Tag Archives: addiction

My heart hurts…

My heart hurts tonight…don’t worry, my metaphorical one this time.

A friend was telling me today about his struggles with his young adult daughter, who has obviously become associated with “the wrong crowd” and has been making some really poor choices, almost definitely involving drugs.

All I could do was look at him and say “I know”. I could see the pain in his eyes, literally feel the hurt permeating the air around him, and I just wanted to cry for him…because I DO know. I know that hurt. I know it so well.

That hurt, the one that says…

“I just want to help you.

I’m trying.

I’m giving, and giving…and giving,

I’m loving.

All I get in return is lies, sneaking around, insults and threats.

What more do you want from me?

What am I doing wrong?”

As much as I wish I could, I know from experience that there is nothing I can really DO to help him. So I just listened, because I know how much I needed someone to listen when that was me. Then I told him the things that, while seemingly cliche and obvious, are what I know are the answers to the questions going through his head…

“You can’t fix this”

“This is NOT your fault”

“You didn’t do anything wrong”

So my heart aches tonight, because this time last year I was feeling every single one of those things about my husband…and I know how much it sucked, I can’t even begin to imagine how much harder it would be to have it be your child.

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The end of the end (Warning: Language…sorry)

Well, I have a hearing set for my divorce. It’s a month from now, and apparently I’m already freaking out just a teensy bit…

In a way I kind of can’t wait for it to be over; mostly just so people can stop saying crap like “oh I bet you’re excited!”, or “are you looking forward to it?”.

No, I’m not fucking excited. No, I’m not looking forward to it.

It’s the official, for-real, no-going-back-now, this-is-a-big-fucking-deal, end of my marriage.

Why the hell would I be excited for that?!

It’s not an exciting thing. It’s not a thing one looks forward to. It’s a thing that hurts like hell. It’s a very very sad thing.

It’s a necessary thing.

It means going back to my maiden name, a person that doesn’t even feel like me anymore. It means a whole new signature, new credit cards, and explaining to everyone and their mother why my name is suddenly different (doctor’s offices are the WORST about this).

Although on the plus side it also means no more thinking of him every time I have to spell his name out for someone, no more explaining to people why I have a Hispanic last name when I am most definitely not Hispanic, no more hearing “oh congratulations!” when I tell someone I haven’t seen in a while that I got married, and best of all, no more explaining to people why they don’t need to be congratulating me after all.

I am, however, very glad that my soon-to-be-ex has sworn angrily to not attend this hearing. I think it might break me to have him there; not for me, but because I couldn’t look at him without seeing how much this is killing him. I’ve seen it in his face every time we have to discuss the divorce, like a wounded puppy, and it breaks my heart and makes me cry every single time. I can see him, I can be friendly with him; just not that day, not there.

So, I lied, it might upset me a little bit too…I’m not really sure. As ok as I have been lately, and as much of a positive thing this divorce has turned out to be for me, it still sucks.

I loved him. I still love him. I hate that this happened to us. I miss him. I miss being us.

I don’t really know how I feel, but I can tell you that it is not excited. Sad, hurt, guilty, scared, anxious, and a teeny bit relieved maybe…but definitely not excited.

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The spirit of relationship past…

The other night I was doing that thing I do, you know, where I dance around the kitchen to my favorite song of the week and sing while I cook?

You used to laugh at me for it. I used to make you leave the room. 

Only this time I wasn’t “home”, I wasn’t in “our” kitchen, and you weren’t in the other room watching tv.

It was the first time I had let loose like that since…you know. It was nice. 

But as I was dancing, and cooking, and singing to my music, I felt you. If I didn’t know better I would have sworn you were there, sneaking up behind me like you used to do, about to wrap your arms around me, kiss my cheek, and probably tickle me (knowing you). Back when we were happy, you did things like that. I half expected to see you there when I turned around. But of course, you weren’t there. 

Never again will you do that to me, or make me smile like that.

Never again will we be that kind of happy. 

That makes me just a little bit sad. 

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Off the bandwagon…again…

Ever since my marriage (and world) fell apart, and I essentially moved out of our apartment, going “home” causes quite an array of emotions. Some times when I go home I immediately feel as though I don’t belong there, like I am detached from that life, and am anxious to leave. Other times it hurts so intensely that all I can do is lay down in “our” bed and sob. 

Today I went home for 5 minutes and the resulting emotions were sadness and disappointment. I walked in the room and instantly saw it, the plastic shopping bag full of empty cans sitting in the middle of my bed…He is drinking again, and if he is drinking again that means he is most likely getting high again too…

I don’t know what to say about that, I don’t know what to feel about it. I’m not going to lie, I am surprised he lasted this long (4 months)…but I am also so incredibly sad that he made the choice to start again. As much as I kept telling myself not to, I was holding out just a little bit of hope that losing me and his entire world falling apart would be enough to make him realize that he needs to fix himself. 

I knew better, I knew better, I knew better. 

And yet here I am, disappointed again. I can’t tell you how many times I have felt like this. I’m sick of it. 

I’m sick of being hurt and disappointed. Sick of sitting around waiting for him to screw up again. Sick.

I guess it’s just more proof that I made the right decision; I told myself when I left that just because he was sober then did not mean he would stay that way, and lo and behold, I was right! I did sort of need an “oh yeah, THIS is why I left” reminder this week…I guess I got it…

I love him, and I genuinely want him to make himself better, for HIM. It doesn’t affect me anymore, his life is his own to screw up, but I just really don’t want him to screw it up. 

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YES.

This defines me divorce, right here in one sentence.

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April 19, 2014 · 9:43 pm

NOT a mistake

“One of the most helpful things I heard during my divorce was that the fact that divorce is the right choice now doesn’t mean that getting married was the wrong choice then.”

This statement has been one of the most important I have ever read during this whole divorce process, and I find I have to keep reminding OTHER people of it’s truthfulness. I think it is especially a problem since I have been married for such a short time.

So friends, always keep that in mind, whether it be in reference to me or anyone else you may know who is going through divorce. The divorce process itself is difficult enough and carries enough of a stigma about it that such simple statements as “just chalk it up to a bad decision and walk away” or “we all make mistakes” can be devastating (I have been told both of those and more recently).

I do not regret for a second being with my husband, or marrying him…and you shouldn’t regret it FOR me either.

 

Quote from this article:

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/06/how-to-get-divorced-like-a-grown-up/

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Today I am…

Today I am sad. 

Lately I have felt as though I have been getting looks from people because I talk about my soon-to-be-ex; almost as if I should avoid all mention of him as if he were He Who Shall Not Be Named. I feel like people are uncomfortable speaking about him around me, and don’t understand how I can casually bring his name up in conversation and not be upset. Maybe this is just a coping mechanism for me (some sort of denial maybe?), maybe the anger and the hatred it is buried so deep inside me that I don’t even notice it, but I don’t think so.

I think I am just truly and honestly not angry with him. I don’t hate him, and I don’t think I ever will. I don’t have a problem discussing him, or bringing his name up in casual conversation; it doesn’t make me upset for people to mention him to me. When it comes down to it, he was a major part of my life for almost 5 years. He was my best friend, my other half, my beginning and ending. We did everything together, shared everything, SO many of my memories now involve him. For FIVE FREAKING YEARS. Now I know to some of you that seems like a blink of an eye, but to a 24 year old that is a long time…longer than I have ever given to any other significant other. The fact of it is I care about him, I always have and I always will. I don’t hold against him what happened between us; he has his demons and he tried, I mean really tried, to control them for me. He has lived a kind of life that I will never be able to understand, even though I tried really hard too. When it comes down to it we are just different people, with different goals, priorities and attitudes about life. So I am not angry. 

I am just sad. To think about him makes me sad, to think about how we used to be together makes me sad, to think about how the future will be for both of us makes me sad. Yes, I find new holes in my life every day that he used to fill; and I am crying as I write this. Yes, I bring him up in conversations, sometimes a lot; and yes, sometimes it makes me sad to talk about him…but not all of the time. Sometimes it makes me smile to think of the things we have shared, to remember the laughs and the good times (because there were a lot of them). Sometimes I bring him up in conversation, without even stopping to consider if I “should” be talking about him or not, and I like that. He is a part of me, and he always will be. Even if it makes me sad, I will talk about him, and it is ok for every one else to talk about him too. He is not a bad person, and I am not angry. I would rather remember him and the good things, and sit with the sadness as it is a normal part of this process…than bury him and every memory away somewhere in order to avoid feeling a little sad. 

So this is me giving you permission world, talk about him…it is ok. 

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A case of the Mondays and wishful thinking

So it’s only Monday and already my work week is crazed. I work as a nanny, and yesterday (after working 7 hours at my 2nd job) I got home, sat on the couch, and 5 minutes later my phone rings. It’s my boss saying that his wife hurt her knee and they are headed to the hospital and can I come watch the kids? “Well, I’m herxing and I’ve already worked 7 hours today, but how can I say no to that?” So I jump in the car, and then get a call saying nevermind, she doesn’t want to sit in the ER, they will see a doctor tomorrow (today). As far as today goes, needless to say, work is frustrating when you care for children whose parents are home…so this week just needs to be over already.

But what I’ve been thinking about this afternoon is how awesome my boss has been all day. He took the day off work, cleaned the house, chauffeured his wife to the doctors office, is bringing her ice packs in bed and driving all over town to find her some crutches. All this from a guy who is really a great guy, but ascribes to the “women’s work” attitude and tends to come home from work, pour a drink and sit on the couch while his wife comes home from work, cooks dinner, cleans house, cares for kids, and then repeats every single day.

I’m sure that his change in attitude is simply a reaction to how unusual these circumstances are, and will probably disappear in a few days, but it makes me think…I want a husband who will do those things.

I’ve been sick every single day of my relationship with my soon-to-be-ex-husband, and never has he exhibited the kind of take charge, “it’s all going to be ok” attitude my boss is oozing today. If he helped at all, I had to instruct him in exactly what I needed and how I needed it. Also, due to circumstances outside of his control, he could not drive a car, leaving me to drive MYSELF to the hospital/doctors office on more than one occasion when I really should NOT have been driving. He also lacks, for some reason, the maturity to pick up a phone and make a phone call, or be responsible for any sort of life detail (paying a bill, making an appointment, sorting out an issue with the insurance company, making a decision on which cable company to contract with, the list goes on and on), even though he is 10 years older than I am.

I am so not the kind of girl who sits around waiting for her knight in shining armor to ride up on his white horse and whisk me off into the sunset…but I don’t think it’s too much to wish for a husband who can just handle things sometimes. The kind of husband who will recognize that I am hurting more than usual, and take care of me once in a while, because he cares. The kind of husband who will be my partner in life, not just one more thing I need to handle. The kind of husband that I can rely on.

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Just rip the bandaid off

Today was a really hard day…but that is totally the understatement of the year. 

Today I filed for divorce. I did it. Almost 3 months after I told my husband I wanted a divorce, and almost 2 months after I moved out of the house, I finally did it. 

I woke up this morning and said “I need to just DO it. Just rip the bandaid off and get it over with”. So I got dressed, drove the the courthouse, and sat in the car for a minute just attempting to breathe. As I walked inside I couldn’t help but notice the sadness, it was as if the walls themselves were sad, and all the people working there as well. I guess courthouses just are not generally happy places, but the criminal one I used to work in seemed much less sad than this, civil, one did. Luckily everyone was very nice, and as I handed them my paperwork and the exorbitant amount of money it costs to file for divorce, they instructed me to “have a seat on that bench and wait for your name to be called”. So I sat down, and glanced over at the only other person waiting there, a middle aged blonde woman who had her head tilted back leaning against the wall, and tears mixed with mascara streaming down her face. That was it, any composure I had left was gone, I put my head in my hands and sobbed; and together we sat on the bench of misery and cried until both of our names were called.  

I have no words to explain what that feels like, other than death; like my soul was actively dying as I sat there. As I looked at that other woman it was like looking in a mirror, all of the pain, heartbreak and soul death in her face I knew was written all over mine as well; and I found myself wondering, who is she? What, no doubt horribly painful, circumstances landed her on this sad bench? How will she recover from this? How will I recover from this? 

For the last several weeks I’ve been ok; I’ve been cheerful, and moving forward with my life. I thought, “hey, I’m ok, I’m moving forward, I’m going to survive this”. I even counseled a friend of mine who is going through a similar situation as if I was wizened by all of this, as if I had moved on and learned and grown from this; as if I had a few, not all, of the answers. And then I sat on that sad bench today with my head in my hands and realized “I’ve been fooling myself. I’m so NOT ok”. 

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Rock, Paper, Scissors, Limbo?

“It felt like a winless game, the probabilities working against my progress, holding me in place – neither married nor divorced, neither in love nor healed, neither moved on nor an occupant in my old life. I was in limbo, wanting to be done with the process and the pain yet lacking the skills to get there. I didn’t know when to cut, when to fold and when to stand firm. “

This describes EXACTLY how I have been feeling lately…in limbo. And it’s kind of making me crazy…

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March 24, 2014 · 7:57 pm