Monthly Archives: September 2014

High Anxiety

Oh god. I’m wound up so tight. My mother’s actions are making me want to jump out of my skin. I don’t want to take it out on her.

This morning I decided not to swim, partly because I am so nervous I suspect I’d only stay in the water for ten or fifteen minutes, and partly because my husband’s attorney said he’d call me this morning. I’m at the kids center this afternoon so I don’t want to miss his call. I’ll use this time this morning to do my nails, I think. I may be too stressed to even do that.

Now I can’t seem to use the bathroom because my mother’s having a bad time with her stomach. Every time I ask if it’s okay to use the restroom she grabs her stomach and runs past me. One bathroom for three people often does not work and she’s had chronic stomach issues for months now.

I met with my husband’s attorney yesterday for about an hour. On one hand I feel everything is in capable hands, on the other hand I feel he has a good overall idea of what we went through but perhaps not a good enough detailed idea. There are so many variables. His behavior, my husband’s behavior, my behavior, and whether the jury feels empathy or compassion for us or not. It’s out of my hands.

I’m a nervous wreck. I haven’t taken any ativan in recent days in order for them to actually help me sleep tonight, or get on the stand tomorrow. The mere idea of it makes me tremble but I can’t wait to have this behind me.

In a way, though, I know I’m in for another adjustment period. Waiting so long for this has become my way of life. It’s easy to sound brave when your hands are tied and you can’t actually do anything.

I don’t know how much money I’ll end up getting. I don’t know when I’ll get it. And when we finally do get it, my husband will want to leave pretty quickly and I’ll need to rent a truck and get the rest of my furniture out of his apartment and put it into storage. He said he’d help me with that. I’ll need to rent a bigger storage unit because mine is already full. But that’s okay because if/when I start my business, I’ll probably need that storage space.

I’m just in disbelief that this case is almost over. I fear that at the last minute they’ll postpone it somehow!

Okay, I’ve showered and dressed. I’m going to spare you any more of my high anxiety today and sign off. Nails to paint. Makeup to put on.

 

Armchair Pop Psychology

I don’t see my therapist again until a week from this coming Tuesday, so hopefully all the trial drama will be behind me (I pray).

One thing I want to discuss with her is why do I get overwhelmed with that feeling that I am doomed and all is lost and will always be lost? Why do I jump all the way to the most negative outcome? I don’t think I’m a particularly negative person on the whole (I hope).

It may be some sort of wonky and absurd way of protecting myself by delivering bad news before it hits me off guard. But that’s really ridiculous since it’s nearly never as bad as I fear.

I don’t want to walk around with the rose colored glasses / pollyanna thing either, but my god there has to be middle ground. This ground is exhausting, not good for my health, and it is incredibly annoying to people around me.

I’m going to talk with her about ways to work on this — something I no doubt should have been working on years and years ago.

I’ve done a bit of reading this morning on narcissists and my god, my poor husband, that’s what he is without a doubt. And it can be so intoxicating to be around. That’s why I worried that anyone after him will be boring by comparison — and chances are they will be — but that’s not necessarily a bad thing! I’ll need to retrain myself. I fully realize that much of my problem separating emotionally from him is that I have “trauma bonded” with him. Eight solid, nonstop years of trauma bonding.

He had this bad habit of putting down my last husband, the good one, and he didn’t know him at all. He constantly called him “boring” but he was not boring. He was smart and funny and a good person — he was a real catch. But my current husband could not stand that a man can be those things and also be humble and interesting.

When he was really mad at me he’d put down my family as “white trash” which is pretty funny. He told me once that it’s in bad taste for my mom to talk about her poor childhood in rural Mississippi because it makes her look bad. Now he’s from a Middle Eastern country, so I feel perhaps this is a cultural thing, but he would not believe me when I told him Americans aren’t bothered by stories like this, in fact they are enriching in their own way.

But the worst thing he would do when he was in that mode is put down my brother whom he had never met. He was so jealous of my brother’s accomplishments and felt totally inadequate compared to him so he berated him, which even in my stupid state seemed utterly ridiculous. But there was no getting through to him.

I can understand why my husband is the way he is due to the turmoil of his home country and the way the family left, and how the family went from upper class-ish to poor in the UK and none of the family spoke English and it was up to my husband who was small for his age at ten years old, to learn the language and navigate a new country and new culture. That’s a whole lot to deal with and I admire anyone who gets through that unscathed.

The dynamic in the home was really awful too. His mom was gorgeous and young when she had him and resented him for most of his life because she was told she had an amazing singing voice and because she was a mother she gave up her dream of singing professionally. Meanwhile she cut her husband off from affection and took her little boy everywhere with her. He grew up surrounded by women pinching his cheeks and shopping, shopping, and more shopping.

So his father begins to resent him because his son took his place in his wife’s affections, but worse than the resentment is a true feeling of his father being threatened by his son in every way. It was Shakespearean, honestly. It was something very foreign to me. And it was horrible to witness — I could not really believe what my eyes and ears were telling and showing me in regards to how badly his father seemed to want to set his son up to fail.

Yet in his home country, even as a small boy, my husband was encouraged to be outrageous and demanding, in other words he was really entitled and spoiled and he still is to this day. But he’s got this enormous false pride that prevents him from starting at the bottom and working his way up. Therefore he never accomplishes anything.

He takes great pride in looking the part because he believe it intimidates people. As I’ve said before, everything he does is to shield his inferiority complex, at least that’s my take on the situation. He surrounds himself with younger people who can’t see past his charade yet. The minute someone is on to him, he begins to hate them and write them out of his life.

One of his favorite pastimes is simply disagreeing with people for the sake of disagreeing or to make himself seem confident and a deep thinker.

The saddest part is he is sort of a renaissance man. He writes beautiful poetry and he composes music. If he stuck with reality (his least favorite word) he’d find that he was good enough as he is and that he didn’t need to put up a front.

Enough about him. He’s not in my future so he’s really not worth all this space here. But it’s because nothing is just black and white, and he’s an abusive asshole and also an affectionate and generous man, that make all of this so hard.

I don’t know what to wear to court this week. The lawyer doesn’t want us to look too fancy. He’s asked my husband not to wear his usual tie. I wonder if I’ll even be called to the stand. OMG, I’ve never had that experience before. When his lawyer preps me tomorrow I’ll get a better idea. I think I may have to take an ativan that morning or I might be a trembling mess.

I’m going to swim tomorrow and Tuesday morning. And on Tuesday afternoon they need me at the kids center so I’ll be busy up until the Wednesday morning court case, thank goodness.

I put out an SOS on the Chump Lady website yesterday and the outpouring of support, encouragement, and empathy moved me to tears. I can’t express how grateful I am for that website. If you know anyone who has been cheated on, please recommend the site to them.

I’m more sane than I was yesterday. No telling how I’ll be tomorrow. For anyone reading this, I’m sorry, and thank you.

 

 

This Too Shall Pass, Or Will It?

I don’t know if I will live long enough to say that I’m grateful my husband cheated on me, dumped me, and destroyed my life because now I’m in a better place.

But I tried to leave him several times and eventually caved into him when he pursued me relentlessly or when I got weak. I went back to him last year knowing the moment I did it that it was a mistake. I accepted that he was my future and that I’d have to find a way to make it work, no matter how flawed and weird and awful — we were stuck together.

It wasn’t until HE broke it off due to his relationship with another woman that I was truly set free.

During that last hellish month when I suspected his heart had been stolen I kept asking him over and over again why he had wanted me back only to hate me and ignore me. He never gave me an answer, but I imagine it had everything to do with his ego.

So it’s possible that someday I will say I’m glad he cheated and mean it but not today.

It’s hard to have such conflicting emotions about a person. He was horribly abusive but also encouraged me and broadened my mind in many ways. He was horribly abusive but also very physically affectionate. He helped me go off of pharmaceutical drugs. He rubbed my back and cooked for me. He was generally optimistic and stimulating. He was very friendly yet outspoken about controversial subjects and sometimes he was outright racist.

I know by now that our relationship was toxic and would never be right. I’ve accepted that. I have great sadness, however, because I fear I’ll never find love again and that is devastating to me. I still resent that I wasted eight years and over $200,000 of my life savings to follow his dreams and he was careful to never actually ask me for any money; it simply vanished over the course of our relationship. And now, at 57, I can’t even get an interview.

I feel like quite a chump.

But I feel even stupider that somehow I still love him. It embarrasses me to write that and I just hope over time I can say I no longer love him, but I can’t imagine that day now.

Perhaps what I feel for him isn’t love. Perhaps I’m mistaken and not in touch with my real feelings. Perhaps I’m simply afraid to be alone.

I have a lot of love to give. I hope I can love someone and see them through the good and bad times. I love fidelity. This world is filled with people yet I may live alone the rest of my life. How is that even possible? How do we manage to be so alone on this crowded planet?

I can’t even imagine the next man I might love because right now he doesn’t exist. I want him to exist. I want him to make love to me. I want him for better and for worse. I want him until death us do part.

I woke up sobbing this morning. Haven’t done that in months and months. I was dreaming that my husband had transformed himself into something grotesque. I wished I hadn’t sought him out because now my memory of him would be forever changed. And I kept running away from him to try to get back to where I came from but I didn’t even know the address of where I was staying. Reminiscent of the fights we had in London. Yet I kept staring at him wondering where the man I knew had gone and yearning for him to return.

I suppose all this fresh pain is due to many factors. I saw him recently. I speak to him on the phone nearly every day due to the case. The case itself will soon be coming to a close. The case which held us together. No matter how much the money is he’ll soon be gone. His life will involve other women and even though he seems to have a fondness for me again, he is glad to be rid of me. You can see that on his face. Like he dodged a bullet which makes me feel freshly injured all over again. I am what men discard and run from.

It’s contact that has brought this pain. But soon enough the contact will end and I will face more pain as I enter into the next phase of my life. I can hate it and complain about it as much as I want to, but I can’t change it. I can’t make time go backwards.

Ironically, as bad as I feel for myself, I am very worried about him and all the demands on him. I keep having to remind myself that it’s not my job. He fired me from that job. But I really hate myself right now for feeling love for him. He gave up on us and he blames me for that. Another thing I cannot change.

I can see I’m going to have to remind myself in the coming days of all the unforgivable things he did to me. It’s true that he wants to be a kind man and can be a kind man but he treated me anything but kind. The horrible name calling. The rage. How he put me last over and over again. Making me wait in line to have a little of his time.

But I blame myself for allowing him into my life in the first place. If I hadn’t ruined my 18 year REAL marriage to a good man I would never have met him. It was my own addiction to the mythical world of the internet which allowed me to have an online persona which was confident, younger, prettier, thinner, and I began to prefer it over the real world.

My real world and my then husband were good yet I tried constantly to kill myself and night after night he began to be afraid when he came home to a dark house. Would I be dead this time? Oh my god I am so sorry I did that to him. The shame is overbearing. I can’t believe I made his life a nightmare. I simply can’t believe I did that to a good and decent man. I must not have felt deserving of such a good person.

He’s moved on and is very happy. I fear running into him and his wife in town as well, but at least I know he’d be kind and respectful and he’d know that it would be hard for me.

Wait.

Stop.

I have to stop.

I am going into deep depression.

The stress of this case and the unknown amount of money I will have to rebuild my life is overwhelming me. I am sobbing as I type and filled with shame.

Not sure what I can do to get through the next four or five days. And not sure how I’ll muster the strength to go forward no matter what the settlement amount will be.

I’m mortified that I am dependent on my parents and I fear I always will be. If that were the case I would definitely want to die.

This is the first time I’ve felt truly suicidal in many, many months. I so hoped those days were behind me.

I’ve just made so many mistakes. At what point do you just say, “Wait. I can’t go on. I can’t undo all this shit. I’m deserving of all the hell I”m going through. I brought it on myself. I can’t take it anymore. I want to forget.”

Sometimes I behave here as though I’m just an ordinary kind and decent woman but I’ve made so many mistakes I’ve lost count. My own antics have exhausted me and consumed me with shame.

I’ve accepted what I’ve done, but mostly accepted it covered in the gloves of my mental illness. But now I don’t know if I am or was mentally ill or just mind blowingly selfish. As selfish as my mother. Oh my god.

Stop.

Why can’t I stop.

Breathe.

I guess this is why I feel deserving of a man who was unbelievably cruel to me — it’s all I’ve earned. I’m not good enough for anything else. But sadly I also see the good qualities in my husband and know that had I been different, the outcome would have been different.

I’ll move on somehow. I am already dreading the cold, dark winter to come. I’d rather be miserable with him than try to figure out how to cope without him, or without anyone.

Stop.

You are morbid. Just stop.

Okay.

I spoke to my sister on the phone last night for the first time in many months. She pulls away from us when she is overwhelmed with her own life. I listened to the hell that is her existence and knew that my life is a cake walk compared to hers. Everything is fucking relative. Everything is temporary. We come into the world alone. We die alone. I am in control of how I move forward.

I may not be able to love one special man but that doesn’t mean I can’t love. It doesn’t mean I can’t try to help my family.

For several months now I’ve lived in a fantasy world thinking I’d get more than $100,000 in the settlement. Now I realize I will probably get closer to $25,000 and that’s an amount I will have to be much more careful with. I know how easy it is to go through that amount of money — it’s VERY easy.

If I could have gotten hired that money could have been used to set me up in my own apartment, or perhaps even allowed me to buy my own place. But I can’t even get someone to interview me.

I can only assume it’s my age. I never had trouble getting the job I wanted before. I got almost all the jobs I ever applied for. And now, when I have more skills than ever and the stamina to match it, no one will see past my age.  It’s so demoralizing.

Yet it’s clear to me that they like me at the kids center. They seem grateful that I make myself available to them and that I take the job seriously. They seem to really appreciate me. I am nice to work with. I am nice to be around. The people who don’t give me a chance are cutting themselves short.

It’s Saturday and I’m going to have to go to the pool even though my body is really tired from swimming all week. Not sure how good of a workout I can accomplish, but there’s no choice for me. I must try to get rid of this negativism.

The false confidence I’ve had while believing I’d have more than enough money to rebuild my life is gone. The real me is back. I’m truly sorry for anyone reading this. The sad thing is that even I in this morbid state know that I could feel 100% different tomorrow or certainly by Thursday when the case is over. But for now it’s overwhelming and insurmountable. This is my mental illness. The not believing that this too shall pass. Even as I write it I don’t believe it. I am so sorry.

 

 

 

Pessimism and Reality Rear their Respective Heads

I had a great swim today, that’s four days in a row, just like before the pool closed for maintenance. I’m a bit sore, but plan to go tomorrow and Saturday.

I am so stressed about this trial that I actually felt like having a drink today. I didn’t, mainly because I look at it as a huge waste of money, and who wants to drink alone? It always sounds better than it actually is and alcohol is a depressant and I don’t need that.

As I was getting my make up on getting ready to go to the kids center my husband called to tell me that his attorney wants to see me on Monday to be prepped for trial which is schedule for later in the week. He also said that they made him an offer that is so low it’s mind boggling. He said it’s all done to demoralize us and not to let it get to me. But it has gotten to me.

I feel so foolish now.

For the millionth time with this man I allowed myself to dream big and experience a lot of exciting “what ifs.” But for most of today I convinced myself that my share of his settlement money will not be enough for me to use to move out of here let alone allow me to start my business. I am so sad.

I guess this is my mind’s way of preparing myself for the worst case scenario. I already know there will be some money because the man being sued has already admitted he broke the law. My husband’s attorney needs to convince the jury that it was a bad enough experience to warrant a large settlement. The saddest part here is that if we were still together it would be twice as much money for us to use as a couple.

But c’mon, I know the money would trickle through his fingers. I would not be able to stand by and watch that happen. I’d rather take a lesser amount and see what I can do with it alone. He’s got so many extended hands to deal with.

But what’s made me sad, besides that my business may have to start very small indeed, is that I may not be able to move out. I am at a breaking point here so this is not good news. I was fantasizing about my own place. I want it so bad I can taste it. I want a counter to set my escargot pan on.

The truth is no one knows how it will go next week and if I could just somehow make myself stop thinking about it, I would. It’s out of my hands and no matter how much the settlement is I must find a way to make the most of it.

I allowed myself to imagine the largest amount and now I’m resigning myself to the smallest amount. The actual amount will probably be somewhere in the middle, and that will have to work for me.

When I was done at the kids center I found myself really wound up. I texted my husband and he called me and calmed me down just like he always used to. He’s good at that. I knew I should not settle into old ways, but my anxiety got the best of me. These are roles we know well. I will miss him when he’s gone. The past few months he’s been the man I thought I knew. The man who seemed to have vanished. I’m glad he’s back, but I will never get over the pain he caused me.

After this trial I don’t have to be on this never ending roller coaster of dreams being out of reach. I will be firmly planted in reality (peppered wit a reasonable amount of hope) and I’ll be okay with that. My husband always said that “reality” is a dirty word and he put me down for being “realistic.” But it’s where I want to be. I look forward to the day when I can get off this ride. The real world is interesting enough for me.

As I was thinking about having a cocktail to curb my anxiety I realized I’d rather swim than have a drink. And today, while I swam I was thinking about how feeling physically strong makes me feel strong in general. I love that I have energy to do pretty much anything I want to do.

While I swim I think about the dozens of body parts and muscles that are being used at once, including my heart muscle. I feel it everywhere. It is magnificent.

Don’t get me wrong, while I do swim for an hour, I often take a few seconds of a break at the end of the lap. I won’t win any races. But in the scheme of a community pool, I’m in the middle and that’s not a bad place to be at 57, and someone who has never really exercised consistently. I feel incredibly proud of that and I love how it makes me feel. I wish I had done it all my life, but that’s okay. I’m doing it now.

I move differently now. I hated how I was beginning to move as a morbidly obese person — I’m not kidding. I was waddling and bumping into things. I couldn’t judge where I ended. I could not even sit in a booth in a restaurant! I love the flexibility I have and the coordination and strength even though I’m far from thin.

I feel reasonably confident that my weight will soon be back in my control and that weight loss will continue, but very slowly. I’m okay with that. I feel fantastic.

Hoping for the Opportunity to Face My Fears

This is terrible. The tension at home is so bad. I went to swim yesterday and drove around and went to charity shops until 7:30 pm just so that I didn’t have to go home to get sucked into my mom’s cleaning-things-that-are-already-clean-hysteria. (Picked up an escargot pan from France AND a Julia Child era soufflé pan, also from France for pennies at two different stores). I figure the escargot pan will be a nice catchall in my kitchen since I do no plan to eat snails anytime soon. The soufflé pan will be on display. I don’t wanna make one of those either.

I thought about not swimming today but thankfully something inside me made me go. I guess it’s a habit by now. I’m coming up on about eleven months of swimming regularly. Real regularly. The longest time I’ve done any one physical activity ever. I have a constant runny nose, so I’m not sure it’s the best exercise for me and my sinuses, but for now it’ll have to do.

Today was a bit like old times in the pool. I worked out. Then I did a couple easy floaty laps while I cooled off. I did some stretching. Then got out. And when I was slipping my feet into my flip flops I felt like jumping back in. The water represents something so pure and joyous to me. It’s heaven. The best times of my life were spent in a pool or the ocean. That excitement never goes away.

I’m sitting right now at the public library waiting to see my husband. I got here a bit early and I paid for 2.5 hours of parking. I know I won’t need that much time with him, but I figured I’d want to hang out here since there’s no where else to go.

Today when I swam instead of thinking about H&B I thought about my own place and how I would decorate it. I’m quite a home body so it really made me feel calm and excited at the same time. For the first time in my life, I will decorate my house right. I’ll go slow. I don’t need to buy a lot at once. A bed and a couch initially, but that’s it, really. The rest can wait. I have quite a bit of stuff, but nothing compared to what I had when I met my husband. I’ve thinned it out since I had to keep packing it up and putting it in storage.

I decorated a house in a hurry once in my last marriage. Bought almost everything at once. Never liked it a bit. I like things to be eclectic, not all matchy-matchy. I won’t make that mistake again. Plus in the ten years since I did that I know so much more about what I like.

But what if I get it done and sit down and look around and realize it doesn’t matter a bit if there’s no one to share it with? I guess I’ll deal with that when it happens. Maybe it won’t happen.

Just spent two hours with my husband and it was bitter sweet. He helped me with my computer issues and then we just talked. Neither of us is sleeping right now we are so nervous about this court case. He was not his usual optimistic self so now I’m feeling more nervous as well.

When I left him I felt like sitting in the car and just sobbing, but it didn’t come and I wasn’t going to force it. For two days it’s been rainy and overcast, Oregon weather is back. All those idiots who complained that it was “so hot” must be happy now. I’ll miss the sun so much.

He teased and said next time let’s meet at a hotel room and I chuckled a little but I don’t find it amusing. I told him I doubt I’d ever be with another man again and it was a shame since my last two times with him were so awful. Hard to accept that that was it for my sex life. He said, “Oh come on. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Later I told him that his “oh, these things happen” attitude is fine for him, but I don’t take it as casually. I told him I’m not about to try to convince him of it, but I had never known such pain in my life when he cheated on me. He said, “Not even with so and so?” I said, “No. Hands down this was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. He said, “Do you think I am not sorry or feel remorse? If so you don’t know me.”

I let that thread of the conversation end. No need for it. Neither of us were playing games or trying to get something out of the other. I did tell him that I’m glad we can be civil to one another but I didn’t plan on remaining his pal after he leaves, which is how he would like it. I said, “Sorry. I have to move on completely.”

Today I was wishing there was a “Leave a Cheater” Meetup to go to tonight but it’s not until next week. I’ll ask people if they are okay with every other week or if they’d like to meet once a week. We got a new member so I think we’ll have four or five people next week. Yay!

I’m unbelievably aware that I have no one to socialize with whatsoever. No one. Zero. Zip. Nada. I hope I make a friend or two in one of the Meetup groups. It’d be so nice just to have someone to go have coffee or a cocktail with. It’s been so, so long. Not sure how I ended up in this place.

I’m like my mom in this way, I guess (huge sigh) because she has only one friend. She dislikes people and is overly critical. If she can’t dominate the friendship she has no time for it. Also if you disagree with her politically she’ll write you off. So, wait, I’m not like her. Please god, I don’t want to be like her.

I told my husband today that I MUST GET OUT OF HERE AND ESTABLISH MY OWN HOME AND I AM NOT GOING TO INVITE HER TO LIVE WITH ME IF IT EVER COMES TO THAT. He says, “You’d better tell your brother and sister. They’ll be assuming you’re going to take care of her. ” I told him I’d do all I can for her financially, but I cannot live with her. I simply can’t. There’s just too much damage there and I will be miserable; we both would.

I worry too much about things that might happen.

I mean I sit here with less than $100 to my name planning what furniture I’ll buy? Moving out to establish my own home? Where is that line between optimism and foolishness?

And if/when the money comes will I have what it takes? I’m famous for backing away from things at the last second. My mom tells me daily about some new job to apply for that doesn’t suit me a bit, plus by now I know I can’t even get an interview. It’s so nice to have the confidence of one’s parents (sarcasm).

The only thing that’s different now with so many plans I’ve had in the past that I walked away from — I don’t really have much choice this time AND it’s time to do what I’ve always dreamed of doing, having my own business. It’s time.

How far I can take it given my age and experience (or lack thereof) is anyone’s guess. But c’mon, I don’t have to make a fortune. I can make a comfortable living, right? Almost daily I come across some other beautiful product by a Pacific Northwest artisan and think, yeah, that would fit on my website. I want to take what top notch artisans are making in the Pacific Northwest and sell it to the world and I want to take unique things I’ve found in my travels in Europe and sell them to the world. Maybe that should be two business, but I don’t care. That’s the plan. High quality things with lasting power, perhaps even nice enough to leave to loved ones.

I honestly do not expect anyone to read this shit. I’m writing simply because I’m a nervous wreck over if there will be money or not. There will be money, but how much is anyone’s guess.

But I had a mini epiphany just now that I’m grateful to have the opportunity to face my fears. To live alone. To run a business. To help my parents and daughter financially. To be independent. I want that opportunity. I pray I’m not just hot air. I pray I can step up.

 

 

 

Driving Around Aimlessly So That I Don’t Yell At My Mom

My  husband and I chatted on the phone yesterday for about 20 or 30 minutes. He’s always been a good yacker. Neither one of us has anyone to talk to who fully understands what we went through so it’s obvious that it helps us both to talk about it together. Plus we talk about what we’re going to do (individually) with the settlement money.

I’m meeting him tomorrow at the library where he’ll install Adobe Illustrator on my computer and give me a few quick lessons in it. Why? Because I need it and it’s the only way to get it for free. Because I want to be able to design some of my stuff on my own and not always rely on describing what I want to a stranger. After I get it on my computer I’ll hit YouTube and begin to teach myself the basics.

Some would say (and I would have said this myself two months ago) that I should have nothing whatsoever to do with him but I have 100% accepted the fact that we will no longer be man and wife. I also know that soon enough he’ll be gone and I’ll see very little of him. That’s okay, I’ll deal with that. I don’t want to be his friend or his pal. I know that I’ll feel some loss when he goes, but I know it’s inevitable. I am eager to move on with my own life so I think I’ll be fairly distracted by that.

But there will always be a part of me that feels this is a shame. All I ever wanted was a chance to be relatively financially secure so that I could really assess our relationship. In spite of his arrogance I liked that he was sort of foreign and exotic. But I suppose we see the true self of others when we are stressed or uncomfortable. He saw that I am a nervous wreck and I saw that he would never be able to support me and the humiliation of that caused him to be abusive to me.

To be honest, my entire life is chalk full of regrets. I ruined an 18 year marriage with a good, solid man and I am incredibly regretful about that. I take comfort knowing he has moved on and found a woman he seems to truly adore.

Sadly, I cannot undo anything from my past. I must put blinders on and walk towards my future now. Aware of what I’ve done but knowing it’s not too late to change.

Yesterday I swam back at my pool (yay) and it was great. I should go today but woke up with my eye closed up with crust and it’s all red. I need to buy a new pair of goggles and I may use that as an excuse not to work out today, which is a bad excuse.

After I was done swimming I went to the kids center to see if I could do some case management, but was unable to do so. I did some busy work for about an hour and then just drove around. I ended up going to stores I normally don’t go into (TJ Maxx and Bed Bath & Beyond) simply because I did not want to go home. Being around my mother has become that awful.

It’s easy to take shit out on my mom when I’m stressed so I don’t want to have an incident with her that causes us to stop talking to one another just when I’m hoping to move out. But it’s clear to me that she’s having almost as hard a time being civil to me as I am with her.

Two women sharing a home, especially a kitchen, is not easy! She cannot stand to have a dirty dish sit on her counter top but allows food to basically rot and turn to slime in her fridge. (And who puts water on to boil on medium heat?)

She announced to my dad and I a month ago that she wants us to begin using the dishwasher instead of washing by hand because dishes get more sanitary that way. I agreed of course because this is her house. But I really hate dishwashers! I don’t mind loading them, but I hate unloading them. And if you forget to unload them then when you go to put a few dishes in there and find it full of clean ones, you have to stop and unload first.

But that’s not the part that really gets to me.

What gets to me is that now only she seems to be able to hand wash dishes. Yes, dad and I must use the dishwasher, but she has the choice to use it or not use it. And when she washes dishes by hand, I can assure you, based on the age and condition of her sponge, that they are dirtier when she is done washing than before. It’s disgusting. Don’t even get me started on how she uses the same sponge to clean the dog dishes.

I felt so humiliated for my dad this morning. She was on the phone when he woke up so he just went from bed to bathroom and started the shower. A couple of minutes later my mom comes into the hallway and says, “Eek.” I said, “What?” She said, “Well he just went right in there and I have to take my shower to get to an appointment.”

I’ll never understand why, when she wakes up at 5 a.m., she insists on taking her shower exactly 90 minutes before she must leave the house.

So when my dad gets out — picture this: he’s 80. He’s tired and only half awake. He’s sitting on the side of his bed trying to put socks on when she comes to his door.

“Next time when you wake up, go ahead and use the bathroom to go potty, but don’t take a shower until you’ve checked with me and my schedule. I should have told you last night when I needed to get in. It’s okay, because I’m only five minutes behind. It’s always okay to go potty because it can’t be helped. But next time check with me first before you shower.”

He said, “Okay.”

I would have said, “Fuck you.”

But that’s me.

When she was back in the bathroom he muttered something to me about being lectured by her and I said, ‘Yeah, because you’re four years old.”

I don’t like dissing my mom behind her back that way. It feels really wrong. But my god her behavior is shameful. I can’t figure out why a man like my dad, who had a fiery temper, could have taken this shit from her for all these years.

I said, “I’ve never seen a human being who is wound more tight.” He agreed.

I’ve got to get out of here. I’d really love to be out of here by the holidays but I sort of doubt I’ll get that lucky.

No doubt everything seems worse of late because of the uncertainty of my husband’s court case. I need to remember that and just hold on.

There are two phone calls I’d like to make this week and I’ll state them here so that maybe I’ll actually do them:

1. Call the pastor at the church I want to go to, to make an appointment to meet with him.

2. Call the small business development center to begin to start a relationship with them.

For now, I’ll get some clothes on, go buy some goggles, and get to the pool. I’ll probably spend hours after that doing anything in order not to come home and then at 5 p.m. there’s a StartUp Meetup group about financials I’m going to.

Gah. Breathe. Hold on.

 

 

Eating Too Much. Spending Too Much. Waiting.

Still chomping at the bit here and was grateful to spend some time with my therapist on Friday.

My husband met with his attorney yesterday and they began to prepare for trial, just in case. His attorney will call me in order to prep me sometime this week. Trial is set for one week from this Wednesday, October 1st. I, personally, hope it doesn’t go to trial, but my husband feels that it will work in our favor either way. It’s out of my hands.

His attorney will call my husband, me, and a police officer who came to our aid as witnesses.

I asked him outright if he is going to stay or move and he said he’ll more than likely go to Portland. I told him thank you. I told him I needed him to leave Eugene so that I could feel free to go where I wanted to go. He said, “You’re free to do that now.” I said, “I don’t want to run into you with another woman.” He said, “What about me? I could run into you with another man. Did you ever think about that?” I said, “But you’d like that. It would titillate you.” He didn’t argue with that.

I said something about needing him to go so that I can move on with my life and he acted like I was being silly and I had a great future ahead of me and said “these things happen” like it’s no big deal that he used up my money, cheated and then abandoned me. I said, “You say that because you were in control of it. Believe me, it’s a big deal. But yes, I will be fine.”

My mother has been pouting for three days. Neither my dad nor I know why. I’m so sick of walking on egg shells around her. And my dad is the worst enabler. But they have 60+ years of being dysfunctional together. He told me mom doesn’t like it when he sits at the counter and enjoys his new iPad. He said he will only use it now when she’s not home. I said, “What? Don’t do that. That’s being a martyr.” What an idiot. Now he’ll have even more resentment. But I can’t really blame him because there’s no way to reach her.

Yesterday he lays down for a nap and after about ten minutes mom comes to his door and says, “Is it hot in here?” He says, “No. But turn the air on if you want.” She said, “No, I just wanted to know if it was hot in here.” Fucking passive aggressive shit. He gets out of bed and goes to the thermostat (which she had been standing right near) and turns on the air conditioner, then goes around shutting windows. I shut my window but also shut my door. I’ve got the vent closed in my room because I don’t like feeling cold when it’s gorgeous and sunny outside. She literally has one fucking temperature where it isn’t too hot or too cold. I can’t believe she’s from Southern California and so reliant on air conditioning! We never had it in our homes in So. Cal! Jesus. As you can see they’re both passive aggressive. It’s horrible. As my therapist says, “You’ve got to get out of there.” Yup. I do.

I heard my dad ask my mom what was wrong yesterday and as usual she wouldn’t give him a clue. So she pouts and lies down and gives us both the cold shoulder. And if you dare to try to talk to her about it, she’d feel you were attacking and blaming her and she’d shut down. There is literally no way to bring it up with her where she won’t be offended. So what can one do?

I told dad today that when I get this money I will begin to look for a place to live. I told him that I was going to be extremely picky so it might take months for me to find the right place that I can afford, feel safe in, and work my business out of. He asked me not to do anything when the money comes and to just wait and think. I told him I’ve had a year of thinking about what to do with the money and I know what I want to do — but I plan to ease into it slowly and quite possibly start running it while I’m still living here with them. He seemed disappointed but I’m used to my family not having faith in me. He went quiet which is how he behaves if he disagrees.

He also told me not to try to “save everybody” with the money. And I agreed. Until I can make that money work for me, I should not run around trying to save individual members of my family. It would be a bottomless pit, truly. When I have an actual income, I can then look at how I can help my family.

But I will pay off my daughter’s car and I will do a few things for my parents to thank them for letting me stay here rent free. I’ve contributed a lot of money in terms of food shopping here, and I do chores, but that’s it. I don’t know where I’d be if they hadn’t opened their doors to me.

I’ve started talking and behaving as though there will definitely be money, but until I have it in my bank account, nothing is certain.

The “Leave a Cheater” Meetup on Wednesday went well and I think we’ll have a good but small core of people who want to meet every other week. Any misgivings I had about it are pretty much gone.

I’ve had some amazing ideas for H&B and I’m kicking myself that I never learned how to use Photoshop (very well) or Illustrator so that I can design what I envision instead of relying on conveying that to someone else. Believe it or not my husband and I worked well that way. He wasn’t a trained graphic artist, but he was quite knowledgeable and willing to work on something until I was happy with it. I won’t get that kind of help for free any more!

My sugar eating is totally out of control and I’m so disappointed in myself. My pool opens tomorrow, thank god, and I plan to be there every day this week. But it’s my eating I need to control most. Every day I say this will be the day I get it under control, and every day I fail. When I get this money I am going to consider going to a hypnotist or acupuncturist to help with over eating.

I also think I will be able to control it better when I’m in my own place, controlling what I have for dinner and what I have around me for snacks.

Yesterday I drove around a part of town with tons of apartments and it’s really grown up since I was last there. It was very appealing to me, but I still need to wait until I find something with a garage. Interestingly, I found a small tract of duplexes with garages nearby. I made note of the street name so that I can find out if any of them are for rent.

I’ve been spending money I can’t really spare buying stuff at the charity shops. I haven’t sold anything on eBay for over a week so perhaps my buying skills aren’t as great as I thought they were. And now I’m finding things I like so much I can’t consider selling, like a gorgeous Blenko water jug (paid $7 and it’s worth at least $40) and a stunning cut glass whiskey decanter with matching glasses (bought for half price at $18). I had been keeping my eye on a Murano glass footed apothecary type jar with a lid that stands about 18″ tall. It’s breathtaking in a turquoise blue. It was in a case at the Goodwill and sure enough, this week it was half off. I bought it for $12 and it’s probably worth close to $100, but I love it too much to part with it!

I keep telling myself that all these special things I have will make great props in the background when I began taking photos of my products to sell online at H&B. It’s true, they will, but I have no business buying them now. I can hardly get through the month as it is!

When I move I will have part of the office area set up to photograph my goods, and I’ll have to buy special lighting because I don’t want everything to have that indoor yellow cast to it. I’d prefer to photograph outside, but that’s not always possible in Oregon.

I’m sorry I’m all over the place again. That’s how my brain is operating these days. One of the most sobering things to happen this week is when I began to talk about my childhood and the behavior of my parents in therapy this week. It sounded shocking coming out of my mouth and it’s no wonder I don’t really feel any affection towards my mother. What a shame. I’m so envious of women who are friends with their mom. I guess I’m lucky my daughter seems to like me even though I’ve made a ton of mistakes.