Holy myrtle, do I have a cold. The good news is I only get sick for about a day or two, so I should be just fine tomorrow. The bad news is I have to live through today to make it to tomorrow. I've been planted in my bed all day watching movies I always wanted to watch but never got around to. They have been disappointing, but it's better than cable.
I figured I was in trouble last night when I took enough cold medicine to heal a horse and I still was feeling bad. Don't get me wrong, I was feeling fine until midnight-o-thirty, so I still had a blast, but towards the end of the night I knew that I was going to have to sow exactly what I reaped by prancing around the city in the middle of January. I was a little concerned when unholy rattle in my chest was loud enough to wake me up this morning. I took a little more tussin, drank about a gallon of black coffee, and settled in for the day. My chest seems to finally be clear so now I drinking the largest bottle of yellow Gatorade manufactured so I can stay hydrated and not go into work tomorrow looking like Magda.
I did have fun last night. It was unusual to me to just have fun chatting and laughing with my friends. No curfew, no attachment, no hitting on guys. I think I may have more fun the next time I go out because then I will be able to have a few drinks without the danger of a chemical reaction to my cold medicines shutting my liver down. I thought I would feel lost, like that one time senior year when the X and I broke up for a couple months. I went out some, but always felt like a boat floating without a tether. I felt lost and vacant, laughing too loud, drinking and smoking too much, on the prowl for another guy to anchor me down. I was worried that my instinct would be flirting and meeting guys, but that wasn't the case. I felt pretty comfortable to just be me, wearing a cute top and heels, and chilling out. It is like I am my anchor now, I can trust myself to make good decisions, get myself home, look after my friends and myself. No more tether, but no more drifting at sea, either. Taking control of my own life, for once and for all.
24 January 2010
23 January 2010
Do I look fat in this?
I am going out tonight. An actual night on the town with the ladies. Tapas and cocktails then drinking and chatting.
I'm trying to remember the last time I went out. I can't do it. I honestly cannot remember a fun night out in the past ten years. The X went out plenty, more and more in the twilight of our marriage. He would disappear for days at a time, ignoring phone calls and text messages. I'm not really that angry about that, because things were so much more peaceful when he was gone anyway.
So back to my original point. It has been so long since I went out that I don't really know what's the it thing to wear. I've looked around on the web and it seems like I should wear dark skinny jeans and stiletto heels. I may have to go shopping. Speaking of shopping, I also can't remember the last time I gave a hoot what people thought of me. I can't remember the last time I cared what I wore or if I was wearing makeup. I think going out may be good for me if I can pull it off. I'll try to take a purse big enough to get photos and update you all on our fun time!
I'm trying to remember the last time I went out. I can't do it. I honestly cannot remember a fun night out in the past ten years. The X went out plenty, more and more in the twilight of our marriage. He would disappear for days at a time, ignoring phone calls and text messages. I'm not really that angry about that, because things were so much more peaceful when he was gone anyway.
So back to my original point. It has been so long since I went out that I don't really know what's the it thing to wear. I've looked around on the web and it seems like I should wear dark skinny jeans and stiletto heels. I may have to go shopping. Speaking of shopping, I also can't remember the last time I gave a hoot what people thought of me. I can't remember the last time I cared what I wore or if I was wearing makeup. I think going out may be good for me if I can pull it off. I'll try to take a purse big enough to get photos and update you all on our fun time!
18 January 2010
Walls and walls of boxes.
The bedroom is still full of boxes. The Kid's room is done, but I lost the schematics to his train set and have to figure out how to put it together by memory. Hah.
I'm alone this week. I have a couple hours to kill before my dentist appointment and I am so completely, utterly alone all I can stand to do is talk to you, my readers, and watch movies. I should clean up the Kid's room, vacuum and empty the trash, then close the door for the next seven days. I should start emptying boxes. I have an empty house and it won't disturb anyone to run the washer and dryer, drop boxes, and go in and out of the basement...but I can't bring myself to do it. What is wrong with me?
Why can't I get myself together enough to clean my room? Why did it take a disconnect notice for me to figure out I needed to make a payment on my phone? Why does it take everything I have to get a shower, face people, go to the grocery store? I want to scream at all the people watching me buy a single TV dinner, one roll of paper towels, one roll of toilet paper, "Yes! It's me! Single lady! No kid in my cart! No piles of wipes and diapers! Take a good long look! We go to grocery stores too!"
Maybe I'm being a little over-sensitive, but those stares are there. Watching someone my age, in mom clothes with a mom haircut and no child. No wedding ring. Are they piteous or jealous? Do I have freedom they long for, in the night while children scream and hubby blanks out in front of the telly? Or do they think, "Thank God I found him. Without him I would be her."
I'm alone this week. I have a couple hours to kill before my dentist appointment and I am so completely, utterly alone all I can stand to do is talk to you, my readers, and watch movies. I should clean up the Kid's room, vacuum and empty the trash, then close the door for the next seven days. I should start emptying boxes. I have an empty house and it won't disturb anyone to run the washer and dryer, drop boxes, and go in and out of the basement...but I can't bring myself to do it. What is wrong with me?
Why can't I get myself together enough to clean my room? Why did it take a disconnect notice for me to figure out I needed to make a payment on my phone? Why does it take everything I have to get a shower, face people, go to the grocery store? I want to scream at all the people watching me buy a single TV dinner, one roll of paper towels, one roll of toilet paper, "Yes! It's me! Single lady! No kid in my cart! No piles of wipes and diapers! Take a good long look! We go to grocery stores too!"
Maybe I'm being a little over-sensitive, but those stares are there. Watching someone my age, in mom clothes with a mom haircut and no child. No wedding ring. Are they piteous or jealous? Do I have freedom they long for, in the night while children scream and hubby blanks out in front of the telly? Or do they think, "Thank God I found him. Without him I would be her."
13 January 2010
Double standards and all that goes with them.
Here we are, halfway into the first of fourteen months, and already I have been told at least a dozen times that The Right Guy is out there waiting for me. Well, I sincerely hope not. If The Right Guy is out there waiting for me I feel really bad for him, because it’s going to be a long wait. I am not thinking about him right now. I haven’t even unpacked my bedroom, for crying out loud. I have applied and gotten an interview for a Master’s degree (yay!), I have a little man to take care of, I have a ton of financial woes, and I still haven’t even filed for divorce. I have far too much going on to worry about The Right Guy.
Now look, I am a woman who works in a professional field, I have a college degree; I am well-read and can have intelligent conversations about anything from Sports Center to St. Augustine. I am fairly artistic, I have hobbies, computer skills, and a wide range of friendships that cover just about every demographic out there. I do not hesitate to go to a good movie or a delicious dinner alone, and I don’t really like long walks on the beach.
Why do people feel like this is the thing to say to the divorcing female? Why do they think this is the wisdom I am looking for? Is it because I am a woman? Are The X’s guy friends telling him that The Right Girl is out there waiting for him? Maybe, but I doubt it. They are most likely toasting his single-hood and trying to find him a good lay. No one has offered me any of that yet; they have only offered me consolation that my next marriage will be a good one, with The Right Guy.
Now look, I am a woman who works in a professional field, I have a college degree; I am well-read and can have intelligent conversations about anything from Sports Center to St. Augustine. I am fairly artistic, I have hobbies, computer skills, and a wide range of friendships that cover just about every demographic out there. I do not hesitate to go to a good movie or a delicious dinner alone, and I don’t really like long walks on the beach.
Why do people feel like this is the thing to say to the divorcing female? Why do they think this is the wisdom I am looking for? Is it because I am a woman? Are The X’s guy friends telling him that The Right Girl is out there waiting for him? Maybe, but I doubt it. They are most likely toasting his single-hood and trying to find him a good lay. No one has offered me any of that yet; they have only offered me consolation that my next marriage will be a good one, with The Right Guy.
12 January 2010
Time to Go.
The move is complete.
No more moving.
Done moving.
I am treating myself like someone getting over the flu; tentatively eating healthy foods, drinking gallons of water, and sleeping ten hour nights. The last week treated me bad. After the X took the living room TV and the computer, I spent most of my nights in my bedroom, eating takeout and watching basic cable. The little guy was gone for the week, so my dark and silent house tormented me with piles of stuff that needed to be sorted, cleaned, and packed. The X wanted the dryer to give his mother. I acquiesced. I don’t need a dryer, and I sure don’t have the storage space for it. What I didn’t know is he was planning on taking it while I was still living in the house. So, there was dirty laundry included in the move. Allegorical? Perhaps.
My niece arrived Thursday morning to help me pack and prepare for the horde to arrive on Saturday and move me out. We made some good progress, but not really good enough. I just couldn’t get through the stuff. It really felt like the house wouldn’t let me go. My brother, his wife, her brother, my nephew, my sister, and my mom and dad (told you it was a horde) were there first thing Saturday morning. I had been holding it together pretty well, except for a good hard cry Friday night, but when they all walked in I lost my shit completely. I spent the morning alternatively sobbing and sorting, packing boxes and gunning cigarettes. Thankfully my sister-in-law Sue and her brother have truly analytical minds, so they were able to assess, organize, and implement. At one point I walked into the kitchen and said, “I can’t find my coffee,” and started bawling. Sue’s eyes got real wide and she said, “Here, drink mine!” I love that woman.
The house is empty now. I have to go back this weekend to give it a little cleaning and make sure it looks presentable, but that’s it. I’m not in that house anymore. I feel bad for whoever rents it next. I think that house took us down. Every person who lived there before has left on bad terms. People consistently lose jobs, get in trouble with the law (thankfully we avoided that), and divorce. Can a house have bad energy, or is it just the inevitable finally catching up with families when they move into that innocent-looking little rental cottage?
No more moving.
Done moving.
I am treating myself like someone getting over the flu; tentatively eating healthy foods, drinking gallons of water, and sleeping ten hour nights. The last week treated me bad. After the X took the living room TV and the computer, I spent most of my nights in my bedroom, eating takeout and watching basic cable. The little guy was gone for the week, so my dark and silent house tormented me with piles of stuff that needed to be sorted, cleaned, and packed. The X wanted the dryer to give his mother. I acquiesced. I don’t need a dryer, and I sure don’t have the storage space for it. What I didn’t know is he was planning on taking it while I was still living in the house. So, there was dirty laundry included in the move. Allegorical? Perhaps.
My niece arrived Thursday morning to help me pack and prepare for the horde to arrive on Saturday and move me out. We made some good progress, but not really good enough. I just couldn’t get through the stuff. It really felt like the house wouldn’t let me go. My brother, his wife, her brother, my nephew, my sister, and my mom and dad (told you it was a horde) were there first thing Saturday morning. I had been holding it together pretty well, except for a good hard cry Friday night, but when they all walked in I lost my shit completely. I spent the morning alternatively sobbing and sorting, packing boxes and gunning cigarettes. Thankfully my sister-in-law Sue and her brother have truly analytical minds, so they were able to assess, organize, and implement. At one point I walked into the kitchen and said, “I can’t find my coffee,” and started bawling. Sue’s eyes got real wide and she said, “Here, drink mine!” I love that woman.
The house is empty now. I have to go back this weekend to give it a little cleaning and make sure it looks presentable, but that’s it. I’m not in that house anymore. I feel bad for whoever rents it next. I think that house took us down. Every person who lived there before has left on bad terms. People consistently lose jobs, get in trouble with the law (thankfully we avoided that), and divorce. Can a house have bad energy, or is it just the inevitable finally catching up with families when they move into that innocent-looking little rental cottage?
01 January 2010
Moving along.
Christmas is over, fa-la-la-la-la.
The holidays were, for the most part, a pleasant experience. The Kid and I spent four days in the Land of Happiness and Delight, aka: Mom-mom and Pop-pop’s house. My parents took their time spoiling him this year, starting small with a fire truck that drives itself, has sirens and lights, and plays a very C.Hi.P.-like theme song. They moved on to bigger and better prizes like a new wardrobe and a trip to the beach throughout the course of the weekend. Me? I got exactly what I asked for: a tin of flavored popcorn and a bright red bathrobe. I have been asking for this for literally years but have never received it. I think when you ask for something so simple and inexpensive people don’t believe that you really want it. They think you are kidding and you must want something bigger and better. A bathrobe, really? Yes, really. This year something snapped and when my mom and dad asked me what I wanted I just flipped out and said, “I have told you for years that I want a tin of popcorn and a bathrobe. Will someone please make my Christmas wish come true?” And they did.
The X was jerky. He delivered his usual routine.
I’m getting my storage unit next week and will be moving out of my house on the 9th. I made a few calls to find the best rate on a unit, and the only person I could get to answer the phone was Bill. We discussed rates and his location (which is only a few blocks from my house, joy!), and then he explained that he was actually in California visiting his son. He told me all about his trip, how his flight was delayed three days because of the weather, and when he was able to finally fly out his layover was delayed because the plane went sideways on the landing and had to take off again…people were screaming, luggage was flying…then he had to run to the next plane…he and his wife loaded the plane, they shut the doors and took off, that’s how close it was…Keep in mind that I have only known Bill 5 minutes and he doesn’t even know my name. He told me to show up on the 6th with $60 cash and a driver’s license because he “don’t take checks no more.” I think Bill and I are going to get along just fine.
I have a ton of helpers, my family is driving two hours to get to me and get me through this. I haven’t decided yet if the fluttering I feel in my stomach is excitement or fear. I have pretty much shelved emotions for the time being. I think it is best to push forward through the physical move, map out my financial recovery plan, and then let emotions come on back, one at a time, to be dealt with severely and then told to move on. I’m not going to hang on to my negativity, my anger, my fear, or my sadness. Those have a time and place, and then they need to go away. Period. I have seen so many people swallowed by their sadness. They have health problems, weight problems, and poor self image. I know that as tempting as it may be to hide in my grief it can also be consuming. No way. I’m going to get through this. It helps to know you all are with me every step of the way.
TTFN,
K.J.
The holidays were, for the most part, a pleasant experience. The Kid and I spent four days in the Land of Happiness and Delight, aka: Mom-mom and Pop-pop’s house. My parents took their time spoiling him this year, starting small with a fire truck that drives itself, has sirens and lights, and plays a very C.Hi.P.-like theme song. They moved on to bigger and better prizes like a new wardrobe and a trip to the beach throughout the course of the weekend. Me? I got exactly what I asked for: a tin of flavored popcorn and a bright red bathrobe. I have been asking for this for literally years but have never received it. I think when you ask for something so simple and inexpensive people don’t believe that you really want it. They think you are kidding and you must want something bigger and better. A bathrobe, really? Yes, really. This year something snapped and when my mom and dad asked me what I wanted I just flipped out and said, “I have told you for years that I want a tin of popcorn and a bathrobe. Will someone please make my Christmas wish come true?” And they did.
The X was jerky. He delivered his usual routine.
I’m getting my storage unit next week and will be moving out of my house on the 9th. I made a few calls to find the best rate on a unit, and the only person I could get to answer the phone was Bill. We discussed rates and his location (which is only a few blocks from my house, joy!), and then he explained that he was actually in California visiting his son. He told me all about his trip, how his flight was delayed three days because of the weather, and when he was able to finally fly out his layover was delayed because the plane went sideways on the landing and had to take off again…people were screaming, luggage was flying…then he had to run to the next plane…he and his wife loaded the plane, they shut the doors and took off, that’s how close it was…Keep in mind that I have only known Bill 5 minutes and he doesn’t even know my name. He told me to show up on the 6th with $60 cash and a driver’s license because he “don’t take checks no more.” I think Bill and I are going to get along just fine.
I have a ton of helpers, my family is driving two hours to get to me and get me through this. I haven’t decided yet if the fluttering I feel in my stomach is excitement or fear. I have pretty much shelved emotions for the time being. I think it is best to push forward through the physical move, map out my financial recovery plan, and then let emotions come on back, one at a time, to be dealt with severely and then told to move on. I’m not going to hang on to my negativity, my anger, my fear, or my sadness. Those have a time and place, and then they need to go away. Period. I have seen so many people swallowed by their sadness. They have health problems, weight problems, and poor self image. I know that as tempting as it may be to hide in my grief it can also be consuming. No way. I’m going to get through this. It helps to know you all are with me every step of the way.
TTFN,
K.J.
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