Archive | February, 2013

Welp

26 Feb

The other day, I referred to my therapist as my boss so things are going just fine over here.

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Fresh Hell

11 Feb

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but a few years ago, I got divorced. Okay, I’m fucking with you. I know I talked about that damn thing all the time, largely because the dissolution of my marriage affected every crag of my pointless life. It was my heart and home, but also my money, my time, my sexuality. Our marriage was my life’s work. It was everything and when it was over, it took me a long time to process what that meant. I spent a lot of money I absolutely did not have on therapy to help me work though having my forever snatched out from beneath me. 

I did a lot of things I wouldn’t do again, though I’m not necessarily regretful of them. I did what I had to do – that was my mantra. Do what you have to do – sometimes it will feel good, and most times it won’t. And that’s perfectly okay. 

It’s been some 3 or 4 years now, and I am finally hitting some kind of stride. I’ve got my finances almost sorted, I wash (and brush!) my hair a few times a week. I do my dishes all the time (my record was 6 months, which was when my family had a real serious talk with me about not killing myself.) I can look at myself naked again without clawing at my skin. I’ve met a man that I have very serious, grown-up feelings for and with and about. I’m pretty close to being the person I imagined I might be, I think. For better or worse. 

So when I woke up one morning in December with this on my phone: 

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I was not pleased. After nearly 3 years of radio silence, that former husband o’ mine wanted me to have a good Christmas. Some animal part of his brain (or social media network) had guessed correctly that I was happy and it was time to worm his way back into my mind. I mean, that’s what I imagine. He told me he wanted to send me some good vibes and I’m glad to see he’s still smoking a lot of pot. But overall, the time for us to share anything – be it good vibes or a future – has passed. It’s fucking dust. Maybe that’s not particularly evolved, but I don’t care. We don’t share a child or even a car. We proved to ourselves and West Michigan for six long years that we are a volatile combination best left to our own devices. 

But he’s sniffing around my life and it breaks my heart. I believe that when we give each other up, we give up the right to any and all knowledge. Part of me feels like I’ve won because he cares and wants to know, but mostly I just want to be left alone with my new love to figure this out. Cease. Desist. I am a million miles away. 

This Is She

10 Feb

She knows how to work hard but she isn’t sure that it means anything. She knows just enough to be embarrassed about what she doesn’t know. She is good to people who don’t deserve it and there’s not much she won’t do for money, sex and drug trades excluded. She isn’t greedy – she just knows that bills have to be paid and pride has no cash value.

She doesn’t see the point of doing anything unless she is the best, so in her closet sit abandoned projects. Bits of yarn and swathes of fabric that were not going to shape up to be the best, so now they are nothing. She sleeps crooked, on the couch, when she thinks she’s not worthy of the bed. She wasn’t the best wife and she’s probably not a very good girlfriend. She’s afraid pretty much all the time, of failing and succeeding in equal measure. Of continuing to make the wrong decisions that push her back and further still.

Lately, her greatest dream is to be good enough.