Tag Archives: divorce

252

This morning I stepped on to my new scale, naked and with an empty bladder and the result was 252 exactly. So, now I know what I’m up against and it’s the official number I will start with.

Right now, the main thing I am trying to do is a.) not gain, and b.) add healthy food to my diet. For now I’m going to weigh daily — if I don’t do that on the day that I skip it, I’ll throw it all alway and not step on that scale again. I know myself pretty well.

I came straight home from work today. I don’t always do that because I often stop at my parent’s house to eat with them or just hang out for a bit. Coming straight home is nice. I am still not quite used to the feeling that this place is all mine. I even like its messes. I have all the windows open now to air out the place. Today I walked in and said, “Honey, I’m home” to no one.

I’ve considered a pet. I’d really like a dog. But I’m just not sure I can afford one. Also being gone for nine+ hours a day isn’t fair to a dog. I like cats, but they’ve damaged my homes in the past so I’m probably not going to go that route.

I didn’t move into my house until after Christmas. It was a very long search for a home that I could afford and could imagine living in. I’m still not sure I can afford it, to be honest. And I don’t have window coverings on two windows still. I’ve got a little bit of savings, but I’m afraid to let it go too low. I’ve got no one to rely on if I have an emergency. Plumbing or a roof issue, for example. Oh, I’m a two minute drive to my parent’s house and a 9 minute drive to work, which I also love.

As a natural born worrier I could spend a lot of time worrying about the what if’s, but to be honest I enjoy being here so much that I don’t fret about it too long. This place is mine — it’s not his. Very little of what I own now reminds me of him.

When I began to unpack all of my belongings after 3+ years in storage I found myself cursing the ex because he packed all the boxes for me — he would not let me back into our apartment since it was already his love nest. I had to trust he’d give me things I’ve had long, long before I ever met him. I have found that two kitchen knives I’ve had for 15 years never made it to me, and the toolbox he packed for me was nearly empty. That made me pissed because my dad had given me a lot of what was in there. The list is long, and that’s only the stuff I can remember.

I was feeling super pissed about all the stuff I now knew was missing. Eventually I had to remind myself that I wouldn’t want that stuff now that it’s been part of their household for so long. One of the last emails I sent to him was expressing my anger about what I was missing. He wrote back asking me another question, not addressing my concern. I never responded to him again. Fuck them both. I’ve since blocked his phone number so that he can’t message or call me.

My heart is broken again today. As a lover of all things British I saw late last night how a 24 story apartment building in West London with over 300 residents was consumed by flames within fifteen minutes. Women were throwing their babies out the windows. The fire started on the lower floors. The people in upper floors couldn’t get out. People on the grass below heard their screams. Of course it is because it was a low income building. No one cared that it wasn’t a safe building. They have no idea how many are dead, but it will be a lot. Why, God? Why?

Londoners came out to help house and feed the survivors. Londoners are great at that. But this is so horrifying — I simply can’t imagine experiencing that. What good are “thoughts and prayers” anyway?

xox

 

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Modern Man — A Narcissistic, Porn-Addicted Misfit

A friend of mine put this quote from self-described narcissist and narcissist expert Sam Vaknin on Facebook and it blew my mind:

Modern Man is a narcissistic, porn-addicted misfit. Women have banished men from their lives: they raise their children alone; they educate their offspring on their own (90% of teachers are female); they are way more accomplished academically and they are breaching all the remaining glass ceilings forcefully. Men are on the retreat, hiding in cyber caves, self-medicating perilously, assiduously avoiding the dual threats of intimacy and sex with women, their newfound nemesis. It is War and all sides are losing it.

My God, I know that not all men can be described that way, but many modern men (and more than a few women) can.

So it prompts me to ask, what the hell’s going on and how can we survive this?

Men (and some women) are throwing away years of marriage, fidelity, children, homes, other resources, sometimes including jobs, for what? A few orgasms and having their ego stroked. In order to behave as though they have no responsibilities again. And yes, I know this has been going on for a long time but it seems so much more prevalent now!

Yet, what responsibilities did they have? Did they do all the shopping? The cooking? The laundry? The cleaning? While couples are getting better at dividing housework, generally it’s still quite uneven. Did they read stories to the kids, bathe them, tuck them in, go to meetings with teachers?  Do they do these things day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year? Women do this AND hold down full time work.

Generally, they do not. In general they feel ENTITLED to a break from their job (which pays them more) and we think they deserve it. It may be that they really do deserve it. BUT we deserve it too, goddammit. Why is it so easy to put ourselves last?

I cannot fathom how they can be so short sighted. I can’t wrap my head around how a grown ass person can think this way and I fear that it is becoming more common.

Grown men who think they are babysitting and doing their wives a favor while looking after their own children. Grown men who act like children by feeling deserving of time off from family to socialize and drink with others, have solo vacations, play video games, or go to sporting events. And so much porn that an ordinary woman could never get him excited again.

Given their nature, how did men end up in charge of everything? How is it that they are responsible for business, government, law enforcement, when they can be weakened by one single orgasm? It’s one thing for a 14 year old boy to feel that way, but these days so many men are simply not growing up!

Is there something in the water? What the hell is going on?

I’ll be 59 this month and I have so much love to give but I’m not holding out any hope that I’ll find someone who wants my love. In a way it’s a shame because I’d like to care for someone (it comes naturally to me) and to find that there are adult men out in the world doing the right thing and who have balanced their responsibilities and their pecker. I don’t want to believe good men are all gone.

Are we becoming a society where women don’t really need men except as sperm donors? Would this be upsetting or good news for men? Is this who we really were from the start?

Do men see what’s going on here? Does it frighten them or does it titillate them?

If men want to remain immature, without adult responsibilities why don’t they have vasectomies and live the bachelor life instead of ruining the lives of women and children they have been with for ten, twenty, thirty, or forty years?

I’ll admit I don’t understand men at all. I really do miss them in my life but the Mars/Venus thing is just so obvious to me now that I wonder how we ever coexisted. Perhaps when we are young we are so obsessed with breeding we just can’t see the bigger picture. I’m way beyond those years now and find it alarming and sad.

I miss you, men, but I don’t understand you at all.

 

Rage. Raw Emotions. Clinging to hope.

I am at my absolute worst right now. This rage I am feeling is so much more dangerous than my deep depression. I hope I can somehow manage it. I feel like taking one of the emergency anti anxiety pills but I know I have to do everything I can not to get into that habit.

I think this is Borderline at its worst. I feel so angry at everyone, including myself. I wasn’t all that eager to swim, but went there and shared a lane with a woman for about ten minutes. Then she got out and a man immediately took her place. He was an old man, a slow swimmer, and I use the term “swimmer” loosely since he mainly floated on his back and kicked his frog legs out to the side, arms wide. And every single time I swam by him I feared getting frog kicked and so finally I asked the man in the next lane if I could share his, and he said, yes, but that the woman who was there left her stuff and hadn’t come back. I said, okay, and got out and waited for a lane to open. She never came back, by the way. She was probably in a water aerobics class.

As I sat there watching this selfish man so leisurely floating up and down what was MY lane and I just felt like screaming. I waited about ten minutes and then shared the lane next to him but every time I swam by him I wanted to cuss him out under the water. I realized I was not going to get a handle on this rage and that I might as well get out or risk having a heart attack.

I don’t know why the pool was so crowded. I wish swimmers would have some consideration for who they pick to share a lane with. And now I fear, being an all or nothing person, that I will never go back or that my pool time will now diminish until it’s nonexistent. I’m so resentful yet this is almost entirely manufactured by ME. It’s all because of MY attitude, not the old man or anybody else.

I’m not sure why I feel so raw. Perhaps just that my comfortable routine is all over the place right now. I fear being told that my background check has embarrassing and humiliating things in it. I have mixed emotions about my husband. My weight loss has come to a crawl. Fuck. Sorry. But, Fuck. I am sorry for the language, I am just at a loss.

I guess I feel grateful that I have an appointment with my psychiatric nurse practitioner today.

I spent the entire day yesterday in training for a volunteer position at a place affiliated with the DA’s office where children that are victims of abuse can get their needs taken care of in one place.

We heard from another police detective, a woman from the Department of Human Services, a probation officer from the juvenile justice center (for under age abusers), and met some of the experienced victim advocates, which is what I will (hopefully) become at the end of training.

We heard another real 911 call that made me tear up, and we heard a telephone conversation between a 14 year old girl and her father who sexually abused her from age eleven. She worked with the detective and knew what to say to get her father to admit to the abuse on the phone. Her bravery was incredible. And it was almost satisfying to hear the utter panic in his voice when he realized it was all over for him. In spite of his extreme anxiety he was still asking her to lie for him.

It was nice to hear from the experienced volunteer advocates. They talked about the highs and lows of the job. More than one person said that you know the job is getting to you when you leave for the day and all you can think of is having a drink. They were kidding, but at the same time serious. I’m struck by the camaraderie in spite of the different goals of the various agencies. They use a lot of humor to offset such a serious situation.

I haven’t heard whether I passed the background check yet but will certainly know by Friday which is the last day of formal training. After that we’ll shadow more experienced people until we feel comfortable taking a case ourselves. In case you’re new to the blog, I was concerned that several years of suicide attempts would somehow show up on my background check.

Being able to volunteer is part of me getting my life back on track. I’ve lived abroad for the past several years and my references and work experience are old. I need to gain experience and references in order to start my life over. I also need to find out if I am capable of working again. It’s been about ten years since I held a job. I’m a bit sad that I’ve discovered this amazing world and wish that I were 26 and not 56 so that I could be someone who really makes a difference to a hurting child.

My husband (estranged) is helping me with a website I want to bring back, one that I ran before, but it’s such a pain in the ass with him giving it very little attention and it looks really bad while it’s under construction that I’m losing hope over it. This is the one thing that I might be able to turn into a way to make money, but he can’t get it together to bring the site up. He keeps saying he’ll do it and then he doesn’t.

I’m so wound up. I fear overeating. I fear doing something rash. I hate feeling this way. It’s so pathetic because last night I watched most of a PBS documentary about Mister Rogers and I was so overwhelmed with how genuinely kind this man was and I wanted only to emulate him, and look at me, screaming (in my head) at old men who just want to use the pool like me. And that’s where my rage takes me, back to despising myself. I want off this roller coaster. It’s no way to live.

Stop.

Breathe.

Breathe again.

Close your eyes.

Breathe.

Think about an image, a place, a time, the future, anything hopeful. It’s hard. I can’t choose, I am too scattered.

Just breathe then.

Something will come to you.

You can’t be having a fit if you’re breathing long, slow, deep breaths. You can’t.

Compassion. Have compassion for your mom as you help her with Facebook. Have compassion for your dad as you show him walkers to buy on Craigslist. All of our time here is fleeting. Love the people who have given you so much. Pet the dog. Breathe.

You can do this.

Breathe.

And think, “What would Lady Grantham do?”

The Week I Didn’t Lose Weight

As I feared, I did not lose weight this week, in fact I weigh four ounces more than last week, which I’m not going to bother to count.

I’m deeply concerned, but not in a panic about my lack of weight loss. It’s clear to me that when I’m mostly depressed I can pretty much control my eating, but when I’m anxious, it’s very difficult.

I’ve been anxious quite a bit in the last couple of weeks and I saw myself doing that nervous-mindless-eating thing, in particular with those hard candies (Nips) with the chocolate center. They have only 30 calories. But they are all sugar. And if you eat ten or twelve of them, well, so much for 30 calories.

I have tried not to eat them this week, and I have failed. If I weren’t living here, I’d throw them away so that the temptation is gone, but my dad likes them. I’m tempted to ask him if we can put them in his room, in fact I think I will do that. He won’t mind.

There are many snacks in this house at all times, and I’ve been pretty good at resisting them or severely limiting them, but since I’ve been nervous I am finding it almost impossible.

I’m considering weighing myself every day this week simply to get back on track and not allow myself to forget how important this is. I’m not even halfway to my goal weight, I can’t stop here. I won’t stop here.

This is not a plateau. This was just mindless nervous eating. If I apply myself, I will continue to lose weight. I really wish it would stop raining. I’d like to get outside to walk or hike.

The good news, I guess, is that I forced myself to swim yesterday even though I felt crummy. I am no worse for wear because of it, and it made me feel better since the pool is closed on Sundays. I did not want to go three days without exercising again.

This week I should be able to exercise on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday, so I will make certain I do.

Today are the Academy Awards and my parents plant to start watching the red carpet stuff in the late afternoon and snacking all day. I’m going to tell them that I have to be careful and excuse myself from that temptation as much as I can.

At the recommendation of a commenter, I tinkered with trying to set up my old website yesterday and just hit huge walls. To my shock, my husband did upload a new WordPress template that I chose and says he’ll begin to work on it for me. He obviously isn’t under any obligation to do this for me, but it’s the decent thing to do considering I still pay for his cell phone bill. I’m looking at it as an exchange.

It won’t require that many hours of his time. I’m pretty competent at running the website after it’s prettied up.

So I’ve got that to look forward to. I wish I could tell you more about it, but I can hardly have my children/family website affiliated with the raw me, the one with emotional problems.

Even though it requires me to spend far too much time sitting at a computer, the website helps me feel like I’ve accomplished something and I’m really proud of it. (If you’re new to the blog, I ran this site before, took it off the internet, and when I went to put it back on, I lost all of the hundreds of articles I had written, so I have to start from scratch.)

I did look into those standing desks and would really like to try one, but they aren’t suited, I’ve discovered, for laptop users. They are better if your monitor and keyboard are separate otherwise you can end up bending over to see properly. I won’t rule it out, however.

I just told my parents that for the first time since October I did not lose weight and told them it was because I was anxious. I asked dad if I could put the Nips in his room and he said of course. So I should be back on track now that I have “witnesses” to my purpose.

My mother, however, began to talk about meals and recipes and I had to cut her off and tell her I simply can’t think about food that much. It’s unpleasant for me and has the opposite unintended effect. She talked about buying a healthier wheat bread and I told her that, as I don’t eat much bread, I prefer it to be the one I love the most, a wheat sourdough. I don’t want to eat something simply because it’s a better version. I want to love it, but limit the quantity.

Now she’s overwhelming me with ideas of what to have tonight even though I keep telling her to do whatever she likes, that I will take what I want from it, but she doesn’t get that. SHE HAS TO OVER THINK EVERYTHING.

My parents left and I got up to put the Nips in Dad’s room and he had already done it, bless his heart. My mom wants to help in her own way, too, she’s just a bit clueless. Her heart is in the right place, however.

I think I have begun this week, just barely begun, to realize that I am separating emotionally from my husband. It’s a natural process, an organic one that can’t be forced or rushed. I no longer long for his messages or calls and I no longer care to be in his company. I seem to have accepted that it is truly over. I’m so grateful to be allowed some relief from the sadness, grief, resentment, humiliation, etc. that contact with him provides. There’s an emptiness that makes me uncomfortable, but I’m glad that most of my unhappiness hasn’t been replaced with bitterness and anger, at least not too much. I am not saying it will be easy from here on out. It’s unlikely that will be the case, but my healing seems to have begun.

I’m realistically optimistic in fact I “feel like a room without a roof.”

If you need a smile today, try this:

Sunday Stats
Starting weight: 267 (mid October 2013)
Today’s weight: 216
Total weight loss to date: 51 pounds
Height: 5’8″
Goal weight: about 150

Reminders, Motivation, Regrouping

Sometimes I forget that I am transforming myself and starting my life again. I had become a completely unproductive member of society and I’ve spent the last 4+ months trying to undo that. More than fifteen years being a mess and only a few months attempting to change myself. I should cut myself some slack.

Leaving a tumultuous and abusive marriage, gaining understanding and control of my many emotional problems, starting a fitness program and attempting to lose a significant amount of weight is a lot to do at once. I’ve been so lucky that I have been living with my parents so that I have the luxury to make these changes.

When (if) I pass the background check for this volunteer position will be a big step towards making me feel like a normal member of society. I’ll be terribly deflated if I get bad results.

For several weeks I’ve said that “I’m not sure if I’ll lose weight this week” and I think that’s a warning sign. Real life makes me nervous. Being nervous makes me eat mindlessly. I do not think I’ll lose any weight this week and that makes me sad. I do not want to lose only a pound a week because it’ll take me so very long to get near goal weight at that rate. And an even worst case scenario is that I stop losing altogether and begin to gain. I can’t do that. I simply can’t.

I tell my psychiatric nurse practitioner and my therapist that there are certain things, like psychiatric hospital stays and suicide attempts, that will never again be a part of my future because I refuse for them to be a part of my future. I need to feel the same way about my weight loss. I refuse to be fat any longer. Being fat will not be a part of my future.

It’s very early on Saturday and I can’t sleep due to this head cold. My head, ears, and throat hurt bad and I know I really should not swim today. That disappoints me, but I think it’s for the best. We’ll see what I end up doing later.

I’m such a creature of habit. I was going to the pool six days a week for so many weeks, and then real life appointments began to poke holes at that. I knew it would be a challenge for an “all or nothing” person like myself and it is. But I must buck up and be stronger and more committed. Real life means interruptions and schedule changes. Deal with it.

If I will be spending some time each week volunteering, I will need to plan my meals ahead and when I come home I must not eat out of nervousness. This is going to take some planning, commitment, and strength. I’ll fit exercise around things too.

I sat down a couple of days ago to look at what my local community college offers as far as a degree in anything to help me get into the field of social services. After a while I was completely discouraged because I don’t feel I can make such a huge investment in time at school (not to mention money). I could attempt to get a two year degree, but that won’t guarantee me of a job. It’s one more regret that I never went to college. Well, I took a lot of art classes but that won’t help me now!

I am still quite bummed that I am not able to work on my website. It would make a huge difference to my self esteem. My husband says he’ll work on it (because he wants me to keep paying his cell phone bill), but he hasn’t done a thing on it in a month. I’m so tired of being made a fool. I think I’ll have to tell him that as of this next payment, I’ll go in and cancel his line. The problem is that my emotions get the better of me. What would he do if he couldn’t get a phone?

He’s thrown me in the trash and yet I worry about what he’d do without a phone. I’m either kind or completely twisted.

It’s just so hurtful after I gave him every penny I had, then he cheats on me and abandons me, and I am still paying for him.

I did ask him to make a statement in an email to his daughters that he will give me half of his settlement, but he said that it doesn’t concern them and he doesn’t want them to know the amount of the settlement because he fears they’ll tell his mother, who will want him to give her some — WHICH HE SHOULD.

I didn’t want to involve them either or tell them the amount of the settlement. But I wish some other people knew of the promises he makes to me.

If I had my wish I would get part of his settlement money and invest a small amount (less than $5,000) into my website and then really dedicate myself to it to see if I can make some money at it. I’ve always wanted to have my own business. But I’m not sure if I’m being delusional and I’m not sure my website can make money. Only some investment in time and money will tell.

While I do that I can continue volunteering, and I can begin to work with local agencies which exist just to help small businesses succeed. I’d be meeting all sort of people from many walks of life. I’ll be busy which is also something new to get used to.

I’ll get my own small apartment and I’ll still spend a lot of time with my parents and life will be okay and I might meet someone special. I’ll also spend time in the outdoors and being healthy. My goals aren’t lofty. They’re doable. The problem is me. I’m not normal. But I must pretend to be or my future will suck. “Fake it ’till you make it” applies to me.

Eventually I hope to meet an interesting, witty, intelligent man. One who appreciates my colorful past but believes in my ability to change. I want to have a vegetable garden in the backyard, I want him to tell me what he knows about wine and learn to SCUBA dive together. I want to take trips with him to Europe, and I want to make love with him.

That is the future I want, ultimately and that is what I will strive for.

What Would Lady Grantham Do?

I sat and read my ACT book last night, but wasn’t absorbing much of it. I’ll just give myself credit for trying to concentrate on it.

I received an email that my husband forwarded to me from him and his attorney. He asked his attorney to explain why the letter won’t be ready until next week and said his “ex-partner” was accusing him of delay tactics. The attorney wrote that he’s in a trial and the letter will be ready at the end of next week.

I thought, oh how very English. I’m his ex-partner now. And for some reason it just stung. After all, I am still his wife. I guess I’m his estranged wife.

Didn’t sleep well and dreamt disturbing dreams. My ears, glands, and throat were hurting so much last night that I got up and took a pain reliever. I was pretty sure that I should not go swim today, but I did anyway.

Once in the pool I realized I just didn’t have full strength but I gave it my best and lasted about 50 minutes. I figured it’s better than nothing, plus I may feel worse tomorrow and I don’t want to miss several days swimming due to a cold, or whatever I’ve got.

When I was done at the pool I texted my husband because he had packed up five plastic bins of my stuff and I asked him if I could stop by for them. He said to come on over so when I pulled up, he was right out front with the bins. We loaded them together (they smell like ashtrays inside) and I left.

It felt so weird to see him. He’s looking trim, his hair cut recently, and he had on new skinny jeans. He was as matter of fact to me as I was to him. His accent seemed foreign. I actually wanted to get away as quickly as I could.

He said he needs another three bins, so I stopped on the way home and bought some. Most of what’s left there is furniture and now I have to decide if I want to get a larger storage unit now, or wait until he’s ready to leave the place. The main bummer is that my soft furniture will now be ruined from cigarette smoke. He never used to smoke inside. His girlfriend must be a smoker.

On to a better subject.

After I stopped writing here yesterday, I did what I said I was going to do and filled out the volunteer application to be a child advocate in the court system. It took me an hour due to supplemental questions. But eventually I printed it and stole an envelope and stamp from mom, and put it in the mail. Done.

Now I’ll be so curious if they call me. If they don’t then I’ll figure there’s something seriously wrong with my resume! I hope it works out. It’d be a nice place to meet people and do something good at the same time. I’m really curious what the position entails. Perhaps if a child has to testify, they use a volunteer to show them around the courtroom and make them comfortable? I have no idea.

Being able to do this will help me to find out if I’m at all ready to re-enter the job market. Also, they would be a good current reference for me. And, who knows, maybe it’ll help me get a paid position with the County eventually.

It’s the first step towards getting me in an environment where I interact with people. I like the environment of the courthouse. There are police, sheriff, lawyers, and judges milling about, plus all that security. I hope they don’t discount me because I have no legal experience. I’m really insecure about this!

I’m going to have to baby myself a bit. Try to get some rest, eat well, find my vitamin C, because I feel pretty punk. But I’ll get up and swim again tomorrow as long as I’m no worse.

I’m really stumped how to find a way, when I’m sinking into despair, to remember to breathe, to visualize, and to know that it will pass. I am honestly tempted to write it on my damn hand!

I had an idea that you might find amusing. I find Downton Abbey pretty entertaining and came up with “What Would Lady Grantham Do?” because she’s always so calm and composed. Do you think I could market a gold rubber bracelet with WWLGD on it?

WWLGD (What Would Lady Grantham Do?)

WWLGD (What Would Lady Grantham Do?)

I have to find some way to help me behave the way I want to behave. I’m being silly, of course, but I’d do it if it works!

Stop. Just Stop.

I spun my wheels again today and I didn’t hear from the imaging center. Tried to get my taxes done and that fell through. Then I had a fight with my mother and afterwards, in tears, I called my  husband.

We had a fairly long talk. He’s trying to help me bring my old website back to life. It’s not a very simple process. We bickered about things and we also were real with one another. He asked me again not to make any definitive decisions regarding my career, my life, our marriage. Just to put it on hold until his lawsuit is resolved. I said okay because I love him.

If you read that with disgust, I’m sorry. I never thought I could ever consider taking back a man who has and still is treating me so disrespectfully. He seems to be actually living with her, in my apartment, filled with my things. The slap in the face is so outrageous I can’t process it.

He is using her for rides, for sex, for who knows what else. But it’s clear he also has feelings for me. His life is in ruins in pretty much every conceivable way. He’s in survival mode.

I thought my living here was good for my parents. Almost as good for them as it was for me. I’m very helpful. I constantly do dishes and offer to shop and do errands. I do yard work. I take the dogs out. I spend a lot of money on food. But my mother is a very bitter, sad person and it’s clear she feels I’m making things worse by being here and not better.

I’m ashamed that I have no place to go. I’m also aware that there are no circumstances under which I would ever ask my own daughter to leave my home, but then I do love her unconditionally.

The problem started today when, stupidly thinking I might be able to reach her, I tried to talk to her about the silent treatment she gives to my father. I told her that I wasn’t speaking as a daughter, but just woman to woman, and that I feel she will really regret even 30 seconds of silent treatment after he is gone.

To my horror she responded, “You could have a heart attack and die before he does, or I could. You don’t know what I put up with.” And that’s when I realized she probably won’t feel any guilt at all when my father dies. She will still be the victim.

I said, “Mom, he’s dying. He uses an oxygen tank. He can’t do anything. He will more than likely be going before you or I go. This is the man who, in spite of all your problems with him, you’ve known him and loved him since he was a child.”

I won’t vomit up the remainder of the argument, but this is quintessentially my mother. She’s 100% selfish and incapable of putting herself in another person’s shoes and she is always a victim.

When she told me I had been rude to her when I told her that she was making me feel defensive about how I’m handling my health issues, I lost it. I yelled at her and told her I’d get out as soon as possible. I’d tell them I’m homeless if I have to. And I left.

Completely the wrong thing to do. But my god. Family dynamics. You go right back to those old childhood roles. I have grown up a bit, but my mother never has and never will. So now I don’t know what to do. I can’t afford to move out. And the wait lists for affordable housing is 9 to 12 months.

Oh, she did say, “Why can’t we just acknowledge that you and I can’t have these types of conversations. I get upset about what you say to me and you get upset about what I say to you.”

I said, “Actually you’re wrong about that. I have been that way in the past, but not now. If you or anybody else wants to tell me how I’ve been stupid or wrong, please do it and I will stand there with open eyes, ears, and heart and I will process it because I’m growing and changing and you can too.”

I called her within an hour of storming out and told her I was very sorry for losing control of my anger. She mumbled something and said she had to go. I was not sorry for what I said, only how I said it.

Meanwhile it hurts to sit here because my pelvis area throbs when I sit straight up.

I love my husband. I want to be back in my home. I want this lawsuit over with so that we can move on and have a life together. I need space from my mother.

I hate to abandon my father this way, but he knows it can’t be any other way. Mom is the saddest bitterest person we have ever known. My mother is the hot potato. Do I want to get stuck holding her? Her negativity truly sucks the life out of you. I’m not exaggerating.

I’ve decided to do what I can, which isn’t much. Do my taxes. Meet with the attorney about my horrible finances. Get on a waiting list for affordable housing. Write here. Get my website up and running again. Deal with all my health concerns, and hopefully keep swimming, which I haven’t done since Saturday.

I’ve decided not to decide anything since almost all of it is out of my control anyway. I’ve made so many impulsive decisions in my life and for once I just want to do the opposite. I’m going to wait and see. I’m going to stop. Just stop.