Hard to take time to write here — I wish I could more often.
Dad is improving. It’s a matter of balancing medicines. He saw his GP today who is taking charge of the meds and made things clear to them. When it’s a blood pressure issue it’s not just a simple, “take one of these and two of these.”
They feel good about the visit so I feel good about it, too.
Dad walked to the mailbox yesterday and today, quite an outing for him. He’s aware that he’s quite behind in his knee surgery recovery because of his heart/lung complications, but his mood seems good. His color is a little better. I’m just praying we have more time and I’m grateful for every day he’s with us.
Work is extremely hard. I’m the only one fussing with a brand new database, and my workload is huge. I wear more hats than anyone else does there, have a heavier workload, more stress, and get paid the least. When I calm down enough to do it right, I’m going to sit down with my supervisor.
If things don’t change I will look for another job, but that would be so sad. This place and the people there mean a lot to me. But I feel taken advantage of. The reality is, however, at my age it’s almost impossible to get a job, and I want one that pays more. My odds aren’t great. As of April of this year I will have been in the position for a year. I think it looks better that I stay on the job at least that long.
But I hope I don’t have to leave.
On another note, I’ve had several months of not thinking of the cheating ex very often at all. But once he talked to me about the pending lawsuit last week, he began to want to chat.
Two nights ago he called and started the conversation, “Well, you’ve probably been waiting for an apology.”
I interrupted. “On no. I’m not. I’m good.”
Then nothing from him, so I said, “Was that it? Was that the apology?”
I don’t even know what he said then, but there wasn’t anything more on that subject.
He talked about the lawsuit but it was clear he wanted to be charming and chatty. He asked me if I drink I said, “Not really.”
“I just don’t.”
“Well, you should come have a drink with me.”
“Ah, no. That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? We had seven years together. You don’t need to be bitter or resentful.”
“Oh, I’m not. I’ve done the work. I’m good.”
“Well, then come have a drink with me.”
We changed the subject and he began to talk about the history of the English language which is one of my favorite subjects. Since I’m starved for that sort of conversation I let a few sentences escape from my mouth and then I forced myself to stop.
I said, “Listen, you’ve always been a great conversationalist, and if you weren’t a former husband of mine, I’d have this conversation with you, but I don’t want to do this.”
“Why? Don’t be that way.”
I said, “Because you’re not worthy of my time and attention.”
He laughed it off and made me say I’d meet him for a drink sometime — otherwise I could not get him off the phone. I will never meet him for a drink, don’t worry. NEVER. EVER.
Last night, the next night, he actually had important information to convey about the lawsuit. I kept my tone utterly professional and was very brief with him and hung up when the info was relayed. If we have to talk — it’ll be that way.
But just having recent contact with him is fucking with my head. Not in a way that makes me want him, but just sad (again) for those few things that were pretty awesome about him. He can talk about anything.
The only real thing he said, which made me feel sad for him because I think it was genuine. I said, “How are the girls?”
There was a pause and he said, “ML, I don’t. I just don’t know. Everything is messed up.” I didn’t inquire further.
I don’t know if his whore has gone or just change shifts, probably the latter, but he just wanted to talk to someone, anyone. I’m not that cheap.
When I was married to him he’d get so antsy to talk with someone he’d call almost anyone to talk. He could not stop himself. He could not just be comfortable on his own, in his own skin. I’ve never known a man in my lifetime who could talk as much in person or on the phone.
And except for when he was on a paranoid rant or talking about conspiracies, he could be very interesting. In our early years when I had could not sleep I’d ask him to talk to me until I slept and he would do it. He could be so generous that way.
It’s a shame he could not have been good more often.
I have to have limited contact now, but when the case is over I plan to never speak to him again.
But NO CONTACT is the way to go for healing, peeps. In fact, it’s the only way to go.
The house thing isn’t as simple as mom thought. Turns out I can’t assume their loan unless they move out. So she’s looking into ways where I get put on the deed. We’re going to consult some tax folks and real estate/estate law attorneys. Nobody wants me getting a big surprise when they’re both gone.
I’m sad when I think that this was an odd way to ensure that I’d always be here to take care of my mother, but I would have done it anyway. I’m just going to find a way to make the best of it.
Now that dad is recovering perhaps I can work on the “Gain a Life” part. I haven’t done anything just for me since my trip to Portland last month. I’ve got to get exercising and involved in outside activities.
There are many things I’m interested in, I just feel so tired in the winter and have been so sick. I’ll have to take some baby steps.
Thanks for being here.
Oh, here’s the first of a series about the history of the English language! One of my favorites.