The days passed on and I couldn’t bring myself to write about the feelings I was having. I was completely destroyed by the “rebirth” of Jesse. The more I wrote about it, the more it lingered. I waited in hope for the Pumpkin Festival. I had invited him to attend before the final email and deep down, I knew it was a closed book if he chose not to attend. My relationship with Ruben stayed in limbo. Lexi’s 4th birthday came and went as I secretly held out hope for the third weekend in October. It was the Friday before, as we drove to Half Moon Bay, that I realized, I was doing the exact thing I wanted to avoid: I was pulling away from my husband as I was trying to pull away from my memories. My heart could be in love with two men or not at all but I was having a hard time clearing out the space for just one man to hold my heart.
Ruben and I never did have the conversation that needed to be had about where we stood. It seemed obvious that there was work to be done but we had to rebuild a trust in the relationship we had before we could work on the issues safely.
Saturday morning, after a visit to the local coffee shop, I got the kids into their costumes and braced myself for finality. I put in my mind that if Jesse came to the parade, then I had to face him and the emotions that would come with. If he was not, I had to let go. Let go of Jesse, let go of the memories, let go of the hope, let go of the heart break.
I never saw him at the festival. Not during the parade or the day after. If he was there, I would never know. But I do know that my heart didn’t let go the way I had promised myself I would let it.
I wanted to write to him and ask him why. I wanted to tell him how I felt. I wanted to break through the lack of communication.
I didn’t.
I let days and weeks pass and most of the time, the moments spent on memories would flutter past. I would catch myself reliving a moment, only to realize it was wasted time. I found myself looking at my husband with a softer look than ever before. He was the safe bet. He had always been there, always stood by, always put up with the highs and lows.
Over Thanksgiving, we travelled up to Ruben’s family in the east bay, and I thought of Jesse and possibly running into him – I couldn’t believe that I still held out hope that he was watching. I had to know that he didn’t care. And more importantly, I shouldn’t care.
Even now, months later, I find myself unable to say that the heart break is over but I do know that the journey with Jesse is over. There is no hope to be had.
My family went through hell and back with my emotional roller coaster and it was unfair for them. I pray that Ruben and I live a long happy life together because I would not wish another heart break like that on anyone, especially my children.
I guess the only thing left to say is:
Goodbye Jesse and good riddance.
Showing posts with label Chaos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chaos. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 10
Day 9 – I think this is the day that just would not quit. Both the kids woke up with colds, were raging lunatics all morning, and then at work I was in back to back meetings, all during my crunch time of the month for work. I thought I was going to seriously lose it. I checked in on myspace and saw that Jesse, who has still not added me as a friend, has changed his profile picture to a darker image where he is wearing a hat, sitting back in a dark leather sofa. From the tiny 1 inch by 1 inch photo, I realized, I would never have recognized him from that! I wondered if he did it on purpose. I wanted to write to him but stopped myself. Not only trying to save what little dignity I had left but also to rush out to a meeting.
During these meetings, I took a major stand to finally expose someone as the failure that they are. This person happened to be one of my very best friends over the last year but I found her more and more grating recently and had really distanced myself from her, growing to despise her. When the powers that be wanted to make her the point person for her department on a huge project that would definitely lead to a promotion down the line, I cut them off and alerted them to the fact that the job would be very detail oriented and well, this person, was dyslexic and would inevitably screw this up where there is no room for anything less than perfection. I hated myself after doing it but I could not stand the idea of her getting this big project, screwing it up, getting promoted, and three months down the line, me getting to do all the clean up work as she reaped the rewards that came with the position. I was not having it.
I went home on a high. Half impressed that I had the guts to speak up, half distressed at my lack of heart. Oh, who am I kidding, my heart went out the window last weekend!
During these meetings, I took a major stand to finally expose someone as the failure that they are. This person happened to be one of my very best friends over the last year but I found her more and more grating recently and had really distanced myself from her, growing to despise her. When the powers that be wanted to make her the point person for her department on a huge project that would definitely lead to a promotion down the line, I cut them off and alerted them to the fact that the job would be very detail oriented and well, this person, was dyslexic and would inevitably screw this up where there is no room for anything less than perfection. I hated myself after doing it but I could not stand the idea of her getting this big project, screwing it up, getting promoted, and three months down the line, me getting to do all the clean up work as she reaped the rewards that came with the position. I was not having it.
I went home on a high. Half impressed that I had the guts to speak up, half distressed at my lack of heart. Oh, who am I kidding, my heart went out the window last weekend!
Friday, October 3, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 9
Day 8 – This morning, somewhere near 4 am, Ruben whispered, I love you, to me. I mumbled it back, not wanting to seem cold hearted but more than anything, it had been too long since he was giving that kind of thing away and I just didn’t really no what game he was playing but I didn’t want any part of it. I can’t afford heartbreak again and until he and I get a chance to sit down and really talk about what’s going on with us since the huge blow out Sunday night, I don’t want to get any sort of my hopes up.
I stumbled out of bed around 5am and got ready for the day. I actually took a few moments to read a gossip magazine and sip some water before crawling back into bed around 5:45 and shutting my eyes for a bit. Ruben rubbed my back and asked for the time. I told him it wasn’t even six yet and we both just laid there and rested until the coughing in Lexi’s room was too much to ignore. I got up, brought her to my bed, and then found her some tights and a dress to wear to school and the morning quickly fell into the routine rushing around.
I got to work and hit the ground running. I had a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time. I buried myself in accounting and ignored the memories of Jesse. This is a particularly difficult task when my relationship with Jesse started in a math class. We met my freshman year of high school. He was a junior, sitting in the back of the class, wanting to disappear and just pass. I was a freshman, hanging out in the middle, passing notes with my best friend and rolling my eyes at the incompetent teacher up front. I noticed him first. I thought he was hot and started sitting just in front of him. Then, during breaks in the action, I would ask to borrow his eraser or ask how his day was going. After a while, he was comfortable enough to jump into conversations with my friend and I and then, I started passing him notes. I learned that he had a huge crush on a girl named Monica and that he was really trying to win her over. I remember going to a football game, seeing him sitting by her, and though I wanted to strike up a conversation and sit next to him, I didn’t want to run interference on any moves he was trying to make. I caught up with a guy I was casually dating, and we skipped out on the game and headed down to get some snacks from the store. As we were walking out, Jesse walked in. I remember taking a huge side step from him as I didn’t want Jesse to think the other guy and I were together.
The next Monday in class, he wrote me a note, wondering who it was I was seeing and what the deal was. It wasn’t long after that when things started to warm up. Another girl had a crush on the guy I was dating and she attacked me at my locker. She punched me, over and over and I just stood there and let it happen. When word got around to Jesse he refused to let me walk the halls alone and started escorting me to every class and then, he wrote the note that changed everything. Midway through a mundane conversation about random happenings at school, Jesse asked me to be his girlfriend. At first, I questioned if I was just a second pick since things were going no where with Monica but he said it had nothing to do with Monica and I agreed to be an item. We joked later that when we were married we would frame the note and hang it on a wall and tell our grandkids about it. But the pencil lines have no doubt faded, as did our relationship.
I stumbled out of bed around 5am and got ready for the day. I actually took a few moments to read a gossip magazine and sip some water before crawling back into bed around 5:45 and shutting my eyes for a bit. Ruben rubbed my back and asked for the time. I told him it wasn’t even six yet and we both just laid there and rested until the coughing in Lexi’s room was too much to ignore. I got up, brought her to my bed, and then found her some tights and a dress to wear to school and the morning quickly fell into the routine rushing around.
I got to work and hit the ground running. I had a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time. I buried myself in accounting and ignored the memories of Jesse. This is a particularly difficult task when my relationship with Jesse started in a math class. We met my freshman year of high school. He was a junior, sitting in the back of the class, wanting to disappear and just pass. I was a freshman, hanging out in the middle, passing notes with my best friend and rolling my eyes at the incompetent teacher up front. I noticed him first. I thought he was hot and started sitting just in front of him. Then, during breaks in the action, I would ask to borrow his eraser or ask how his day was going. After a while, he was comfortable enough to jump into conversations with my friend and I and then, I started passing him notes. I learned that he had a huge crush on a girl named Monica and that he was really trying to win her over. I remember going to a football game, seeing him sitting by her, and though I wanted to strike up a conversation and sit next to him, I didn’t want to run interference on any moves he was trying to make. I caught up with a guy I was casually dating, and we skipped out on the game and headed down to get some snacks from the store. As we were walking out, Jesse walked in. I remember taking a huge side step from him as I didn’t want Jesse to think the other guy and I were together.
The next Monday in class, he wrote me a note, wondering who it was I was seeing and what the deal was. It wasn’t long after that when things started to warm up. Another girl had a crush on the guy I was dating and she attacked me at my locker. She punched me, over and over and I just stood there and let it happen. When word got around to Jesse he refused to let me walk the halls alone and started escorting me to every class and then, he wrote the note that changed everything. Midway through a mundane conversation about random happenings at school, Jesse asked me to be his girlfriend. At first, I questioned if I was just a second pick since things were going no where with Monica but he said it had nothing to do with Monica and I agreed to be an item. We joked later that when we were married we would frame the note and hang it on a wall and tell our grandkids about it. But the pencil lines have no doubt faded, as did our relationship.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 8
Day 7 – The morning was a fun one! Lexi was yelling at me for opening her bedroom door before she was ready to wake up and Mateo fought with me over everything. I didn’t know wrestling with a two year old was something that could be such a work out until I actually had a two year old that wanted to wrestle. Ruben was ironing in Mateo’s room as I fought with him to take off the pajamas he was wearing and put on day clothes. I thought to myself that if Ruben wanted to know how I could possibly be so exhausted on the weekends, perhaps he should look at my day-to-day activities during the week. I am one of those people. I am sure there are many more out there. I am the person who wake up an hour before anyone else so she can get ready and then, as her husband does nothing but get himself ready and occasionally “gets the car ready” I am in the house getting two night owl children up and ready, dressed, fed, hair combed, teeth brushed, lunches and homework in hand and out to the car. I drive frantically to the preschool where I drop the kids off, give at least 5 goodbye kisses and hugs, and rush to make it to work on time. I work a solid 8-9 hour day, depending on whether I have carpooled with Ruben or not because if he has the car, well, then, I’m working through lunch. At 5:00pm, on the nose, I hightail it out the door and am in the car to make the mad dash 22 miles away to pick up the kids before school closes at 5:30. Then the fun begins, getting snacks in hand for the car ride home, mediating fights, disciplining kicking and screaming at the dinner table because tonight someone didn’t want chicken on their plate, carrying the patience of a saint as Lexi procrastinates bed time with 130 things she wants to get done at 8:30, and then getting the evening all cleaned up. Yep. That’s what my day looks like. But heaven forbid, after 5 in a row, I might want to rest up a bit. Avoiding the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon is worthy of leaving my life empty of the romantic love that I so desperately need. I am so bitter. Is it obvious?
Ruben fought with me the whole way to work over the placement of the sun visor on my side of the car. He wanted it to block the sunlight from his face while I was driving. I honestly think that if we need to talk to one another right now, it is going to become an argument because that’s all he wants to do. I eventually sat silently, knowing there was no reason to continue this stupidity.
I got to work and felt like I barely stumbled in the door and this is not the right time to be without your composure. Its budget time. On top of it being go time for accounting as it always is for the last couple days of the month and the first couple days of the month, we are also determining our 2009 budget while trying to cut as many costs as we can during this poor economic time. I immediately got to work and tried to force both the men trying to ruin my life out of my head. Right there, in that last sentence, I totally sound like a victim and I do not even care!
I started reconciling September’s Accounts Receivable ledger to the General ledger and was completely disappointed in myself. The 24th was a disaster. I did everything wrong and each item was a rookie mistake. It was clear that I let too much of my personal life bleed into work. I did my adjustments and moved on to reconcile Accounts Payable. Phew! It was clean! An email came from my boss. The powers that be had approved my Human Resources ideas for team building around the station. Now I just needed to pull together a mock up for review and we just might have some resume building criteria. I feel like work is the one place that I can work hard and it shows. If only my home life were the same way. I didn’t really look forward to the ride home. I almost dread what the next fight will be about or how many times I will screw up tonight. I probably shouldn’t think like that. I probably shouldn’t think at all right now but that’s the thing about being a woman. My mind does not shut down. It just rolls through every random bit of information it can, faster than I could even say them aloud which is very cruel.
The car ride home was very quiet until we picked up the children. Mateo had bitten another child in class again. He had never done this until recently. Two weeks ago, his best friend bit him and now he has bitten his friend 3 times! I don’t know how to handle this but I am worried. So, I brought it up in the car. He thought it was funny that we were so worried about him biting kids. Lexi decided to chime in with lots of bossing and controlling. She is a little mother. The only issues come when she decides to boss Ruben and me. That’s where I draw the line on appropriateness. The kids both picked on one another until both were crying or whining alternately and I was thoroughly grateful to hit solid ground when we finally got home.
I did all the normal things, cooked, cleaned up, and then started the bedtime processes. I wanted to grab the camera to take some recent pictures since I haven’t in about a month when I realized it wasn’t where I left it. Ruben said he was worried about it in the car so, he took it into work and must’ve left it there. He decided to go get it from work and bring it back. I was confident that it could wait until the next day but he was sure it couldn’t. It took him almost 2 hours to go 30 miles, grab the camera, and come back. I was sure he wasn’t just going to pick it up. But could I prove anything? No. So, I just had to let it go, its not like he wanted to be my husband anymore anyway.
All night he tried to cuddle me. I completely ignored it as he rubbed my back or put his face against mine and wrapped his arms around me. I figured he was just sleeping and didn’t realize what he was doing and if I did it back, it would be unwarranted affection and he would be pissed. I feel like I am getting very cold hearted these days but I think it’s the only way to protect myself from a complete breakdown.
Ruben fought with me the whole way to work over the placement of the sun visor on my side of the car. He wanted it to block the sunlight from his face while I was driving. I honestly think that if we need to talk to one another right now, it is going to become an argument because that’s all he wants to do. I eventually sat silently, knowing there was no reason to continue this stupidity.
I got to work and felt like I barely stumbled in the door and this is not the right time to be without your composure. Its budget time. On top of it being go time for accounting as it always is for the last couple days of the month and the first couple days of the month, we are also determining our 2009 budget while trying to cut as many costs as we can during this poor economic time. I immediately got to work and tried to force both the men trying to ruin my life out of my head. Right there, in that last sentence, I totally sound like a victim and I do not even care!
I started reconciling September’s Accounts Receivable ledger to the General ledger and was completely disappointed in myself. The 24th was a disaster. I did everything wrong and each item was a rookie mistake. It was clear that I let too much of my personal life bleed into work. I did my adjustments and moved on to reconcile Accounts Payable. Phew! It was clean! An email came from my boss. The powers that be had approved my Human Resources ideas for team building around the station. Now I just needed to pull together a mock up for review and we just might have some resume building criteria. I feel like work is the one place that I can work hard and it shows. If only my home life were the same way. I didn’t really look forward to the ride home. I almost dread what the next fight will be about or how many times I will screw up tonight. I probably shouldn’t think like that. I probably shouldn’t think at all right now but that’s the thing about being a woman. My mind does not shut down. It just rolls through every random bit of information it can, faster than I could even say them aloud which is very cruel.
The car ride home was very quiet until we picked up the children. Mateo had bitten another child in class again. He had never done this until recently. Two weeks ago, his best friend bit him and now he has bitten his friend 3 times! I don’t know how to handle this but I am worried. So, I brought it up in the car. He thought it was funny that we were so worried about him biting kids. Lexi decided to chime in with lots of bossing and controlling. She is a little mother. The only issues come when she decides to boss Ruben and me. That’s where I draw the line on appropriateness. The kids both picked on one another until both were crying or whining alternately and I was thoroughly grateful to hit solid ground when we finally got home.
I did all the normal things, cooked, cleaned up, and then started the bedtime processes. I wanted to grab the camera to take some recent pictures since I haven’t in about a month when I realized it wasn’t where I left it. Ruben said he was worried about it in the car so, he took it into work and must’ve left it there. He decided to go get it from work and bring it back. I was confident that it could wait until the next day but he was sure it couldn’t. It took him almost 2 hours to go 30 miles, grab the camera, and come back. I was sure he wasn’t just going to pick it up. But could I prove anything? No. So, I just had to let it go, its not like he wanted to be my husband anymore anyway.
All night he tried to cuddle me. I completely ignored it as he rubbed my back or put his face against mine and wrapped his arms around me. I figured he was just sleeping and didn’t realize what he was doing and if I did it back, it would be unwarranted affection and he would be pissed. I feel like I am getting very cold hearted these days but I think it’s the only way to protect myself from a complete breakdown.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The Heart Break files, part 7
Day 6 – I startled awake at 4 am, stumbled into the bathroom and strongly considered just getting up for the day. But my eyelids were almost the size of my lips, swollen with teary irritation. I needed to go back to sleep and hope they would calm down a bit. I woke again at 5 and watched the clock until 530 when I officially decided it could be Monday. Ruben had asked me to wake him when I got up but I thought I would give him another 15 minutes. I got out of the shower and got dressed. My eyelids still huge and I felt no relief from the dire position I was in the night before. I still was wondering if I should look for a place to get the kids and me away from this place. Could I trust Ruben not to lose it again? I whispered to him to rise and shine and then went to put on make up. A little cortisone cream can work wonders on eyes, by the way. He didn’t get up. I finished my hair and make-up and he still wasn’t awake. I crawled back in bed to warm up for a few minutes as he peeked over me to see the time. The clock flipped to six as he stumbled to the shower. I closed my eyes and began to relax at the idea of being alone. “The door is GONE! Can you believe it, Mommy?” Lexi plopped onto the bed and was wide-awake for this time of day. We talked a bit and I assured her that she would be safe and no, Daddy would not break down any more doors. Not hers, not Mateo’s, not any more. After some tickling and cuddling, I had both the kids dressed and out the door. I held my breath as I dropped them off at school, terrified of the response I would get from their teachers that afternoon.
Work was crazy. It was the end of the month and I had wrap up to do on all things financial. I didn’t want to be there and everything felt like it was headed down hill. The Bailout Bill failed to pass, the stock market dropped 778 points and I had a headache I thought was going to split me in half. I ate lunch, checked out the latest gossip blogs, and wished that a fairy would come by and make everything disappear. I wanted to write to Jesse, tell him of the night before. Ask him if he thought I should move out. Would that be the needed catalyst to make my life make sense again? Because I really feel that just a couple short weeks ago, before I started reconnecting and pushing buttons I shouldn’t push, my life was FINE! Now, I am not certain I have anything left. I did a little research online. I started by looking up marriage counselors. Then, I went to looking for a good punching bag, and after that, I started looking for 2 bedroom apartments near my kids’ school. Is this really the way things were going? An overwhelming gloom sat over me and the entire US. My mom sent me a message that she was opening up an SMA (Sealy Mattress Account) and that I should buy all the canned food I could today. I thought my twenties were supposed to be some of the best years of my life.
I always thought Jesse and I had some sort of psychic connection (the song radar love comes into my head every time I think about this) and I always thought when I really needed him to rescue me, he would call or email me or something. I must’ve been wrong about it though because I keep calling out in my most desperate of telepathic communications and I know he knows my email, knows my number, knows everyway to get to me and he doesn't. Therefore, either we have the connection and he chooses to ignore it or we just don't. Daily, I am breaking down all my romantic image of him and the love we used to share. Still, I find nothing is filling those holes. My life is feeling ever emptier.
I came home tonight, barely able to keep my lunch down with the nausea that comes from light and sound sensitivities associated with a migraine. At the door was just what I needed. Halloween is my favorite holiday. For one night, you give endlessly to hundreds of strangers who are dressed up in the most amazing of costumes. They are who they have always wanted to be for just that one night. The streets are safe to roam and neighbors who have never talked can be friends for the first time ever. Along with all this magic also comes a thing called a boo. Its a secret gift, given to someone by an anonymous friend and the friend then passes a boo onto another friend. My boo was just what I needed, a reminder that I have great friends and only 32 days to Halloween. I've already begun planning my boo. Its going to be great!
I filled the evening with mundane chores. Anything I could do to have Ruben see that I was not being lazy. If some dishes were divorce worthy, by golly, I would have them picked up because it wasn’t worth the risk. I made dinner, emptied the washer, set the table, fed everyone, cleared the table, did the dishes, made the kids lunches, wiped down the counters and stove, ran two loads of laundry, showered the kids, got them ready for bed, gave Mateo his medicine for the raging ear infection that he has been torturing us all with and put the kids to bed. I felt guilty about it but I landed on the bed around nine and decided there was no reason to get up. We still went to bed with the sheet crammed between us, like a barrier.
Work was crazy. It was the end of the month and I had wrap up to do on all things financial. I didn’t want to be there and everything felt like it was headed down hill. The Bailout Bill failed to pass, the stock market dropped 778 points and I had a headache I thought was going to split me in half. I ate lunch, checked out the latest gossip blogs, and wished that a fairy would come by and make everything disappear. I wanted to write to Jesse, tell him of the night before. Ask him if he thought I should move out. Would that be the needed catalyst to make my life make sense again? Because I really feel that just a couple short weeks ago, before I started reconnecting and pushing buttons I shouldn’t push, my life was FINE! Now, I am not certain I have anything left. I did a little research online. I started by looking up marriage counselors. Then, I went to looking for a good punching bag, and after that, I started looking for 2 bedroom apartments near my kids’ school. Is this really the way things were going? An overwhelming gloom sat over me and the entire US. My mom sent me a message that she was opening up an SMA (Sealy Mattress Account) and that I should buy all the canned food I could today. I thought my twenties were supposed to be some of the best years of my life.
I always thought Jesse and I had some sort of psychic connection (the song radar love comes into my head every time I think about this) and I always thought when I really needed him to rescue me, he would call or email me or something. I must’ve been wrong about it though because I keep calling out in my most desperate of telepathic communications and I know he knows my email, knows my number, knows everyway to get to me and he doesn't. Therefore, either we have the connection and he chooses to ignore it or we just don't. Daily, I am breaking down all my romantic image of him and the love we used to share. Still, I find nothing is filling those holes. My life is feeling ever emptier.
I came home tonight, barely able to keep my lunch down with the nausea that comes from light and sound sensitivities associated with a migraine. At the door was just what I needed. Halloween is my favorite holiday. For one night, you give endlessly to hundreds of strangers who are dressed up in the most amazing of costumes. They are who they have always wanted to be for just that one night. The streets are safe to roam and neighbors who have never talked can be friends for the first time ever. Along with all this magic also comes a thing called a boo. Its a secret gift, given to someone by an anonymous friend and the friend then passes a boo onto another friend. My boo was just what I needed, a reminder that I have great friends and only 32 days to Halloween. I've already begun planning my boo. Its going to be great!
I filled the evening with mundane chores. Anything I could do to have Ruben see that I was not being lazy. If some dishes were divorce worthy, by golly, I would have them picked up because it wasn’t worth the risk. I made dinner, emptied the washer, set the table, fed everyone, cleared the table, did the dishes, made the kids lunches, wiped down the counters and stove, ran two loads of laundry, showered the kids, got them ready for bed, gave Mateo his medicine for the raging ear infection that he has been torturing us all with and put the kids to bed. I felt guilty about it but I landed on the bed around nine and decided there was no reason to get up. We still went to bed with the sheet crammed between us, like a barrier.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 6
Day 5 – I woke up before 10 this morning. I think I will consider that an achievement, even if the only reason I got up was to answer my mom's phone call. I had 19 new emails but all were junk mail, just another slap in my face that I was not worth having in Jesse’s life. In the process of deleting the new messages, I accidently deleted all the old ones, too. I was furious. I no longer had every note he had written me during our brief re-encounter. Then I realized how much I needed to get rid of that baggage anyway. Even if I didn't think I was ready to.
Does it really count that I am awake if I am just planted in front of the TV for hours of mindless reality TV shows? My guess- not so much.
I find myself thinking, I just want to go home but I am home so, what's missing? I think it may be time to pull out the big guns and do some retail therapy to get me out of my funk. I'm pretty sure that a new pair of shoes and some fun tights are just the way for me to enter the autumn season and could possibly be the link to me moving out of the denial and depression switch off I have been in. Besides, if I find some really hot boots, I'll have no choice but to fling myself into a Nancy Sinatra-esque mood and start my boots on walking all over my Jesse memories until I have successfully accomplished my anger phase and whole heartily face another stage of grief.
I got in the shower, got myself all cleaned up, and ready for an attack on the retail world when I looked outside and saw my husband hard at work. I couldn't go spend money when he was working on the yard. That would terrible. Then, right when I was going to jump in and help, he had to blow it. He came in and shouted at me for not helping and all my hard headed resistance stood up in me and there was no way I wanted to assist him while he was in righteous martyr asshole mode and I told him so. That resulted in him telling me I had best have another place to live in when we sell this place because he sure as hell was not going to live with me again. I assured him I would find a place big enough for just the kids and me. He stormed out and I realized that this kind of behavior is the kind of thing that if I weren't so damn stubborn it would be enough for me to give up all hope and just leave. Too bad I'm a raging Irish girl.
I said, why wait? I started to get the kids ready to leave for a bit – told him I wasn’t sure if we would be back that night and he was furious that I would leave but I kept pointing out that he said he didn’t want to live with me and he kept asking about the kitchen and we went round and round until he lost his temper, he stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. The kids and I were just on the other side. I reached out to the handle, wanting to come in and talk and that’s when it started. We heard a slam, I took a step back, and then there was another as Ruben punched the master bedroom door down and terrified the kids and me. I almost called the police but the phone was in the master bedroom, which is where he was so, instead, I left with the kids and went to my sister’s house to try to calm the kids down. We ate dinner and the kids played with their cousins as I talked it over with my sister. I have a feeling Ms. Stephanie at school is going to be asking me about this one because BOTH the kids still won’t stop talking about it.
I came home around 9, put the kids to bed and Ruben and I talked about how scared I was and how could he jump to not wanting to be together and breaking down a door over some dishes? And he kept asking again about the dishes (I cleaned the kitchen when I got home) but I told him I couldn’t change what happened earlier, all I could do is look for an action plan for the future. What kind of assurance do I have that he wouldn’t do that again? Or worse? He gave no answer. Then I asked what he wanted to do. He asked me. I told him I wanted to work it out but my answer is irrelevant because he obviously holds the reins in our relationship. He said that he was sure we would have another fight. He wanted to try to make it work but he was sure we would have another fight like that in the future and it was probably time to face that we were not meant for one another. I sobbed and he sat down beside me and said, “I love you, you know that, right? I do love you”
“No.” I answered. “I don’t know that! You know I’ve been unsure about us for a long time. How long have you known we weren’t meant for each other?”
“I didn’t say that! I said we many have to face we don’t belong together – why are you crying?”
“I’ve given you 8 years of my life. I have given you my everything! We have two kids and a house and I always looked to the big picture. I was in this forever but you haven’t been.”
“Sometimes, love isn’t enough, Allison. I do love you but I don’t think we were ready for all of this.”
“Maybe you weren’t ready but that doesn’t mean you are supposed to give up!”
“You can’t say you were ready for this”
“I was! I was ready to get married! Ready to have the children we have! Ready to buy a home – obviously not this one, it’s a complete project house and I don’t think either of us could’ve foreseen spending all the time and effort we did on this home only to have the flood and need to start over. It isn’t fair but it is what it is and we just need to deal.”
He was silent and then walked away. I followed into the bedroom, impressed that the door was removed and debris had been cleared. He was in the bathroom, applying Neosporin to his fist and arm. I offered up bandages and he barked for me to go to bed. I felt like my heart had been run over by a train – a train with lots of cars carrying lots of cargo. He came out to the couch and asked me to come to bed. I spent the next 3 hours watching the clock from our queen sized bed, amazed that I could still read the time through the blur of the tears that rolled down my face.
Does it really count that I am awake if I am just planted in front of the TV for hours of mindless reality TV shows? My guess- not so much.
I find myself thinking, I just want to go home but I am home so, what's missing? I think it may be time to pull out the big guns and do some retail therapy to get me out of my funk. I'm pretty sure that a new pair of shoes and some fun tights are just the way for me to enter the autumn season and could possibly be the link to me moving out of the denial and depression switch off I have been in. Besides, if I find some really hot boots, I'll have no choice but to fling myself into a Nancy Sinatra-esque mood and start my boots on walking all over my Jesse memories until I have successfully accomplished my anger phase and whole heartily face another stage of grief.
I got in the shower, got myself all cleaned up, and ready for an attack on the retail world when I looked outside and saw my husband hard at work. I couldn't go spend money when he was working on the yard. That would terrible. Then, right when I was going to jump in and help, he had to blow it. He came in and shouted at me for not helping and all my hard headed resistance stood up in me and there was no way I wanted to assist him while he was in righteous martyr asshole mode and I told him so. That resulted in him telling me I had best have another place to live in when we sell this place because he sure as hell was not going to live with me again. I assured him I would find a place big enough for just the kids and me. He stormed out and I realized that this kind of behavior is the kind of thing that if I weren't so damn stubborn it would be enough for me to give up all hope and just leave. Too bad I'm a raging Irish girl.
I said, why wait? I started to get the kids ready to leave for a bit – told him I wasn’t sure if we would be back that night and he was furious that I would leave but I kept pointing out that he said he didn’t want to live with me and he kept asking about the kitchen and we went round and round until he lost his temper, he stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. The kids and I were just on the other side. I reached out to the handle, wanting to come in and talk and that’s when it started. We heard a slam, I took a step back, and then there was another as Ruben punched the master bedroom door down and terrified the kids and me. I almost called the police but the phone was in the master bedroom, which is where he was so, instead, I left with the kids and went to my sister’s house to try to calm the kids down. We ate dinner and the kids played with their cousins as I talked it over with my sister. I have a feeling Ms. Stephanie at school is going to be asking me about this one because BOTH the kids still won’t stop talking about it.
I came home around 9, put the kids to bed and Ruben and I talked about how scared I was and how could he jump to not wanting to be together and breaking down a door over some dishes? And he kept asking again about the dishes (I cleaned the kitchen when I got home) but I told him I couldn’t change what happened earlier, all I could do is look for an action plan for the future. What kind of assurance do I have that he wouldn’t do that again? Or worse? He gave no answer. Then I asked what he wanted to do. He asked me. I told him I wanted to work it out but my answer is irrelevant because he obviously holds the reins in our relationship. He said that he was sure we would have another fight. He wanted to try to make it work but he was sure we would have another fight like that in the future and it was probably time to face that we were not meant for one another. I sobbed and he sat down beside me and said, “I love you, you know that, right? I do love you”
“No.” I answered. “I don’t know that! You know I’ve been unsure about us for a long time. How long have you known we weren’t meant for each other?”
“I didn’t say that! I said we many have to face we don’t belong together – why are you crying?”
“I’ve given you 8 years of my life. I have given you my everything! We have two kids and a house and I always looked to the big picture. I was in this forever but you haven’t been.”
“Sometimes, love isn’t enough, Allison. I do love you but I don’t think we were ready for all of this.”
“Maybe you weren’t ready but that doesn’t mean you are supposed to give up!”
“You can’t say you were ready for this”
“I was! I was ready to get married! Ready to have the children we have! Ready to buy a home – obviously not this one, it’s a complete project house and I don’t think either of us could’ve foreseen spending all the time and effort we did on this home only to have the flood and need to start over. It isn’t fair but it is what it is and we just need to deal.”
He was silent and then walked away. I followed into the bedroom, impressed that the door was removed and debris had been cleared. He was in the bathroom, applying Neosporin to his fist and arm. I offered up bandages and he barked for me to go to bed. I felt like my heart had been run over by a train – a train with lots of cars carrying lots of cargo. He came out to the couch and asked me to come to bed. I spent the next 3 hours watching the clock from our queen sized bed, amazed that I could still read the time through the blur of the tears that rolled down my face.
Monday, September 29, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 5
Day 4 - I woke at 630 to a sad little Mateo at my side. I turned on Cat in the Hat for him, got him a baggy of cereal, and made the decision to head back to bed. At around 8, I went to push play on the DVD player again and by the third time, around 930, Ruben got up and showered. He jumped on me, in an attempt to be funny but I was pissed. I had been so asleep that this was the equivalent to someone throwing a brick at your head for no reason. "Its time to wake up" he said. "I'm going to make some breakfast". I shouted some obscenities and pretended to go back to sleep. By 1015, I was up and watching cartoons with the kids. Ruben was immediately on my case about cleaning and I barked back at him that he was lucky I was awake. In truth, he was right, I needed to clean but I much rather would’ve been sleeping so I didn't feel the aching in my heart. Would Jesse be harassing me right now if I had married him instead? My memory said no but my current interpretation of him weighed in and decided that was probably a yes. In making pancakes, Ruben lit the stove on fire and, rushing over to help, I tripped on a steel toe boot and was pretty sure I broke my pinky toe. That became a big furry of throwing everyone's everything where it goes.
I spent the entire morning cleaning and then decided, like the best revenge, I should look my best. I took a long shower brushed my teeth 4 times, and got into my favorite jeans. Then I realized, there was no one to really care if I looked good or not. I flopped on my bed and wished I didn't have to be up for the rest of the day. I was not quite that lucky. Within minutes of laying down, Ruben threw a grocery list at me and ordered me out. I'm pretty sure its not a good idea to send an unhappy woman to the store. It just might be worse than shopping hungry.
There was really only one thing I was looking forward to for this weekend: I had planned a girls night out. We were going to head over to a slummy bar called outlaws, have a few margaritas, shoot some pool, and bitch about our lives until we were so drunk we were laughing. This is the way girl’s night usually works and believe me, I'm long overdue for one. Of course, one phone call changed it all, you see, the planned had been invited somewhere else, somewhere she deemed better so, she was out. Since she was out, two others thought well maybe another night would be better for them, too, and another couldn't find a sitter, which left just me. Fine! I'll stay home. I pretty much decided all my friends were assholes, right there. Did they not realize their manic besty was trying to figure out her bazaar emotional status and would need several opinions and lots of tequila to do it? Obviously not! So Ruben rented a movie, a MAN movie, and I was expected to cook dinner and take care of the kids and then watch the damn movie with him. I, of course, decided this entirely blows and I locked myself in the bathroom to recount the many man movies I have watched. There is only one that really was coming to mind. Jesse wanted me to watch braveheart with him. It was his favorite movie ever and it was completely not something I would ever want to watch but that didn't matter because I loved him and besides, within minutes we were too wrapped up in eachother to know who was killing what in that movie. I never felt like I could get close enough to him, though I tried. And I still don't know how that movie turns out.
To my own luck, the man movie wouldn't read on our DVD player and Ruben had rented another: Baby Mama. Just what I needed a little romantic comedy. Normally, I would finish watching a movie like that and have total baby fever but not this time. I don't think my head is in the right place right now to even consider having another child. Then again, my kids are the only people I am certain love me unconditionally and permanently which is more than I can say about any past or present romantic partner in my life.
I spent the entire morning cleaning and then decided, like the best revenge, I should look my best. I took a long shower brushed my teeth 4 times, and got into my favorite jeans. Then I realized, there was no one to really care if I looked good or not. I flopped on my bed and wished I didn't have to be up for the rest of the day. I was not quite that lucky. Within minutes of laying down, Ruben threw a grocery list at me and ordered me out. I'm pretty sure its not a good idea to send an unhappy woman to the store. It just might be worse than shopping hungry.
There was really only one thing I was looking forward to for this weekend: I had planned a girls night out. We were going to head over to a slummy bar called outlaws, have a few margaritas, shoot some pool, and bitch about our lives until we were so drunk we were laughing. This is the way girl’s night usually works and believe me, I'm long overdue for one. Of course, one phone call changed it all, you see, the planned had been invited somewhere else, somewhere she deemed better so, she was out. Since she was out, two others thought well maybe another night would be better for them, too, and another couldn't find a sitter, which left just me. Fine! I'll stay home. I pretty much decided all my friends were assholes, right there. Did they not realize their manic besty was trying to figure out her bazaar emotional status and would need several opinions and lots of tequila to do it? Obviously not! So Ruben rented a movie, a MAN movie, and I was expected to cook dinner and take care of the kids and then watch the damn movie with him. I, of course, decided this entirely blows and I locked myself in the bathroom to recount the many man movies I have watched. There is only one that really was coming to mind. Jesse wanted me to watch braveheart with him. It was his favorite movie ever and it was completely not something I would ever want to watch but that didn't matter because I loved him and besides, within minutes we were too wrapped up in eachother to know who was killing what in that movie. I never felt like I could get close enough to him, though I tried. And I still don't know how that movie turns out.
To my own luck, the man movie wouldn't read on our DVD player and Ruben had rented another: Baby Mama. Just what I needed a little romantic comedy. Normally, I would finish watching a movie like that and have total baby fever but not this time. I don't think my head is in the right place right now to even consider having another child. Then again, my kids are the only people I am certain love me unconditionally and permanently which is more than I can say about any past or present romantic partner in my life.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 4
Day 3 – I had a weird dream about Jesse last night and damn it! I am not over it. Oh jeez! As I write this, the Rick Springfield song, Jessie’s Girl is on the radio. Is that a sign? Anyway, back to the dream. In it, I stole Jesse away from his girlfriend and then used magic to shrink him to a tiny size so that his girlfriend wouldn’t find him. And I ran him all over the place, trying to keep him for myself but in the end, I ended up sitting across a table from her with him, standing on the ground behind me and I could see how much she wanted him in her life so I gave him back and reversed the spell so that he grew to be the normal size. What the heck does that mean? If I recall, you are supposed to represent every person in your dreams so, was this my subconscious saying that running around, wanting to keep him for myself was making me a smaller person? When I gave him back, was that sort of like me processing through the idea of finally moving on? And, why, when I come into work everyday do I totally agonize over him, day in and day out? You would think, getting over someone you had not even seen in 8 years, let alone heard from would be a breeze. Am I just emotionally inept? I am beginning to think my heart is pretty lame.
I keep looking at the 7 stages of grief, trying to figure out where I am.
· Shock or Disbelief
· Denial
· Bargaining
· Guilt
· Anger
· Depression
· Acceptance and Hope
Pretty sure that I float all over the first six without really spending any time in acceptance and hope. I wish that the grief process were a little more straightforward.
I went from a long meeting straight to lunch which helped me limit my thoughts but, at lunch, I met up with my little sister who is in the middle of her own life crisis so, I thought we would focus on those but the first questions she had were about my MySpace message about being depressed and I gave her a quick run down and she stated, in what felt like a sharp stab in my heart, “I always thought he was the one for you.” It hurt and it resonated with me through the rest of the lunch. I talked about my epiphany last night and how I realized how much I had grown since then and how Ruben had been great enough to stand by me and while I wasn’t sure who my soul mate was anymore, I was sure that that kind of support was something. Ok, what’s the deal with 80’s stations airing the same songs in the same day? This is the second time Jessie’s Girl has played and I’m starting to wonder if it’s a coincidence. That’s the problem with being left with your own thoughts too long, they eventually start rolling into one big cluster of a mess and before you know it, you think there is a meaning to EVERYTHING. I need to focus on something else.
The beauty of getting over the men in my life in the past is that I never had to continue living while I tended to my broken heart. I could stop everything and focus in. This time I have account executives in my face, worrying about co-op clients and I have a payroll to review and kids who want to play and a husband who deserves my attention. They all fight for attention right now as I try to steal away and hurt for a bit. I still have not cried yet and I really feel like I need to. I'm just really afraid that when I do take that time, I may not be able to turn off the water works.
The evening was harder than I thought. I made dinner and by time I had sat down, all I wanted to do is hide. I wanted to sleep my grief away. I ate dinner with the family and I gave my best attempt at being awake but by 8, I had convinced Ruben I needed a nap. I lay down and the memories of holding Jesse flooded in. I remembered his tender kisses and keeping my arms wrapped around his waste, under his jacket to keep warm. I would nestle my head into his chest and breathe him in. He tucked his face down into my hair and I could feel him smelling in my blonde waves.
I tossed over, on to my side, trying to wash the thoughts from my head but then came the rage. I saw Jesse and I sitting in his little beat up Nissan truck in a parking lot behind a Baskin Robbins. It was a cold winter day and I had on a sweater and a jacket but was still shivering from the cold. I asked if we could turn the heater on but he shunned the idea with an explanation that gas was not cheap and if he turned the heat on, we wouldn't be able to get home. Which, in looking at the gas gauge at the quarter mark and knowing we lived just a few miles away, I knew this was complete garbage. He lit up a cigarette and I stared out the window, angry with myself for being in love with such a jerk.
I woke up around 10. I was still tired but felt terrible about having left Ruben to put the kids to bed by himself. We watched the comedy channel and then went to bed. I knew I was starting to head into more than a flirting relationship with depression as I rested on my pillow. I could sleep through the entire weekend if someone would let me, I thought.
I keep looking at the 7 stages of grief, trying to figure out where I am.
· Shock or Disbelief
· Denial
· Bargaining
· Guilt
· Anger
· Depression
· Acceptance and Hope
Pretty sure that I float all over the first six without really spending any time in acceptance and hope. I wish that the grief process were a little more straightforward.
I went from a long meeting straight to lunch which helped me limit my thoughts but, at lunch, I met up with my little sister who is in the middle of her own life crisis so, I thought we would focus on those but the first questions she had were about my MySpace message about being depressed and I gave her a quick run down and she stated, in what felt like a sharp stab in my heart, “I always thought he was the one for you.” It hurt and it resonated with me through the rest of the lunch. I talked about my epiphany last night and how I realized how much I had grown since then and how Ruben had been great enough to stand by me and while I wasn’t sure who my soul mate was anymore, I was sure that that kind of support was something. Ok, what’s the deal with 80’s stations airing the same songs in the same day? This is the second time Jessie’s Girl has played and I’m starting to wonder if it’s a coincidence. That’s the problem with being left with your own thoughts too long, they eventually start rolling into one big cluster of a mess and before you know it, you think there is a meaning to EVERYTHING. I need to focus on something else.
The beauty of getting over the men in my life in the past is that I never had to continue living while I tended to my broken heart. I could stop everything and focus in. This time I have account executives in my face, worrying about co-op clients and I have a payroll to review and kids who want to play and a husband who deserves my attention. They all fight for attention right now as I try to steal away and hurt for a bit. I still have not cried yet and I really feel like I need to. I'm just really afraid that when I do take that time, I may not be able to turn off the water works.
The evening was harder than I thought. I made dinner and by time I had sat down, all I wanted to do is hide. I wanted to sleep my grief away. I ate dinner with the family and I gave my best attempt at being awake but by 8, I had convinced Ruben I needed a nap. I lay down and the memories of holding Jesse flooded in. I remembered his tender kisses and keeping my arms wrapped around his waste, under his jacket to keep warm. I would nestle my head into his chest and breathe him in. He tucked his face down into my hair and I could feel him smelling in my blonde waves.
I tossed over, on to my side, trying to wash the thoughts from my head but then came the rage. I saw Jesse and I sitting in his little beat up Nissan truck in a parking lot behind a Baskin Robbins. It was a cold winter day and I had on a sweater and a jacket but was still shivering from the cold. I asked if we could turn the heater on but he shunned the idea with an explanation that gas was not cheap and if he turned the heat on, we wouldn't be able to get home. Which, in looking at the gas gauge at the quarter mark and knowing we lived just a few miles away, I knew this was complete garbage. He lit up a cigarette and I stared out the window, angry with myself for being in love with such a jerk.
I woke up around 10. I was still tired but felt terrible about having left Ruben to put the kids to bed by himself. We watched the comedy channel and then went to bed. I knew I was starting to head into more than a flirting relationship with depression as I rested on my pillow. I could sleep through the entire weekend if someone would let me, I thought.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 3
Day 2 – I got up, checked my blackberry and found myself more furious with each piece of junk email in my inbox. Each one was a new message slap in the face that he had not written. So, I haven’t healed – not at all. I went to work and tried to search out his MySpace page, see when he last logged in. Sept 22nd, the day before the heartbreak. Damn.
I wanted to find her, the woman who was filling my shoes. I wanted to see her world but only knowing her first name and her rough location, that was not really working. I was agonizing over everything. How do I stop? I caught myself sitting at my desk day dreaming about the past. I remember early on, his sweet face one morning as we had been rolling around and then he started to cry and said he wasn’t ready. I could find someone else that was, but he was not. He would understand if I left him. Tears rolling down his face, I held him to me and said that I was not leaving him. I loved him and that was more important. And then flash – over to his washer and drier as he did his laundry, smiling proudly about how crisp and white his t-shirts turn out because he has just the right system. I needed to stop. I needed to move away. I needed to breathe. God! I wanted to snuggle my face in his chest and just smell him one more time. The scent of laundry detergent and old spice and man, all mixed together. I went to lunch with a girlfriend and we talked about anything but him. He was on my heart but for one hour, I needed him off my mind. I was sure that my work was slipping and even more worried about my marriage. I wanted desperately to throw all my energy into my husband, all my love, all my care but I knew if I didn’t suffer through these raw emotions in a successful way, they would keep coming back. Would it have been easier for me to have just had a damn affair? I am beginning to think it might have!
Evenings seem to be better. I am not sure if its just being surrounded by my spouse and kids or if its that there is wine near by. I cracked open a bottle of Silverstone Syrah, turned on my slow songs playlist on my ipod and got to business. I sat and went through all the pictures I had saved from my past and read through old journals and relived all the feelings, in hopes that I could put all the guilt and regret and heart ache to rest once and for all. With each photo, I remembered the place, the time, the smells, sounds, and how I felt. I sat and breathed it in and, unless it was a good memory, I put it in the toss pile. I found myself putting a lot of old pleasant times into the trash pile and found a lot of relief in that. I made a special pile for all my Jesse photos. I would deal with those after. When I was done with the photos, I had gotten rid of close to half of my total collection and I saw a huge change of who I was and who I am now. Then I went through old journals and was amazed and disappointed by the shallow and self-centered little girl I had been. I saw my self-discoveries and my integrity develop, long after I remembered it. Apparently, my memory had failed me on a lot. I was glad to rip away pages and put them in the garbage. I did not need or want those memories in my life.
Finally, it was time to go through the Jesse pile. I went through each picture so slowly. I wanted to cry but I can't yet. I am not there yet. I remembered making a cake for his birthday and it being hideous so I bawled about it and begged my sister to run out and get a store bought one. There were the pictures of him blowing out the candles on the cake, the ones after he saw the ugly home made cake, and he still loved me in all my hopelessness. I saw how young we were and I felt the tension of being too young and in love all over again. Each photo held so much memory but it held so much more to me, too. Each photo was baggage. Each photo was a razor blade that had seared my heart. I threw them all away and didn't look back. I felt the whole thing to be amazingly cathartic and walked out, for the first time, instead of being regretful of who I had been, I found myself proud of the distance I had come and the person who I was turning out to be. This renewed me had much bigger shoes to fill and a life worth having.
I wanted to find her, the woman who was filling my shoes. I wanted to see her world but only knowing her first name and her rough location, that was not really working. I was agonizing over everything. How do I stop? I caught myself sitting at my desk day dreaming about the past. I remember early on, his sweet face one morning as we had been rolling around and then he started to cry and said he wasn’t ready. I could find someone else that was, but he was not. He would understand if I left him. Tears rolling down his face, I held him to me and said that I was not leaving him. I loved him and that was more important. And then flash – over to his washer and drier as he did his laundry, smiling proudly about how crisp and white his t-shirts turn out because he has just the right system. I needed to stop. I needed to move away. I needed to breathe. God! I wanted to snuggle my face in his chest and just smell him one more time. The scent of laundry detergent and old spice and man, all mixed together. I went to lunch with a girlfriend and we talked about anything but him. He was on my heart but for one hour, I needed him off my mind. I was sure that my work was slipping and even more worried about my marriage. I wanted desperately to throw all my energy into my husband, all my love, all my care but I knew if I didn’t suffer through these raw emotions in a successful way, they would keep coming back. Would it have been easier for me to have just had a damn affair? I am beginning to think it might have!
Evenings seem to be better. I am not sure if its just being surrounded by my spouse and kids or if its that there is wine near by. I cracked open a bottle of Silverstone Syrah, turned on my slow songs playlist on my ipod and got to business. I sat and went through all the pictures I had saved from my past and read through old journals and relived all the feelings, in hopes that I could put all the guilt and regret and heart ache to rest once and for all. With each photo, I remembered the place, the time, the smells, sounds, and how I felt. I sat and breathed it in and, unless it was a good memory, I put it in the toss pile. I found myself putting a lot of old pleasant times into the trash pile and found a lot of relief in that. I made a special pile for all my Jesse photos. I would deal with those after. When I was done with the photos, I had gotten rid of close to half of my total collection and I saw a huge change of who I was and who I am now. Then I went through old journals and was amazed and disappointed by the shallow and self-centered little girl I had been. I saw my self-discoveries and my integrity develop, long after I remembered it. Apparently, my memory had failed me on a lot. I was glad to rip away pages and put them in the garbage. I did not need or want those memories in my life.
Finally, it was time to go through the Jesse pile. I went through each picture so slowly. I wanted to cry but I can't yet. I am not there yet. I remembered making a cake for his birthday and it being hideous so I bawled about it and begged my sister to run out and get a store bought one. There were the pictures of him blowing out the candles on the cake, the ones after he saw the ugly home made cake, and he still loved me in all my hopelessness. I saw how young we were and I felt the tension of being too young and in love all over again. Each photo held so much memory but it held so much more to me, too. Each photo was baggage. Each photo was a razor blade that had seared my heart. I threw them all away and didn't look back. I felt the whole thing to be amazingly cathartic and walked out, for the first time, instead of being regretful of who I had been, I found myself proud of the distance I had come and the person who I was turning out to be. This renewed me had much bigger shoes to fill and a life worth having.
Friday, September 26, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 2
Day 1 - I totally vented to anyone who would listen and by anyone – I mean ANYONE. I told my boss, my co-workers, I even told a business contact from another media outlet that I have never even met. I had lunch with my sister, and, to be honest, it was her influence in the first place that caused us to lose touch so many years ago so, I was a little afraid of what I would hear from her and I was pretty sure, deep down, we all knew she deserved a bit of blame. But, to my surprise, she put it very nicely. “He must’ve put you on that very same pedestal that you put him on. The memories of your relationship must’ve been so great and he must still love you enough to think it was worth risking.” I sat there and that was sweet but did it solve my problems? Not at all. I went home, and revolted against the norm. I wanted to cry and be mad and beg for another chance. I ordered take out, drank a beer, and took a shower by myself. I watched a sneak preview of a premier and when I went to bed, Ruben lit a candle. He was tender and sweet and for the night, I felt like I was in the right arms. I was in the right place and healing these wounds would be easier than I thought.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The Heart Break Files, part 1
Recently (having young children I always want to follow that with, “yes, recently”) I was surfing through people on MySpace when, to my surprise, I saw someone I thought to be dead. However, it was not just someone. It happened to be the ex-love of my life. A person that I was sure, had we not lost one another, we would be together and when I was told he had passed away, I was completely shattered. But the beauty of his passing was that I never had to give up my ideal of him. For me, he would always be that complete romantic, swept up in the passion, love will keep us alive kind of man. Now, seeing his face, his name staring at me, I was shocked. Could this really be him? Almost automatically, I wrote to him. Telling him I thought he had passed away and how relieved I was to see that he was not dead. I asked him to tell me that he was happy in life and that he had found love and found himself over the years that had passed. I waited. Almost two months passed before I heard back. Instantly, all the feelings that I had stored away rushed back to me and, as I tried to push them back to the corner of my heart that they had taken up residence, we continued to correspond. I shared the sadness of my college years and the craziness of my marriage but mostly, I gushed about the complete blessing that my children are. He talked about where he lived and his girlfriend. Over all the emails, I kept feeling that he wasn’t getting my tone. My gentle, friendly nature. If I were not married and did not have children and he did not have his girlfriend, I am quite confident I would pursue a relationship but the facts remained. I am married, I have children, he has a girlfriend, and I would not risk any of those things for either of us. I asked if we could talk on the phone, hoping less would be misunderstood. He ignored the request and ventured to say that he would not live with himself if he broke up a family. Clearly, he did not understand my intentions. So, I laid it out there, I was sorry that he had confused my desires, I had no interest in being more than friends, this would be my last email, the choice was his. He could email me back as just a friendly acquaintance and we could continue our pen pal relationship or he could not.
He did not.
I had told him that I would respect either choice but I will admit, I not only did not respect this choice I was appalled. How could he get such a message from the emails I sent? I had not only encouraged his relationship but also questioned why they were not married, offered to send the ring he gave me to him so he could propose with it. It clearly was not serving me any purpose so, it should go to someone who would love it. I learned I had met his current girlfriend. How could I interfere with that? Moreover, who would risk their family for something like that? Certainly, he thought I was of the moral character to do that and that hurt. And he must have been of the moral character to go there and that completely altered the view I had saved of him. I know that most people are better as a memory but I felt completely betrayed by my memory, by my heart, and by the once upon a time love of my life.
While this is something that I should be able to brush aside and move on, living happily ever after with my spouse and children, I am instead presented with the problem that I now truly need to face that he and I were not perfect for each other and we would not be together. Essentially, I needed to heal from a break-up while still loving my spouse and kids. How do you face heartbreak when your heart should have been somewhere else all along? And how do you move on when you have already moved forward?
These are the things I am going to need to figure out.
He did not.
I had told him that I would respect either choice but I will admit, I not only did not respect this choice I was appalled. How could he get such a message from the emails I sent? I had not only encouraged his relationship but also questioned why they were not married, offered to send the ring he gave me to him so he could propose with it. It clearly was not serving me any purpose so, it should go to someone who would love it. I learned I had met his current girlfriend. How could I interfere with that? Moreover, who would risk their family for something like that? Certainly, he thought I was of the moral character to do that and that hurt. And he must have been of the moral character to go there and that completely altered the view I had saved of him. I know that most people are better as a memory but I felt completely betrayed by my memory, by my heart, and by the once upon a time love of my life.
While this is something that I should be able to brush aside and move on, living happily ever after with my spouse and children, I am instead presented with the problem that I now truly need to face that he and I were not perfect for each other and we would not be together. Essentially, I needed to heal from a break-up while still loving my spouse and kids. How do you face heartbreak when your heart should have been somewhere else all along? And how do you move on when you have already moved forward?
These are the things I am going to need to figure out.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Scott Weiland's Big Mouth
So, the fair is here. And, unlike last year where I was drooling over every entertainer that had signed on, there were very few that I wanted to see. Ruben got tickets to STP which of course rocked my world because, you never know how long Scott Weiland is going to last – I mean, tomorrow he could be in jail, or in rehab, or in another band. We held our breath for 6 weeks as we waited to see if Scott would still be around for the show and then, Saturday rolled around and with babysitter all set, we got to the show.
There is something so phenomenal about these rocker/drug addicts! I mean, I am in love! They get on stage and sing and have those outfits (costumes) and I sit there and wonder why I didn’t keep on drumming until I met one of my own and married him.
So, there they are – on stage – rockin my world and Scott Weiland opens his mouth to speak. “It smells like cow shit here.”
Ok, Jackass, thanks, we can all smell it.
“I happen to like the smell of cow shit because it reminds me of growing up in Ohio, where I used to ride horses and party in the barn and that’s where I had my first orgy”
Ok, seriously? Either my crotch is full of spider-webs or that was inappropriate. Just shut up, queue the next song and let’s get back to rocking.
So, a few more songs play, he makes a comment about how Paso would be kind of cool if it didn’t smell like cow shit, goes back to playing and then…
“I want to apologize for being late, this evening. I am sorry. I was buying furniture at a liquidation sale and I got delayed. Truly. So, I am sorry”
What the hell, dude? We were all just rocking out to Plush, we don’t need your reasoning. We don’t even need an apology because none of us realized you were late to the stage – but now? Now you seem like a pretentious asshole which is just not as sexy as you were 30 minutes ago when you hit the stage.
There is something so phenomenal about these rocker/drug addicts! I mean, I am in love! They get on stage and sing and have those outfits (costumes) and I sit there and wonder why I didn’t keep on drumming until I met one of my own and married him.
So, there they are – on stage – rockin my world and Scott Weiland opens his mouth to speak. “It smells like cow shit here.”
Ok, Jackass, thanks, we can all smell it.
“I happen to like the smell of cow shit because it reminds me of growing up in Ohio, where I used to ride horses and party in the barn and that’s where I had my first orgy”
Ok, seriously? Either my crotch is full of spider-webs or that was inappropriate. Just shut up, queue the next song and let’s get back to rocking.
So, a few more songs play, he makes a comment about how Paso would be kind of cool if it didn’t smell like cow shit, goes back to playing and then…
“I want to apologize for being late, this evening. I am sorry. I was buying furniture at a liquidation sale and I got delayed. Truly. So, I am sorry”
What the hell, dude? We were all just rocking out to Plush, we don’t need your reasoning. We don’t even need an apology because none of us realized you were late to the stage – but now? Now you seem like a pretentious asshole which is just not as sexy as you were 30 minutes ago when you hit the stage.
Photo by Ms. Jesseca Meyer - when she has a site, I'll tell you all about it because she rocks everything from family portraits to weddings to concerts and I adore her!
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
A Hairy Situation
For my entire marriage my husband has been clear about wanting me to forever look exactly as I did when he met me. Of course, that meant to me that I should change my look in every way imaginable to see if I could make myself even MORE desirable to him. It was simple in my mind, he just didn’t know what he really liked so, I cut off all my waist-length blonde hair and I changed make-up, I experimented with every tone of blonde dye there was, I got tattoos, and piercings, and you name it, I changed it at least 3 different ways. And this past year was no different.
This last time, I asked Ruben how he wanted me to style my hair next and having had very poor luck telling me to leave it alone, he told me to dye it dark – very dark. Not recognizing his reverse psychology, I did just that. I went to the salon and told my stylist to give me the darkest brown my complexion could handle. Boy was I surprised when I walked out of there 4 hours later looking Italian. I asked Ruben what he thought but he just shrugged the way he always did. So, I kept it up for four months. Finally, I was ready to go back – back to the way I looked when we got married. So, I went to the salon again but this time, my stylist, damn her, was on vacation so, I was seated with the newbie in the salon. She sat me down and asked what I wanted and when I showed her a picture, she immediately excused herself for a moment. Sweat bullets started to pour off my forehead. I had chosen to come in on the day of my birthday party and if this young, frightened chick screwed up my hair I was going to be pissed!
She returned after 5 or so minutes with the owner of the salon. A woman in her mid 60’s with spiky hair and an apparent urge to belong to Jem and the Rockers, needless to say, she was a bit frightening to look at, almost like a train wreck, terrible but you just can’t bring yourself to look away. She jumped right into my 18 inch comfort zone and said, “this will not be happening today” . My heart sunk. She spent the next half hour arguing with me about the fact that I was not a natural blonde, not now, not ever. She offered me heavy highlights and said to return in 6 weeks for more work.
I got the heavy highlights because I felt that some blonde would be better than none. I walked out of the salon with white blotches where the bleach had been left too long because – low and behold, I really was a blonde under that dye and the bleach really took. Despite my own insecurities about the look (I thought I looked like an albino leopard had planted itself on my head) I got a ton of compliments.
I of course, thought I could make it better. I could do what I had wanted because, after all, what would a professional know that I wouldn’t?
Perhaps that peroxide can lighten hair but not lighten dye?
Shit!
I went through 4 boxes of hair dye in one night and sadly ended up with the top 4 inches of my hair an white-orange color and the bottom, no different from how I left the salon. Through the course of the weekend I would dye my hair another two times, finally to a brown to cover all my mistakes and made an appointment to head back to the salon on Saturday.
I sat and bawled my eyes out at how terribly I had screwed up and my husband just sat there and laughed.
I went on Saturday and had them put it back EXACTLY the way it was for my birthday.
5 months later, I’m still slowly adding to the heavy highlights and killing my hair slowly to get it back to what it once was…
This last time, I asked Ruben how he wanted me to style my hair next and having had very poor luck telling me to leave it alone, he told me to dye it dark – very dark. Not recognizing his reverse psychology, I did just that. I went to the salon and told my stylist to give me the darkest brown my complexion could handle. Boy was I surprised when I walked out of there 4 hours later looking Italian. I asked Ruben what he thought but he just shrugged the way he always did. So, I kept it up for four months. Finally, I was ready to go back – back to the way I looked when we got married. So, I went to the salon again but this time, my stylist, damn her, was on vacation so, I was seated with the newbie in the salon. She sat me down and asked what I wanted and when I showed her a picture, she immediately excused herself for a moment. Sweat bullets started to pour off my forehead. I had chosen to come in on the day of my birthday party and if this young, frightened chick screwed up my hair I was going to be pissed!
She returned after 5 or so minutes with the owner of the salon. A woman in her mid 60’s with spiky hair and an apparent urge to belong to Jem and the Rockers, needless to say, she was a bit frightening to look at, almost like a train wreck, terrible but you just can’t bring yourself to look away. She jumped right into my 18 inch comfort zone and said, “this will not be happening today” . My heart sunk. She spent the next half hour arguing with me about the fact that I was not a natural blonde, not now, not ever. She offered me heavy highlights and said to return in 6 weeks for more work.
I got the heavy highlights because I felt that some blonde would be better than none. I walked out of the salon with white blotches where the bleach had been left too long because – low and behold, I really was a blonde under that dye and the bleach really took. Despite my own insecurities about the look (I thought I looked like an albino leopard had planted itself on my head) I got a ton of compliments.
I of course, thought I could make it better. I could do what I had wanted because, after all, what would a professional know that I wouldn’t?
Perhaps that peroxide can lighten hair but not lighten dye?
Shit!
I went through 4 boxes of hair dye in one night and sadly ended up with the top 4 inches of my hair an white-orange color and the bottom, no different from how I left the salon. Through the course of the weekend I would dye my hair another two times, finally to a brown to cover all my mistakes and made an appointment to head back to the salon on Saturday.
I sat and bawled my eyes out at how terribly I had screwed up and my husband just sat there and laughed.
I went on Saturday and had them put it back EXACTLY the way it was for my birthday.
5 months later, I’m still slowly adding to the heavy highlights and killing my hair slowly to get it back to what it once was…
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Hello...I'm Back
I haven’t written in – eh, hem – a LONG time and for that I am truly sorry to the whole 3 of you who choose to check me out daily. I have had a disastrous almost year-off writing but from it, comes a lot of great material. I know, I know, you are on the edge of your seats, waiting to cackle at the craziness that seems to seep into my life from every corner but this is meant more to be a “hey, sorry its been so long but I’m here now…” kind of thing.
I promise, there will be more that is much funnier by the end of the day.
I suck.
I apologize.
And, for the 3 of you who come by every day, thank you for your endless devotion, however misplaced it might be.
I promise, there will be more that is much funnier by the end of the day.
I suck.
I apologize.
And, for the 3 of you who come by every day, thank you for your endless devotion, however misplaced it might be.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Are you kidding me?
Tuesday was one of those stupid days that left me believing that the Universe has a sense of humor and its laughing is directed at me.
My sister had a baby on Monday, Yea! I’ll talk about that later because its special and great in its own way but doesn’t belong here. After the baby was born, she started having seizures and was admitted to the ICU. I had been told that they needed help at the hospital since her husband couldn’t be at the ICU with her and in mother-baby with the baby so, I was in a hurry to get to work, get done what I needed and get over to the hospital to help out. So I was very clear. I need to get to the hospital today. The Universe listened.
On the way rushing out of the house, I was walking with Lexi down the walk to the driveway and the sprinklers were going and the A$$ that used to have our house waxed part of the driveway so its especially dangerous (thank you, jerk!). Well, I slipped and my right knee bent in a way that it has never bent before and Lexi fell, face first into the side of the garage. Ten minutes later, soaking wet from the sprinklers, and we were headed to the Emergency room. I am quite clear that it looked like my husband beat the crap out of us but in all reality it was my own battle with balance that landed us there and I got to tell nurse after nurse and doctor after doctor what a klutz I am.
After x rays and CT scans, here’s what we found out. I had torn my LCL in my right knee, damaged my cartilage and had overall sprainage. I’ll be on crutches (and boy do they suck hard) for a long time. Poor little Lexi has a concussion and we got to be admitted to the hospital for observation.
Ta Da! Did you miss it? This was the Universe giving me the time at the hospital that I had asked for. Wasn’t that nice?!?
And the best part? We were in room 210, the baby was in room 203. We were THAT close! My parents had a one stop shop to visit us all. Thank you very much Universe for your divine greatness in giving what a person really needs.
Just as a recap for you all, I wanted my house remodeled, I got a flood so my house had to be rebuilt entirely on the inside. I wanted to get to the hospital, so I get my butt whooped by the pavement. Let’s see what we’re given next, shall we?
My sister had a baby on Monday, Yea! I’ll talk about that later because its special and great in its own way but doesn’t belong here. After the baby was born, she started having seizures and was admitted to the ICU. I had been told that they needed help at the hospital since her husband couldn’t be at the ICU with her and in mother-baby with the baby so, I was in a hurry to get to work, get done what I needed and get over to the hospital to help out. So I was very clear. I need to get to the hospital today. The Universe listened.
On the way rushing out of the house, I was walking with Lexi down the walk to the driveway and the sprinklers were going and the A$$ that used to have our house waxed part of the driveway so its especially dangerous (thank you, jerk!). Well, I slipped and my right knee bent in a way that it has never bent before and Lexi fell, face first into the side of the garage. Ten minutes later, soaking wet from the sprinklers, and we were headed to the Emergency room. I am quite clear that it looked like my husband beat the crap out of us but in all reality it was my own battle with balance that landed us there and I got to tell nurse after nurse and doctor after doctor what a klutz I am.
After x rays and CT scans, here’s what we found out. I had torn my LCL in my right knee, damaged my cartilage and had overall sprainage. I’ll be on crutches (and boy do they suck hard) for a long time. Poor little Lexi has a concussion and we got to be admitted to the hospital for observation.
Ta Da! Did you miss it? This was the Universe giving me the time at the hospital that I had asked for. Wasn’t that nice?!?
And the best part? We were in room 210, the baby was in room 203. We were THAT close! My parents had a one stop shop to visit us all. Thank you very much Universe for your divine greatness in giving what a person really needs.
Just as a recap for you all, I wanted my house remodeled, I got a flood so my house had to be rebuilt entirely on the inside. I wanted to get to the hospital, so I get my butt whooped by the pavement. Let’s see what we’re given next, shall we?
Monday, July 30, 2007
Ouch!
I know I haven’t provided much in the last week or so that was worth reading; I am terribly sorry that I am so boring. Last night was a dozy, though so here you go!
__________________________________
Yesterday Lexi and I decided we would do make-overs and to do them, we needed to go to the store and get nail polish and bobby pins and the like. I’m telling you, she is as girly as a two year old can get! While at the store, we go through the shaving and wax aisle and I see the red container that will haunt my vagina for eternity. Looking at it, I think, “I should do this! I should try it and ooh! Look! It even has shapes you can do! That would be neat!”
I have always believed that every woman should experience her own bikini waxing at least once in her life to truly know how it feels. Let me tell you in advance, if you feel the same way, I recommend going to a professional for that experience. It would have to be better than my own encounter!
So, with everything for make-overs and this red container in the cart, we bee line over to the next open cashier and pray she doesn’t judge me. She goes through each item and then stops at the wax. Looks it over and says, “I’ve always wondered about these things – let me know how it goes, k?” <-- That, right there is how you know I live in California. Only a place this liberal would have people who say things like that OUT LOUD.
Lexi and I go home and we do our hair 30 different ways and wash or faces and soak our hands and feet and paint our nails and then, when my husband gets home, I enlist his help with the little red jar. Seeing as I know me and am clear that I will not be able to do this to myself, I plan on having him slather the stuff on and rip it off. This could be just what we need to spice things up a bit. You never know. (<-- Don’t judge me! I know you all have thought of doing similar things!)
So we read the instructions, pick a shape and hit the bedroom to set this whole endeavor in motion. Somewhere in the instructions it reads that you are supposed to do small patches at a time. We both missed that one. Before I know it, my vagina, butt cheeks, even my legs are glued together with a sticky wax. We wait for it to get to be the right texture and then he pulls a tiny bit! Ouch! Ok! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING! I decide this is a bad, bad idea! I hit the shower, NOT COMING OFF! I get vegetable oil from the kitchen, NOT COMING OFF! We try lotion, razors, scissors, house hold cleaning products, NOT COMING OFF!
I am so close to tears now! Each little patch hurts like no tomorrow and I have officially embarrassed myself in front of my husband like NEVER before. We go back to the bedroom and decide we need a plan of action. He thinks we should leave it on and let it fall off naturally as it will but we at least need to create holes where there should be holes. Two hours of ripping chunk after chunk of hair off and we are barely making a dent. I am pretty sure my vagina has never been so mad at me. I go back to the shower, thinking if I can get a bit off, maybe it will be a bit easier. No luck, the hot water melts the wax again and seals my EVERYTHING closed. This is going to be a LONG night. Finally, my husband suggests taking a towel and my hair dryer and putting them to action.
I grab a Dora the Explorer beach towel, apply it to my nether regions and turn the blow dryer up to full heat. I feel the wax melting onto my skin again and my blow dryer over heats. I sit there, picking all this yucky red stuff out of my nails until the wax cools and then I pull. OUCH! Ok. Maybe, I can do this. My dryer clicks back on and after a series of 8 heatings and towel pullings, I officially broke my hair dryer and still have large clumps of wax left in the most sensitive areas EVER. I am fairly cetain now that all that hair is wired into the bone down there. I spent the next hour and a half ripping little remaining chunks out and begging for mercy.
I successfully got out most of the wax, enough to go to the bathroom successfully. My entire vagina and surrounding area is more raw than the worst case of diaper rash you have ever seen.
I am quite sure that my vagina will never forgive me for this!
__________________________________
Yesterday Lexi and I decided we would do make-overs and to do them, we needed to go to the store and get nail polish and bobby pins and the like. I’m telling you, she is as girly as a two year old can get! While at the store, we go through the shaving and wax aisle and I see the red container that will haunt my vagina for eternity. Looking at it, I think, “I should do this! I should try it and ooh! Look! It even has shapes you can do! That would be neat!”
I have always believed that every woman should experience her own bikini waxing at least once in her life to truly know how it feels. Let me tell you in advance, if you feel the same way, I recommend going to a professional for that experience. It would have to be better than my own encounter!
So, with everything for make-overs and this red container in the cart, we bee line over to the next open cashier and pray she doesn’t judge me. She goes through each item and then stops at the wax. Looks it over and says, “I’ve always wondered about these things – let me know how it goes, k?” <-- That, right there is how you know I live in California. Only a place this liberal would have people who say things like that OUT LOUD.
Lexi and I go home and we do our hair 30 different ways and wash or faces and soak our hands and feet and paint our nails and then, when my husband gets home, I enlist his help with the little red jar. Seeing as I know me and am clear that I will not be able to do this to myself, I plan on having him slather the stuff on and rip it off. This could be just what we need to spice things up a bit. You never know. (<-- Don’t judge me! I know you all have thought of doing similar things!)
So we read the instructions, pick a shape and hit the bedroom to set this whole endeavor in motion. Somewhere in the instructions it reads that you are supposed to do small patches at a time. We both missed that one. Before I know it, my vagina, butt cheeks, even my legs are glued together with a sticky wax. We wait for it to get to be the right texture and then he pulls a tiny bit! Ouch! Ok! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING! I decide this is a bad, bad idea! I hit the shower, NOT COMING OFF! I get vegetable oil from the kitchen, NOT COMING OFF! We try lotion, razors, scissors, house hold cleaning products, NOT COMING OFF!
I am so close to tears now! Each little patch hurts like no tomorrow and I have officially embarrassed myself in front of my husband like NEVER before. We go back to the bedroom and decide we need a plan of action. He thinks we should leave it on and let it fall off naturally as it will but we at least need to create holes where there should be holes. Two hours of ripping chunk after chunk of hair off and we are barely making a dent. I am pretty sure my vagina has never been so mad at me. I go back to the shower, thinking if I can get a bit off, maybe it will be a bit easier. No luck, the hot water melts the wax again and seals my EVERYTHING closed. This is going to be a LONG night. Finally, my husband suggests taking a towel and my hair dryer and putting them to action.
I grab a Dora the Explorer beach towel, apply it to my nether regions and turn the blow dryer up to full heat. I feel the wax melting onto my skin again and my blow dryer over heats. I sit there, picking all this yucky red stuff out of my nails until the wax cools and then I pull. OUCH! Ok. Maybe, I can do this. My dryer clicks back on and after a series of 8 heatings and towel pullings, I officially broke my hair dryer and still have large clumps of wax left in the most sensitive areas EVER. I am fairly cetain now that all that hair is wired into the bone down there. I spent the next hour and a half ripping little remaining chunks out and begging for mercy.
I successfully got out most of the wax, enough to go to the bathroom successfully. My entire vagina and surrounding area is more raw than the worst case of diaper rash you have ever seen.
I am quite sure that my vagina will never forgive me for this!
Sunday, July 15, 2007
A Crown to Wear in Shame
So, I am fairly certain that I will never be able to look my next door neighbors in the eye again. There is a kind of humility that can only come of people seeing you in a way that requires an amazing intamacy being forced on a person. This kind of humility occured for me last night.
It is hotter than the hinges of Hell where I live. Honestly, at 11:00 at night, it must've still been in the high 90's. I was laying in bed with my husband when he rolled over and asked, "Did you lock your car?"
Having the recent string of break-in's in the neighborhood, I tried to remember...shit, I don't think I even rolled up the windows from this afternoon. I would need to do that if I planned on seeing my car ever again.
I slipped out of bed in my t-shirt and underwear and walked boldly out my front door, assured that no one in my neighborhood would awake at this time of night.
I was wrong.
There, staring at me like I was a rare, thought to be extinct creature, were my neighbors.
Shit!
Here I am half naked, having gotten all the way out to the car before they made a noise, I still had to get back into the house and I had already been spotted. Now, I got to rush my white rear end across the lawn and back to the safety of my house, knowing full well that they could just sit there and stare at my glow-in-the-dark whiteness ripple and as ran.
I am pretty sure this qualifies me as the queen of white trash for the neighborhood, as if I hadn't already won that award.
Thank you very much; my acceptance speech is still in the works.
It is hotter than the hinges of Hell where I live. Honestly, at 11:00 at night, it must've still been in the high 90's. I was laying in bed with my husband when he rolled over and asked, "Did you lock your car?"
Having the recent string of break-in's in the neighborhood, I tried to remember...shit, I don't think I even rolled up the windows from this afternoon. I would need to do that if I planned on seeing my car ever again.
I slipped out of bed in my t-shirt and underwear and walked boldly out my front door, assured that no one in my neighborhood would awake at this time of night.
I was wrong.
There, staring at me like I was a rare, thought to be extinct creature, were my neighbors.
Shit!
Here I am half naked, having gotten all the way out to the car before they made a noise, I still had to get back into the house and I had already been spotted. Now, I got to rush my white rear end across the lawn and back to the safety of my house, knowing full well that they could just sit there and stare at my glow-in-the-dark whiteness ripple and as ran.
I am pretty sure this qualifies me as the queen of white trash for the neighborhood, as if I hadn't already won that award.
Thank you very much; my acceptance speech is still in the works.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Blood, Sweat, and Tears, People!!!
So, my dear husband seems to think that in order to write about something as monumental as our house and the fiasco we have been living that I must first, inform you, the readers of the disaster of January 14th, 2007.
Every once in a while, as though I enjoy things like being pinched or tortured in some small way, my husband will convince me that we should go up to visit his parents. I am not too particularly fond of these visits as you can almost read across my in laws’ foreheads, “We despise her!” when I walk into that home but, as a good wife, we go, anyway. Well, one of the first weekends in January, we went up to do just that. We spent a lovely time there eating three day old food that sat out uncovered on the stove that, even when fresh, I am fairly certain that I could not distinguish exactly what it was. I have my in laws to thank for my children’s complete immunity to food poison.
Any way, shortly into our drive home, we get a call from our neighbor to expect a disaster when we returned. Apparently, while we were away, the temperature dropped down to 12 degrees! In California!! And when our zillion year old copper pipes burst in the ceiling and thawed, they poured water all through the blown in insulation, brought the ceiling down and ruined everything from ceiling to wood floors along with all the belongings in between! Our neighbor (who should apply for sainthood, as far as I’m concerned) saw water pouring down our driveway from our garage door and decided it was a good idea to check in on us. It was then that he saw what was happening and turned our water off at the valve.
We made a u-turn, left the kids with the in laws, and headed home to discover the house was torn apart. Immediately, we tried to call the “24 hour Emergency Hotline” for our insurance, but wouldn’t you know, they were closed for the weekend and then the holiday. After 40 messages, we heard back from the insurance agent from hell that it could be about 2 weeks before they got an adjuster out there. Fabulous! The adjuster was rude, to put it nicely – really, I wanted to stick a boot up his rear end and see if maybe that would change his disposition for the better but thought best to do otherwise.
Weeks after going through every piece of everything we had and documenting it with description, price, photo and online price, we found out that our adjuster would no longer be working with us and had not submitted anything…Thanks so much, jerk! Now I really wish I had stuck that boot where it didn’t belong!
Though we had contractors to do most of the work, it really felt like we did everything ourselves, from clearing the place out to taking down the old fireplace and door jams to putting new light fixtures and switch plates in. I’m pretty sure my dear husband and I almost got divorced during the process of picking out new flooring and paint colors but, no, we’re still married. The total clean up must’ve been about 5 ½ months because we are just starting to move back in. I’ll throw in some pictures to horrify you all later. And the house we stayed while this all happened? Well, that’s a whole other story!
Every once in a while, as though I enjoy things like being pinched or tortured in some small way, my husband will convince me that we should go up to visit his parents. I am not too particularly fond of these visits as you can almost read across my in laws’ foreheads, “We despise her!” when I walk into that home but, as a good wife, we go, anyway. Well, one of the first weekends in January, we went up to do just that. We spent a lovely time there eating three day old food that sat out uncovered on the stove that, even when fresh, I am fairly certain that I could not distinguish exactly what it was. I have my in laws to thank for my children’s complete immunity to food poison.
Any way, shortly into our drive home, we get a call from our neighbor to expect a disaster when we returned. Apparently, while we were away, the temperature dropped down to 12 degrees! In California!! And when our zillion year old copper pipes burst in the ceiling and thawed, they poured water all through the blown in insulation, brought the ceiling down and ruined everything from ceiling to wood floors along with all the belongings in between! Our neighbor (who should apply for sainthood, as far as I’m concerned) saw water pouring down our driveway from our garage door and decided it was a good idea to check in on us. It was then that he saw what was happening and turned our water off at the valve.
We made a u-turn, left the kids with the in laws, and headed home to discover the house was torn apart. Immediately, we tried to call the “24 hour Emergency Hotline” for our insurance, but wouldn’t you know, they were closed for the weekend and then the holiday. After 40 messages, we heard back from the insurance agent from hell that it could be about 2 weeks before they got an adjuster out there. Fabulous! The adjuster was rude, to put it nicely – really, I wanted to stick a boot up his rear end and see if maybe that would change his disposition for the better but thought best to do otherwise.
Weeks after going through every piece of everything we had and documenting it with description, price, photo and online price, we found out that our adjuster would no longer be working with us and had not submitted anything…Thanks so much, jerk! Now I really wish I had stuck that boot where it didn’t belong!
Though we had contractors to do most of the work, it really felt like we did everything ourselves, from clearing the place out to taking down the old fireplace and door jams to putting new light fixtures and switch plates in. I’m pretty sure my dear husband and I almost got divorced during the process of picking out new flooring and paint colors but, no, we’re still married. The total clean up must’ve been about 5 ½ months because we are just starting to move back in. I’ll throw in some pictures to horrify you all later. And the house we stayed while this all happened? Well, that’s a whole other story!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
She will win Wolfgang Puck's Heart
My daughter is a complete nutcase!
I guess all two and a half year olds are but I just can do nothing but sit back and laugh at this girl some nights.
She has developed a taste for unique foods like feta cheese and spinach; she prefers these things to ice cream. What the heck is wrong with this girl?
The night before last, I heard her walking through the house and then some whining in her room but ignored her because, quite frankly, I was tired and she didn’t have her face thisclose to my face so, I didn’t think she needed me but, when I got up, I discovered that this little goober had gone to the kitchen opened the fridge that she swears she cannot open and gotten Mediterranean olives, taken them back to her room and had been sitting there in the dark eating them like a closet foodie! She must’ve whined when she knocked them over because when I walked into her room that morning I just saw olives and pits splattered all across the floor and the happy (stinky-breathed) little girl was sound asleep in her bed with olive skin on her right cheek.
Tell me we are not beginning all sorts of complexes here!
I guess all two and a half year olds are but I just can do nothing but sit back and laugh at this girl some nights.
She has developed a taste for unique foods like feta cheese and spinach; she prefers these things to ice cream. What the heck is wrong with this girl?
The night before last, I heard her walking through the house and then some whining in her room but ignored her because, quite frankly, I was tired and she didn’t have her face thisclose to my face so, I didn’t think she needed me but, when I got up, I discovered that this little goober had gone to the kitchen opened the fridge that she swears she cannot open and gotten Mediterranean olives, taken them back to her room and had been sitting there in the dark eating them like a closet foodie! She must’ve whined when she knocked them over because when I walked into her room that morning I just saw olives and pits splattered all across the floor and the happy (stinky-breathed) little girl was sound asleep in her bed with olive skin on her right cheek.
Tell me we are not beginning all sorts of complexes here!
This is Old but, I brought it over anyway...
Its sunny, Friday, and I've finished doing everything I needed to do for the day…I want to go home! Waahhaa!!! Ok, now that I'm done bitching about that…Here's whats going on with me lately, in case you all cared...
I am getting ready to celebrate Mateo's first birthday, it feels like he was just born but, the kid is HUGE so I know that can't be true. Bummer. Someone should tell him he's not allowed to grow up because he doesn't listen to me, I'm just his mom.
All my friends seem to be moving away. It took a lot of time to let new ones in and now that I did, they are moving on to bigger and better things. Joey and Kate moved to the Bay – I'm happy that they get to be somewhere better and can move up in their lives but it sucks because they were supposed to stay until we moved back up there…whenever that happens. See how self centered I am!?! And pretty shortly, Kendra and Cole will be moving to North Carolina for Cole to get his Masters at Duke which rocks because its an amazing opportunity but I'm already trying to figure out the easiest way to get there (hwy 46 to 99 to 58 to 15 to 40 and its an even 2447 miles on the 40)
And then there is the house… Forgive me but I wish that house would have burned down instead of flooded. At least then they couldn't look at our damaged stuff and say it should be dusted off and reused. Now, we get to look over the torn apart place over and over again and look at it piece by piece as they tell us they will give us a fraction of what each thing is worth. I hate them. I hate that this happened and I'm having a hard time over looking it all to see the bright side! Grrr… that's it for now.
I am getting ready to celebrate Mateo's first birthday, it feels like he was just born but, the kid is HUGE so I know that can't be true. Bummer. Someone should tell him he's not allowed to grow up because he doesn't listen to me, I'm just his mom.
All my friends seem to be moving away. It took a lot of time to let new ones in and now that I did, they are moving on to bigger and better things. Joey and Kate moved to the Bay – I'm happy that they get to be somewhere better and can move up in their lives but it sucks because they were supposed to stay until we moved back up there…whenever that happens. See how self centered I am!?! And pretty shortly, Kendra and Cole will be moving to North Carolina for Cole to get his Masters at Duke which rocks because its an amazing opportunity but I'm already trying to figure out the easiest way to get there (hwy 46 to 99 to 58 to 15 to 40 and its an even 2447 miles on the 40)
And then there is the house… Forgive me but I wish that house would have burned down instead of flooded. At least then they couldn't look at our damaged stuff and say it should be dusted off and reused. Now, we get to look over the torn apart place over and over again and look at it piece by piece as they tell us they will give us a fraction of what each thing is worth. I hate them. I hate that this happened and I'm having a hard time over looking it all to see the bright side! Grrr… that's it for now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
