The work week may be hard for me, but at least it is quick. Here it is Friday again and I’m terribly exhausted.
Work was busy and stressful, but also I’m beginning to see where there are some unfairnesses going on., i.e. I’m working twice as hard as the person who is supposed to cover for me at times. And she probably makes double what I make per hour.
This is bound to happen. It’s all part of office dynamics and I need to decide early on that it’s not worth getting too worked up about. But that’s my issue, that’s my anxiety disorder: I get worked up. It’s not fun, nor is it fair, but I need to find a way to let things go that don’t seem to bug other people. It is not easy being me.
I came home tonight with dinner for my parents and said I had to take an Ativan before I talked with them because I was so worked up. Thankfully I feel it right now and am no longer wound up. But I can recall how I got that way.
Since the divorce my ex husband and I have texted a few times about him giving me a few more of my possessions and also paying me half of the divorce fees. I cancelled on him a couple of times and was going to cancel on him after work but by the time I went to my phone he was already there waiting for me.
So I met him and he put three things into my car. I asked him when he would pay me for half the fees and he said, “Maybe Monday?” I said, “Okay. Why don’t you just mail it.” I said that because A.) I don’t want to meet him anymore and, B.) He won’t have it Monday or any day. Then I shut the car door and drove off. I’m sure he thought that was odd. I’m sure he’d have liked to have a chummy “congratulations, we’re divorced” conversation. But I wasn’t in the mood.
Then — are you ready for this? Then I watch as he hides behind a taller car, an SUV. I see him in my rearview mirror as he waits for me to get further from him, and he runs back into Nordstrom Rack where he had been shopping.
And I thought to myself, “Yeah, go shop you slimy, over perfumed, black denim wearing, pointy-shoed loser. SHOP!” There’s something especially humiliating about having a man use up all your money, cheat on you, abandon you, and then allow you the honor of paying for the divorce.
Then I pulled over and cried. I haven’t cried in a while, which is amazing for me. I used to cry SO FUCKING MUCH. Then I called my folks and asked them if they wanted me to bring home Panda Express and they did.
I cried a few more tears but I kept reminding myself that HE is not tear worthy. I tried to stop myself getting into a blaming party (I was doing a lot of “If you hadn’t fucked up your life with the good husband you would not be working full time and exhausted right now.”)
I started saying to myself, “I’m grateful for my daughter. I’m grateful for Bach. I’m grateful for art. I’m grateful for forests. I am grateful for my job. I can do this.”
Part of me wonders if I really can do this. But I have no choice. I have to do it.
My 58th birthday is a week from today, next Friday. I have a 1 p.m. appointment with my therapist whom I haven’t seen since early April due to my new job. There’s so much I need to talk to her about I won’t know where to begin. I must find a way to see her at least once a month. I’m going to ask her about support groups or group therapy which might take place in the evenings.
I wish I could go to more church activities, but I’m so tired that I just get to church on Sundays. I want to find ways to have A LIFE OUTSIDE OF WORK. I just need to figure out how.
This weekend I will spend more time cleaning out this room so that it is livable. We’ll see how far I get.
But the things I know I should do that will help me more than anything else are to eat better and to get some exercise. I’m into full on night binging mode and just don’t know how to stop. I am thinking I’d also make an appointment next Friday to see my GP to ask about a nutritionist. I can’t see me at Weight Watchers, but I’d like to have someone to report my weight to. We’ll see.
Too tired. Got a bit of a sore throat and hope that doesn’t mean a summer cold is in my future.
Maybe today will have been the last time I’ll see my ex. One can hope.