A Misunderstanding

 I can't sleep. I've had a sinking feeling since yesterday, and I'm trying to figure out why.

I reached out to Andy's wife a couple days ago to offer her what I have of Andy's books. She politely declined. I then saw she had posted a request for snail mail, and I asked if I could participate. She said yes, but seemed confused/irritated that I would want to. She then admitted she thought I was intentionally not speaking to her at the visitation. 

Oh God. No, no, no... I told her it wasn't intentional by any means! There were a couple times I moved to approach her, but she moved away - I took it as a non-verbal "I've had enough" and didn't want to press. She took it as me snubbing her. I'm glad I had the chance to clear the air, and she said she was glad it was a misunderstanding of the situation. 

I've felt pretty awful about it since. On what I can only assume is one of the hardest, saddest days of her life, by being respectful of her space in my mind, I was intentionally being hurtful in hers. 

I do know that I was stuck in my own head for a good chunk of the time I was there. It was awkward and overwhelming, seeing people I haven't seen or spoken to in 20+ years... most of which were friends of my sister anyways. I will forever have the label of "Becky's Little Sister." The intimidation factor alone of just being there was enough to make me cling to a corner and stick with familiar faces. If she reached out to talk and I somehow missed the cue, I feel horrible just thinking about it. 

As I am working on some self awareness, I acknowledge that I may have inadvertantly fucked up. However, I also know myself, and I don't have the capability of intentionally shitting on a grieving widow at a visitation. It was a misunderstanding on both our parts, and beating myself up about how I shoulda/coulda done things differently doesn't change it. I explained myself and offered to get coffee sometime as an invitation for friendship. 

I'd love to be able to sleep though. Not so much while I'm on the couch. This Christmas was a quiet one and a pretty weird one. We are all quarantined and separated and I miss my family. I miss J too. I pulled off a Christmas feast on the fly, and had enough to share. Spent some time playing animal crossing online with one of my coworkers. It will be nice to have the following week off of work too. Maybe I just need to get out of my head and relax. Holidays stress me out, and after a major covid scare, I'm pretty tapped out emotionally. Covid fatigue, as the kids are calling it. 

Joy/Grief

 Well, I made it through the viewing without losing my cool. I kept my past to myself, tho I'm sure Andy would have loved to see his brothers face should they find out. We used to joke about it when he was alive. 

I stayed after almost an hour talking with a dear friend outside. We talked about anything and everything and I admitted to her how I was feeling... and why. I then told her that I felt like I was an imposter since I had so much joy in my life, and so much to be thankful for... why did it feel like another sucker punch to feel such grief too?

She said my feelings were valid, even though I've moved on and am in a healthy, happy relationship. I had it stuck in my head that I could either feel grief, or I could feel joy - but not both at the same time. Then today I stumbled across the following quote:

I have so much to learn about my own emotional complexity. 

I thanked J today for always being a safe place for me. He said "that's how it's supposed to be." But I told him that sometimes I forget, and I want him to know that I see it and moreso appreciate it. He is so gentle and patient with me, and I'm just starting to get comfortable with ADMITTING that this is exactly what I need and deserve. THIS is what it's supposed to be like. 

I can feel exceptional joy for the love I experience in the present, while I mourn the loss of someone I cared about in the past.

Dying Is Easy, Young Man. Living Is Harder

 I've had the words of George Washington's character in Hamilton ringing in my ears this week. Burning into my brain, making my eyes sting with tears...

"Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder."

Andy has died. He has finally succumbed to the cancer that attacked his body for years. He survived well beyond his expected expiration date, but the last couple months the cancer grew with a vengeance. I would read his blog here and there over the course of the last several years - since the breakup in July of 2018, just to keep up on how he was. To bare silent witness to his growth, his failures, his love, and his fears. I had a feeling something was wrong. So I checked it within minutes of him posting on December 10th. 

It would be his final post. He died December 12th. 

I found out via social media... much as I once feared I would. Exactly as I feared I would, actually. The viewing is Friday, the funeral Saturday. I have been absolutely overwhelmed emotionally. I grieved losing him as a friend back in 2018 once, and his passing has ripped those wounds back open again. They hurt in a different way now, but they still hurt. To torture myself further, I reread through several of our email correspondence. My outpouring of support as I begged him to still be my friend. His actions speaking louder than any of his words ever did. My overwhelming need for his approval/attention was classic of my codependency, and as he gave me a literal laundry list of my "not enough-ness" that gutted me in the moment, I realize now that it was a gift. A shove in the direction of self care that NO man would ever hold that type of power over my feelings of self worth again. 

And though it has been a bumpy road, I have stayed true to that lesson. My self worth is NOT dependent on anyone else's opinion of me. I never got the chance to tell him that I had filed for divorce. He would have been proud... but whats more important is that *I'm* proud of taking those steps. I've been doing the hard work and getting things done. 

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

I am embracing the living, even as I pursue the path of teaching others to embrace the dying. I am called to be a Persephone, listening to the stories as souls cross from this realm to the next. If reading Andy's story all these years has taught me anything, it's that it isn't about me. None of it was ever about me. It's about listening and bearing witness and being present. These are not easy to do, and they are learned traits. I fail often, but I continue to try. The living is in the trying. 

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

Andy's new wife must now learn to navigate life without her partner. Their relationship was so whirlwind that I can only imagine the shock of it suddenly being over for her. Actually, I may have an inkling of what that might feel like, on a much smaller scale. My heart hurts for his little boy, who must now navigate life without his father. Andy loved his child above all else, and I know that his son will grow up knowing just how loved he really was/is. But being a little kid who doesn't really understand in the moment is brutal. 

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

Andy is on to his next adventure. The hard part is over for him. 

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I told J that a former friend had died. I used gender neutral pronouns when talking about the visitation and funeral, as I didn't want to get into "who this was." I told him that I was nervous and uncomfortable and just feeling "a lot" about it. His recommendation was that if me going would bring comfort to myself or someone else, that I should go. I told him he was right, as he usually is, haha. "The persons brothers might appreciate me stopping in and giving them my condolences. I guess I'm just nervous about going, and worried I'll regret it if I don't." His response stopped me in my mental tracks. 

"No harm in going I suppose right? He can't hurt you."

He can't hurt you. It's true. The only one hurting me in this moment, is me. The residual anger and resentment, the fear of not belonging at his visitation, it's all just in my own mind. No one is "doing" anything to me. It's my own self letting those old feelings of upset push forward, instead of allowing the gifts and appreciation rise up. I know it is all part of the grieving process (again) but I also feel more at peace within myself this time around. 

He can't hurt me.

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

Don't Panic

I got my mammogram results via email. 

They found something. 

Now, to be fair, I do have "dense tissue" which has been the norm for the last 10 years. But they noted a 6mm focal asymmetry. They want me to return for additional imaging, and I will head in as soon as they have availability. 

I thought about not telling anyone, but I don't want to hide my vulnerability to protect anyone else. So I told my best friend, mentioned it to my children's father (due to kid coverage for additional appointments), and I told J. After a brief research on Google, I found reassurance that it literally could be nothing! 

I'm trying to keep with the notion of not panicking until they give me something to panic about. Of course my brain tries to run off with the notion of being a burden, inventing fears that J won't be interested in continuing a relationship, and that D will figure out some other way to stall the divorce, citing medical reasons or something. But then I take a deep breath and I draw calm and strength from the notion that I am not alone. I am loved. I am supported. I have my people and that is enough. 

No Progress

 I am starting to wonder if D is in cahoots with the county clerk. My divorce proceedings have hit an utter gridlock, even though legally D has defaulted his position to participate. Our first settlement hearing was November 4th. According to my counsel, the clerk was supposed to file our scheduling order within 24 hours. 

That didn't happen. I decided to be patient and wait. The courts are backed up.

3.5 weeks later and still nothing. I reached out to my counsel again to ask if I missed something. She says she'll contact the court. A couple hours later, she texts that she talked to the clerk, and they stated it would be filed either that afternoon or the next day. 

This was 2 days ago and still nothing. I don't want to reach out AGAIN as it's costing me money, but what the fuck is going on?? Where the hell is my scheduling order? All they were doing was assigning a mediator and scheduling our next court date... this was supposed to be filed A MONTH AGO. So now my divorce it delayed even more, and I can't help but suspect that someone it trying to pull a fast one to "help D out." Maybe his connections with the court system mean something afterall.

Home stretch. This was supposed to be the home stretch and I'm feeling trapped halfway through. I'm so frustrated with the tiptoeing and pretending.

Thanksgiving was spent at my parents. My mother invited D, so he got his wish of "all of us together as a family." It was quite awkward for me, but my mother decided to be a physical buffer and sat between D and I. Thank God for small favors! Shortly before the get together, my dad fires off a list of "valuables" that he wants us kids to place dibs on, to be added to the wills. While he wants to make things less stressful when they die, in reality it's just awkward and more stress inducing. I'm already trying to grapple with household inventories and what I want... now I have 2 additional households to consider? All while not having a solid idea of where I'm going to live once the divorce is final! My intention is to move in with J, but that won't be immediate. I want to live with him, but Im also a little nervous, as we haven't had the "manage expectations/who's doing what" talk. That will happen eventually, but my nervousness comes from being an outsider infringing on HIS space. I want it to feel like "our" space. 

I know, my own mental block on that one, but I haven't really allowed myself the freedom to fully process What Happens Next, while my Present Tense is at a standstill. 

Moving Along... Slowly

 Well, here we are in November. Not much has changed on the divorce front. D continues to ignore any legal proceedings, I continue to get everything done that my lawyer requests. It really does feel like the ultimate group project that you just KNEW from the beginning you'd be stuck doing a majority of the legwork over. He refused to complete court ordered documents... and told my lawyer that he does not think a divorce is in anyones best interest. He also told my lawyer that he was offended that she addressed him with "Good Morning" in an email... He doesn't even realize that he is digging himself into the ground. Judges do NOT like having their time wasted... and he is definitely wasting everyone's time. 

My goal was to keep things amicable - to try to come to some kind of compromise over parenting time and cost of living and all of it. He has no idea that by refusing to work with me on this, he's ultimately leaving everything up to me... which... isn't surprising given the track record. I'm the one to submit all the requested documents and statements. I'm the one who attended the co-parenting class mandated by the Friend of the Court... TWICE. I'm also the one who figured out a way to save up to pay a lawyer... All of the adulting has landed firmly on my shoulders, so why on earth would I even think for a second it would be any different through these proceedings? I'm feeling pretty foolish right now. 

Thanksgiving makes me want to hurl. It used to be my favorite holiday, but this year D is making the emphasis of it all about "our family" and "being together as a family" and just going over the top with his bullshit. In years passed we agreed to alternate years - traditional vs going out for Italian with his family. He decided all on his own that since "Thanksgiving is your favorite holiday, we should do it your way." I'm sorry, but since WHEN has doing anything "my way" ever been a consideration?? Oh that's right, after I've already filed for divorce. THAT's when my families traditions become even remotely important. Right. Got it. 

Since I made the unilateral decision to file for divorce, he has made the unilateral decision how we will be spending Thanksgiving... Or so he thinks anyways. We will see how the next couple weeks pan out. 

A List of Why

 In navigating the divorce proceedings, it is becoming harder and harder to cling to the notion of "its just not working out." He wants reasons. He wants answers. He wants a list of "why."

Why won't I work on us? Why won't I try? Why am I willing to throw away 17 years of "bliss" over something as small as "being unhappy?" How dare I be so selfish to make him and the kids unhappy too, just because I'm not happy. And yes, he literally said that. How far back should I go with this list? I've been trying to keep things amicable, but the more he pushes my boundaries, the more I just want to start writing down the list of times I felt used, unappreciated, unheard, and generally ignored. That his interest in fantasy outweighed his interest in reality with me long ago. 

How do I tell him that the reasons "why" don't even matter anymore? I'm beyond done and there really isn't anything he could ever say or do to fix it. I don't love him. Haven't for years and years. Possibly never. I've also lost respect for him, and the constant hand holding through every adulting circumstance is exhausting. I'm not his mother... he still mooches off the one he has! 

I'm so tired. However, November will be here before I know it. 

Divorce

I filed for divorce last week. I saved up and paid a lawyer for her retainer to make sure I am protected. 

I told Doug. He was furious and is now in denial and refuses to sign the acknowledgment. If this continues, I will be forced to have him served at work, which I was trying to avoid. I wanted to spare him the embarrassment, but if he refuses to acknowledge, I will have to use a firmer hand. 

It's been tense and awkward at moments, then he will try to put his hands inside my clothes to touch me as I'm attempting to sleep at night. It's so uncomfortable and he pouts at my repeated denial of his advances. I FILED FOR DIVORCE, AND HE STILL DOESNT RESPECT MY BOUNDARIES. It makes me sick to my stomach, and I don't want to stay here another minute.

I may need to reexamine my strategy and stop staying here at night completely. 

This is a Safe Space

 I had a breakthrough. It was overwhelming and big and hard... and it was exactly what I needed in that moment. 

I was curled up with J and mentally hemmed and hawed about whether I should ask for something that had been on my mind. I finally spit it out. He was thoughtful and kind with his response, and I struggled to hold back tears. "Are you okay?" I said no, burst into tears and explained that I've been wanting to ask for 2 years, but was so afraid of rejection that I just kept quiet. He held me so gently yet firmly as I sobbed. He pet my hair, nuzzled his face into my neck, and whispered "it's okay... this is a safe space." As if I wasn't already in tears, haha. 

There are times I get so overwhelmed with anger, that I let B warp my self esteem to the point that he did. That I played into his narrative that I was unworthy, that he would wield rejection like a slap to the face often enough that I STILL mentally and physically flinch when I sense it coming. There's no way around it... it was abuse. I'm still feeling the aftershocks to this day, but Holy shit.... 

I have a safe space. 

Genuine. Calm. Whole hearted. Compassionate. 

Safe.

A Few Fears

 So... my ability to walk has been greatly impacted this week. I am 99% sure that I have torn my meniscus, but to what extent, I'm not sure. I've been downplaying the extent of the severity, mostly to avoid dealing with some pretty grim emotions, and that old creeping fear of being a burden is starting to get louder and louder. Earlier today I was asked if I was ready to write...

"The short answer is no. I'm not ready to write. There's a can. I acknowledge the can. There's worms in it. I acknowledge the worms. They can stay in there a hot second."

I guess technically it's been a hot second, so I can take a peek in that can of worms.

In this moment I feel dread. People are going to ask questions. People ALWAYS ask questions. Friends and family? Ask away! Strangers on the street or patients at my job? We are NOT close, and you are not entitled to my medical history! But they will ask and if I bother giving them a smidge of info, the pity looks start. The "you're too young," the "but you don't look sick," the unsolicited diet advice and the "have you tried vegan or gluten-free or dairy free or intermittent fasting? You really should lose weight," or the good old "have you tried yoga?" I get that people want to offer solutions to things they view as a problem. Their hearts are in the right place and they want to feel helpful in a situation that to them seems hopeless. I *always* try to answer with a grateful "thank you for the idea!" even when I immediately file it in the trash can of unsolicited advice in my brain. Sometimes I want to absolutely flip the fuck out and scream "Why yes, Susan, I am familiar with yoga! I used to love it! But now that my wrist is fused from my fucking hand falling off, I can't even do downward facing dog without discomfort or modification and the prospect of having to lose yet another thing I once found joy in physically is just too overwhelming at the moment, so kindly go fuck yourself!" But I'm pretty sure I'd get fired for that. Instead I grit my teeth, smile, and say "thank you." 

I didn't tell my mom that I had injured my knee. She's on vacation, and I didn't want to bother her, or make her worry while she's supposed to be enjoying herself. I made a post on IG, and my sister asked her what I did. Her response was "I'm on vacation, you know I am the LAST person Mer would call if she was hurt. She was probably waiting to tell me until I got home." Correct. 

I also tried to downplay it to my coworker, as she has a scheduled vacation this week that I didn't want her to worry about. But last night I couldn't walk. I practically had to crawl to the bathroom, tears streaming down my face. In that moment I felt excruciating pain, embarrassment, fear, and dread. The physical pain is better, but the fear is gripping pretty tight.

I'm afraid of being cut open again. My body is peppered with various surgical scars, and I don't want to add any more. I'm also afraid of anesthesia... its harder to knock me out and bring me back up at this point. I don't want a standard arthroscopy to be the thing to take me out. I'm afraid of what kind of delay this will potentially make in my filing. I'm scared of being apart from J for any extended period of time - not for fear of him leaving me, but because he is SUCH a comfort and support for me. I'm worried that a recovery period will land me out of a job. I'm worried that this is yet another wakeup call that I can't sustain a regular job anyways. 

I'm glad I can spit out my concerns and dreads here. There's more in there, but I'm emotionally fatigued just from draining this little bit. I'm sure I'll have more to say soon.