Life Is Crazy

It is, it really, really is. Things change, things end and begin. Tiny flickers of hope appear in places where you never expected to see them. I have much to talk about and no time to do so. This is merely a promise to myself . . . I will write and I will think and I will learn. I have notes to myself everywhere.

“Write something, dammit!”

I will. But for now, I am having a girl’s weekend, and it’s time to go get something to eat.

New Year’s Eve

One constant with being a parent, a sick child trumps everything. And so I find myself curled up in bed with my laptop, while my son tosses and turns restlessly beside me. Poor little man. I hate it when he’s sick, but at least I can bring him into my room and hold his hand while he sleeps. I still have this almost compulsive need to make certain he’s breathing. I don’t imagine that ever really goes away, more that you just learn to keep the urge under control.

Today has been a very emotional day for me. I’ve had the urge to have a good cry for most of the day. I think it has a lot to do with the time of year and the whole cycle of endings and beginnings, contrived though it may be. The last several years have been simultaneously some of the best and worst of my life. Most of the best has to do with my son, and the rest is pretty much just time I’m glad is in the past.

I’ve never been one for resolutions. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever made an official New Year’s resolution. I do have some thoughts for this coming year. None I’m ready to share, as I haven’t actually gotten them worked out, but there are definitely some ideas swirling around.

I am profoundly thankful that my mom is now a five-year survivor of breast cancer. She’s off her medicines and has been basically released by her oncologist, other than a yearly check-up. I can’t adequately express how relieved I am to still have her in my life. Her diagnosis was without a doubt one of the scariest things I’ve even experienced, that we as a family have ever experienced.

As for my stated desire to not think about him anymore, it’s going reasonably well. It still crops up now and then, but in a way that is less specific to him and more in a “circumstances of my life” sort of way. There are definitely still some things to explore, but more in terms of finally figuring out what I’d like out of my life and taking the necessary steps to achieve it. Which plays a bit into the idea of resolutions and so on. Anyway, I guess I’ve just finally come to the conclusion that he’s kind of a shit. And that’s ok, some people are. Thankfully, he and his issues are no longer my problem. I have quite enough of my own issues to keep me busy, thank you very much!

My son is stirring, so it won’t be long until he wakes up needing comfort and medicine. In the meantime, I and Neil Gaiman will leave you with best wishes for a happy 2012.

 

Wine, Friends and Cthulhu

I’m heading out for a haircut and then heading to lunch with a friend. Then I’m driving to my cousin’s for a night of wine and more friends. I miss my son already, especially when he cries as I leave. It hurts my heart. But I need some time for me, too. That has been a hard realization to come to as a mother.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I have a few things to explore more thoroughly, but it will have to wait until I return.

In the meantime, my holiday wish for you . . . a sentiment I think we can all get behind.

Life is Too Short

Too, too many thoughts in my brain, all fighting for their moment in the sun. My brain will not stop, EVER, not until I finally am able to fall asleep, and often not even then, I can’t always get my thoughts out. It’s often frustrating.

I’ve learned some additional information about his activities during the time we were together, which is making me question my people-reading skills all over again. Not to mention all the concerns that pop up when I stop and wonder whether it will be safe, wise, remotely possible to trust someone again any time soon. And I’ve spent a bit more time alternating between sad and angry. Always a good time.

I have realized a few things, or at least thought up a few more things to ponder in my never-ending insomnia. Which, just for your information, is my natural state, not something that has occurred after the late unpleasantness. I shun sleep. Until the alarm goes off and I’ve only been asleep for two hours, then I LOVE sleep. But then it is too late, of course.

First thing: I thought I was safe with him, but in reality I was vulnerable. I am feeling vulnerable in hindsight, and feeling vulnerable makes me self-conscious and vaguely uncomfortable, like I’ve forgotten something that will surely embarrass me once I remember what it is. Which I think has something to do with having to accept his mean and hurtful message about having used me. I feel like he might be sitting around having a good laugh at my expense. Which is ridiculous, really, as I doubt he even gives me a passing thought. Also not a self-esteem booster, feeling discarded and used. Oh well. Nothing overly deep there, just a thought that dashed through my brain on its way to wherever random thoughts end up.

Second thing: I am changed, irrevocably. There is no going back. I can not be the person I was before I met him, and I can not be the person I was five minutes before his wife spoke to me for the first time. It ain’t gonna happen, so the wisest thing for me to do would be to focus on making sure the changes that are inevitable are for the better, and don’t lead to bitterness or jadedness.

And, that’s all I’ve got for now. The rest is, as I said, bouncing around inside my brain, causing me angst and unrest but not being kind enough to funnel itself into something helpful like painting or writing, or hell, even into an obsessive burst of housecleaning.

I think I’ll have a glass of amaretto and curl up with a book. In the meantime, here’s an excellent thought to keep in mind when the other stuff is trying to keep you down.

I’m Neglecting My Health

As I sit here eating my first and probably only meal of the day (a bowl of popcorn and three powdered donuts), it occurs to me that I am not taking care of myself very well at all. I almost completely stopped eating after everything happened, because I couldn’t keep anything down. There was a period of maybe two weeks where I existed solely on Pepsi and Zesta crackers. I’ve lost about 10 pounds, which ordinarily would be a good thing, but not when it’s accompanied by dry skin, dull hair and loss of energy. Not to mention the fact that when I am stressed, I scratch my skin, usually either my forearms or my scalp, sometimes until I bleed. An unpleasant image, I know, but I do. I don’t realize I am doing it until either someone slaps my hand away or I start bleeding. I’m going to end up having to trim my fingernails very short, that’s the only thing that has stopped me in the past.

I’d already not been to the gym for a week or so prior to the heartbreak, due to a nasty bit of sickness that my son and I kept passing back and forth. And I haven’t been back since then. I need to go. I’ve been thinking that for days now, but I can’t quite work up the energy to actually do it. At least the thought is there, maybe that is a good sign.

Maybe in addition to my goal of trying to have at least one positive thought a day, I should add in something like “eat a vegetable”. Or “stop drinking so damn much Pepsi”. I’d almost kicked the habit, but boy I sure jumped straight back into it when the shit went down. I’m terribly weak when it comes to Pepsi.

I’m very nervous about my impending interview. I need to go shower and get ready, but instead I’m playing spider solitaire. Not a productive day so far. I’m going now. It’s a phone interview, but I still want to be fixed up appropriately. Definitely nervous. Ugh.

Life Is Strange

It really is. I got an email from his wife yesterday. She read the post where I talked about what he wrote to me. Well, she read everything I’ve written, but she wrote to me based on that post, and how depressed I obviously was about it. She said that “he sent it after I confronted him about his feelings for you after we talked the last time”, and that “he did it for me, so I could be completely sure that he was in love with me and was indeed trying with all he has to make me happy.” She wanted me to know it wasn’t done to hurt me.

I appreciate that she was concerned enough about my emotional state to write and offer an alternate motivation for his action. I do feel that there are many other ways he could have demonstrated his commitment to her other than by seeking me out and kicking me while I am down. Regardless of his reasons, it really wasn’t a nice thing to do. It was at best inconsiderate of me as someone he caused harm to, and certainly unnecessary. So even if it wasn’t a deliberate attempt to hurt me, and I’m willing to believe her that it wasn’t, that was still the end result.

She thinks I should move on, and that this blog is a good way to help me do so. She was concerned that I might do something stupid because of the severity of my depression. A legitimate concern, and again, I do appreciate it. As I’ve said before, she is a good person caught in an unfortunate situation.

I’m doing better, I think. Ups and downs, always. I guess that is the nature of the beast. I have some thoughts that still need exploring, things I was already working on and others that were stirred up by hearing from her. But I am actually tired for once, so I think I should take advantage of an opportunity to get some sleep. More later.

It’s OK To Feel The Way I Feel

Maybe there are certain things that are fine to be sad about, fine to mourn, and certain things that are not. I don’t know exactly, I’m more trying to explore a thought here. Is it possible to separate what happened from the person who caused it? Is it possible to have a broken heart, to have a spirit and a soul which need time to heal, time to grieve, and yet NOT give more attention than required to the person who caused my pain?

I think I’m struggling with whether the difficulties I am having are giving too much, I’m not sure of the exact word I’m looking for here . . . power, significance, leverage to him. Him being a person who perhaps or even definitely does not deserve my care, my time, my emotional outlay. Although, it’s like there are two versions of him. The version I knew and loved, who inexplicably morphed into the cheating asshole version who lied to me, lied to his wife, generally behaved in a despicable manner. It’s like the evil him rose up and killed the him I loved, the him that was kind, considerate, funny, smart, passionate and loving. The man I loved no longer exists.  And yes, I know some would say that the man I loved never actually existed in the first place, simply because he was actively lying and omitting, but I don’t know that I agree with that. Reality is subjective. I believed him, loved him, trusted and respected him, and he existed in my life, in my version of reality. I think that is a reasonable thing to mourn.

Again, I’m not exactly sure what, if anything, I’m going for here. Just an aimless exploration of my current thoughts, I suppose.