever, and swear to do better the next time.
It takes more than making a resolve. I need to look at what stops me from doing things, what keeps me from really being able to get what I want, because it's not ability or intelligence, it's something else.
I've got a lot of work on myself to do. I have to stop hiding from reality and work on changing things slowly and figuring out why I let fear stop me from sticking to things. I'm going back to therapy, for lots of reasons, but this is going to be the most important one. Because if I don't figure it out, I won't stay in therapy long enough to deal with the depression that caused me to shut down over the last year and a half, or the other issues in my life that keep tripping me up. It's rough enough being sick without getting in my own way over it.
I've had it in some variation for years. But, basically it follows the same theme plotline every time. In the dream I get a phone call from Erin telling me she is going to some foreign country and that she wants me to come with her, but that we're leaving tomorrow. I get excited and pack my bags and get ready to go and get to the airport before I realize that I don't have a passport and cannot therefore board the plane.
I think it's an important dream, in that I think it's something I'm guilty of doing in real life. Not literally, of course. But, I tend to get excited and jump immediately to the "trip" or whatever ideal I'm looking for, and forget to do the stuff it takes to get me there. I've referred to it as "First Day of School Syndrome." You see, every year I would start school with a resolve to be a good student and do everything right.
And I would, too. For about a week and a half. And then, I'd start putting things off, getting behind, staying home from school and getting further behind until it was two weeks from the end of the semester and I realized I was about to fail. Then I'd bust my ass and do just enough to get me that "C" or whatever, and swear to do better the next time.
It takes more than making a resolve. I need to look at what stops me from doing things, what keeps me from really being able to get what I want, because it's not ability or intelligence, it's something else.
I've got a lot of work on myself to do. I have to stop hiding from reality and work on changing things slowly and figuring out why I let fear stop me from sticking to things. I'm going back to therapy, for lots of reasons, but this is going to be the most important one. Because if I don't figure it out, I won't stay in therapy long enough to deal with the depression that caused me to shut down over the last year and a half, or the other issues in my life that keep tripping me up. It's rough enough being sick without getting in my own way over it.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I Couldn't Say It Any Better
Oh what I'd give for a hundred years!
But the physical interferes
Every day more--O my Creator!
What is the good of the strongest heart
In a body that's falling apart?
A serious flaw--I hope You know that
-from Waltz For Eva and Che (Evita soundtrack)
But the physical interferes
Every day more--O my Creator!
What is the good of the strongest heart
In a body that's falling apart?
A serious flaw--I hope You know that
-from Waltz For Eva and Che (Evita soundtrack)
Monday, March 16, 2009
Barren
you and me against the world
and we knew it all
and we would last
outlast and endure
but here i am
an empty house, empty mind
empty heart
mopping the kitchen floor
the last thing
you said you'd do
before you left
so many broken promises
between us
so much pain
in the she said-she said
the obstacles between us
a loss of forgiveness
trying to breathe
in this barren world
where we don't exist
and we knew it all
and we would last
outlast and endure
but here i am
an empty house, empty mind
empty heart
mopping the kitchen floor
the last thing
you said you'd do
before you left
so many broken promises
between us
so much pain
in the she said-she said
the obstacles between us
a loss of forgiveness
trying to breathe
in this barren world
where we don't exist
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Good Things About Chronic Illness...
So, I spend a lot of time bitching and moaning about all the negative things about chronic illness, so I thought I'd take some time and make a list of good things. Something to remember in the middle of my pity parties...
1.) Bra wearing has become a "special occasion" (i.e. I'm leaving the house) event.
2.) No one ever asks me to help them move, and I can say things like..."If only I felt better, I'd help you move." Knowing damn well that I wouldn't, but also that no one is asshole enough to call me on it.
3.) Drugs...I get them. Fun ones, too, sometimes. Nothing like a shot of demerol to perk up your day.
4.) I don't have to remember my name, date of birth or any of that nonsense when picking up prescriptions because I am on a first name basis with all of the pharmacy techs at Safeway.
5.) Any effort on my part to be dressed and presentable is applauded with the same amount of enthusiasm usually reserved for people reaching Everest's summit.
6.) Naps. I used to lament that no one ever told me to go take a nap. Now, not only is that frequent advice, it's advice I usually feel no guilt for taking.
7.) The vast majority of my wardrobe is made of pajama bottoms, thus fulfilling a lifelong dream.
8.) I have watched every single episode of Charmed...at least twice.
9.) I have a well stocked and frequently updated Gaia account.
I was going to put more things on this list, but when I went to add that number 10, I realized I'd have to do some fancy layout stuff to keep it from looking all wonky and since today my ovaries are attempting a coup and even my eybrows hurt...well, suffice it to say that nothing fancy shall occur today.
1.) Bra wearing has become a "special occasion" (i.e. I'm leaving the house) event.
2.) No one ever asks me to help them move, and I can say things like..."If only I felt better, I'd help you move." Knowing damn well that I wouldn't, but also that no one is asshole enough to call me on it.
3.) Drugs...I get them. Fun ones, too, sometimes. Nothing like a shot of demerol to perk up your day.
4.) I don't have to remember my name, date of birth or any of that nonsense when picking up prescriptions because I am on a first name basis with all of the pharmacy techs at Safeway.
5.) Any effort on my part to be dressed and presentable is applauded with the same amount of enthusiasm usually reserved for people reaching Everest's summit.
6.) Naps. I used to lament that no one ever told me to go take a nap. Now, not only is that frequent advice, it's advice I usually feel no guilt for taking.
7.) The vast majority of my wardrobe is made of pajama bottoms, thus fulfilling a lifelong dream.
8.) I have watched every single episode of Charmed...at least twice.
9.) I have a well stocked and frequently updated Gaia account.
I was going to put more things on this list, but when I went to add that number 10, I realized I'd have to do some fancy layout stuff to keep it from looking all wonky and since today my ovaries are attempting a coup and even my eybrows hurt...well, suffice it to say that nothing fancy shall occur today.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Contemplating Singledom
So, the news here is that the gf and I are "on a break" or "in a separation." Basically it's like hitting the relationship pause button. I have no fucking clue what the future hols and if we can make it work again. I don't know if that's even something she wants to do. I asked her to move out while we were going through this because I can't sit next to her without trying to talk about the situation and my hormones are so damn wonky that everything escalates to screaming, crying drama.
I'm trying to process my own feelings about what it will mean if we do not reconcile, how it will feel for the first time in my adult life to be single. To know that there is no fucking chance that there is a relationship in my future. It's scary. I've been in a couple for so long that I don't remember how to function independently. It's terrifying.
Last night, I was doing some small household things...taking out the trash, doing laundry, feeding the animals...and it occurred to me, this has all been on me for awhile now, so this is not new...Cass and I will work all this out, it's not like we're depending on her for this sort of thing.
Financially is a whole other story. I don't have the money to make this household work without her. My sister is coming down to stay in a couple of weeks and that should make a heck of a lot of difference there, anyway. Plus, having another adult in a thousand mile radius I feel comfortable talking about all this with will, of course, be a big help.
I don't know what to do. What are the rules of separation? Is it like being single or is ir more like having a partner that's deployed or something? And how long do you allow it to go on before you demand answers and make a final decision? I'm definitely in foreign territory here.
I'm trying to process my own feelings about what it will mean if we do not reconcile, how it will feel for the first time in my adult life to be single. To know that there is no fucking chance that there is a relationship in my future. It's scary. I've been in a couple for so long that I don't remember how to function independently. It's terrifying.
Last night, I was doing some small household things...taking out the trash, doing laundry, feeding the animals...and it occurred to me, this has all been on me for awhile now, so this is not new...Cass and I will work all this out, it's not like we're depending on her for this sort of thing.
Financially is a whole other story. I don't have the money to make this household work without her. My sister is coming down to stay in a couple of weeks and that should make a heck of a lot of difference there, anyway. Plus, having another adult in a thousand mile radius I feel comfortable talking about all this with will, of course, be a big help.
I don't know what to do. What are the rules of separation? Is it like being single or is ir more like having a partner that's deployed or something? And how long do you allow it to go on before you demand answers and make a final decision? I'm definitely in foreign territory here.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Ways to Fucking Piss Me Off...
I am dead fucking tired of all the Fibromyalgia medication commercials and the lies they are telling. I'm sick of seeing this active, happy person who is "living happily" with Fibromyalia thanks to "Bullshitadone" a new treatment for Fibromyalgia.
Because you know what? It trivializes what Fibro is. And it makes people around you treat you like dog shit because you aren't doing as well as the people they see on t.v. Those commercials should show a woman running around in her clothes on backward with bags under her eyes, limping with a cane and having to hear how exercise is the key to making everything better, but no one tells you how to do it. No one has a way to give you the strength to face the additional fatigue and pain that starting an exercise regime entails. It's simple...you exercise, you're a good person who has worth and you will magically feel better...you don't exercise, regardless of how you feel or what the effort costs you and you are a worthless piece of shit that deserves all the pain you are experiencing.
And since my Fibro doesn't live in a vaccuum, I get to have the added complications of hormonal disorders and sleep disorders and god only knows what else that they haven't figured out yet. I don't have any of my conditions even under a margin of control, and it's somehow all my fault. I'm to blame.
And you know what? I have fucked up and not done what the doctors told me to do, but some of the things that doctors have told me to do would have literally killed me if I had done them, so how do you know what advice to take and what advice to ignore? And how do you find the courage and strength to keep fighting when all you want to do is curl up into a ball and make the FUCKING PAIN STOP ALREADY? How do you fight the crushing fear, guilt, anger, and grief long enough to brush your fucking hair, let alone contemplate some convoluted treatment plan that works for a whopping 33% of all Fibro patients who have no other complicating factors?
How do you stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to fight back for what you've lost?
Because you know what? It trivializes what Fibro is. And it makes people around you treat you like dog shit because you aren't doing as well as the people they see on t.v. Those commercials should show a woman running around in her clothes on backward with bags under her eyes, limping with a cane and having to hear how exercise is the key to making everything better, but no one tells you how to do it. No one has a way to give you the strength to face the additional fatigue and pain that starting an exercise regime entails. It's simple...you exercise, you're a good person who has worth and you will magically feel better...you don't exercise, regardless of how you feel or what the effort costs you and you are a worthless piece of shit that deserves all the pain you are experiencing.
And since my Fibro doesn't live in a vaccuum, I get to have the added complications of hormonal disorders and sleep disorders and god only knows what else that they haven't figured out yet. I don't have any of my conditions even under a margin of control, and it's somehow all my fault. I'm to blame.
And you know what? I have fucked up and not done what the doctors told me to do, but some of the things that doctors have told me to do would have literally killed me if I had done them, so how do you know what advice to take and what advice to ignore? And how do you find the courage and strength to keep fighting when all you want to do is curl up into a ball and make the FUCKING PAIN STOP ALREADY? How do you fight the crushing fear, guilt, anger, and grief long enough to brush your fucking hair, let alone contemplate some convoluted treatment plan that works for a whopping 33% of all Fibro patients who have no other complicating factors?
How do you stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to fight back for what you've lost?
Friday, February 20, 2009
Best Laid Plans
Which I never have, by the way...My standard MO is scattered bits of ideas that pass for some semblance of a plan.
Anyway, I supposed it surprises no one that the last post was a month ago. I'm never good at sticking to my plans, and much less so when facing any kind of adversity. I'm really good at zombie-ing (yes, it's a word...if I say it's word, then it's a word dammit...whose blog is this anyway?) through the day to day, but really bad at anything outside of basic survivorship.
The last month has been rough. Adjusting to losing Scout, trying to help Cass through the grief, dealing with the fact that my girlfriend has finally gotten a life, something she richly deserves and has deprived herself of for far too long on my behalf. And of course, the amazing ends to which my body will go to keep me from getting too bored with it's repertoire of wacky symptoms that range from annoying (constant ringing in the ears) to unsettling (an accumulation of fluid in my neck and lower face....I'm so purty) and of course, to painful (pressure headaches from all that fluid build up). And I'm fairly anemic at this point as well, so staying awake is even more of a chore than usual, unless of course, I want to sleep...then tiny invisible elves come and tape my eyelids open and then scamper about beating me with really large sticks.
Jamie is going out this weekend to Faces. I'm at once envious and relieved that she is allowing herself to go. She holds back from doing stuff because she feels guilty for leaving me at home. Yet, when she's here odds are I'm either half asleep or in too much pain to talk. She has a group of friends that she's been spending time with and they all wonder why I "let" her go out without me, and why I don't call every two hours like their partners do when they're out. I'm always kind of surprised that people would think for a second that I could question this woman's commitment to me. She's sat up with me holding my hand during too many ER trips to count. She sees me at my worst...unshowered, the same pajamas two or three days running, grumpy from pain and dead stupid from brain fog, and she still comes home, and has for years. By all rights she should have run as far and as fast as possible some years ago, but she sticks. Luckily for me she's a stubborn bitch and doesn't give up on me.
Cass is slowly coming to terms with losing Scout. I read her the poem about the rainbow bridge (google it if you're unfamiliar, I'm too lazy to try to remember how to imbed links) and we talk about Scout often. She has cried at random times, little things will set her off, but she's coming through it. She doesn't treat Woody (our newest dog) as a replacement for Scout, but he is helping her heal.
Final thought for the night (I think I'm almost ready to actually fall asleep)...If you haven't heard All American Rejects new song GivesYouHell, you should check it out. It's my current obsession...
Anyway, I supposed it surprises no one that the last post was a month ago. I'm never good at sticking to my plans, and much less so when facing any kind of adversity. I'm really good at zombie-ing (yes, it's a word...if I say it's word, then it's a word dammit...whose blog is this anyway?) through the day to day, but really bad at anything outside of basic survivorship.
The last month has been rough. Adjusting to losing Scout, trying to help Cass through the grief, dealing with the fact that my girlfriend has finally gotten a life, something she richly deserves and has deprived herself of for far too long on my behalf. And of course, the amazing ends to which my body will go to keep me from getting too bored with it's repertoire of wacky symptoms that range from annoying (constant ringing in the ears) to unsettling (an accumulation of fluid in my neck and lower face....I'm so purty) and of course, to painful (pressure headaches from all that fluid build up). And I'm fairly anemic at this point as well, so staying awake is even more of a chore than usual, unless of course, I want to sleep...then tiny invisible elves come and tape my eyelids open and then scamper about beating me with really large sticks.
Jamie is going out this weekend to Faces. I'm at once envious and relieved that she is allowing herself to go. She holds back from doing stuff because she feels guilty for leaving me at home. Yet, when she's here odds are I'm either half asleep or in too much pain to talk. She has a group of friends that she's been spending time with and they all wonder why I "let" her go out without me, and why I don't call every two hours like their partners do when they're out. I'm always kind of surprised that people would think for a second that I could question this woman's commitment to me. She's sat up with me holding my hand during too many ER trips to count. She sees me at my worst...unshowered, the same pajamas two or three days running, grumpy from pain and dead stupid from brain fog, and she still comes home, and has for years. By all rights she should have run as far and as fast as possible some years ago, but she sticks. Luckily for me she's a stubborn bitch and doesn't give up on me.
Cass is slowly coming to terms with losing Scout. I read her the poem about the rainbow bridge (google it if you're unfamiliar, I'm too lazy to try to remember how to imbed links) and we talk about Scout often. She has cried at random times, little things will set her off, but she's coming through it. She doesn't treat Woody (our newest dog) as a replacement for Scout, but he is helping her heal.
Final thought for the night (I think I'm almost ready to actually fall asleep)...If you haven't heard All American Rejects new song GivesYouHell, you should check it out. It's my current obsession...
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