A Turning Point

 D's father passed away yesterday morning. Thursday, June 29th he suffered a hemorrhagic stroke that essentially took out the entire right side of his brain, bled into his ventricles, and also down into his brain stem. The man we knew died on Thursday, but it took until yesterday morning for his poor body to finally run out of gas. I have spent more time with D's family in the last 7 days than I have in the previous 4 or 5 years. 

I spent a majority of the time acting as a calm intermediary between the family and the medical staff. I wanted to make sure that no one felt pressured or alone, but that they also understood what was happening and why - from a medical standpoint. It was nice to feel needed, helpful, and able to provide answers and comfort where it was needed. Now that he has died, I feel myself stepping back emotionally again, as they are soon to discover that D and I have not only divorced, but been divorced for quite some time. 

Now that Chief is gone, there are a lot of moving parts as to what happens "next." His sister will begin cancer treatment in August/September, and there have been some conversations started about what his mother will do. She's already thinking about selling the house in a year and scoping out independent living options. The suggestion of D and the kids moving in was mentioned as well (they assumed me too, but they will better understand why that isn't happening shortly). I'm not sure if anything has been run by his mother, but all 3 siblings agree - which I was shocked D would be on board so quickly. He also knows his time is running out in the rental house - the owner wants to sell, and there's no way either Doug or I want to buy... so he needs a safe place to land. With his family would be perfect for him. There's plenty of room for the 3 of them. So we will see what ends up happening. It would be wonderful if D could help support his mother, and she could help support him too. 

But my experience in the hospital really opened my eyes to what I feel more called to do with my life. It really made me realize how many families don't have a "me" to help explain to them what is happening in a warm and kind way. I've known for years that I want to get into the death and dying industry, but I just wasn't sure how to go about it. I don't want to go back to school to become and RN, mortuary school is even longer, and some hospitals require a masters degree in order to become a chaplain! So I'm still on the hunt for where I fit in, but I had an hour long chat with one of my patients yesterday - who happens to be retired from the funeral industry. We talked a lot about patient advocacy, thanatology (death, dying, and bereavement studies), and different avenues within these spaces. He suggested I reach out to Gift of Life, and ask them about involvement with their organization. He also recommended Wayne State Mortuary School for "out of the box" classes and certifications that I otherwise wouldn't have access to. He also suggested I check out anything written by Thomas Lynch. So I have some research to do and now I have a direction to start looking! 

Its a topsy-turvy time in my brain. Excitement and dread all at once. 

Round 2

 Another knee surgery is scheduled for this Thursday. I'm trying to come to terms with how I feel, but tonight I'm mostly just angry. I'm angry that my leg doesn't work and my efforts weren't "enough." I know that it isn't anyone's fault, but it's hard not to feel frustrated and exhausted from constant chronic pain. My knee hurts. And after Thursday it's going to hurt a whole lot more. 

It will get better, but I'm mentally not there tonight. Tonight I'm having a pity party for 1 and am wallowing in my upset, sadness, and frustration in the situation. 

It will get better.

More Tiny Things

 I wouldn't say I've been bitten by the creative bug, but I've made a couple more tiny plant holders. They are whales, and they are for air plants. I got the inspiration on pinterest and made one from clay, and one from apoxie sculpt. The air plant will look like the water spout out the top of their little heads. 

Once I made them I was crushed with some imposter syndrome and told my sister I felt more like a xerox machine than an "artist." She gently reminded me that I still created my whales with my own two hands. It's still my style, my creativity imprinted on the thing that *I* made. Inspiration comes in all different shapes and ways, and it's okay to be proud of my little creatures, even if the idea isn't 100% unique or original - my interpretation of the idea is. 

I had an emotional PT session this past week too. At the end of the session she asked how I was feeling with our progress, and I admitted I was nervous about my progress appointment next week with the surgeon. She asked why I was nervous and I burst into tears. Ugly cry, hiccups, the whole 9 yards. I told her I was afraid of him saying my efforts aren't enough. That, like before, I won't be believed that I am working hard, doing my exercises, and really giving it my all. That my best still isn't good enough. She told me that I need to take ownership of that appointment. To not give him any room to criticize my efforts. That I should tell him that I'm getting stronger everyday, my kneecap is really starting to move, and I'm already to 40 degrees of flexion. She told me that if I present myself as recognizing my accomplishments, rather than diminishing them, that he will be excited about my progress too. She then had me practice saying outloud all my progress. 

I told her she earned the "therapist" portion of her title that day, and she said it was simply part of her job. I like her a lot, and she's very patient with my neurotic guarding and lack of self esteem during my treatments. 

Tiny Pots

 I've now created 2 tiny pots! Both primed with gesso and just waiting for inspiration to strike! I still don't feel ready for an EDS themed "art expression," but I have decided these little pots are just for me. 

I've also decided that for every 10 degrees of successful knee bending, I'm going to treat myself with a tiny plant. So tiny plants I've earned will go in my tiny pots I've made! 

Mental Block

 I've finally started physical therapy. I'm officially 1 week in (2 sessions) and I am absolutely encountering some of the most overwhelming intrusive thoughts of my life. I continue to try to be chipper and grateful and kind to everyone around me on the outside, but I feel myself starting to buckle inside. My knee hurts so bad during this whole process, and I'm so afraid of additional pain. I didn't realize how much my previous reconstruction impacted my mental health before, but it's all come roaring back. The fear of never fully recovering. The fear of losing my ability to be intimate. The fear of losing my ability to walk without assistance permanently. 

Yesterday was a temporary sigh of relief when my therapist told me she was pleased with my progress. Up to that point, I was afraid of being a disappointment. I guess that really is the root of my mental state currently. Afraid of being a disappointment. It's how I've governed my whole life, and my constant need to please everyone else. Getting my knee back to functional is definitely for me, but it's getting harder not to collapse in on myself with frustration and exhaustion. 

I'm judging my parenting, I'm judging my work ethic, I'm judging my ability to be a worthy partner... and I feel like I'm not successful in any of them. I'm trying to tread and keep my head above water with a knee that doesn't bend and I'm getting so physically tired. 

I've done very minimal reaching out to friends and I just don't have the mental energy to chase people around and beg them to be my friend. Someone dear to me recently said that they would only be using their phone when they need to, that they were done talking. I took that as they needed space, since a majority of our relationship has been them talking or needing something, me listening and helping. It hurt my feelings that they literally had no interest in being my friend during a difficult period of my life, because they needed to only focus on themselves (focusing on themselves is not new, thats how they have always been). Another friend did that to me before, years ago, and my response was to cut them off. That break was actually really good for me, so I haven't reached out. It's been almost 2 months, but I haven't initiated any contact. If they wanted to tell me how they were doing, they could text. If they wanted to know how I was doing, they could just ask. But they haven't, and I'm done being the one to always "check in." My circle of friends is pretty tiny right now, and I'm getting okay with it. Can't be a disappointment to my friends if I don't have any! Kidding. But I'm working on setting some new boundaries for myself and for the people I choose to let back in. I'm working on getting very comfortable with the phrase "no." 

In other news, my sister had an incredibly successful first online art show. I'm so proud of her, and she sent me a piece that was my favorite, but not included in the show. She's been encouraging me to start creating art again myself, but I just feel so uninspired. A friend from high-school recently encouraged me to create something too, about what Ehlers Danlos means to me. I don't know how to describe it with words, let alone a physical representation. I had some ideas, but I don't know how to execute! So I made a pot. A tiny plant pot. It's been sitting around collecting dust. I bought paint and brushes and sculpting tools... and my inspiration took a crap. My creative motivation is just wallowing around in the dumps with the rest of my mood. I don't know where to start... 

Maybe I'll stop some Gesso on it and just "see."

Poop.

 I'll keep this pretty brief, as I'm still recovering from the last 24 hours. I woke up yesterday determined to poop. It had been a week, and I've been taking stool softeners, so it was time. I had weened myself off my pain killers to help move things along too. 

It was a disaster. I've never felt so defeated and depressed after not being able to poop. I sobbed and went back to bed. It's very hard to concentrate at the task at hand when your leg is also on fire. 

I would just like to announce that after 24 hours of blood, sweat, and tears, laboring day and night, an enema, 6 stool softeners, 3 glycerin suppositories, and a couple gloves, I have successfully delivered "the precious cargo." I am now 15 pounds lighter, and can only assume, look fantastic. Please hold a moment of silence for my poor bum, as they were a casualty of war and the poor thing may never be the same...

Post Op

 Well, I had another knee reconstruction on the 12th. I was exceptionally nervous going into it, and I wanted to believe pain management would be a snap. It wasn't. I woke up from surgery with a leg on fire. Getting pain under control was an issue, and it wasn't until I was back at my parents tucked into bed with Norco down the hatch that I could start to settle down. Getting up to use the bathroom still fires off a mini anxiety attack, and falling asleep makes me nervous. I've started twitching when I drift off, and it's usually followed by pain. 

I've already started to wean myself off the Norco. Not off entirely, but cutting it way down so I don't run out. This is a marathon, not a sprint, so I need to pace myself and ration my pain meds. 

6 weeks immobilized. Then 4 months of PT. Meijer has told me to submit all out of pocket expenses for review. My surgery was $42,000 so any help is definitely appreciated! I do have insurance, so that helps. But yeah. This year is off to a pretty weird start. I'm trying to remain engaged at work, but I also just don't feel up to it. 

Ugh. 

New Year, New Knee!

 It's official. Knee reconstruction 2.0 is scheduled for January 12th. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I'm currently camped out at my parents house as I feel safe and comfortable here. It's possible I'd feel even more comfortable with J, but we just aren't there yet. 

However.

I did introduce my parents to him, and he has come over a couple times at night to visit with me and make sure I have everything I need. He misses me and loves me, but also doesn't whine or pressure me about things out of my control. I hate that he's been alone in his house with just the cats. I love our little home, and it's going to be a while before I can get back out there.

D continues to whine and mope around, complaining about this being "the worst year ever." The other day he was lamenting his bad mood, saying he's been so upset and defeated for the past year and a half. A year and a half ago is when I filed for divorce... very passive aggressive guilt trip, but I wouldn't expect anything less. Since I hurt my knee he's been MORE whiney and annoying. I'm sure he's hurt I don't want to heal at his house, but I can't. I sleep on the fucking couch! And the animals climb all over me. There's zero privacy. I'll pass. 

Not sure what the plan is for recovery. 6 weeks immobilized post op, then 4 months of PT and I should be right as rain. The surgery will be reconstruction of the ligaments I ruptured with cadaver parts. I'm excited, nervous, scared, and anxious all at once. I just want to get this party started!

2022 Ends With A Bang

 Yesterday I severely dislocated my knee. My left knee. The knee I had surgically reconstructed 20 years ago. 

It was bad. I knew it was bad when I hit the ground. I popped it back and KNEW it wasn't right. This isn't one I can simply walk off. Hell, I couldn't "walk" at all. One million dollar ambulance ride later, and they confirmed I got it back in, but will require an MRI and surgical consult. 

It makes me sick to my stomach. I'm going to miss work. Surgery will be so hard on me. I'm not sure how I'll see my kids or J or how I'll manage, quite frankly. I just want to curl up on J's couch, but I can't drive. I can't do anything but lay here and be kind and gracious and pretend everything is fine while I'm rapidly dying on the inside. I have already endured 31 years of this constant pain (starting at 11), the hyper vigilance of each step I take. 31 years of fear, of pain, of no way to make it stop. 

It will never stop. 

Doug proved long ago that he couldn't handle it. That he didn't want to handle it. It was scary and hard and it was beyond him. I'm terrified it will be too much for J too. He's already on edge with so much of his own stuff. I frankly wouldn't blame him, but fuck I can't imagine a life without him.

I'm so scared. 

I debated briefly saying something on fb, but I don't need pity, and that's all it would be. It's not the social community for me as it is for others. And what point would crawling out of the social media woodwork do? Nothing. But damn I do feel pretty lonely and stuck in my own head. 

Merry Christmas

Where To Start

 I was seeing a therapist for the last several months, but they are taking a sabbatical from practicing, so I am taking a sabbatical from therapy. I'm trying to find my way through life currently, and while it occasionally feels overwhelming, I've also survived 100% of my worst days - so there's that! 

I'd like to start writing again, but I'm also not entirely sure how to collect my thoughts. I tend to have these great ideas to write about, but then when I sit down to actually start, the idea of *actually* writing is overwhelming. I'm just not sure where to start. Maybe a daily prompt would help get the ball rolling. 

Well, I can't find one I like, so lets just recap some things going on in my life. I have reconnected with a friend from high school, and it was really nice just getting a coffee and chatting about how both of us have no idea how we got where we are in our lives. I've also reconnected with another friend I used to be so close with, and it's like a breath of fresh air having them back in my life. 

I've also started creating some space in a relationship that used to be very close - for my own mental health. It has been morphing into a one sided relationship, where all they do is talk and vent and ask for things. I've been exceptionally accommodating for many years, but my tolerance and patience has worn thin. So I've been less accommodating, and they have acknowledged that they are not being a great friend and promised to do better. One week after said promises, and nothing has changed. They acknowledged that too, but they also said that they are going to treat themselves with grace, that they are doing the best they can, and that is all they can offer at this time. So I have taken a step back and will give myself a little space and grace to admit that I'm exhausted and need a break. 

Things with J continue to move along at a comfortable pace. We hold space for each other and support each other while facing life's trials, together. I feel like I really do have a partner, a safe space, and that I have the right person in my life. We still have a few obstacles to get over before we can be together publicly, mostly of my own doing, but we are working through those too. 

There's always good with the bad. And I'm willing to acknowledge both! 

You Don't Make Me

 You Don't Make Me

You don't make me smile.

You don't make me feel safe. 

You don't make me a better person.

You don't make me happy. 

But you look at me with such a warmth in your gaze I can't help but smile. 

You hold me in your arms and as I breathe you in I feel completely safe in your embrace. 

You listen patiently and hold my hand as I work my way out of generations of trauma and hurt, growing into the best version of myself. 

You look at me, you hold me, you listen to me... and my heart swells and occasionally overflows out of my eyes with what can only be called respect, gratitude, and joy. 

You don't MAKE me feel or do anything... but you show up everyday, exactly as you are and allow me to show up, exactly as I am... 

And it just works. 

Anniversary #8

Today is supposed to be a monumental historical day. 02-22-22. Lots of fanfare about it being a once in a lifetime event, angel numbers galore, and it being a day of opening intuition and spiritual awareness.

But my heart just feels heavy. It's the 8 year anniversary of finding Joe post suicide by shotgun. It's also the 17th anniversary of my favorite Aunt passing away. I've been teetering on the verge of tears all afternoon, and I want nothing more than a hug from J. That isn't possible this evening, as Ding Dong is going to a movie with a friend. He has no idea what today means to me, even though I have reminded him on multiple occasions why this date in particular is difficult for me sometimes, so of course he has chosen this day to go out. It's not important to him, so it's not important. 

My divorce is finally getting some traction, with no help of Ding Dong. My lawyer has filed multiple motions for a default ruling on my divorce (meaning he refuses to respond or participate, so give me whatever I ask for). The motion for default is scheduled for March 9th. My hearing is scheduled for March 29th. God willing, I may actually be divorced for my birthday. I'm not holding my breath, but I'm not giving up either. We are so close to the end. It will mean BIG changes around here, but I'm ready. I'm so incredibly ready to get on with my life. He won't see it as a good thing, and that's fine. His response is not my responsibility. 

I'm hopeful that my kids don't fight with me about getting ready for bed. I just want to hide in sleep, but I can't do that until they care safely tucked in bed. 

I should do a meditation or focus on something else, but I just don't have it in me. My conversation with J was cut short today on the phone, and it made me sad too. He's dealing with his own stuff lately, and I know we have been a source of comfort for each other. He's been at a meeting and now happy hour mixer with a company he is considering joining. It's been a quieter day than normal lately, but I'm really proud of him for taking some initiative about building his career. 

Maybe I need a piece of chocolate and some brainless tv. 

Wonder Seeker

 Alright 2022. Here we are. Normally I'd do a recap of the year, but this year feels different. Rather than dwell on the past, I've decided to devote this moment to the present. 

My sister sent me a book for Christmas called Wonder Seeker. It's 52 activities to reconnect with creativity and find joy. I've decided to complete one activity a week. Whether I chronicle these adventures Here or not are yet to be determined, but its something to look forward to. 

Yay creativity and joy! Perhaps my theme for 2022? We shall see!

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. 

--------------

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.