I own all the content and pictures on this site, except where noted. If you steal anything from me, and
especially if you do anything mean or inappropriate with them, I will find you. Then I'll sue you for
theft, slander, libel and any other law that applies. Then I'll ridicule you in humiliating ways
here and everywhere else I contribute to. If you fuck with me, I'll get get all Gladiator on your ass
and unleash hell. Think I'm kidding? So did my a couple of my exes, my old neighbors, as well as
some assholes who ripped me off on Ebay, and last I heard, they were all still trying to undo the
damage I caused.
If you haven't yet guessed, I'm big on closure. Big enough that when even someone who can't or won't offer me much-needed closure comes to me, seeking some of their own, I do my best to give it. I just totally get how vital to closing a chapter and moving on that is.
I've been learning to live my life not just without closure, but also having to regularly interact with the very person who won't give it to me ("There are no answers" has by default become my new mantra). It's rough, I won't lie; but the truth is that the passing of days makes it all more bearable, and I actually see that light at the end of the tunnel where the lack of answers just no longer matters. Or, even if it might always matter just a little bit, then where the truth that "there are no answers" is one that I can see and repeat with nothing else attached to it - not a "why" or a "but" or my tears.
And so as life moves on, and as I move from story to story to story, I sometimes wonder what on this site I have inadvertently left unanswered. I try to be thorough in my communicating, but given how excruciatingly emotional this last year has been, combined with my less-than-pretty habit of being half-assed about a lot of things, I know there might be stuff here and there that I started but never finished, or that I was too vague about to have it make any real sense.
So, you tell me - is that the case? Is there anything that I left unfinished or unanswered? I'm really very curious about this...
Saturday night, at a friend's birthday dinner, I ate food for the first time since Tuesday. It was well worth the wait (Michy's!), though I was apprehensive, not sure what to expect after days of nothing but soda crackers, gatorade, some rice, and a couple bananas.
It went well. Meaning, I did not puke. Or pay later with a stomach ache from hell. I took it as a sign that I was well enough to get back on regular food, and sitting in the restaurant, at a time when I should have felt so stuffed that the thought of any food should gross me out, I instead found myself thinking of butter.
Ahhhh, butter. Days of diary deprivation had left me yearning for the sweet yellow goodness. Specifically, for butter spread all over some heavenly Cuban bread. Actually, butter's good, very good, but what I love is Country Crock. Funnily enough, I owe this to Ben, who introduced me to it when we started dating a lifetime ago. From those days when his mom would make rolls (that I would then smother with the Country Crock), I have never looked back. It's what we bought when we first married, and what I continue to buy today.
So there I am, half-sick still, desperate for my Country Crock and Cuban bread (it's also delicious on challah bread), when I opened my fridge and saw my brand-new tub of Country Crock with calcium and vitamin D. I kinda panicked for a second and wondered if this was the right time to try something new. You see, for years, I stuck to the regular CC. Then recently, I tired the churn style and decided I liked it more than the regular one. I mean, I liked it so much that I was like, "I wonder what other CC goodness I've been missing out on" and surfed on over to their website.* I take my favorite foods seriously, people. So when I heard about the calcium and vitamin D one, I figured I was on a roll and should try it. Because dropping nutrients I need anyway into something I love? Is a win.
But standing in front of my open fridge that morning, what I was thinking about was taste. I'm all for added vitamins, but not at the expense of taste. Neither is Max, by the way. That boy has his own food favorites and does not take well to something familiar that suddenly doesn't it taste like it should.
Luckily, CC wins with this one, too - it tasted just the same as the regular one. Which means I'm happy. Because if I had that brand new, open tub that I bought with my own hard-earned money just sitting there in my fridge, it would annoy me to no end.
* - You need to get to the CC website - they've got this quiz where you can instantly win a $25 Visa gift card. And when you take the quiz, you're entered for a chance to win a family vacation for five to Yellowstone National Park.
Meanwhile, it turns out that my stomach is not completely 100% yet, but dairy is not causing any more harm than usual (I'm lactose intolerant yet ignore that completely on a daily basis), so I'm good. That Cuban bread was so friggin' delicious that I'm teary-eyed just remembering it. Oh man, I need another piece right now.
I'm sick. Ssoooooooooooo sick! I feel AWFUL! WAH!!!
I think I'm going to do the unthinkable and take a sick day tomorrow. Not that I can afford to, what with the pile of work I have; but today was just a terrible day.
What I hate most about being this sick (entire body aches, congested, puking) is not having anyone to take care of me. I know. I'm a total loser. A sap. But it's true. You can't imagine what I'd give to come home after the kind of day I had today and find a sweet, loving guy who would make me rest and bring me Gatorade and give me a backrub and overall just hover around, making sure I'm o.k. THAT would be nice. It would.
God, my chest hurts.
There have been two bright spots in my day, though: I got home and judging by the clean kitchen I found (dishes were done! woot!), it was clear that my mom had been here and done such a nice thing for me. In lieu of having hot, adoring man, I'll take a clean kitchen courtesy of mom!
Also, my custom pillow got here! Oh man, I can NOT wait to try this! I've been waiting for weeks! I am so hoping I sleep better tonight. I'll do a full report on this magical pillow as soon as I've used it a while.
Even so, I feel awful. AWFUL! HELP! Make it go away!
When I used to blog anonymously, the site I maintained (the one just prior to this one, that is, as there was another) was this unstructured hodge podge of stuff that, in all honesty, I loved.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the way I feel this blog confines me. Or rather, of the way I confine myself within this blog. When I started writing here, it was with a pretty specific purpose. While I wanted to stop being anonymous and write as myself, I also felt that I needed more structure as a writer. I wanted the challenge of *having to* write every day or nearly so, and I wanted something that could help me as a writer. I had a few goals: to write about my life as honestly as possible, but also with thought, consideration and planning; to improve whatever writing skills and talent I thought I had; and to see if my writing was good enough for people to read and enjoy.
But to maintain this blog as I have (for three years - as of tomorrow!), I have slowly put myself in a box, one that doesn't allow me to be as loose as I'd like to be. This blog has become a specific thing to me, and there's no room here for me to show a different side of myself. And that's just me, you know? Self-inflicted. But you see, there are days when I have nothing but very random, not-very-deep-or-important-or-even-interesting thoughts. And yet, I like writing about those things, too. I like writing about my day when it's done and I'm relaxing on my couch, even if it was an uneventful day; and I like writing the randomness as it's happening.
In my old blog, that's what I did. There were posts that were, literally, nothing more than this: "All this rain is making me crazy. Sunny mornings and rainy afternoons after work suck." I know. Not exactly brilliant or remotely interesting, but maybe that's the point. I can't always be, don't want to always be, brilliant or interesting.
So, changes are afoot. I think I have found a happy medium to my internal writing turmoil. I'm still not 100% sure, maybe just like 96.84%. I will most likely be expanding on this in the coming weeks.
Nothing changes here, though. I've actually got some cool stuff coming that I'm excited about, because I think it's going to be fun and interesting. Right now I'm just putting these thoughts down to make sure I'm comfortable with all this. But that's all. You may carry on.
It Might Have Been Easy for Frankie, but It's Not for Me
I am painfully, horrifically stressed out. It's work, mainly, and the intense feeling to perform and produce in what is basically a dire situation, due, of course, to this economy. Basically, same as you.
I'm doing what I can to handle it, but honestly, between work and some emotional stuff these last few days, I've been a testy, short-tempered crazy. Poor Max. He's had to deal with a very impatient mommy lately, and it just kills me.
What I need is a serious break. Not a vacation where I go away (as the flying and nonstop activity do nothing to relax me), but a real break, one where I don't have to think about work, or go anywhere I don't want to (or *have to*, like the grocery store), or do anything I don't want to. I need to completely disconnect, and do only things that promote relaxation.
I also need a massage. A real, hardcore, full-body massage. My back is in such constant pain (and by extension, my legs), that I can't stand it anymore. I want to lay on a warmed-up table and have strong, steady, capable hands rub on some warm oil and make this crazy pain go away. And I'm not talking about that dinky 50-minute massage; I want the the full, 70 (or 90!)-minute one. I want to pass out from the damn bliss.
I also need to be more comfortable with my sleep. The mattress my parents gave me for Christmas, while not entirely uncomfortable, is exacerbating the back situation. I don't think it's made for people with messed up backs like mine. However, this is a brand-new set that my parents so generously gifted me, so it is what it is. So since I have neck problems, too, I'm excited that I will soon be the owner of my very own custom pillow, made to order just for me, taking into consideration my comfort preferences, pain concerns, and even my allergies. You have no idea how excited I am to get this pillow. I am hanging every hope on it (no pressure!) that it will make a huge difference in my ability to sleep without pain.
Right now, though, there is no pillow, and no massage. And I'm still stressed. So right now I am one stressed-out, knotted-up, desperately-needing-some-major-relaxation, pouty little bunny.
This is madness, people. If I don't get to relax soon, I will indeed go mad!
I like fishing. A lot. I know. I'm full of surprises. I hear it all the time.
But I do. I enjoy fishing, even though I am inexperienced and have only done it a few times. I'd like to learn more and do it more often. It seems like there are quite a few people in my life who also like to fish, but they never take me along (hi there, you suck).
But this past weekend, my Max fished for the first time, and it was awesome. I had told his godparents about my wanting to expose him to fishing, thinking he'd have fun, and they gifted him a fishing rod for Christmas. On Saturday, we went to one of those local lakes that's stocked with a bunch of fish, and we let Max have at it. His godfather very patiently helped him set up, then took him down to the shore and guided him through the process.
But of course, a 3-year-old has no notion of what actual fishing is. I don't think he is even aware that, done correctly, you can potentially get a real fish. For Max, it was just about casting and reeling, casting and reeling.
And soon enough, there wasn't anything close to fishing going on.
Nevertheless, he had a blast. He keeps asking me when we're going fishing again. We had such a great afternoon - while he played and tried to follow what his godfather was doing, his godmother (and one of my best friends) and I sat under a tree with her newborn son and had a chance to catch up and shoot the breeze. The light rain that greeted us when we arrived gave way to a sunny sky and sweet breeze. My son's excited voice echoed around us (and so did mine every time I yelled at him to stop walking into the water). It was just so relaxing and nice.
More and more, my days involve long stretches of peaceful or fun or relaxing or different (or all of the above) activities. It's what I've wanted for so long for us, and in the middle of this intense awareness of it, I just want to relish it all and make it last. And I hope I do. I want this to be a part of my new life. I want all this - the adventures, the conversations, the sense of relaxation I leave with, the undeniable joy on my son's face - to be my new normal.
My gay husband and I took my boy to The Fair on Wednesday. I'd been planning to take him some time this week when gay husband called, wanting to see us. When I suggested The Fair, he immediately agreed. Because he's a good husband like that.
So, off we went, excited that this would be Maxi's first trip to The Fair - although I was a bit nervous at how it would all go. I still feel some apprehension about doing things that involve big crowds, wide open spaces, and basically, anything that could end up with him running off and getting lost forever. And I still look at him sometimes as if he were still one-and-a-half, when going anywhere was a mission from hell, what with his tantrums and meltdowns (also, my own self-doubt that would frustrate and upset me). The truth is, though, that he's so not like that anymore. He's actually fairly easy-going, and he does well in large public situations. It's really more me and the way I continue to second-guess my ability to do my mom job well.
Anyway. This is not about that. This is about Max and The Fair! He has such a blast. He is such a daredevil, getting on the rides without a second thought, reveling in the sights, pigging out on all the different treats. Really. I have not had such a fun time out in ages. It was so wonderful to see his joy, to hear him squeal at everything, to feel his excitement at the rides (his favorite being the roller coaster, if the way he was shrieking is any indication).
And my gay husband - well, he just made the whole thing 100 times better. Max loved being with him, and I loved having him share the experience with us. And of course, he is such a sympathetic soul that being in his presence just relaxes me.
Overall, an excellent, excellent evening!
Now, on to the pictures!
Waiting to pay our way in - he was not too happy about that.
The hot-air balloon ride.
Maxi & Mommy.
He was soooo excited to pet the bunny.
Choo choo train!
He was kinda bummed that the boat was not really floating on water.
Elephant ear! Which he loved, much to my happiness. He's a boy after my own heart.
Writing has been kinda hard lately. It's not because I am feeling particularly miserable or anything (yay?), but rather because it seems like no one thought or emotion lasts long enough to do anything with it - not analyze it, write about it, or anything.
I feel a lot lately the ebb and flow of everything. Moments of very intense emotions followed by an almost eerie blankness. And in the middle of it all, I am not (or cannot, or will not) analyzing any of it. This is a big deal to me, so different from what was once the norm for me.
This non-analytical me (or really, less-analytical me, as it will never go away completely) has been coming round for some time now, since before my marriage ended. I have long felt frustrated with this aspect of my personality, with the way it gets in the way of, you know, being a functional human being. Over analyzing is hazardous to one's health (and that's an understatement).
So it's been some time since I began, in earnest, to change that behavior. Like anything, it's been hit or miss. It felt good, back before everything in my life changed, to take some concrete steps and feel some progress. But of course, in going through all I've been through in the last year, there was a lot of regression. How could I not analyze everything that was happening to me, that I did, that I felt?
The thing is, something in me just can't handle the frequency and intensity of over analyzing anymore. In moving past the worst of my grief and sadness, that urge to stop over-analyzing came back full force. And you know what? I am so grateful for that. I'm grateful for whatever changed inside me that no longer wants this to be such a strong force in my life. Moreover, I'm grateful for whatever else has changed inside me that's made me able to actually make some changes, to stick it through, at least this far. I have hope, hope that I do indeed continue to grow and *improve*.
I watch lately this ebb and flow, observing my own detachment and shaking still at the moments when emotions overwhelm me; sometimes there is a sense of cleansing about all this. I don't know now, like I haven't known at any step along this process, what lies on the other side.
It's These Moments of Clarity that Cripple Me Most
It's been a funny week. I've been dealing with lingering thoughts about last week, and while I spent a lovely time in NYC with my best friend, a lot of our conversation centered around this last year in both our lives. Time was devoted to her and all the changes in her life; and time was devoted to me, to how I have been affected by my marriage and its ending, to what I think my challenges are and what lessons I've learned. It was a lot of heavy stuff packed into four days.
Add to that the fact that yesterday my ex-husband and I had the kind of conversation I thought we'd never have again, the kind that dredges up the past and puts front and center all the painful words that were once exchanged, all the assumptions drawn and choices made. It was the kind of conversation I consciously seek to avoid at all costs, knowing how it will always go and how it will always end and finding the entire process excruciatingly painful and pointless.
But you put all these things together, and the mind can't help but swirl around the issue. There are random, but significant, thoughts, and moments where the heart feels like it's seizing upon itself; there are the shadows of truth and memory and the blurry space between those that threaten everything.
Remnants. All these things are simply the remnants of everything. The thoughts, the paralyzing moments - I consider them all a necessary part of letting go and healing and moving on. They are the last bits of darkness that are slowly giving way to the light.
The thing is, while I take some pretty specific lessons from these things, while I find a strange comfort in the continued sense of clarity these episodes leave me with, the very lessons and clarity devastate me for what they reveal to me.
So I tell myself the thing I've been telling myself for almost a year now: just breathe, then breathe again, and just keep breathing.